Fugitive Demigods || A Percy Jackson // Advengers crossover

Annabeth Chase had better things to do.

Like, literally anything other than sitting in a freezing interrogation room with Captain America trying (and failing) to be intimidating.

Steve Rogers sat across from her, arms crossed, blue eyes scanning her like he could somehow see the answers she wasn't going to give.

"Miss Chase," he started, voice all serious and authoritative.

Annabeth tilted her head. "Captain."

Steve sighed. "You were close to Sally Jackson and Paul Blofis."

Annabeth blinked. "Yeah."

"They were murdered."

Annabeth's jaw tensed, but she didn't say anything.

Steve leaned forward. "And you don't seem too surprised by that."

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. "Should I be?"

Steve frowned. "Most people react a little more when someone they love is killed."

Annabeth leaned back in her chair, giving him a blank look. "Wow. Thanks for the lesson on grief, Captain America."

Steve exhaled slowly. "We found their bodies. The way they were killed—it wasn't random. Someone wanted them dead."

Annabeth's fingers twitched, but she kept her expression neutral. "And you think we did it?"

"You, Percy, and Clarisse were at the scene," Steve said. "And that's not all. You three have a history."

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Oh, do share. What crimes am I guilty of now?"

Steve pulled out a file and flipped it open. "Terrorism. Theft. Resisting arrest."

Annabeth smirked. "You say that like it's impressive."

Steve narrowed his eyes. "You think this is funny?"

Annabeth shrugged. "I think you're wasting your time."

Steve studied her for a moment, then said, "Peter Parker knew Percy from school."

Annabeth's smirk faltered just a little. "Yeah?"

"He said Percy is loyal. That he'd do anything for his friends. Especially you."

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Obviously."

Steve sat forward. "That kind of loyalty? It can make people do dangerous things."

Annabeth crossed her arms. "If you're suggesting that Percy snapped and killed his own mother, then you're dumber than I thought."

Steve's jaw tightened. "I'm suggesting that maybe Percy would do something reckless. That maybe—"

Annabeth cut him off. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Look, you're not getting anything useful out of me, so can you just go get Percy his Blue Coke before he gets annoying?"

Steve blinked. "...What?"

Annabeth sighed dramatically. "Percy gets annoying when he doesn't have his blue food or drinks. If you keep him locked up without any, you're the ones who are going to suffer."

Steve just stared at her.

Annabeth stared back.

"...That's what you're worried about?" he asked.

Annabeth shrugged. "Hey, you wanted answers."

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is going to be a long day."

Annabeth smirked. "For you, yeah."

~~~~~

Peter Parker was not an experienced interrogator.

But somehow, the adults thought throwing him into Percy Jackson's interrogation room was a great idea.

Spoiler: It wasn't.

Percy was already slouched in his chair when Peter walked in, his hands still cuffed to the table. The moment he saw Peter, he brightened.

"Oh hey, Nerdy Freshman."

Peter sighed. "For the last time, it's Peter."

Percy nodded sagely. "Sure thing, Nerdy Freshman."

Peter groaned but sat down. "Okay, let's just... start. First question—"

"Hold up," Percy interrupted, raising a hand. "Did you bring my Blue Coke?"

Peter blinked. "Your what?"

"My Blue Coke," Percy said. "You know, the greatest soda to ever exist?"

Peter frowned. "I don't... think that's real."

Percy gasped in betrayal. "Wow. Rude."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Okay, whatever, moving on. What were you and your friends doing at the graveyard?"

Percy shrugged. "Respecting the dead. Unlike some people."

Peter shifted uncomfortably. "Right. And your connection to Paul Blofis and Sally Jackson?"

Percy's expression darkened for half a second before his usual laziness returned. "You mean my stepdad and my mom?"

Peter hesitated. "...Yeah."

Percy just stared at him. "Oh, you're actually serious. Okay. First of all, ow."

Peter felt really uncomfortable now. "Look, I don't—"

"Second of all," Percy continued, "do I look like I go around murdering people? Be honest."

Peter wanted to say no, but the whole flooding a plane thing made that a bit complicated.

"...I mean," Peter started carefully, "you did steal a police car once."

Percy leaned forward. "Okay, that was one time."

Peter narrowed his eyes. "You drove it into a river."

Percy sighed dramatically. "And yet, people never let me forget it."

Peter shook his head, exasperated. "Fine, new question—"

Percy cut him off. "Actually, I have a question. Where's my Blue Coke?"

Peter groaned. "Okay, seriously, what is up with that?"

Percy threw his hands in the air. "WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK IT'S DRUGS?"

At that exact moment, Steve Rogers opened the door, looking utterly baffled. "Did I just hear 'Blue Coke'? Is that the drugs drink?"

Percy's expression was pure suffering. "Oh my gods, it's literally just Coke but blue!"

Peter looked at Steve, then at Percy. "I feel like you're making this up."

Percy gasped dramatically. "Wow. First, you people kidnap me, accuse me of murder, and refuse me a lawyer, and now you're slandering Blue Coke? Zero stars. Worst government facility ever."

Steve sighed and looked at Peter. "You're done here."

Peter didn't argue.

As he walked out, he heard Percy mutter, "Seriously, how hard is it to get a guy a soda?"

Fury walked past Peter and into the room, fixing Percy with his signature unimpressed glare.

Percy grinned. "Oh hey, Pirate Guy."

Fury sighed deeply. "It's Director Fury."

Percy nodded. "Right. Fury. Like a Kindly One." He frowned. "Wait. No. Those are women. Weird choice."