Percy Jackson Avenger and S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent

2022 (3)

For the next few days, I spent most of my life horizontal, which I will admit made a pretty nice change. Any time that I was vaguely upright, I was saying hello to Estelle, hobbling around (and getting reprimanded for not using my crutches), or generally getting underfoot as I tried to be helpful.

Apparently I did Not know where precisely the plates go in the cupboard. Sue me.

I might also add that the volume on my phone was always turned right the way up, and the offending item was on my person at all times. You know, just in case there was any update on the progress of the mission (there wasn't).

Life got exciting four days after my arrival, when there was a knock on the door in the middle of the afternoon (you know, the quiet sort of lull between the lunchtime rush and evening rush hour).

Mom was very quick to jump up from her desk (so quick that I wonder if she was seeking an excuse to do so; I had not been allowed to ask how her latest book was going, so perhaps Not Well) and answer the door.

Mom gave a little sound of surprise. "Clint! What are you doing here?"

He mumbled something that I couldn't quite make out from my position on the sofa underneath the front window.

"Well, I don't have enough beds for all of you, but you're welcome to stay if some of you are willing to sleep on sofas and floors. You know that I'd never turn you away. Now, come on in, and bring the rest of your motley crew as well. I needed bread anyway, so I'll get a few bits while I'm gone."

"Maybe quite a lot?" Clint asked, voice a little more clear now that he'd stepped into the hallway. "I think that might be a plan."

"I can make that happen. Now, come on in, all of you. Just try and be a little bit quiet; I wouldn't want to wake the baby."

"With all due respect, I think Percy could deal with being woken up at three in the afternoon on a Tuesday."

Oh, this was brilliant. I heaved myself off the sofa and grabbed the crutch leaning up against it (don't ask where the other one was, because I had no idea), using it to hobble the four or five yards to the doorway.

"Now, I hate to break it to you, but even when I'm on leave I tend to be up by three pm on most Tuesdays," I remarked, leaning against the doorframe because actually standing up seemed rather too much like hard work.

Clint spun quite comically around from where he was leaning against the stair gate to untie the mess that he called a 'secure bow' on his muddy combat boots. He turned back to the stair gate, and I watched a truly beautiful moment as the cogs in his brain finally turned, putting two and two together. "Baby?" he asked, voice suddenly quite reverent and soft. His eyes brightened instantly, even if he did still look exhausted and seconds away from keeling over.

The rest of the Avengers, because that's obviously who it was, were crammed awkwardly into the hallway behind Clint, the door wedged shut behind them. They were all still dressed in their combat gear (with the notable exception of Tony Stark, who I am glad to say was not wearing a full suit of red and gold armor in my mom's hallway), and, to be perfectly honest, looked pretty terrible. Upon seeing that Clint was, they began to take their shoes off, which, when in such confined quarters, resulted in a few people getting elbowed in the face. They all perked up slightly at 'baby', but also looked reasonably confused, which I suppose is a fair reaction to turning up at a complete stranger's house and being told there's a baby.

I jerked my head towards the living room. "If you guys head in there, I'll go grab her."

Mom glanced up very suddenly. "No you will not; I am not having you try and bring her down the stairs. You would both fall and die, and that would be unfortunate. I'll go and get her; you can show our guests into the living room."