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•~🦇~•
Jason sits by the bay window in the manor’s library looking out into Gotham’s pounding rain. Percy always loved the rain. Even when Jason yelled at him to stay under the cover of their hole riddled umbrella, worried they wouldn’t be able to afford the medicine if Percy got sick, he still danced in the rain.
Jason wonders if he still loves the rain. He wonders if his little brother’s eyes are still the color of the sea. He wonders if his favorite color is still that specific shade of electric blue. He wonders and worries a lot about Percy Todd.
When he was younger, barely ten, he thought that the wondering, the worrying, the hollowness would never go away. He was right. Ten years later, he still thinks of his little brother every day.
Sometimes, on sleepless nights that happen far too often, he lays and bed terrified wishing that his brother is dead because he’s been kidnapped missing for ten years —a whole fucking decade— and Jason has seen the worst that human traffickers have to offer. So, he hopes that his brother is dead, if only so he isn’t being tortured or touched or experimented on or sold or forced into something that will break him.
Other nights, he dreams of finding Percy, of holding him tight and never letting go, reassuring himself his little brother that he’s finally safe. The dreams are… wrong and leave a sickly, aching feeling in Jason’s chest because, in his dreams, Percy’s still six years old.
He would be sixteen now.
It’s been ten years.
Jason chokes back a body shaking sob. His little brother would be sixteen. He would be getting ready for prom and college and maybe Jason would’ve let him have a sip of beer by now and maybe his kid the kid would’ve had his first kiss by now and maybe… maybe he would’ve been adopted by Bruce too.
Maybe they would’ve gotten his ADHD medicated and his dyslexia diagnosed by now. Maybe Percy would’ve enjoyed having another older brother, enjoyed Grayson’s dumb jokes and understood the simmering anger that never goes away because Percy had that too. He would’ve enjoyed having Cass and Babs as his older sisters. He would’ve enjoyed skateboarding with Timmy, would’ve wreaked havoc with Steph, would’ve shared Duke’s compassion, would’ve loved making blue cookies with Alfred, would’ve talked to animals with Damian. He would’ve, he would’ve, he would’ve, and some days that’s all Jason thinks about.
He’s never told anyone about Percy. Not his team nor his siblings or the rest of his family. Except for Bruce and Alfred, he hasn’t told a soul. No one knows about the tragic tale of Perseus Todd, and that’s the way he’ll keep it.
He tells everyone that he was stealing Batman’s tires for fun, not because he needed money for a private investigator to find Percy. He doesn’t tell them that he went home with Bruce because of some sick thought that maybe he was the same person who kidnapped his little brother and came back for Jason. He doesn’t tell anyone about the picture of Percy that he’s kept in his wallet for twenty years.
He doesn’t tell anyone about the PI he calls once a month.
Jason sighs, still looking out to the rain. He tries to avoid thinking about the investigation when he thinks of Percy, but tonight, he lets himself. He’s watched the security camera recording hundreds of times. He knows the story intimately.
It goes like this: Percy, excited to finally be deemed responsible enough to walk home from school alone, is approached by a giant of a man. Muscular, hulking, probably bigger than Jason is now. Percy tries to sidestep the man, just like Jason taught him. The giant steps in front of his little brother and strikes up a conversation. Percy keeps silent, glaring at him with all the intimidation a six year old could muster.
Eventually, the giant pauses, then says something that turns Percy’s tan skin a startling shade of white. The man looks smug, walks into an alley without any cameras, and beckons his little brother to follow him. Percy hesitantly does and hasn’t been seen since.
The PI that Jason hired with Bruce’s money his first week at the manor couldn’t find the man. Said that he was a ghost. No paperwork, no social security number, no identification, and no facial recognition software they tried could find him. Couldn’t find Percy either.
It wasn’t until five years later that the PI had gotten a facial recognition match on Percy. He would’ve been eleven. Jason, however, was fifteen and “dead.” Bruce had put his whole life on hold to find Percy, thinking that if he couldn’t save Jason, he could at least save Percy. He couldn’t save either one of them.
Two years later, once Bruce had discovered the Red Hood terrorizing Gotham was his dead son, it was the first thing he told Jason. They had been brawling on a rooftop, it was raining and pitch black. Jason had gotten on top of Batman, slammed his fist into the cowl over and over again. Blood splattered over his fists and shirt.
