Clint lets the busted hearing aids fall to the table in front of Tony. He looks up at Clint and says something he can't make out.
"Hudson water," Clint says, his voice a bit too loud for comfort. He jerks his thumb towards Percy. "And this guy."
Percy rolls his eyes and sets about shoving some of the caldo off on Tony and the other Avengers. He'd yet to meet the rest of the team, and he wasn't even sure he wanted to. Clint, Natasha, and Tony were plenty for him when it came to superheroes, and they weren't even the ones with powers. He's not sure what he'd do if he met Thor, or if their Thor is the same Thor that Magnus Chase was familiar with.
Somehow, he doubted it.
Don't tell everyone I broke your hearing aids , Percy signs to Clint, scrunching his nose.
Clint leans past Tony to sign back, his movements quick and forceful. But you did. You're lucky I like your mom and she made the best soup I've had in my life, or I'd tell Natasha.
Percy narrows his eyes. Try me, bitch.
Tony watches the exchange with a bemused expression. He follows it the best he can. "If you two are going to have a lover's tiff, I'll take my work elsewhere."
Percy rolls his eyes. "He's blaming me for the hearing aids being busted when the reason we fell into the Hudson to begin with is because he slept with the wife of some mafia boss's son and also stole an apartment building from them."
Tony looks at Clint with newfound admiration. "Well, well, well, Hawkguy. We'll make a rapscallion out of you yet."
Now it's Clint's turn to roll his eyes. "Just fix them, please. I don't know how to fix Stark tech."
Tony grabs the hearing aids and holds them up to the light. They were a little waterlogged, but nothing that couldn't be salvaged. "I'll do you one better. We've been working on new ones; batteries that last years instead of weeks. Waterproof, too. I can make them hook up to our comms for missions and monitor your vitals."
"Sounds expensive. And invasive."
He shrugs. "No more than the comms device you have on your wrist. It'd just combine the two."
Clint hesitates for a moment. Taking a gift from Tony was a bit of a monkey's paw situation in the best of times, disastrous in the worst. For all of his virtues, he also had too many faults to be overlooked. But his hearing aids that Tony had made him before hadn't failed until this moment, and as far as he knew, they weren't collecting secret data or tracking him. That was still a possibility, but not one he particularly thought plausible at the moment.
He nods. "Thanks."
"I'll even get them to you before the gala tonight." Tony says it as if it's a known fact, wandering away with the hearing aids in his hand.
"What gala?" Percy calls after him. He turns to Clint and signs, Did you know something about a gala tonight?
"The Avengers Tower annual fundraiser?" Tony raises an eyebrow. "You really need to check your email more often, Clint. The whole team needs to be there; save for Thor. Not sure I can whip up inter-dimensional travel in a few hours."
Clint groans, rubbing his temples. "Fuck. I forgot."
"Be in the ballroom at seven. I put you down for fish; chicken just seemed cruel." Tony's eyes drift over to Percy. "You're invited too, kid. Consider it part of the charity."
Percy snorts. "Thanks?"
"As Pepper never fails to tell me: be on time, be presentable, and play nice." He gives them both a meaningful look.
"Yes, dad," Clint replies.
Tony makes a face. "And never call me dad ever again. Verboten. I'll see you two later."
Care to elaborate? Percy asks.
Clint sighs and sits at the kitchen table. It's this big thing for donors. The Avengers don't have the best press sometimes and we always donate to charity and cleanup efforts after battles. I just— with all of the things going on— I sort of forgot.
Percy smirks. Does this make me your date?
Clint leans back in his chair. Depends. Do you have a tux?
Percy closes his eyes. "Fuck."
—
They rent him a tux. None of Clint's suits nor the lone spare tux (custom made and funded by SHIELD) fits his frame. As soon as he tries it on, Clint quotes Star Wars with how ill-fitting the suit was.
