After Hours
Percy turned down the volume of the flat-screen TV behind him, lowering it to a barely audible hum; it was a skill he'd gotten very good at, after working at the bar for six months and counting now. There were thirty minutes left in the night, and a few patrons were still present, finishing off the last of their shots and snacks.
It had been a relatively slow night, common for Tuesday's, but it so far had felt a little more 'dead' than normal. He didn't expect to see too many more stragglers coming in, as there were no more games to be played, thus he found it proper to start readying the bar for closing.
He never imagined that he would become a bartender, after all the crazy adventures he had undertaken in his relative youth, but here he was, Percy Jackson, the heralded savior of Olympus, working a bar that was squeezed in between a Walmart, and an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet.
How had he managed to arrive here, you might ask. Well, when you make a deal with Thanatos at the Doors of Death, your life, to save the world, you'd expect that you would end up in Elysium, but no. Instead, Percy found himself washing up on the shores of an entirely new world; still Earth, but a different reality.
As expected, it had taken him a hot minute to adjust to everything, and cope with the guilt and trauma that he had brought with him from the depths of Tartarus. The guilt of leaving his loved ones behind, and the trauma of having watched Annabeth suffer so greatly during their struggle, only to watch him sacrifice his life, to save them all.
This bartending job had been offered to him out of the blue, and he'd taken it without hesitation, as the pay was good enough to pay the rent for his nearby apartment. He didn't know what to expect at first, but as it turned out, he really enjoyed it. There was something esoteric and enthralling about listening to stories from people that were total strangers, people that were willing to spill their heart out to him, without a damn care in the world. At this point, he'd heard everything, from somber stories of heartbreak, to wild recollections of bank robbery. You never knew what you were getting, every time somebody walked through the dirty glass doors.
"Tonight, we have Captain America joining us live on set! Please, everyone give him a warm welcome! Show our hero some love!" The voice of the show host announced through the TV speakers.
Oh yeah, this new world had superheroes. Percy had only been here for less than two years, but that was more than enough time to get himself acquainted with the superhero collective known as the Avengers, a group of individuals that protected the world from all evil, just like he'd done in his previous life.
He watched, while unenthusiastically wiping a glass, as cheers from the crowd on TV erupted, announcing the presence of Steve Rogers, who promptly appeared on the screen, and made his way down the steps towards the seat awaiting him next to the host. If he was being honest, the dude looked stupid wearing that brightly colored suit everywhere, but then again, it did make him memorable.
The little brass bell hanging from the door made a small ding, and he looked away from the show to find a woman, who looked like she'd been through the blender, walking through. She was wearing a white and black jumpsuit that looked like it had been made for the military, but the kevlar had been torn to shreds, with multiple patches barely hanging by their seams. Her face was covered with soot and grime, with speckles of red that couldn't have been anything other than blood, giving her the sultry appearance of a girl that always got her way. Her dirty blonde hair was tied back in a loosening bun, which did wonders to show off her immaculate jawline. If he had to guess, she was Russian, or at the very least European.
"Good evening, ma'am." He greeted with a hint of curiosity. "How can I help you?"
The girl looked him in the eyes, her steely eyes unwavering. "I need a drink."
"Well, you've come to the right place."
"Oh really? Was hoping this was the wrong place."
So she had humor, he liked that. And her accent was definitely Russian, but her English was still perfect, a surprisingly pleasant combination.
"I'll have six shots of vodka." She said as she sat down at the furthest end of the bar in relation to the door, drawing the eyes of the last two remaining people, who were just about ready to leave.
"Any preference?"
"What you got?"
"Svedka and Ciroc."
"I'll take Ciroc."
He nodded his head and turned away, grabbing the handle and glasses from the rack, and started pouring. When he looked back at her, she had her eyes glued to the TV, watching the same night show programming that he'd been when she'd walked in. He stole a quick glance back at the screen, and saw that there was now a girl sitting next to Captain America, red hair, and dressed in all black; the one and only, Black Widow. Next to them, the host was replaying some wild action sequence that saw both Avengers flying through the air like banshees, blowing everything up in the most superheroic way possible.