The punching had come to a lull, and Bruce had all but whimpered, “Percy’s alive.” Jason grabbed his pseudo-father by his chest plate and held him over the ledge of the building, threatening to drop him if he didn’t explain right there and then.
Bruce told him that Percy had been spotted with two other children blowing up a bus and the Gateway Arch in St. Louis, jumping out of said arch into the Mississippi River, setting zoo animals free on the West Coast, and beating his kidnapper in a firefight on a California beach. (If Jason was lucid, he would’ve been proud of how much property damage he’d done, assured that Percy was keeping up the family name.) He’d told him of the news story that went national and the TV interview with his brother. (He keeps a freeze frame from that interview on a desk in his room.) He’d told him that all three kids dropped off the face of the earth after that interview.
Jason’s reaction to this was, of course, to viciously beat up Tim as a punishment for Bruce not saving his brother. Sue him, he had a few screws loose at the time. (Tim has, miraculously, forgiven him, and Jason has become the older brother that Percy would’ve wanted him to be.)
Thinking about that night almost always leaves tears in Jason’s eyes, but it’s rare that anyone comes into the manor’s library. He’s free to cry. At least, he’s free to cry until Alfred calls for Sunday family dinner.
He cracks open The Odyssey, Percy’s favorite book to read. Well, his favorite book for Jason to read to him. His little brother had had pretty bad dyslexia and would ask Jason to read books to him all the time. He wasn’t picky about what was being read, but Jason always saw the stars in his little brother’s eyes when he read Greek mythology.
He’s reading about one of Odysseus’ more… questionable decisions (dropping an enemy’s newborn baby off a wall was a dick move, even for Jason), when his older brother finds him for dinner.
“Jaybird!” Dick belts to the silent library. “Dinner’s ready! Alfie made Italian, so hurry up and get your ass out here before Timmy eats all the garlic bread!”
Dick practically skips into Jason’s view which means he got into a bad fight with Bruce and is putting on his extra cheery persona for the family. He thinks about calling his bullshit out, asking what the hell Bruce did now.
Jason rolls his eyes, “Jesus, your garlic bread obsession is going to put you in a hospital, Goldie.” He doesn’t call him on his bullshit. He bookmarks his place in The Odyssey and sets his book down on his favorite armchair.
“I don’t have a garlic bread obsession!” Dick squawks playfully, but he can see the relief in his older brother’s eyes. He knows that as long as he doesn’t mention his fight with Bruce, Dick won’t mention the red around Jason’s eyes.
“You're obsessed with Timmy eating garlic bread,” Jason amends as he makes his way to the dining room, leaving Goldie to catch up behind him. There’s a weight pushing down on his shoulders as he remembers all the conversations like this he used to have with Percy.
Dick scoffs as he falls in step beside him, oblivious to Jason’s bitter nostalgia. “He hoards that shit! I can barely get a piece, let alone two, and he’ll have eaten six slices!” He gestures wildly like that will help him convince Jason that he’s right. All he can think about is how Percy would’ve loved Grayson.
“He’s a growing boy. He needs all the calories he can get or else he’s gonna be stuck at five foot five for the rest of his life,” Jason retorts.
“I miss when you two were trying to murder each other and didn’t gang up on me,” Dick sniffles, jokingly wiping a fake tear from his eye.
He shoves his brother’s shoulder lightly. “Shut up,” he says with fake exasperation.
Dick’s responding laughter lifts a little weight from Jason’s shoulders. Yeah, his brothers definitely would’ve gotten along.
It isn’t until everyone —all nine of them— is sitting at the table that the palpable tension between Bruce and his eldest brother makes an appearance. He wonders what the fuck Bruce did. Dick can usually hide whatever contempt he feels for their father at family gatherings, so their fight must’ve been brutal and/or personal if the tension is leaking through Grayson’s ‘I Definitely Don’t Hate My Adoptive Father Right Now’ persona.
Being from a hodge podge family of detectives, it’s hard to hide shit from anyone, so everyone feels the tension, even Damian. Dinner becomes more awkward with every passing second, and Tim, Duke, and Steph try to keep the tension at bay by regaling the family with stories of their AP chemistry exam.