So now he was in the ballroom of the Avengers Tower as guests filter in and out, Clint Barton at his side, wearing a tux that he was sure a thousand other men had worn to weddings, funerals, and any number of high school proms.
It was itchy. The pants were too short— just by half an inch, but he could tell. Still, it looked good enough on him, if Clint's expression when he put it on was anything to go by.
One of Tony's many assistants brought the new hearing aids to Clint. They're sleek, made of some kind of indestructible polymer that look unobtrusive when he puts them on. The only instructions that Tony left with them was a pithy 'Good luck.' written on the back of a takeout menu. But they worked, and for that he was grateful.
"Fucking finally," Clint says as the noises of the ballroom rush back to him. "I'd rather do a night like this without having to guess half of what someone is saying."
"Does the rest of your team even know how to sign?" Percy asks.
Clint shrugs. "Basics. Natasha is pretty good, but not at your level. Speaking of which, how did you get so good?"
Percy reddens. He can't tell him that he painstakingly learned from videos in between the times he saw Clint back when they were doing missions in tandem. He didn't want to admit that he kept it up after he and Clint had cut ties, in the hopes that the next time he saw him he wouldn't stumble in his words. He was desperate to collect modes of communication, to better understand who Clint was as a person. He wanted to know him better than anyone, and he knew that it scratched a jealous itch of his. He knew it was unfair to want Clint all to himself.
"Uh, v-videos." He gulps. His hand comes up to scratch at the back of his neck. "And stuff. It's great for communicating underwater, you know. Not everyone can speak as easily as I can."
A smile teases at the edges of Clint's mouth. "Uh-huh. I believe you."
Percy reddens even more and looks away just as Pepper Potts approaches them.
"Great, you're here." She had a clipboard in her arm, her dress slick and fashionable as ever. "Clint, we need you on the red carpet for a few promotional shots as well as an interview or two. Did you get the new aids from Tony?"
"Yeah." He fiddles with them as he gets used to the unfamiliar weight. "They're pretty good— Are you sure I have to do interviews? I'm not the most— I mean, I can't imagine they'd have much to ask me— "
Pepper scribbles something on her clipboard. "Yes. The entire team is doing them. Just stick to the PR script and you'll be fine." She looks up, as if noticing Percy for the first time. "Welcome, Perseus. Because of the last-minute invite, you won't be sitting at the same table as Clint. I assume chicken is alright? Tony informed me that fish would be a faux-pas."
It almost made Percy chuckle. "Uh, yeah, that's fine. I'm good with whatever, to be honest. I eat anything."
"He's lactose intolerant," Clint interjects. Pepper writes it down on her clipboard.
"Hey—!"
"Would you like to be stuck in the bathrooms here the rest of the night or enjoy yourself?"
Percy scowls and crosses his arms, mumbling like a scolded child. "Fine. No dairy. But otherwise, I'm good."
She nods curtly. "Good. Clint, the red carpet. I will try not to corral you the way I do Tony, but I can break out the Supernanny skills Coulson used if necessary."
He gives her a small salute. "Duly noted. I'll try not to cause mischief."
Pepper is already weaving her way through the crowd to locate the other Avengers. The area in front of the ballroom was filling up with guests: a variety of donors, celebrities, and fellow heroes not associated with the Avengers. Nick Fury was notably absent, but Clint knew him to be adverse to these parties in the past. Somewhere in the crowd, he knew Maria Hill was present, ever the PR arm of the SHIELD command.
"You wanna find your seat?" Clint asks Percy.
Percy looks at the crowd. "I'll stick by you. There's only so many times I can see the great Hawkeye walk the red carpet. A real celebrity, gee golly."
Clint clenched his jaw and turned towards where the press was situated. One of the many guest handlers at the event came up to ask his name and position within the Avengers. They plucked a sheet for Hawkeye out of the stack of notable guest names and asked him to wait in the queue. In front of him, a few minor superheroes were having their pictures taken.
