The Pirate And His Sea

Chapter 4: How Bruce Met Him

Normally Bruce would answer, whether it be yay or nay, but at the moment his head was swimming with the Hulk's sudden and strange ramblings. His grumbling, because they weren't really words more like feelings and images, was soft and quiet, and sent across the vibe of trust. Which, in fact, was odd. Unbelievably odd, because Bruce could count the number of times the Hulk had opened up to a stranger on one hand and probably have most of his fingers left. The warm sentiments of his other-subconscious leaked into his mind and he blearily reached out, catching the hand the man had held out.

"That's it," the man murmured, slipping an arm around him to pull him to his feet. Completely disorientated, Bruce allowed himself to be led, hazily finding himself focusing on the man's profile. In the cloudy spring light his tanned skin had a bronze shiny glow, and it highlighted the light scars that littered his body. His hand, still gripping Bruce's from where it was thrown over the stranger's shoulder, was strong and calloused, but Bruce didn't feel threatened.

They stumbled along several back streets, Bruce now put in a daze from the slowly-receding rage and rare trust. They came to a stop in front a strong steel door - a flat's back entrance, Bruce duly noted - and the man paused to unlock the door. Then, keeping a strong grip, he tugged the doctor down a dark wood hallway and into a cozy living room, with overstuffed couches and a brick fireplace. Bruce was gently pushed onto the couch, where he had a lovely view of the antique Greek helmet that was placed on the mantle, with two candles on each side. Several picture frames were scattered on shelves around the room, most of them depicting his unknown host with close friends or portraits of him as a teenager with a brilliant warm grin. The bookshelf off to the left had novels of history and fiction, as well as a few titles in a what he assumed to be Greek, just by the shape of the symbols. How very interesting.

His dissection of the stranger's living quarters was interrupted when said stranger wandered back into the room. Pushing a cup of tea into Bruce's hand, he took a seat in the armchair across from him and put his feet up on the coffee table. A glass of whiskey - his enhanced nose told him so - was cradled in one hand, while the other lazily propped his head up. Smiling green eyes regarded him curiously, black strands falling in the way.

"So," the man said, his tone friendly, "what's your name, Mr. Man-I-Found-Crouching-In-The-Back-Alley?"

Bruce flushed a bit, but the teasing was easy and laid back. "Bruce," he said, nerves finally calming at the familiar taste of tea, "Bruce Banner."

The man laughed, flashing white teeth, and responded, "I'm Percy Jackson; I work as a bartender at a nearby pub. What were you doing out there in the alleys? You don't seem like the kind that would lurk there."

"Uh, I'm a doctor and was just visiting the clinic there. I got a little worked up over a case, and had to take a breather."

"A doctor!" The man's - Percy's - eyes seemed to sparkle childishly for a moment, then he noticed the empty cup in his hand. "Well, would you like more tea, Dr. Banner, while we continue our lovely conversation?"

Maybe it was because Bruce had never really felt the Hulk open up to someone before and that made him curious, or maybe it was because this man had helped him out, or maybe there was no reason at all, but the doctor found himself accepting the offer and settling in for an enlightening the next hour Bruce found out that Percy's favourite color was blue, he enjoyed drinking whiskey and beer, he loved his little pub that was a few streets over, he had an affection for his friend's dog that was partly his named Mrs. O'Leary (he had asked the breed but Percy had just waved his hand and said it was impossible to tell), he was an excellent fencer, had a rather impressive knowledge of Greek mythology and his old history teacher had given him the helmet over the fireplace. It was the first time Bruce had really interacted with anyone outside the Avenger's team since he'd joined, and it felt surprisingly natural to joke with this man.

And as he was placing his glass in the kitchen sink and preparing to leave with Percy chattering away behind him, inspecting the iron cast coat stand dubiously, Bruce braced himself and said, "Aren't you going to ask?"

"Hmmm?" Percy glanced at him, emerald eyes dancing with mirth. "Ask about what?"

Bruce was dumbfounded. "Me turning green in the alleyway. Don't you want to know?" The doctor fought the urge to twist his fingers nervously. People always wanted to know. It was basic human nature: fear of the unknown and everything that had to do with it. Either they wanted to figure out every little thing and what made him tick, or they shoot him with anti-tank guns and ran away screaming when that didn't work. Of course Percy would ask, it was the normal thing to -

"Nah. I mean, people die their skins all sorts of colors, so being able to do it without them isn't that big of a deal. And people can buff up on man-made substances too - you can just do it naturally. Besides," here Percy's eyes sharpened, and seemed to laugh teasingly at the shocked expression on Bruce's face, "I've seen plenty things crazier."

Bruce could only stand in stunned silence for a full minute, before stuttering out, "I, uh, don't know what to say, and, um..."
Percy snorted and pressed a piece of paper into his hand. "My phone number and address, if you ever want to drop by for a drink again. Bring a few friends if you want. If you ever need a place to crash, feel free to call. Now ta ta, have a good day, Bruce. Glad I could meet you." He flashed one last brilliant smile his way and ushered him out the door.

The soft thump of the door closing snapped Bruce out of his trance, and he stared down at the paper in his hand, the number scrawled across it and letters etched in pencil. There was even a little happy face at the end, which just made him laugh because it seemed to perfectly fit the Percy he'd seen today: cheerful, friendly and kind, but intelligent and witty enough for Bruce to have a good conversation with.

Even though he hadn't known Percy long - two hours, it felt so much longer! - he knew that they'd be good friends. He was the kind of person he could count on forever, and Bruce didn't have many of those people.
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When Bruce returned to the Avengers Tower, he was practically floating, a faint smile etched on his face. Tony, who had been serving himself an espresso in the kitchen, arched an eyebrow his way when he entered. "Good day?" He asked.
Bruce smoothed out the paper with the number and entered it into his Stark phone 5, fighting a stupid grin that normally only Tony smiled when he saw Percy's name pop up alongside the other Avengers. "Yeah, you could say that."