PERSEUS MEANS DESTROYER

Little Lion Man

I really fucked it up this time,

Didn't I my dear?

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Perseus's forehead pressed into a frown. "Those kinds of people... things... can only get in if you want something and they can give it to you. If you need it so desperately you would throw away the world for it."

Loki froze, turning to eye the demigod properly.

Tense shoulders.

Weight resting mostly on one leg—the uninjured one.

Arms by his side; nothing threatening.

But something about him made Loki sure that he knew all about this whole... situation.

"So? What was it?" Perseus was facing him properly now—straight onto the glass, shoulders more hunched now, like he was curling in on himself. "What was worth the world?"

Worth your world.

It was implied, in the way Perseus's head inclined further towards Loki, in the way his feet shifted and in the way his right hand pressed up against the glass.

Loki stared at it. "What was... worth the world." More to himself than anything, barely more than a whisper. And while he was sure Perseus couldn't hear it through the glass, he knew that the demigod had probably read his lips.

He lined his left palm up on his side of the glass, briefly flicking his eyes up to meet Perseus's gaze.

He opened his mouth for a second. Or two, or three, or maybe four, but this was the first time he'd spoken to the demigod—really spoken—and suddenly he was being pulled apart from the inside by questions he didn't know the answers to (or didn't want to think about the answers to.

'What was worth the world').

The glass was cold.

He took a step back, taking his hand with him, turned his back on Perseus and threw his hands in the air for a second. "So. Suddenly you know everything, as well as being my supposed 'jailer'," he sneered.

Loki threw a careless gaze over his shoulder, met with Perseus's downcast expression.

"I just... sorry. I'm sorry."

Percy might have been apologising for anything at this point. He figured Loki would take it sorely anyway.

So he dropped it.

"I'll... see you later."

Loki watched as Perseus walked out of the room with a frown on his face.

... good riddance. Hopefully, the demigod wouldn't try to strike up another conversation like that. Loki wasn't sure how, but he had somehow managed to cut straight through several dozen layers of bullshit, directly to the messy, fucked up centre of this whole plot.

And it made him feel awful in the best way for no reason he could fathom.

Steve could see the bags under Perseus's eyes when he arrived in the dining hall. The kid was poking at his food with a fork (odd choice, considering he was eating porridge), but the dish looked pretty much untouched.

Steve got himself what he could—toast, eggs (sunny side up) and a bottle of honey.

At the last second, he picked up a spoon.

Steve sat down opposite Perseus, and pushed the spoon his way.

Perseus looked up at him, then at the spoon on the table, the fork in his hand and the bowl in front of him.

"... thanks."

Steve offered a flickering smile in return. "Do you normally get up this early?"

Perseus shrugged. "Sometimes earlier."

Steve nodded, then pointed to the crutch with his knife–hand. "How long do you need that?"

Perseus looked over for a second, quickly swallowing the food in his mouth. "Dunno. My leg hasn't been getting much better."

"Bruce could check it out for you. If you were okay with it?"

Perseus nodded. "Mph. Thanks."

"Are you..." Steve wanted to be careful with his phrasing. He wasn't sure how sensitive Perseus was normally, but he seemed a bit touch–and–go at the moment. "... alright? I know it's a stupid question, but—"

Perseus sighed. "Not really. But there isn't a massive amount you or I could do about it right now. So maybe leave it for a bit."

Steve nodded. "Sure. I... get that. By the way, if you get any better while you're here, I'm always happy to spar if you want." Probably a stupid offer, but it got a small smirk out of the kid.

"You sure you could take me on, Mr America?"

"Oh, I reckon I could. And it's Captain to the likes of you."

Perseus smiled, properly this time, and shook his head lightly. "Whatever you say, old man."

As the two of them finished breakfast and put their dishes on the counter of the kitchen, trading banter all the while, the sun rose higher and higher in the sky, time advancing ever onward. When the clock hit seven AM, Tony and Bruce stumbled into the dining hall, groaning in the morning light.

Steve jerked his thumb over to Bruce and sent Perseus a querying look.

Percy nodded.

"Hey! Banner!"

Bruce looked over at the two of them and Percy suddenly felt like he was shrinking under his gaze.

Why was he asking for help? He didn't think he needed it, now that the moment was here.

"What's up, Rogers?"

"D'you reckon you could take a look at Perseus's leg later? He says it hasn't been healing very fast..."

Percy's face flushed. This was stupid. He didn't need someone to look after him, he was fine, he would be fine.

Like usual.

His voice abounded incredibly quiet when he spoke up. "Um... just forget about it, I'm alright, it isn't that... bad."

No one heard him.

"You do know I'm not that kind of doctor, right?"

"Er... get one of the medics on board to help you?" Steve sounded kind of awkward asking for help, now that Percy thought about it.

Percy cleared his throat and spoke again, louder, tightening his fingers around his crutch. "It's nothing, don't worry about it–"

"No, it's alright; we don't mind. It won't be much trouble anyway. And if your leg is bothering you, it's probably worth it to get it checked out. I can talk to the medics here, and we can go down later today– around eleven?"

Percy blinked. "Oh– oh, okay."

No way he could waltz in there and take their help. Gods forbid he ended up actually needing it.

"... thank you."

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First published ::: 28.06.22
First edit ::: n/a
Wordcount ::: 1034
Chapter dedication ::: n/a

<3

Yours, l0v3rboy_