It was excruciating. Clint hated having to slip on the mask of cordiality, of feigned politeness, of professionalism that he normally didn't bother to possess. He grew up a feral child of the circus, picking pockets as a way of employment with well-aimed arrows for currency. The bright splash of the camera felt foreign, so wholly different to the spotlights underneath the circus tents.
He was up next and found himself reaching for Percy's hand out of instinct. Some habits were harder to kill than others.
"Hmm?" Percy hums and looks down at Clint. He doesn't pull his hand away.
"Nothing," Clint says hastily and pulls his hand away, wiping the sweat from his clammy palm on his trousers.
Percy's touch is gentle and sure. He takes Clint's hand back and gives it a squeeze. He leans down to speak directly to him. "Do you want me to go out there with you?"
Clint's hand is on fire. His head is buzzing with Percy standing so close, his breath on his ear, his scent wafting into his nose. He finds himself gripping Percy's hand tighter. "No, I can do this."
But he doesn't move, even as the guest handler steps out to hold the page stating who was walking next.
Percy rubs the back of Clint's hand. He presses the smallest of kisses directly above Clint's hearing aid and gives him a push onto the carpet. "Go get 'em, tiger."
Clint was going to kill him. Later. It had to be later. For now, he had to put on a smile and pose for the cameras.
"Hawkeye! Can you tell us about the heroic save you made last month?"
"Hawkeye! Over here!"
"Is there any news on the recent deaths you've been investigating?"
Clint takes in a steady breath through his nose, ignoring the questions as they come. The reporters get most of their photos until one shouts out a question.
"Who did you bring as your date?"
He clears his throat, almost choking on it, but recovers well enough. "Uh—"
Percy stands at the side, arms crossed, with a dark expression on his face. For all his posturing and pretty face, Percy didn't seem to like the spotlight very much. Unluckily for him, Clint wasn't feeling very charitable despite the theme of the gala.
"I invited an old friend of mine," Clint says with a hint of amusement to his tone. Time for some revenge. "Would you like a photo of us?"
A chorus of requests for photos of them together come from the assembled reporters and it makes Clint crack a smile that is actually genuine. Percy looks livid. Clint crooks his finger and gestures for him to come closer.
It takes a bit of coaxing before Percy steps onto the carpet, turning on his megawatt smile and waving to the reporters.
"What's your name?"
"How do you know Hawkeye?"
"Do you know any of the other Avengers?"
Percy dutifully stands next to Clint and puts a hand on the small of his back. Bright bulbs flash before them. He leans down to mutter in Clint's ear, a smile still plastered on his face.
"I'm going to kill you."
Clint looks back to him and just grins. A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest.
"Try not to do it in front of the cameras, please."
He could hear Percy let out a little huff next to him and his grin spread wider. The reporters got their photos and they moved over to the interviewers, Percy hovering behind him, now part of the red carpet but at a loss for what to do.
Several of the interviewers asked thoughtful questions about the Avengers and Hawkeye's work as a freelance hero. Reputable publications like the Daily Bugle were present, alongside a slew of less reputable ones. TMZ, Popsugar, E!News, and Buzzfeed were all present and all came armed with a mixed bag of questions.
"You always look absolutely glowing," asks one reporter with a cheerful smile. "What's your skincare routine?"
Clint blinks and leans down to speak into the microphone. "Uh… soap?"
She laughs as if that was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. "And your hair. Readers want to know: how do you keep it such a platinum blonde? What kind of toner do you use?"
Clint looks back at Percy, who gives him a shrug, then back at the reporter, thoroughly befuddled. "Um… genetics?"
"Mhmm, sure," the reporter nods knowingly, as if it were a secret shared between them.
Others were even less subtle.
"How long have you two been dating?" the reporter asks.
Percy looks confused and points to himself, then to Clint. He's standing far enough behind Clint that he figured he wasn't even in the shot. The reporter nods.
