Chapter Text
“Oh…” Percy said. “Definitely not what I was thinking but yep…” Since having been informed of his new living arrangements, Percy had done a little research on the Avengers & Co. so he knew who Spiderman was, he just didn’t know who Spiderman was . But apparently, Spiderman was sitting opposite him munching down on a large slice of extra cheese pizza.
“Yeah…” Peter said. “So I too have had my fair share of elevator trauma…”
Percy laughed. He knew that Peter didn’t mean anything rude by his comment, but if Peter knew the truth about Percy’s past elevator experiences, then he might not have made the comment -- but Percy also had no idea what Peter’s elevator experience was either.
“Well, my elevator trauma stems from being in literal Hell so I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” The other two didn’t say anything as Percy continued to slightly chuckle to himself, but when he noticed their confused faces he felt as though he should share his secret(s) just as Peter did. “Oh, yeah. My recent world travel included a trip to Tartarus.”
“Um,” Tony began. “Now I don't know much about mythology, but I'm pretty sure that’s not good…”
“Oh no,” Percy said, a half-laugh leaving his body. “It’s not. It’s like the opposite of good. Like bad, very bad.”
Tony and Peter momentarily looked at each other before staring at Percy again. “So… it's probably not something you wanna joke about?” Peter half questioned.
Percy’s face sobered a little. “Yeah, but humour is one of the ways that I cope with trauma. Life sucks, it happened, my life is shit, I need to move on. But it’s still something that happened, and I won’t ever forget it, but I can’t change the past. I can only live with it.”
Tony blinked a few times in disbelief before saying, “Wait, so you weren’t joking? You’ve been there? To hell?”
“Tartarus. And yeah. That isn’t the kinda shit you lie about,” Percy responded.
“Dude,” Peter said. “What is your life?”
“And what are you?” Tony put in.
The green-eyed boy laughed before saying, “Well it all started when my mum, Sally, met my dad-”
“No.” Tony cut him off. “You’re not tik-toking us.”
Percy half glared at the man, but it held no fire. “I don’t know what that is, but yes, I totally am.”
Peter looked at Tony and said, “Let the man live. If he’s tik-toking us, he’s tik-toking us.”
Percy blinked at the two. “I dunno what tik-toking is. It’s just something I picked up from the younger campers. Thought it was cool.” to which the other two asked ‘Campers?’ which Percy ignored. “Anyways, it all started when my mum, the wonderful Sally Jackson whom you have had the pleasure of meeting, met my dad, the dumbass. Well, I shouldn’t say that. He’s not too bad as far as godly parents go. Definitely better than someone like… I dunno Ares? That guy is kinda a dick. Anyway, back on track. So my mum, Sally, met my dad, Poseidon - god of the sea, creator of horses, and whatever other bullshit - and they had me. Hi, I’m Percy Jackson, and my life is kinda crazy.”
“Wait,” Tony held his hands up, signalling for Percy to pause. “So you’re a-”
“Demigod?” Percy cut him off. Tony nods. “Last time I checked, yeah.”
“Wow. okay.”
“And you go on deadly missions? Like Hercules and stuff?”
“Quests. But yeah. And an emphasis on ‘stuff’...”
“Oh… cool?” Peter says if only to fill the lull in the conversation.
“Yeah… not so much. It is what it is,” Percy tells them.
It soon became apparent to Percy that there were more than just two other inhabitants in the Avengers' compound — which would make sense, it was the “Avengers’ compound” and not the “Tony and Peter oversized house”. Although he didn’t meet anyone on his first day, or even his second, he saw the signs that the place was being lived in. The dishes in the kitchen, the depleting food in the fridge, the one sock that was behind the couch (seriously… one sock… did the person who left it there only put one sock on? Or did they only take one off? Were they walking around with one bare foot and one socked? Did they only have one leg? Percy had so many questions).
It wasn’t until the morning of his third day in the tower did Percy meet someone who wasn’t Tony or Peter (or even FRIDAY). The culprits in question were messing around in the kitchen when he woke up that morning. Making pancakes if the smell was anything to go by.
“Oh hey,” said a man who was sitting at the kitchen island eating from a large bowl of cereal and reading the newspaper. Which struck Percy as odd. Who eats cereal when there are pancakes available? “You must be Percy.”
The man held out his hand to shake Percy’s, which he took. The handshake was firm, and Percy felt for a moment like the man was testing his grip strength - two could play at that game. The man’s hair was fair, and he had a look about him that reminded Percy of Jason Grace, his demigod cousin, the son of Jupiter.
“Yes,” Percy confirmed. “It’s good to meet you, sir.”
“Please,” the man said, dropping Percy’s hand and beginning to fold away his newspaper. “Call me Steve.”
“And I’m Bucky,” says another man, who had had, only moments prior, his head in the fridge, obviously perusing for ingredients, if the tub of butter and container of blueberries in his hand was anything to go by.
His hand, which was not made of normal hand materials. It was a dark metal that went all the way up his arm and extended somewhere above his shirt sleeve.
While his research into his new housemates was minimal, he knew enough to know that the blond man — Steve — was obviously Captain America. But the darker-haired man he had no clue about. Maybe he was a friend of Steve’s?
“Have you had breakfast yet?” Steve asked him.
Percy shook his head. “Not yet, I’ve only just woken up.”
Steve nodded and turned to the other man who was already holding up the frying pan in offer. “Pancake?” Captain America’s friend asked.
“Yes, thank you,” Percy said as Bucky was already loading a plate with them before sliding the plate and a selection of toppings towards a seat beside Steve.
Percy thanked the cook again before taking his seat, loading and proceeding to drown his pancakes in maple syrup — actual maple syrup and not the imitation stuff. Steve smiled in amusement as he ate another spoonful of his depressing-looking cereal.
Percy, not one to like silence, pointed at Steve’s now discarded newspaper. “Anything interesting today?”
Steve shook his head. “Not really. Just the usual.”
“Mmhmm,” Percy agreed around his mouthful of pancakes. “I get ya. I don't even bother looking at the paper most of the time now, it's all the same.” He took another bite and swallowed. “My cousin, Nico, says that the newspapers haven't really improved in the last 70-80 years. Only difference is now there’s less Nazi propaganda.”
This appeared to catch both Steve and Bucky off guard. Steve had stopped, another spoonful halfway to his mouth, and Bucky was just holding the pan, preparing to flip another pancake, but just… not.
“Oh,” Percy said, taking his time to chew his latest mouthful of pancakes before he provided some context. “Nico’s originally from Italy.”
Steve nodded slowly. “And how old was-”
“Um…” Percy thought about it. “I think he was born in like… ‘32 maybe? And they moved when he was like 10 or something so…”
“Your cousin,” Bucky started, finally slipping the pancake and sitting the pan back down on the burner. “Is our age?” he questioned, motioning to himself and Steve.
That was when Percy remembered that Steve Rogers, Captain America, was technically from the 1940s — Nico and Hazel had more in common with the man than Percy did. Bucky must have also been from the 40s. Percy wasn’t sure how, but didn’t question it.
Percy shook his head. “Sort of not really.” he put his fork down, having finished his first round of pancakes. “I mean, chronologically, he probably is, but physically and like emotionally, he's like 15 or something. His half-sister, Hazel, same deal but she's like 14, but I think she's actually older than Neeks. I dunno really, my family is a bit weird.”
Bucky and Steve didn’t have anything to say to that. Bucky just held up the pan in offer again.
“Oh yes please,” Percy said. “But you have yours first.” He smiled at the older man, who shook his head and put the pancakes on Percy’s plate anyway.
“Eat up.”