Percy Jackson, the Seriously Attractive Snake, and the Ex-Winter Soldier

Clint's Fatherly Instincts > Poseidon's Fatherly Instincts

It was only much later that Bucky realised that he hadn't dreamt up an alive Percy.

Percy hated the cold. Hated the way it seeped into his bones. Hated the inescapability of it. Hated the reminder of his time in Daedalus' labyrinth. The unending tunnels, although not the worst of his quests and various adventures, would forever suffocate him with their memory. 

It was this loathing for the cold that made it particularly unfortunate that Percy had run from the Avengers with such little preparation. Or any preparation. So, it was to be expected that after three nights in what had to have been the coldest alleyway in all of New York, Percy was weighing up the pros and cons of returning back to the tower.

Pros:

Warmth

Food

Bucky

Bucky's arse

Prince Loki

Prince Loki's adorable grin

Being able to make sure Prince Loki was being treated with the proper care (though Percy was fairly certain Bucky was more than capable of that).

Cons:

Dealing with Natasha seeing Oceanus' blessing

Explaining pretty much everything without mentioning anything Greek or mythological or Roman.

Possibly being arrested

The tetchy mechanic whose ego was bordering on that of a god's

Being around people who suspected him of terrorism

Percy sighed and looked back to the newspaper someone had just thrown in the rubbish bin. It was Saturday and regardless of whether he decided to return or not, he had to go see his family again. Needed to.

Getting up and ignoring the bone deep cold that had seeped in, Percy followed the route that seemed burnt into his mind. He would always know his way to their final resting place. There were two: celestial bronze, and turning right down past Five Avenue.

Clint's PoV:

Something was bugging Clint. About the kid. His reflexes, the haunted looks Clint sometimes caught between the scarily blank expressions, and everything he was saying in the graveyard... There is something seriously wrong with that kid, but not terrorist wrong. I-have-seen-things-I-can-never-unsee wrong.

Clint sighed and put his head in his hands, going over everything he knew about Percy Jackson again. One thing in particular stood out. The graves. There was no way someone could be that destroyed in their grief without needing some sort of an outlet. Considering there'd be no reports of scarily strong university students getting in bar fights, Clint would bet his bow that the graves were the only time Percy could properly feel and express his bereavement. The only question was, how regularly would the kid visit them and was it worth intruding on so many people's grief to catch him?

Clint thought again about Percy's words to his mother, ignoring the weird word that Clint hadn't been able to distinguish at the beginning, it was heart breaking to hear any child feel such responsibility and guilt over their parents death. All that stuff about protecting, it was the parent's job to protect their kid, not vice versa. What could've possibly have happened to Percy Jackson to traumatise him so thoroughly? The archer made his decision and when he did, it wasn't as Hawkeye the Avenger, but as Clint the father. Yes, he would have to visit the graveyard, not to arrest a grieving young man, but to make sure he had a place to go and food to eat. Bruce had told them how he'd caught Percy in the shops stealing vegetables. There was no way he was in a good place if he was driven to stealing and stealing carrots at that.

So that's how Clint ended up hiding in a tree at eight am on Saturday. He knew the visits weren't daily, so weekly is the next logical step. The problem was the timing. He had no idea if Percy had a way to know the time so even if he had a usual time, it was unlikely he'd stick to it. Hence, waking up at six a.m (a hellish time even for a S.H.I.E.L.D trained spy) and getting into a concealed spot as soon as possible. So, far there was no sign of Percy and Clint had been in the tree for a little over an hour.

Hour mark two came and went with still no Percy and no feeling in Clint's fingers.

By ten a.m, Clint was seriously doubting himself but just as was about to get down and admit defeat, Percy limped in. To put it plainly, Percy was not in a good way. The kid looked like he'd gotten jumped. Twice. Bruises littered his face like freckles and Clint was fairly certain that the dark maroon/brownish patch on the back of his calf was dried blood. Clint's plan had been to reveal himself straight away, but right now he was sorely tempted to wait. If Percy's attacker had followed him, the element of surprise would be incredibly useful. But then again, Percy had already fended them off once, presumably on his own, so really there was no point.

Clint spotted Percy, crumpled flowers in hand, heading to one of the gravestones and made his decision. He refused to spy on Percy as he poured his heart out to his dead mother.

Dropping from the tree and into a crouch, Clint watched Percy tense.

"You know," the kid called out, "trespassing is a shitty thing to do anywhere, but you really must zero scruples if you can break in just to arrest in front of my mother's grave a second time."

Clint's heart twisted painfully at the bitter words. The worst thing, there was no reason for Percy to think anything else. They'd already spied on him once, listened in on his most private thoughts and feelings and guilt only to accuse him of terrorism five minutes later. Looking back, Clint was ashamed. But he wouldn't do the same thing twice. Refused to do the same thing twice. The archer raised his hands to prove he didn't have any weapons or handcuffs in them, and slowly sat down on his haunches. It couldn't prove that he didn't have any ill intent, but it would show that he was about to do anything stupid. Clint watched closely as Percy's face pinched with confusion, and then as the young man sighed.

"Can I- Just, before you do anything, let me say good bye?"

So that was what it felt like to be stabbed in the heart. Clint's every parental instinct was in pain at the look of such resigned, bitter anger on Percy's face. "I'm not here to arrest you."

"Of course you're not," Percy snorted, "you just decide to sneak up on people in graveyards for fun. Listen, can I say good bye or not?"

Clint winced more at the fairness at Percy's assumption than the boy's words. "You can say whatever you like. But I'm seriously not here to arrest you."

The suspicion in Percy's eye dulled somewhat but it was still there. He clearly was unsure about turning his back to Clint, but couldn't let him see the tears that were bound to flow. Eventually, the want for privacy won out and Percy turned back around and walked solemnly towards his friends.

Clint did his level best to not hear a word Percy was saying, but he caught enough to discern that Percy was talking in some version of Greek. As he sat, Clint began to wonder what to do. Half of him hadn't really expected to see Percy, so now he didn't have a great idea of the next step. Maybe to get him some food? To try and convince him to come back? Whatever it was, he didn't have long to figure it out. Percy was at the last grave. His mothers. His voice grew even softer and the words more stilted; Clint didn't need to speak Greek to hear to guilt that oozed from every word. Ultimately, it was that guilt that decided his course of action. He would make sure that whoever the boy's mother was, that she'd be able to rest easy knowing Percy had food to eat and a safe, warm place to sleep

Clint would make sure of it.

a/n: i feel like clint's whole father side often gets ignored, so heres a nice piece of fluff dedicated to it. I would also like to add that I have literally THE best readers ever so thank you and i would buy each and every one of you a cupcake if i could!

I bid you all a great night

(I know the title slanders Poseidon a little but I do intend to give percy and poseidon a chance to bonded later because the comedic opportunities are too amazing not to)