"Uh…" Clint lets out an uncomfortable chuckle and scratches the back of his head, a telltale sign that he needed rescuing.
Percy slides into the interview, having to stoop down a bit to speak into the microphone. "We're not dating. Thanks."
The reporter doesn't seem convinced. "In an era of mostly heterosexual superheroes, an openly gay member of the Avengers would be monumental for the LGBT+ rights movement in the city—"
"Respectfully," Percy cuts in. "I don't think his sexuality is any of your business." He looks directly into the camera. "Or yours, for that matter. Heroes don't owe you their personal life. Try asking a relevant question instead and maybe you'll get more of an answer."
He wants to hold Clint's hand again. He doesn't. They don't need any more fuel for the fire.
The reporter looks reasonably cowed. "Is there anyone else in your love life at the moment, Hawkeye?"
Clint blinks. He can feel Percy winding back up for another response, this time remarkably less kind than the first. He presses a hand to the small of Percy's back and pushes. "I think we're done here. Have a good night."
He had a sneaking suspicion that they'd just unleashed a thousand fan theories into the world in the last hour.
"You should've let me at him," Percy seethes as soon as they were out of earshot.
Clint guides him towards the ballroom's many tables set out for the dinner. "But where's the fun in that? Pepper would spend the next week squashing any rumors they ran with and you'd have your face on every trashy paper in New York City."
Percy clenches his fists at his sides, suppressing a growl. "I need a drink."
He sighs. "Fuck, so do I. Bar?"
Percy follows him, his brows slung low. His hand finds its way to Clint's back, then he drops it as if Clint burns him. Every inch of him was twitching with restless energy; god, he needed to get into a fight. If there ever was a place to do it, it would be at a superhero event. Even at half-power, Percy was sure he could beat a vast majority of them.
Two whiskeys for Percy and three vodkas for Clint later, Natasha joined them up by the bar.
"How are my favourite boys?" She presses a kiss to Clint's cheek, then does the same to Percy's.
"Trying to get drunk," Percy says as he downs the rest of his glass. "I'm failing so far."
"And I'm succeeding." Clint raises his glass towards Natasha. "Where's your shadow?"
Natasha orders a vodka as well. "Skulking about somewhere. He isn't a fan of the cameras."
"Quelle surprise," Clint mutters.
"Nice tux," she says to Percy, earning her a blush from him. "How'd you like the reporters?"
"I want to murder most of them, so we're off to a good start."
She laughs. "You'll fit in well here."
Clint takes his fourth drink from the bartender and stalks away. "I'm going to go find Bucky. He has the good shit."
Natasha and Percy watch him go, their heads tilted to the side in twin expressions.
"So." She turns to Percy. "I'm guessing you guys talked it out."
Percy takes a moment to respond. "We did."
"And?" She raises an eyebrow.
"He no longer wants to kill me. I think." He looks out over the crowd. "But I don't know where it's going next. I don't think—" He sighs. "We won't reach what we used to have, I mean. We're different. I'm different now."
Natasha turns to lean on the bar, brushing his arm. "Sometimes different is good."
"Yeah? You sure about that?" He raises an eyebrow. Percy looked tired, so goddamn tired.
She smiles. "I'm sure. You still want him."
He holds her gaze until he breaks. "Fuck. Is it that obvious?"
Natasha's drink arrives and she laughs. "Yes. You're utterly besotted. It's kind of cute, actually. It's probably not as obvious to people who aren't me, but—" She tilts her head to the side. "You should go for it."
He takes in a breath and lets it out slowly as he thinks. "Change of subject: who is this guy you're here with?"
"Jealous?"
"Maybe."
She sips her drink. "You'll like him, and I think he'll like you too. His name is Bucky; a sort of unofficial Avenger. Avenger-adjacent." She looks up at him. "Doesn't mean we can't fool around anymore, he's not like that. But I'm not sure you'll want to once you get a certain hawk back."
Percy groans. "You're the worst."
