Family No Matter What (Percy Jackson and the Avengers fanfic)

Chapter 2

Ian, though the leader of so many clubs and sports, is almost always late. He's always doing one thing or another and his favorite pastime is sleeping in. So it's no wonder he's always in so much trouble with his boss, but it is a wonder how he has yet to get fired.

Leaving work later than normal, due to the fact that his boss made him work two hours more for constantly being late, he feels almost dead on his feet. What time did he really get to bed last night? Five? Probably six when it was all said and done. He should have been up at 7:00 for work but didn't actually get up until 7:30. Now it's almost four and he can definitely feel the lack of sleep kicking in.

He sighs, passing a hand over his face as he makes his way down the street. He's chalking the incident this morning up to being overly tired. Because people just don't have donkey legs. It's impossible.

Ian really isn't paying attention to where he's going and not a moment later finds himself once again colliding with another human being. This time no one falls, at least.

"Sorry," the blonde mumbles as he holds a hand out to steady the guy. When he finally does glance up his eyes widen slightly. Before him is none other than Tony Stark wearing a baseball cap, a very poor excuse for incognito. Okay, so it's not as if he's star-struck or anything like that, but he hasn't really met anyone important before outside of college soccer players, and now he's practically mowing the most famous guy in Manhattan over.

"It's okay," Tony says. "Just don't tell anyone who I am. Wouldn't want to be mobbed by fans this early in the day."

Ian can't help but roll his eyes. Even though he knows that's likely exactly what will happen, Stark seems a little full of himself. "Don't worry, but it's already four. Day's halfway over already."

"I just woke up. My day's just getting started." Tony says with a pat on Ian's shoulder. Then the billionaire (or is he a trillionaire by now?) actually looks Ian in the eye and his easy-going attitude slips a little. Those eyes are so familiar. Where has he seen them before? Certainly not on this kid. 

Then it hits him and hits him hard. 

Percy. 

Percy's friends always said that he could be reborn and that woman, Annabeth, even said that she saw his reincarnation several years ago. Tony just never believed it, but now looking at this complete stranger, this kid who can't be older than seventeen, just over eighteen years after Percy's death, he believes it. He has never seen anyone with the same sea-green eyes. Well at least not ones that caught the light in this way. Not even Poseidon's were completely the same (he met him at the funeral) and Percy was said to be a carbon copy of his dad. 

Tony is gaping like a fish at the boy, wondering if he has any sort of memory of his past life. Ian shifts under the gaze, suddenly very uncomfortable. "Well, I'm going to go then."

With that the mortal boy is gone, slipping down the crowded street away from a startled superhero. 

Tony is older now, but perhaps the only signs of it are in his hair, which he does allow the occasional gray to streak. He's reminded now of those years ago when he was an uncle before he could have possibly been ready to be. How, as a supposed superhero, he let a teenage boy fight an impossible fight and die. His shoulders sag as he watches the retreating form disappear. No, that boy doesn't remember the past and that's probably for the best.

- O - O - O - O - O -

The rest of Ian's day is filled with friends and even a  short soccer match in Central Park. By the time he gets home, he is beyond tired from the full day and only showers before crashing into his bed. 

His room is a soft blue with a gray bedspread and only a dresser and desk. He uses his computer for movies and shows, so he doesn't have a TV anymore. The room is also speckled with various pieces of sports equipment, mostly soccer things, and a few of his favorite plaques and medals are hung up above his desk. 

The heavy white curtains are closed and his room is cast in dark shadow from the late evening light. Ian doesn't bother climbing under the covers, the August heat is a bit much and the air conditioner is turned low as his father prefers. He is in only his sweat pants and his window is thrown all the way open to battle the heat.

Quickly though, Ian slips into a deep sleep. You would expect on a busy day like this that one would be too tired to dream or at least they wouldn't remember them, but that is not the case tonight.

He sees an apartment. It's dingy and littered with beer bottles. Even though he shouldn't be able to smell in a dream, Ian can. Everything reeks of sweat and alcohol. A man lounges on the beat-up couch, watching who-knows-what on the small TV. He's only wearing boxer shorts and a stained white undershirt. He clutches a beer in his greasy, chubby hand like it's some kind of lifeline, and a few stringy black hairs sweep across his otherwise hairless head. 

Ian can't help but shiver. He normally doesn't like to judge people and truthfully he has seen worse, but this guy just gives him a distinct feeling of disgust, as if he has some inborn hate for the being that is draped over the couch. 

Then the dream becomes distorted and Ian suddenly realizes that the apartment he had been standing in hadn't felt like a dream at all. It had been too solid. Since when were dreams so crystal clear? 

Images begin to play before his eyes, most of his life growing up, but sometimes there's an image that doesn't make sense. A kind-looking woman with frizzy brown hair, holding a tray of what looks like blue cookies. The inside of a cabin that is washed in soft blue light. A girl sporting an ugly sneer with red hair and freckles splattering her cheeks like Cheeto powder. Another girl, also with red hair, but carrying a soft, knowing smile and wearing paint-spattered pants. The guy from this morning in all his goat leg glory. And lastly a girl with wavy blonde and bright blue eyes. She's the strangest of them all because the image of her lingers longer, he briefly catches sight of some kind of costume party and she's wearing a Greek chiton. She glows and stands out from the rest, just like a queen.

Ian jerks awake to knocking on his door. He runs his hand down his face, shaken by his dream, and glances at his clock. 7:09. The knocking draws his attention again.

"Ian, it's time to get up. You don't want to be late to work again." his mother's voice calls through the door. His mom's name is Lily. She's a sweet woman in her early forties with dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. She works at an important development firm farther downtown with Ian's dad, David. David has brown hair and eyes so dark brown that they are easily mistaken for black. They are both kind and caring parents, but their work often keeps them too busy nowadays to spend much time with their son.

"Be right down," he calls and slides out of his bed. Since he slept on top of the covers his bed is barely messy and he doesn't bother to make it. Instead, he just throws on what he normally wears to work, dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt, and heads downstairs to steal his dad's coffee.

Though today is rather uneventful, he can't shake his uneasy feeling and his dream hovers in the back of his mind all day.

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A/N Yay another chapter. I'm trying to make this sequel last a bit longer than the last one. So if you're wondering, that's why it's taking a bit longer to get into the story.

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