Luckily for them, the phone, their civilian landline, rings and cuts off their sad attempt at making family dinner enjoyable. Alfred leaves the dining room to answer the phone, and any tension dispersed by his siblings’ stories comes back tenfold.
The whole family waits with bated breath, hoping they’ll get to leave the hell that is this dinner. Jason kinda hopes it’s an emergency Wayne Enterprises meeting that Bruce will be required to attend.
No one at the table even tries to cover up that they’re trying to listen in on Alfred’s phone call, all too desperate to get away.
“Alfred Pennyworth, Wayne Manor. May I ask whom I’m speaking to?” Their pseudo-grandfather asks, the picture of elegance.
All of them hear Alfred choke in a breath. “Yes, ma’am. We are.”
The family looks at each other concerned. The tension between Dick and Bruce fades into the background as they all wonder what the hell could make Alfred, who is the definition of dignified, act unprofessional on a Wayne phone call. There’s a silent understanding in the air that they might have to seriously maim (or kill, in Jason’s books) someone tonight. No one hurts Alfred and gets away with it.
“Of course,” Alfred continues, regaining his grace, “I’ll inform the Waynes right away. They’ll be there in thirty minutes. Forty five at most.” Another pause. “Of course. Thank you for informing them. Goodnight, sir.”
No Wayne or Wayne-adjacent likes to be in the dark (metaphorically speaking, literally speaking is another ballgame), and their grandfather didn’t give them any details to go off of. Thus, they’re all staring at the man when he walks into the dining room. He looks the picture of composure. No worry or anger or any sort of emotion on the man’s face. Although, he does raise a disappointed eyebrow when he realizes they were all shamelessly eavesdropping.
Nonetheless, “I’m afraid supper is over,” he announces. Thank God, Jason thinks. “Master Jason, Master Bruce. You two have some urgent business to attend to in Manhattan. I’ll drive you two over.”
Knowing that Alfred wouldn’t give him any information until they’re in the car (his way of actually getting the Waynes to go outside), Jason looks over at Bruce. He raises an eyebrow at his father, “What business do we have in Manhattan at six o’clock?”
“I wouldn’t know, chum,” Bruce admits after a few moments. “I can’t imagine anyone would call both of us for a Wayne Enterprises meeting, especially an urgent one, and I doubt it’s cape related since the call was on the civilian landline.”
“Maybe Jay did something dumb in Manhattan during his amnesic days,” Steph chimes in.
Jason shrugs, “I don’t remember being in New York City while I was,” he pauses, searching for the right words, “in my zombie era,” he says, knowing the slang would piss off and/or embarrass one of his siblings (Tim, mainly Tim), “but it’s not as if I have the best memory of that time.”
Bruce hums, probably going over a hundred different scenarios of what could happen, “We’ll figure it out in the car, Jason.” He turns towards the rest of his children, “Call me if anything happens. Don’t die.”
Jason rolls his eyes but gets up from the table to fetch his shoes and The Odyssey to read on the ride over.
•~🐚~•
Percy is not having a good day. All he wanted was to spend time with his girlfriend, Annabeth, without the horde of eyes that followed them throughout camp. Don't get him wrong, he loves the campers, they’re his family, but is it too much to ask for some alone time with his beautifully stunning girlfriend?
It was supposed to be a relaxing date night: a nice dinner and a museum tour, but The Fates had other plans. He figured that they would have to fight off an empousa or a flock of killer birds (because when has his life ever been peaceful), but he didn’t account for someone blowing up the art museum while he and Annabeth were in it.
Since he and Annabeth were near the center of the blast, they’d thought the blast had been meant to take them out or distract them. However, there were no monsters or other demigods around, just a box that was burnt to hell and back lying on the floor.
After they’d deemed the explosion to be without mythological cause, they’d relaxed a bit and helped the others, most of whom were injured by the blast. It wasn’t until he heard police sirens that he remembered that he was technically a missing minor. Annabeth didn’t have this problem because she still talked to her mortal family (barely, but enough to count to the law).