"So I've heard."
—
The gala is predictably boring, with a number of speeches on the charities they're funding and in memoriam segments for fallen heroes that died over the past year. Percy had never been to anything like this, but his demigod metabolism made sure that he couldn't really get drunk off of the alcohol they had, especially after he ate the pitifully small dinner.
He'd have to drag Clint to a late night pizza place after this or he's sure he'll starve.
After the dinner, they cleared the tables for a dance floor. Some guests left, with a majority of the heroes and younger celebrities staying. Percy found Clint in the crowd. as he wandered over to the outer edges of the ballroom. He was sitting and drinking with a man who had long, shaggy hair. He wore a tux with one sleeve ripped off, showing his metal arm.
"Hey," Clint says as he approaches. "How was your table?"
"Fine." Percy shrugs. "I didn't know anyone but they didn't really talk to me. The dinner was definitely not enough."
"They're never enough at these things," the man says. "I'm Bucky."
"Percy."
"Yeah, you're Clint's…" His gaze slides to Clint. "…friend. Nice to meet you."
Percy nods. "What happens next at these things?"
Bucky and Clint exchange a look. "Usually we all head up to the Avengers floors and get shitfaced. For those of us who can, that is."
Percy swears under his breath. "Unless you have something stronger than what they're serving here, I'm shit outta luck."
Bucky raises an eyebrow. "I think I stashed some strong stuff for Steve last year. Should still be some left." He looks at Percy with an appraising gaze, his feet resting up on a table as he leans back in his chair, beer in hand. "What're you? Powered?"
Percy considers Bucky for a moment. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."
Bucky chuckles. "Touche. But I sort of wear mine on my sleeve." He gestures to his metal arm. "Besides the arm, I'm a trained assassin with slow aging. Used to be friends with the great Captain before he became, well, Captain America."
Shit like this wasn't even surprising to Percy anymore. He wonders what it would take to catch him off guard now.
"Demigod," Percy replies in kind. "Sword fighting, powers, all the typical stuff. But my metabolism is fast as shit and it takes a lot to even get a buzz going."
Bucky hums. "If it's anything like Steve's healing, then the stuff I've got should help with that. How do you feel about Everclear?"
Clint chokes on his drink, sputtering. "We are not drinking Everclear again. I woke up on the back of a donkey last time."
"You are not drinking Everclear. You can't handle it." He points to Percy. "Your boyfriend here can have as much as he wants."
They both open their mouths to protest but close them, deciding it wasn't worth it.
"Now." Bucky stands and claps Clint on the shoulder. "I'm going to find a certain redhead. Have fun, you two."
Percy and Clint avoid each other's gaze for a solid few minutes before Percy coughs.
"Uh…you want another drink?"
Clint lets out a breath. "Fuck yes."
—
Clint seems to know every hero they come upon at the party; it boggles Percy's mind every time it happens. Wolverine, Ant-Man, a number of X-Men that Percy hadn't even seen before. Not just the main Avengers that he's seen live in the Tower, but a slew of others that seem to have a good working relationship with Hawkeye.
For the most part, he seems to be friendly with all of them, but as a woman with dark hair and a deep red dress approaches them, mask over her eyes, he stiffens.
"Fuck," he mutters.
"Clint," the woman smiles. She leans in to give him a light peck on each cheek. "I wasn't sure you were coming."
"I am an Avenger, Jess," he replies. "Sort of have to be here."
"As am I," she replies, a cold ice underlying her polite tone. "Unless you've forgotten already. Introduce me to your friend?"
Clint bites the inside of his cheek, but relents. "Jess, this is Percy. He's working a case with me. Percy, this is Jessica Drew, Spiderwoman."
Percy reaches his hand out to shake hers. "Pleased to meet you, Jessica."
Jessica sizes him up for a moment and hums to herself. She turns to speak to Clint. "Have a great time at the gala, Clint."
