Raised in Tartarus (AvengersxPercy) (PeterxPercy)

Thor

Percy's POV:

After wandering around the maze of hallways for what felt like three hours, I eventually happened across an elevator that led me down more hallways and rooms until finally ending in a kitchen.

By this time, the sun had completely risen and five people already sat at the spacious table in the middle of the room.

I identify one of them to be the man who punched me in the face, Timmy, my target. No, wait- Tony, I think.

Next to him sits the older man who bandaged me and asked a billion ridiculous questions.

Across from the pair sit three people I don't recognize. One is a woman with short, fiery red hair dressed in a black hoodie and jeans. She smacks the person next to her, a man with short hair and an equally short face wearing a casual jacket.

As I step up to the table, the last man's eyes shoot to me and he stands up. "Greetings, friend," he booms. "Damarion, right? I've already heard a lot about you from my friends here." He waves his arms around the table.

I chuckle nervously and he gestures for me to sit across from him, next to Bruce.

Bruce gives me a small smile. "How are you feeling, Damarion? Any head pain? Where did your bandages go?"

He reaches out to touch my head and I flinch away from him. "I took the bandages off this morning. I'm feeling great, sir. Thank you."

He slowly lowers his hand back down, looking slightly pained.

"Ah, I forgot to introduce myself, I am Thor." The blond man interrupts, beaming at me.

My eyes widen and I lean back away from him, tipping the chair back. "Wha—?" My chair topples over underneath me and I crash to the ground, slamming the side of my head on the hard floor.

Bruce shoots to his feet. "Oh my god, Damarion, are you okay? You might still have a concussion! What are you doing?!"

He lifts my head off the floor, but I scoot away from him. "I'm—I'm okay, really. I just—"

"Damarion?"

I snap my neck around to see Peter standing next to the table, staring down at me.

I scramble to my feet, almost falling again in the process, but Tony and Bruce each tightly grab one of my arms and hold me up. The room tilts.

Looking to my left, I make out two separate Tonys staring at me with wrinkled eyebrows and slightly parted mouths.

"I'm really alright, everyone," I say, blinking hard. Swaying like a drunk person, I reach out a hand, trying to guess which Tony to reassure.

My hand falls straight through his shoulder. "Oh, damn."

Peter rushes over to me and holds a hand up to my cheek, turning my face back towards his. "Damarion? You alright, man?" His still sleepy eyes pear at me from underneath a mop of bedhead, filled with concern.

I don't respond, a flush running to my cheeks.

He looks adorable in that little sweater vest.

After giving him a lopsided grin, my eyes roll back in my head and I feel myself sliding forward, out of the hands that grip me.