He’d frantically reminded Annabeth of his missing status and suggested they run, but they both knew they’d look suspicious as shit if they ran from an explosion in front of the NYPD. They were both about to age out of camp, and neither one of them wanted to be the faces of another manhunt while looking for jobs. His girlfriend had assured him that because he had no major injuries the ambulance probably wouldn’t look his medical records in the system and he could give a fake name to the police.
It would be fine, they promised themselves.
…
It was not fine.
While checking each other for injuries, Annabeth had missed the cut on the crown of Percy’s head from where the blast knocked him back. The EMT did not.
Which is why they’re sitting in a hospital waiting room, four staples in his head (that he won’t even need after he eats some ambrosia), being watched like a hawk by a social worker who’s on the phone. Percy’s spinning Riptide around his fingers with one hand and tightly holding Annabeth’s hand with the other.
He’s nervous. Soon, the cops will come and ask him questions about his kidnapping and the ten years he was missing, and he can’t exactly say he was kidnapped by a cyclops who wanted to eat him, saved by three demigods and a satyr, ran away with said demigods and satyr, and lived in a magical camp for ten odd years because his father is a Greek God.
He thinks the whole social worker thing is completely unnecessary. He’s been fine for ten years for gods’ sake! His brother is likely dead, and he doesn’t need to be put in some shitty foster home for a few months before he goes to New Rome University.
Percy sighs. He hasn’t thought about Jason (his Jason, not his friend Jason) since Tartarus in months. He doesn’t want to think about his older brother who’s probably dead. Being on the streets was hard for anyone, but growing up on Gotham’s streets was hell. All it took was a harsher winter than usual and you were dead. Jason would be twenty. If he’s still alive, that is.
Even if Jason is alive, would he even care? Would he take on his scrappy, PTSD riddled little half brother? Jason had a kind heart, he always did, but Percy knows how that could change. Luke changed, Percy’s mind whispers.
The social worker hangs up with a gentle goodbye, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Your relatives have been called. They’ll be here in forty five minutes tops. You’ll be staying with them for a while,” the man says kindly.
Percy’s brain buffers for a few moments. “My- my relatives? I don’t have any relatives,” he sputters out. He feels Ananbeth’s hand impossibly tighten around his, and he stops spinning Riptide around his fingers. He doesn’t have any mortal relatives; his mother and brother are dead. He’s sure of it.
The man squints down at him confused. “You have a half brother. His name is Jason Todd. He filed a missing persons report on you ten years ago,” he says gently.
“He… my brother’s alive?” he chokes out. His older brother is alive? He survived? He’s okay?
Annabeth puts a comforting hand on his back, rubbing slow, measured circles where his Achilles spot once rested. She knows about Jason, about everything. She knows about the shitty apartment, his dead addict mother, his convict father who wasn’t really his father, the sleeping on the streets with his brother, everything.
The social worker tries to explain how everything will go, but Percy can only hear the ocean rushing in his ears. His girlfriend takes both of his hands in hers and whispers sweet nothings to him. It helps somewhat.
Thirty five minutes later, a trio of men walk through the waiting room doors.
•~🦇~•
Alfred’s knuckles are white against the steering wheel which only feeds the growing pit in Jason’s gut. The rigid lines of Bruce’s shoulders tell him that he’s worried about him too.
The lack of information is putting both him and Bruce on edge, and he’s been rereading the same page of The Odyssey since he sat down. The car has been silent since they got into it ten minutes ago, and Jason can’t take it anymore.
“Hey, Alfie? Why do I feel like I’m gonna learn something vaguely disturbing about my past?” he asks from the backseat.
“I have a feeling you’ll be excited about this, Master Jason,” Alfred says, annoyingly cryptic.
Jason rolls his eyes fondly. “I’ll make Bruce give you a pay increase if you tell me what’s going on.” Bruce only sighs and nods from the front seat.
Alfred huffs, “If you insist, Master Jason.” The man pauses, probably for dramatic effect. “Your brother, Perseus, is alive.” The breath in Jason’s lungs is knocked out of him. His brother? His baby brother is alive?
He tries to stammer out a response, but Alfred continues, “He got caught in an explosion at an art museum. There’s a minor laceration on the top of his head, nothing serious. The hospital is releasing him tonight.”
Jason is still breathless once his grandfather stops talking. He knows Bruce is watching his reaction closely, looking for vile green in his blue eyes, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Percy is alive.