Jessica Drew swans away, disappearing into the crowd.
"Ex-girlfriend," Clint says in a low tone.
"What?"
"That was my ex-girlfriend ." Clint is decidedly more panicked now.
"Oh." Percy blinks. "Um… do you want me to go kill her?"
"I know you're joking, but I'm 100% sure she would haunt me from the great beyond."
—
The Avengers and a few others retire to the common room up in the Tower, all various levels of inebriated. Clint and Percy arrive a bit later than the others, having gone to grab something to eat after the gala concluded. The loosely assembled group looks up when they enter.
"Welcome, Hawkguy," Tony nods to Clint from where he was sprawled on the couch. "Aqualad. Have a nice quickie?"
"Fuck off, Stark." Clint grabs a beer from Bucky and sits.
"Now, now, is that any way to speak to the person who made you new hearing aids?"
"We went to go get pizza, Stark." Percy sits next to Natasha, Bucky at her feet. "Unfortunately, your piss poor gala food wasn't exactly filling."
"Budget cuts," Tony says. "Gotta give those orphans their money."
"The cause was literacy this year, Tony," Steve sends him a pointed look. He turns to Percy. "I'm Steve. Nice to meet you."
Percy nods back. Natasha pulls him against her so she can run her hands through his hair, now suitably mussed from its earlier gala style. "Percy. I work with Nat and Clint."
"For now," Clint knocks his beer bottle against Percy's leg. He perches on the arm of the couch, his mouth set in a grimace seeing Percy so close to Natasha.
"Cool. What kind of work?" Steve asks.
Percy takes a glass from Bucky, thanking him. "Child murders."
Steve grimaces. "Forget I asked."
"Oh yeah, Stark," Percy looks over at Tony where he's sprawled on the opposite side of the couch. "Did you locate the intruder yet?"
Tony pops one of his myriad of snacks into his mouth. "Not yet. I've got my people on it, Flounder. In the meantime, I got the security breaches fixed."
Percy rolls his eyes. "Can you land on a nickname or do you need some help?"
He purses his lips. "I can't decide yet. I haven't seen you in action enough to tell what part of the aquatic biome I want to name you after."
Percy groans, nuzzling into Natasha's side. He toes his shoes off and lets them fall to the carpet, putting his feet in Clint's lap. Clint stiffens. "You're not going to see me in action."
Bucky cranes his neck up. "I'm kind of curious. What can you do?"
He sits up, sipping from the surprisingly strong drink Bucky made for him. "I don't do anything anymore. The powers are behind lock and key."
"Ah, mystical curse," Tony nodded. "Saw a few of those in my time."
Natasha pauses in combing his hair. "Your powers are gone?"
Percy sighs. "Not… gone. Not exactly. I just— it's hard to explain. When I left my dad's domain, a lot of blessings went with it. Jason and I had them for a time but they can only do so much when we're not in their seat of power. The less I used them after… everything, the less I could access them."
Natasha hums, leaving the conversation at that. He knows she'll corner him later.
Steve follows the conversation as best he can. The gears whir in his mind and he finally says, "So you're part… fish?"
Clint and Natasha stare at him then burst out laughing. Steve is left with his mouth hanging open, trying to defend himself.
"Hey! It was my first thought," Steve says. "We don't have a lot of heroes here with water powers. Namor is the only one I can think of, and he's kind of part-fish."
"Namor is from Atlantis," Bucky says. "He doesn't have any fish or water powers."
"How am I supposed to know that?" Steve asks. "All he does is swim with fish and ominously emerge from the water!"
Natasha's whole body shakes. She wipes tears from the corner of her eyes. "Steve, please. I can't take it."
Percy lifts his head, his hair sticking out at every angle, and fixes Steve with a sour expression. "I'm not part fish. I'm a demigod."
Steve briefly flashes back to Loki in his mind's eye and parses this new information. "Which one?"
"What?"
"Which god?"