"I don't know why she always does that stupid pose." The girl muttered as she wiped herself down with a wet napkin he'd provided. "It's like she thinks somebody's watching her all the time."
Over the months, he'd gotten really good at gauging emotions and feelings, and what he sensed from the tone of her voice wasn't jealousy, or anything of the sort, rather it felt akin to sibling banter, like she and Black Widow knew each other.
"Every time she lands," the girl continued, not caring that he hadn't responded. "She sweeps her leg out and lifts her head up. I don't know who taught her to do that."
Percy set the glasses down in front of her, and laughed lightly. "Maybe you should tell her."
The girl fingered the first glass, and tilted her head before knocking it back. "Yeah, maybe I should."
It was just the two of them now, and technically the bar closed in five minutes, but he didn't care, he had nowhere else to be. He prided himself on his candor and frankness when speaking to his customers, and always took the initiative to introduce himself first.
"Percy." He said, as he also placed down a glass of water for her.
The girl raised her eyebrows in a provocative manner in response, and proceeded to down her third shot. "Yelena."
He decided to leave it at that, turning his attention back to his closing duties, which included the all-exciting task of washing the dishes. There was nothing more pleasing than wiping half-eaten food off ceramic plates.
He was a quarter of the way through them, when Yelena spoke up. "Can I have three more shots?"
Percy twisted around and took in the six empty glasses. "Did you drive here?"
Yelena snickered and waved her hands over her ruined clothing, insinuating that the appearance had something to do with a motor vehicle. "You could say that."
"Well," Percy started. "Do you plan on driving back?"
"Probably not, considering my motorbike is currently sitting on the bottom of a lake." Yelena said monotonously, like that was a totally normal and acceptable thing to say. Luckily for her, Percy had heard and experienced things of the same likeness.
"Sounds intense." He commented with equal mundaneness, as he took the handle of Ciroc back out.
"Oh, believe me, it was."
Percy knew without asking that she was some sort of soldier or super-spy, ostensibly one that had just eked out of a particularly deadly confrontation. He gleaned that it was probably in his best interest to let her do the talking, because he was certain that if he stepped out of line with his questioning, she would surely crush his neck in between her muscular thighs.
He placed down the three newly-filled glasses in front of her, swapping them out with the original six, and she shot him a smile, a smile that made him conscious of his appearance for a split-second. She was clearly attractive, something that she undoubtedly used to her advantage, and perhaps she was using that same tactic currently, but for Percy, there was no harm or foul.
"Thanks." She said, demolishing her drinks in quick succession, before abruptly standing up to leave. "I should probably go now."
Percy gave her a curt nod and wrung his hands with his towel. "Do what you gotta do."
Yelena reached behind her, and pulled out the most dilapidated looking wallet he'd ever seen. Rummaging through it, she took out a fifty dollar note and handed it over to Percy.
"Thanks for listening to me talk."
He furrowed his brow at her statement, and wavered at accepting the money, which was double more than what he was owed. "Your total is twenty-five."
She sighed and leaned forward, trying to smash it into the palm of his hand. "Just take it."
"It's impolite to take more money than needed from a woman." Percy rebutted, crossing his arms stubbornly.
Yelena squinted her eyes at him. "What if I tell you that I don't care?"
"That wouldn't change the fact that I care."
They had entered the beginnings of an intense stare off; icy-blue, versus sea-green. Percy was positive that he was going to outlast her, until she blew a gust of air in his face, making him blink.
"You cheater." He bucked as he rubbed his eyes.
She laughed, a gruff but at the same time tender laugh, and slapped the bill on the counter before turning to leave.
"See you around." She said as she briskly walked out the door and into the cool summer night, not willing to wait for him to say adieu.
Percy shook his head in incertitude, unsure of what to think about the character that was Yelena, and returned to his menial work. She was like a bacon-wrapped oreo. He had no idea what he meant by that, but in his mind, that's what she was: a mysterious, albeit enticing persona that had him craving for more.
Author's Note:
Yelena was the only good thing to come from the Black Widow movie, and you can't change my mind. Thanks for reading.
And yes, this is Const3llations on his burner. Go check out my main profile if you want to read some of my other stories. I'm working on a Percy x Natasha story right now, that might interest some.