There are tears in his eyes once he realizes he’s going to see his baby brother again. He looks out the window, watching the water fall from the sky, and wonders if Percy still loves the rain.
The car ride to Manhattan feels like it lasts days, his mind going a hundred miles per hour, but they finally get there. Bruce keeps a firm hand on Jason’s shoulder to keep him from running off into the hospital to find Percy on his own. Alfred talks to the receptionist, but Jason can’t hear him over the static in his ears.
B steers him towards one of the elevators. He can tell that the panic is setting in now, every insecurity coming out to play. What if Percy finds out he’s technically a crime lord? Would he still love him? How would his little brother react if he found out that Jason had died? What if Percy refuses to go home with them? What if Percy thinks that his older brother replaced him? What if, what if, what if, and that’s all Jason can think about on the way up.
Eventually, they make it to a sparse waiting room. There are only three people in the room: two soot-covered teens, one a blonde girl and the other a black haired boy, sitting down across from the elevator, and a man in a suit. The two teens are holding each other in a sort of side hug with the boy’s head on the girl’s shoulder. Their eyes are closed.
The man, probably a social worker, smiles kindly at them, “Jason Todd? I’m Mr. Nelson, Percy’s social worker.”
The two teens snap their eyes toward the trio. The boy lifts his head from the girl’s shoulder, and they start to untangle themselves from each other. Jason sucks in a breath. The black haired boy is Percy. That’s Percy. Those are the same sea green eyes he had as a child. He’s still tan as hell. He’s wearing a T-shirt with some garish ocean pun plastered on it. He has scars all over his arms. There’s a streak of gray growing from the crown of his head. But it’s still Percy. It’s still his baby brother.
Percy stands up slowly, and Jason guesses his brother is probably only a few inches shorter than he is. He was barely four feet tall when he disappeared. Percy grew two feet and Jason didn’t get to see it, didn’t get to see him grow.
There are tears in his eyes, he knows, but he can’t seem to mind. His brother is right in front of him.
Percy’s face is disbelieving, as if Jason was the one missing for ten years. “Jason?” he asks softly. Tears are starting to roll down his little brother’s face.
Jason chokes on his words, not able to get them out. Yes, I’m here. You’re safe. You’re alive. I’m so happy to see you. I’m never letting you out of my sight again. I love you. He wants to say everything he’s dreamed of saying to Percy since he disappeared, but he can’t get the words out. He nods frantically, hoping that it conveys everything he wants to say.
His little brother takes a step towards him, then another, and Jason follows his lead. In no time at all, they’re colliding into each other’s arms. He has one hand fisted into Percy’s shirt and the other cradling his brother’s head, Percy’s head is buried in the crook of his brother’s neck. Their voices form a whirlwind of I missed you’s and I’m sorry’s and You’re alive’s, and Jason can’t tell who’s saying what.
It feels like forever and no time at all when he pulls back and cradles his little brother’s tan face in between his pale, shaking hands. “Where the hell have you been, Percy?” Jason cries softly, voice weak.
“Around,” Percy sniffles, “but I’m here now.” Jason doesn’t care that his brother is giving him non-answers. He only cares that Percy is smiling in his arms.
He wipes some tears from his brother's face. “Yeah, you are,” Jason mumbles, “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”
Percy laughs, a hiccuping, broken thing, and Jason realizes that this is the first time he’s heard his brother laugh in ten years. A fresh wave of tears blurs his vision.
Percy’s eyes roam Jason’s face as if to memorize every detail, then his eyes wander to the people behind his brother’s shoulder. Jason turns to face his father and grandfather behind him. He’d forgotten they were there, too caught up in seeing his brother.
“Oh, um.” He pulls back from Percy almost entirely, only leaving a hand on his little brother’s shoulder, and faces his family. He gestures to Bruce, who’s trying his best to look open and comforting by slipping into his Brucie Wayne persona, “Percy, this is my adoptive father, Bruce Wayne, and our…” he hesitates trying to find the right words, “butler, Alfred Pennyworth.”
Under his hand, he feels Percy tense up. Jason faces his brother, gauging his reaction. He knows that going from homeless to rich kid is a lot. Percy, however, has probably been on the run for the past ten years, and he doesn’t want his baby brother to get overwhelmed.