"Oh." Percy didn't expect Steve to take it so easily in stride. "Poseidon."
Bucky looks at him with newfound admiration. "Sick."
Percy cracks a smile and fist-bumps him. "Thanks, bro."
"Greek," Tony feels a rush of vindication. "I thought so. That won me a few bets. Thanks, water wing."
Percy groans. "Who the fuck did you bet on with me?"
"The SHIELD grunts on the godkiller case." Tony counts on his fingers. "I've divested a tidy sum of money from a few of them. The big pool was for Roman or Norse."
He decides it's not worth retaliating on and returns his attention to Natasha's hands in his hair. "Huh. The godkiller case. Good name. You come up with it?"
"He's not that creative," Clint says.
"Unfair! And untrue."
"So," Steve looks at Percy and repeats Bucky's question from earlier. "What can you do?"
He shrugs. "I used to do a lot of things. I can control water, wherever it is: air, earth, or sea. Evaporate it, freeze it, the whole shebang. Speak to fish, summon creatures of the sea, control pegasi. Well, you can't really control them— but yeah. Sea shit."
"He's being humble," Natasha smirks. "I saw him freeze the spit in a guy's mouth once."
Percy snickers. "Yeah, that was pretty cool."
"He also has a sword," Tony adds.
He shrugs. "Basic fighting skills for Greek combat. All demigods have that, it's not special. Enhanced strength, battle instincts, you know."
"Show us something," Tony says.
Percy raises an eyebrow, looking to Clint and Natasha. She nods and encourages him to sit up. When he's righted himself, he leans his elbows on his knees and lazily looks for some water to do a party trick with. He makes the water from a discarded glass rise, do a figure eight, then dive back into the glass.
"Ta-da," he says flatly. "Happy now?"
Bucky gives a golf clap. "You said you're strong. Want to put that to the test?"
Percy sighs. "Is this all you guys do? Bully the new guy into putting on a show?"
"Normally we just try to pick up Thor's hammer, but he's not here," Steve says.
"I don't know why I thought superheroes would have cooler hobbies, but I guess none of you knit or do macrame and shit." Percy stands. "I'll be your dancing monkey if you get me more of whatever the fuck this is." He shoves the glass into Bucky's hand.
Bucky grins.
"No fighting," Tony says. "I don't want to have to replace all the furniture in here like last time."
Percy nods, tying his hair up and taking the rented tux jacket off. He loosens the bowtie just as Bucky places another drink in his hand. "So… what first?"
"Arm wrestling," he says with a glimmer of mischief in his eye. "I'll use my normal arm first. Go a little easy on you."
Percy rolls up his sleeves. "Your funeral."
They assume the position on the coffee table. Bucky's arm is visibly larger than Percy's, but his demigod strength is deceptive; Percy has won many a fight due to his opponent underestimating him.
"Winner has to take on Steve," Bucky says.
Percy grins, baring his teeth. "Deal."
Tony counts them down, Percy's hand wrapped in Bucky's, and the battle starts.
For Bucky, it's like hitting a brick wall. For Percy, it's just another day. He flexes his hand around Bucky's, casual as ever, while Bucky struggles against him. He clenches his jaw, his bicep flexing.
"Any day now," Percy taunts him. "You want me to end this?"
Bucky glares at him. "Fuck. You."
Percy grabs his drink with his other hand and sips it leisurely. "You wish."
He slams Bucky's hand into the coffee table, sending splinters flying. Bucky bounces back onto the ground in shock when Percy releases his hand, flexing to make sure all the bones are still intact.
"Fuck." He marvels at his hand, bruises already forming. "You weren't kidding."
Percy finished off the drink. A pleasant buzz works its way around his body. "I try not to."
"I think he'll give you a run for your money, Steve." Bucky rubs his hand and returns to where he was sitting before. Natasha leans over to inspect Percy's handiwork with an appreciative glance.
Steve stands, squaring his shoulders.
