(This is not my chapter and the credit of the characters goes to their respective authors)
"Perseus!" called Thor, a hearty grin on his face, "this brew is most excellent!"
Across the bar counter, Percy gave his friend a smile as he busied himself with pouring his customers his drinks. The bartender was in a good mood, and had a good reason – he was getting good business, his good friend Thor was here, and in four days Nick would be getting back from his three week long mission in Argentina. Humming cheerfully, he passed down the drinks – for his regulars it was a group of Nike's Valour's, Sultan of the Skies' and a few regular beers. "It's the same as always, Thor. Just 'Talons.'" He told the God of Thunder, motioning to the now empty glass of brandy.
"Yes, but I find it most pleasing!" Thor said to him, eyes twinkling. "Another!" He raised his arm out of habit, but a glare from Percy made him freeze.
"Don't you dare," the bartender said, tone dark. He'd learned his lesson when Thor had unthinkingly smashed one of his best glasses in a drunken stupor as a gesture of appreciation. The Asgardian now had a firm understanding that Midgardian culture did not consider smashed glassware a well-meaning sign.
Thor gently placed the glass on the counter and twiddled his thumbs as he waited for his friend to refill it. As the amber dark amber liquid swirled in the glass, Thor watched the other occupants on the bar. It was half-full and had the smoky smell of a bar of conversation and relaxation. He knew that by now he was a regular sight for most of the regulars, and when he was sure that they were all engaged in their activities, he leaned forward to catch Percy's attention.
"I will be leaving for a time," he said in a low voice.
"Oh?" One of Percy's eyebrows arched towards the ceiling. "Returning home for a while?"
"Yes. There are some matters that require my input, and the court is getting restless in my absence."
Percy made a face, but nodded and smiled at his friend. "Ah, politics. But you just do what you must. The bar will be open to you when you return."
The Asgardian prince grinned, relieved that he would have somewhere to retreat to after an exhausting visit, no doubt.
Percy left the topic for something more lighthearted, and gave Thor a confiding smirk. "So, guess what I overheard last week..."
————
Thor had been right – the trip to Asgard was very arduous indeed. It was late at night when he finally arrived back on Midgard with a roll of thunder and flash of light. He'd landed just outside the city in order to disturb less people, and standing there in the middle of the still landscape he decided that his urge for a drink and company far exceeded his need for rest. He flew swiftly to New York, coming to a quiet halt at the end of Bourbon Street. He walked the few blocks between him and Percy's bar – only to frown at the darkened windows and tightly shut door. It was not terribly late, so there was no reason for people not to be at the tavern.
Well, if Percy was not here he must be at his flat. Feeling worry tickle at the back of his mind, he took off with a swing of Mjolnir and settled down in the back alley behind Percy's apartment.
The windows were dark here as well. Furrowing his brow, Thor crept around to the front step and peered through the windows in the door. He felt a bit odd doing so, and knew he was definitely invading Percy's personal space, but he was starting to become concerned.
Sitting by the hutch were Percy's boots, a familiar pair of comfortable leather boots. His coat was also hung on the hook nearby, so the bartender was home. But, something was wrong...
There! An unfamiliar coat was slung neatly over the back of a chair in the kitchen, something that he could just barely see. Percy was fond of only have one or two of each thing, so Thor knew pretty much them all – and that coat was not one of them.
Someone was in Percy's apartment.
It took barely any effort for Thor to creep around to one of the windows and pry it open. The window was stiff with disuse and the well-made locks that Percy had on every entrance to his house, but they were no match for his godly strength. He padded out of the kitchen, glaring at the offending coat as he went. The house was still and everything seemed to be in place. The armchairs by the fireplace were untouched, as was the oak wood dining table and its tasteful centerpiece. The clock over the mantel chimed softly, signifying that it was coming close to eleven at night, and Thor used the sound of the gentle ringing to cover his footsteps as he quickly checked the rest of the floor. No one was hiding in the bathroom or the pantry room. Percy's floor to ceiling fish tank was as flawless as always, and nothing seemed upturned near the stairs. He began to ascend them cautiously, treading near the walls so that the old wood would not creak.
In the silence of his movements, there was a thump from upstairs and muffled voices.
Thor stiffened and tried to glide up the stairs as quickly as silent movement would allow. What could be going on upstairs? Was Percy being interrogated? Was he trapped in a room with no escape? Was he being attacked?
He could just imagine him – his dear friend pinned to the ground, hands and feet held down by some inexplicable force and his head forced back. A knife point or gun would be held to his throat, and a shadowed figure looming over him, a malicious expression on his face. He could practically feel his friend's fear – held tight and locked in the back of his mind but still present!
Poor Percy.
(Never mind the fact that Percy was a hero with numerous legendary deeds to his name – including returning peace and godly artifacts to the Lord of Olympus, banishing the great Titan King Kronos, or his many adventures to that darkest depths of the Underworld, all in his teenage years.)
He reached the top of the stairs and examined the area. The open area with the second, always-unlit hearth off to the left was empty and still. The door to the office just across from it was open, and he could only see Percy's desk and its messed papers; no attacker. But there on the floor was an unfamiliar pair of loafers haphazardly thrown about – expensive, fine leather and just a few sizes too big to be Percy's. A few feet away was a sweater Thor knew to be his friend's, thanks to the distinctive water swirl on the front. It had been crumpled up and tossed aside carelessly.
Percy was never as careless as to leave clothes lying around on the floor. Maybe on the back of a couch, but folded neatly and never in the way of anybody.
