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Steve was staring at his sketchbook when Percy entered Steve’s room at Stark Tower, eating an apple, kicking off his shoes with his feet, and flopping onto the bed beside Steve, still scrolling through his phone, occasionally replying to texts.
“The shoes are a mess,” Steve grumbled, knowing full well that it was futile to try to persuade Percy to tidy them up. If he did, Percy would simply slip them back on and flop onto Steve's bedside floor, too polite to mess up Steve's sheets.
“The shoes are tactically positioned for a quick escape,” Percy corrected him, continuing to reply to Tweets.
“Tony's first rule was not to reply to every tweet,” Steve reminded Percy, who shrugged. “My first rule is that rules are guidelines,” Percy reminded Steve, smiling when Steve snorted in amusement, knowing how much they shared that attitude toward rules.
“Are you breaking Twitter, the conservatives, or both?” Steve asked, knowing the first two were highly likely to happen daily and sometimes, on memorable occasions, simultaneously.
Like when Percy came out in the least sensational way possible.
“I think I’m well on my way to breaking both, but the conservatives are already begging for mercy.” Percy smiled. “I’ll ask Uncle H to punish them by making them relive all our Twitter exchanges in the near future.”
Steve nodded, accepting Percy’s answer philosophically, as only experience could allow him, before turning to look at Percy, wondering whether or not he should ask what was on his mind.
“What’s wrong?” Percy asked. “Are you about to confess that you didn’t actually turn off the lights in the house and now you’re worried about the bill?”
“No, but… I have to tell you a secret,” Steve said, hesitating slightly, just for a moment.
It was probably that hesitation, however slight it was, that made Percy turn toward him—no hesitation on his part.
“Look, you really don’t have to worry about bills,” Percy said. “Dad and the gods have no concept of economy, and they give me a weekly allowance that rivals the monthly income of the SI.”
“No, I…” Steve decided not to answer that, preferring instead to ask, “How did you know you weren’t straight?”
Percy looked at him, ocean-blue eyes that seemed to know what Steve really wanted to ask. “The same way someone finds out they’re straight.” Percy shrugged, giving the answer little importance, even though Steve knew Percy was aware of the importance of their conversation. “I’ve had crushes.”
“And how did you know they were different?” Steve persisted. “That it wasn’t just friendship, or that you weren’t confused, or…”
“Can I tell you a secret?” Percy asked, raising an eyebrow. “The first time I realized I liked both sexes was when I first met Rachel.”
“Did you know you were gay before?” Steve asked, frowning, trying to comprehend what it would be like to grow up knowing you liked the same sex without the fear of being locked up and healed from that illness.
“I didn’t call myself gay, I just recognized that both boys and girls were attractive. I didn’t mind standing in line with guys and holding their hands, while other guys might make a fuss just walking next to them.” Percy shrugged. “And crushes, well, a crush on a girl or a boy works the same way. Your heart races when you see them, you can’t breathe, all your nerves explode and sizzle when you’re close, you get goosebumps, you act like an idiot…” Percy shrugged. “There’s not much difference between having a crush on a boy or a girl.” After a moment’s pause, Percy said. “Not all of my crushes have tried to kill me, but two out of six is a high score, isn’t it?”
“Two of your crushes tried to kill you?” Steve asked, blinking. “And you… are…?” Steve hesitated, not sure what to ask.
Were you hurt? Destroyed? Did you really risk dying?
“Well, yeah.” Percy snorted. “At least I got over my crush, right?”
“It’s a way to get over it.” Steve muttered, looking down at the drawing. “I don’t know if I’m not straight.”
“You don’t have to decide now,” Percy replied, making Steve look up.
“I don’t have to?” Steve asked. “What if I’m not sure?”
“Then you’re not sure.” Percy shrugged.
“That’s it?” Steve asked skeptically. “Are you sure it works this way?”
“Steve, it's not a test. You don't have to turn in the answer by tomorrow.” Percy replied. “It's your identity. You can figure it out now or never, and most importantly, you don’t have to tell anyone. You can tell whoever you want, you can tell it publicly or just your friends, you can use it to destroy stupid politicians or to cheer up a friend." Percy shrugged. "You tell whoever you want, whenever you want, no strings attached."
"Don't you want to know anything?" Steve asked, looking down at the drawing before returning it to Percy.
"Whenever you're ready to tell me." Percy replied calmly, before laughing again at the screen, while replying to a message from a Fox reporter, showing Steve what he believed were the seven stages of grief the reporter was currently going through.
Laughing at Percy, Steve looked down at Bucky's drawing, smiling to himself.
Maybe he'd tell Percy soon.