"I always wondered how strong the Captain America was." Percy's getting cocky now, flexing his hand. He sets his elbow down on the coffee table and beckons Steve closer.
"I'll try not to hurt you, son." Steve's easily double the size of Percy in body weight alone.
"Likewise." Percy grasps Steve's hand.
It goes much like the wrestling with Bucky did, but Steve manages to gain an inch or two on Percy at the beginning, making him work for his victory. Percy sets his jaw and glares at their interlocked hands, pouring all of his strength into pushing back against the Star-Spangled Man.
"You're strong," Steve says with a hint of admiration in his voice. "You need a job?"
Percy snorts. "I won't work for SHIELD."
"Why not?" His voice is casual, as if the veins aren't popping out in his arm already. "You're working for them now."
Percy grits his teeth and gains another inch on Steve. "That's different: I'm a consultant, not an agent. I don't think Fury or the American government would approve of most of my methods."
Steve smiles. "What's so special about this godkiller case, then?"
"They're killing my kind." Percy grunts. "The gods don't take the murder of their children lightly, especially if we have a kinslayer on our hands."
He studies Percy for a moment. "You're loyal."
Percy chuckles darkly. "Some say it's my fatal flaw."
"Mine too." Steve locks eyes with him.
It's enough to make Percy slip slightly, letting Steve gain an advantage. He curses under his breath and puts more of his strength into his grip. After a momentary struggle, he manages to touch Steve's knuckles to the splintered wood of the coffee table. They release each other's hands, breathing hard.
"Good game," Steve says, panting.
Percy can only nod. Their audience watches them with startled looks.
"That enough for you?" He asks Tony as he stands, laying back down in Natasha's arms. She checks his hand, rubbing it softly.
Tony nods. "I wouldn't want to get on your bad side."
"Few do," Clint says with a hint of irony.
—
Bucky manages to get Percy drunk; the motherfucker actually does it. It astounds Percy as much as it does the rest of the assembled heroes shooting the shit in the Avengers common room. He spends the night paying Natasha far too much attention, much to the chagrin of both Bucky and Clint. As the moon crawls across the night sky, the party disbands to sleep off the impending hangovers in the nearby rooms.
Clint catches Percy in the hallway to his room, the others already asleep.
"What was that?" he asks.
"Hmm?" Percy raises a lazy eyebrow.
"With Natasha."
Percy backs Clint against the wall with a growing smile. "Why? Jealous?"
Clint allows him to box him in for the moment. They're both cruising a buzz, but while Clint is accustomed to it, Percy is not. He puts a hand on Percy's chest.
"I know what you're trying to do," he says.
Percy's grin is taunting. "Yeah? And what's that?"
In a flash, Clint has them flipped and shoves Percy up against the wall, his knee between Percy's leg, his arm pinning him in place. He tilts his head to nip at the tendon standing at attention on Percy's neck.
"You forget," Clint says softly. "I still remember what makes you tick."
The fight goes out of him. A whimper escapes his lips. Clint's other hand wanders down, palming over the front of Percy's trousers.
"Are you going to behave now?"
Clint's voice is sweet, too sweet to Percy's drunken ears. His head doesn't feel screwed on straight as blood rushes towards where Clint is gripping him.
"Yes," comes his strangled reply. He looks at Clint with wild eyes.
Clint's pupils are blown wide. He searches Percy's face for any deception and finds nothing. His grip on Percy loosens and he strokes over the front of his trousers softly, smiling as Percy hardens against his fingers.
"Do you want more?" He whispers.
Percy nods frantically.
Clint presses his knee up insistently. "Words, Percy."
Percy swallows. "Yes. Please."
Clint's mouth quirks into a satisfied smile. He takes the arm pinning him to the wall away, stepping back. Percy leans against the wall for support as he struggles to get his bearings.
"Then come." Clint turns and disappears into his room.
Percy follows. The door clicks closed behind him.