Someone other than Percy had gotten their hands on him.
He crept down to the hallway where all the bedroom doors opened to. His shadow fell out behind him, cast by the light streaming through the window with the seat at the end.
There was another thump, coming from the master bedroom to his left, and more voices. They were low, indistinct and rough, but Thor managed to recognize one as Percy. He sounded much more strangled and pre-occupied than usual. The other voice answered, deep as it chuckled darkly.
That was it. Thor had reached the end of his stealth-tether; screw being cautious and silent. His good Midgardian friend was on the other side of the door, and he had no reason to wait when it was certain that he was being held under strenuous circumstances.
The door gave in with a satisfying crunch to the sole of Thor's boot. The heavy wood swung limply on the hinges that it had almost blasted off of and revealed the dark interior of the bedroom.
It was like Thor's imagined image had walked from his mind and taken form in reality, with only a few alterations. Two shadowed forms were on the floor at the foot of the bed, one's back pressed to the bed frame and the other kneeling at its feet. As the figure at the foot of the bed looked up, Thor caught sight of familiar green eyes – Percy. Next for him to notice was that Percy's' hands were not restrained; rather they were pressing tightly into the shoulders of the other figure. Maybe he was trying to push the other away?
The other figure jerked at the sound of the door splintering apart, but Thor had still seen it as it originally was. It – a man? – had seemed to be bent over Percy's torso, face dangerously close to the bartender's chest. He had dark skin, and wore neatly pressed black pants.
Only black pants.
The Asgardian quickly became aware of the rumpled silk shirt that he was standing on, and Percy's belt that was somehow halfway across the room, caught on the handle of the wardrobe. Percy's shirt was still on his person, but barely; it was shoved up to his arm pits, and his pants were still on but loose. Percy's hands, now that he looked more closely, were not pushing but merely resting, his fingers curling sharply. He could vaguely make out fresh bruises in the shape of teeth marks on his friend's chest.
Oh.
Mjolnir slipped a bit in his grasp, and the sparks that had been running along the hammer sputtered out pathetically.
Oh.
He cleared his throat as green eyes and black ones glared at him accusingly. Percy looked far more venomous than practically any other time he'd seen him.
Thor cleared his throat, looking away with a flush on his cheeks. "I apologise greatly, friend Perseus. I will just be going; the window in the place of cooking is still - "
"Thor."
Gods damn it all.
————
The parlor floor was very interesting. The old wood had a great deal of unique scuffs and scratches in it, all with their own stories; that one right there, beside his foot, was from when he accidentally dropped Mjolnir when he'd first encountered Percy's 'Iris message.' He had been greatly embarrassed.
But not as embarrassed as he was now.
Thor fidgeted uncomfortably in the armchair. He could feel the heavy gaze of the dark man from the bed room on his shoulders, like an unpleasant itch that had been placed there by his own actions. The sounds of Percy puttering in the kitchen as he prepared some refreshments for them broke the awkward silence in the apartment, but not the atmosphere. Thor twiddled his thumbs, for once acting nothing like the prince he was, and nervously thought over what had been explained to him.
The man across from him was Percy's lover. Boyfriend, partner, chosen one, whatever title they used. They had known each over for several years, and cared about each other very much. The man had a very busy job that often took him out of town, and whenever he returned they 'redisplayed' their care. Which Thor had walked in on, thankfully before it got far.
The man was Nick Fury, head of SHIELD.
Thor had walked in on Nick Fury. The spy of all spies.
With his shield brother, Percy.
Thor had to suppress the awkward cough that wanted to rise in his throat. God, why could he not forget?
Percy walked back in with several glasses of ice water, and Thor gratefully accepted his. He gulped it down, hoping to relieve the itch of more awkward coughs at the back of his throat, but only managed to cause his head to rush unpleasantly.
He bit back a grimace as Percy asked, "Do you have any questions?" The bartender was acting rather blunt, compared to his usual self. Earlier he had been nervous, but had quickly relaxed when Thor expressed no ill feelings about his relationship with another man. Honestly, such relations were not all that unaccepted in Asgard. With a race of people who lived for millennia at a time, being limited to only one gender for love was... idiotic, really. It was uncommon, but not unexpected.
So now Percy was just tired and wanted Thor out of his house. And he probably wanted to not see him for several days, so he could fume over his interrupted time with Nick. Thor had to admit, he was more than willing to comply with those wishes.
The Asgardian prince shook his head and got to his feet. "Ah, no. I believe it is time I leave; I will see you after I have returned to Jane for a time, Percy. Do excuse me." Then he rushed out of the parlor regardless of what Percy's answer was. He heard a heavy sigh, but didn't slow his journey to the front door. As he pulled on his shoes (which he had discarded before the conversation), he heard footsteps come up behind him and hoped it wasn't Percy who stood there.
His boots on, he turned, and swallowed thickly. It was not Percy, but it was worse. It was Nick.
The dark-skinned spy had a flat expression on his face as he regarded Thor. The Norse god shuffled uneasily and inconspicuously reached for the doorknob behind his back. Nick watched for a moment, then dropped down the step to the door with a heavy thump. He walked right up to Thor, eyes narrowed.
"He's mine," he said, then turned and disappeared down the hallway.
Thor's sweaty hand slipped on the doorknob twice before he managed to open the door and escape into the dark streets. He didn't return to Percy's apartment for three weeks, and even then never entered the master bedroom again.
Neither did he drape his coat along the back of the couch.