Wanted (A Percy Jackson/Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. crossover)

Unsteady

"Sorry," he muttered. He leaned back down onto the bed, letting her play doctor. He tilted his head so he could watch her. She had pulled her golden curls back behind her, but a few still curled in her face, falling next to her eyes. Her tanned face was tight with concentration as she slowly turned his hand over; he was mesmerized. She was so beautiful. Her lips pursed, and he didn't have time to react before she pushed her thumbs under his knuckles- it was meant to be gentle, but

"Okay okay okay," he yelped, yanking his hand back. The pain made him nauseous, and he was almost afraid he was going to barf up the McDonald's he had eaten all over the white comforter.

Annabeth sat back and sighed. "I think it's safe to say you fractured your hand."

"Nah, it's just a sprain probably," he complained, shoving his head into the pillow.

"I hope that was sarcasm, because in case you haven't noticed, it's swelling like crazy. Put it up on some pillows."

She adjusted it for him before he had a chance to even move. The scene was too familar. He took a breath before a memory slammed into him.

"Percy?" Annabeth whispered. He could barely hear her over the ringing in his ears. It was as though someone has hooked a dog whistle up to an amp and projected it into his face. He felt as though he had just been hit by a bus. His head hurt like Hades, he couldn't even feel his limbs, and his thoughts raced around in circles.

  "Hi," he croaked as he slowly opened his eyes. The air smelled musky and sour, and the unmistakable scent of gasoline filled the air, like the room could burst into flames at any moment. It wouldn't be hard. It seemed that all the moisture had been sucked up by a power vacuum in the dry air. Despite the pain, he sent her a small smile. The worry in her face, barely visible in the low light, concerned him- did he look that bad?

He certainly FELT that bad, but he wasn't about to admit that.

"Thank gods... are you okay?"

"Seaweed Brain!"

Percy jolted back to reality before squeezing his eyes shut. Annabeth shook his shoulders and demanded that he opened his eyes; she stared into them with a steady face. "Where are we, Percy?"

He looked down and felt his anxiety rise when he didn't in fact no where he was. Black flashed across his vision before Annabeth repeated herself.

"I- I don't know," he stuttered. Gods dammit, he sounded so weak!

"We're in a white fluffy cell on a S.H.I.E.L.D. airplane, okay?" she said.

"Why?" he asked bluntly. She laughed and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Because we're terrorists? Heck if I know, Jackson. They were calling your name when they kidnapped us."

"They shot me," he remembered, gladly jumping on the new topic. It wasn't necessarily a better topic, but hey.

Annabeth's grey eyes narrowed at him as she rolled back onto her feet. "It's your fault. I thought you were dead as soon as they pulled the trigger, you ass."

"But I didn't die, so ha."

"You could've. You practically asked for it." Her voice was bitter, the tone of the conversation shifting from that of comforting to heated.

"Yes, because it had always been on my bucket list to get shot and die. Doesn't it sound fun?"

Annabeth didn't respond. She dropped her hands from him and turned away angrily. "What?" Percy demanded defensively. "I wasn't the one kidnapping people! How was I supposed to know they were so dam trigger happy, why are you mad at me?"