•~🐚~•
Percy is overwhelmed. He’s so overwhelmed it’s not even funny. Not only is his brother alive and in arms reach, but Jason’s adoptive father is Batman. Batman! How the fuck did he get adopted by Batman?!
Percy isn’t supposed to know what Bruce Wayne does after the sun sets, but no secret identity is a match for Athena’s hyperfixated children.
He looks over to Jason, hoping that it's a joke, but his brother is nervous which probably means he’s serious. He mentally groans, guessing that Jason is probably one of Batman’s weird little child vigilanties. Can’t one person in his life be normal?
Despite his feelings about Batman and his league of child soldiers, he smiles stiffly at the man. “It’s nice to meet you two. I’m Percy Jac-” he cuts himself off, too used to using his middle name as his last name, “Todd,” he amends. “Thank you for taking care of my brother. I know how much of a troublemaker he is,” he says jokingly, hoping to distract himself from the fact that the Batman is standing six feet away.
From beside him, his older brother scoffs, “I’m the troublemaker? You got kidnapped!”
Percy shrugs, “That wasn’t my fault, I was six.”
Before Jason can reply, Bruce interrupts him, obviously putting on whatever public persona he uses, “It’s nice to meet you, Percy. Jason’s told me a lot about you.” Mr. Pennyworth nods in agreement.
He looks back at Annabeth, his wonderful, amazing girlfriend, and smiles gratefully at her. She smiles back at him, and he waves her over.
“This is my girlfriend, Annabeth Chase. Annabeth, my brother, Jason,” he introduces them, wrapping an arm around her.
She holds out her hand towards the trio. “Nice to meet you all,” she says, casting a suspicious glance towards the two older men as they shake her hand.
Percy stands awkwardly beside his girlfriend. What does he say now? 'Hey, what’s up bro. Sorry I’ve been missing for the past ten years. Wanna hear about all my trauma?'
Apparently, Mr. Nelson seems to sense the awkward air in the small waiting room, and he interrupts it with a smile. “I’m glad to see you’re all getting along. Mr. Wayne, Mr. Todd, you two have some forms to sign before I can release Mr. Jackson into your care.” He turns to face Percy and Annabeth. “Mr. Jackson, Ms. Chase, there will be an officer here soon to take your statements.”
•~🦇~•
The car ride back to Wayne Manor is quiet, classical music playing quietly. Jason just doesn’t know what to say. What could he say? He knows what he would say to the Percy he knew at ten years old, but it’s obvious Percy isn’t six anymore. Hell, he doesn’t even go by the same last name.
A part of him wants to grab Percy by the shoulders and force him to tell him everything. That part wants closure, to know where all of his brother’s hurts are so he can soothe them properly. Another part of him wants to brush everything under the rug and pretend that they’ve been by each other’s side since they were born. That part wants everything to stop changing.
He looks over at Percy, whose head is leaning against the car window, staring out at the rain. Maybe some things don’t change.
“So…,” Jason says, just to say something, “Jackson?”
His brother startles from his place beside the window, turning to face him. “What?” he asks, confused.
“The social worker, he called you Mr. Jackson. That’s your middle name.”
Percy hums, “Yeah, it is.” His brother’s gaze lowers to his hands where he fidgets with a pen. “When I was kidnapped by that cy- man, he told me that he knew where we were living —even knew the apartment we were in— told me if I didn’t go with him, he would hurt you.” Percy takes a deep breath. “So when I escaped from him and his friends, I changed my last name. Didn’t want anyone to trace me to you,” he says casually.
Jason sucks a breath in, his hands balling into fists. “You escaped and didn’t come back?” His voice cracks.
He knew that. He knows that Percy had escaped, that he’s fine. He has a girlfriend and a home of some sort. His clothes are clean and without holes. Percy, for all intents and purposes, looks and acts like a normal kid. There aren’t signs that he was kidnapped and traumatized as a six year old. No signs he’s been held hostage for the past ten years because he escaped.
It’s one thing to know it instinctually, to see it, it’s another to hear it.
“Jason, I… I couldn’t.” Percy raises his head to look at him again with miserable eyes. “Wherever we went, they followed us. You would’ve been in danger.”
