Chapter Text
“You know most people actually read the newspaper in their hands.”
Natasha Romanov stares at the girl sitting opposite her. She has on a leather jacket and a green day t-shirt. But that isn’t the most interesting part of her outfit.
No, that was the silver circlet on her head, which clashed with the aesthetic she seemed to be going for yet she wore it - almost as thought it was a part of her.
Natasha simply raised an eyebrow. “If you wanted an excuse to talk you could have just said so.”
The girl laughed and then winked. “I think I’m a bit young for the famous, or shall I say infamous, black widow.”
That gives Natasha a pause. In all her years of being a spy, no one had ever been able to figure her out. No one. Least of all a 16 year old girl.
“Oh don’t look so surprised.” The girl rolls her eyes. “You’ve met my cousin after all.”
Natasha’s head spins and suddenly the pieces click. They didn’t have many physical similarities but something about the way they held themselves together - the way they moved gave it away.
“Percy Jackson.”
The girl laughs again. “He’s giving you trouble I presume.”
Natasha purses her lips. He wasn’t trouble, per se, more an enigma.
The way he managed to lift the hammer when none of the worlds best superheroes could - well, it was an interesting puzzle to say the least.
“He’s an invaluable employee.” Natasha says instead. It’s not a lie, Percy’s designs have been instrumental in saving their lives.
The girl laughs harder. She leans forward and whispers almost conspiratorially. “You can tell me the truth. I won’t tell a soul.”
“Well, he keeps things entertaining, that’s for sure.”
The girl tilts her head back and laughs fully this time. “You mean he’s a sarcastic little shit.”
Against her will, Natasha’s lips twitch upwards into a smile. That was also…true.
Of course his ideas were brilliant but the way they were presented well, let’s just say that Percy Jackson had no qualms telling the avengers that they were idiots.
Or more accurately -
Self obsessed spandex wearing idiots.
It was a bit humbling to be honest, being talked down by a twenty year old.
It didn’t help that he was usually right either.
“So what are you doing here?” Natasha asks instead, switching topics.
The girl smiles. “Waiting for the idiot asshole in question.”
Natasha looks around at the fine dining restaurant opposite and raises an eyebrow. “Looking to steal your older cousin brothers hard earned money?”
Unlike last time the girl doesn’t laugh, instead she stares almost insultingly at Natasha. “He’s younger than me!”
Natasha simply raises an eyebrow again. She had been wrong before but there was no way the girl in front of her was older than eighteen, at most.
The girl grumbles under her breath and rolls her eyes. “He’s only slightly older.” She looks as though she’s in pain to admit it.
“Sore spot?”
The girl grumbles and sits up straight. “Oh you have no idea.”
Suddenly they’re interrupted by a loud “Thalia!”
Natasha knows that voice well.
The girl in front, now named, barely reacts. “He’s so demanding.” She says instead.
Natasha’s mouth quirks upwards again. “He’s insistent too.”
As if to prove her point there’s another “Thalia!” louder and closer this time.
Thalia rolls her eyes. “Well that’s my sign to leave.”
She gets up but before she leaves she turns around again putting a hand out to Natasha.
“Thalia Grace, nice to meet you.”
Figuring the ruse was pointless at this point Natasha replies, “Natasha Ramanov, the famous or rather infamous as you’ve pointed out, black widow.”
“Thalia Grace I swear to the gods if you don’t come here right this moment -“
“Ugh I can’t imagine what you’re going through at work.” Thalia says.
Natasha laughs. “You could see it yourself.”
Thalia sees the invite for what it is.
A desperate cry for help.