Didn’t Percy know Jason would fight tooth and nail for him? Hell, if it meant that Percy would stay in Jason’s life, he would go through the Lazarus Pits a hundred more times. It wouldn’t matter how many times he choked and died and revived in that green sludge as long as Percy was waiting for him at the end of it. Didn't he know that?
His frustration must show on his face because Percy’s eyes turn from miserable to fiery fury. “It wasn’t like throwing a punch for a place to stay or fighting for the stale bread in the dumpsters. One of my friends died. How could I expect you to save me from that? You were ten.”
Jason only barely keeps himself from yelling ‘You were six!’ at him. He can feel the vines of green sludge wrapping onto his brain and leaking into his veins. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, hoping the pit rage will go away.
He lets the frustration go, switching the topic. “Where did you go? After you escaped,” he asks harshly.
Percy sighs, seemingly in relief. “A lot of places, at first. Trying to get my kidnappers off our scent. But eventually we found a place with other kids that were like us.”
“What, like a homeless camp for kids?” he scoffs.
Percy laughs, full and happy, “Sure, something like that.”
Jason feels the last of the pit rage recede as Percy’s smile lights up the car. Jason smiles tiredly, the stress and excitement of the day catching up to him. “Were you safe at least?”
Percy seems to consider it for a moment like he’s carefully wording his next statement. “As safe as I could be. I had people looking out for me.”
Jason nods. He wishes he could’ve been one of those people looking out for his brother back then, but at least he could look out for him now.
Percy hesitates for a moment, looking nervous. “Were you… safe too?”
Jason looks towards the front seat where Bruce and Alfred are ignoring them, giving the two of them the illusion of privacy. “Yeah,” he agrees softly. “Bruce adopted me not long after you went missing. He’s… he’s always tried to look out for me and my… Oh,” he stops, realizing that he’s completely forgotten about his other siblings.
“What?”
“Um, siblings. I have other siblings.”
Oh, shit. He’s going to have to keep his family’s nightlife from Percy. Fuck. Not even Barbra’s dad —the police commissioner they work with every night— knows about her illicit activities, so why would B let him tell Percy about the Bats?
Bruce’s 'No Civilians' rule is going to bite him in the ass, isn’t it?
•~🐚~•
Wow. Other siblings. It’s not like Percy doesn’t have other siblings —hell, he has thousands of other siblings— but it’s hard to imagine Jason being anyone but his brother.
He should’ve guessed that his brother has other siblings considering that he’s one of Batman’s little soldiers. Cabin Six already figured out the identities of Robin Number One —now going by Nightwing— also known as Richard Grayson, and Robin Number Three —recently known as Red Robin— AKA Timothy Drake-Wayne. It’s unfortunate that Bruce Wayne has kept his other children out of the spotlight, otherwise Percy would’ve A) found his brother earlier and B) known his brother dressed like a traffic light after midnight.
The vision of a preteen version of his brother wearing green short shorts while fighting crime shocks him out of his stupor. “What are they like?” he asks.
Jason smiles, “Dick —Richard, but he’ll want you to call him Dick— he’s about twenty seven. You’ll like him. He’s all happy-go-lucky and shit. If you need something and you can’t find me, you should probably go find him.”
Percy files the information about Robin Numero Uno away. As far as he knows from the Batman conspiracy theory board in the Athena Cabin, the information lines up with Richard’s nighttime persona.
“Cass —Cassandra— she’s my age, a few months older. She’s quiet, doesn’t talk much, but she’s sweet. She’s also like a human lie detector, just so you know. If you lie to her, she will blackmail you with it.”
Annabeth once told him that, for a short time, there was a female Robin running around Gotham. However, that Robin (the fourth, if he remembers correctly) AKA Spoiler is loud and anything but sweet. While there’s a chance that her daytime and nighttime personas differ from each other, it’s much more likely that Cassandra is either Black Bat (AKA Batgirl/Batwoman) or Oracle.
The “human lie detector” thing didn’t bode well for him. While the mythological world has the Mist to protect them from regular mortals, there’s no telling if any of the Waynes are clear sighted (though it wouldn’t surprise him if they were). As much as he loves his brother, he’s not going to put hundreds of ichor-blooded families at risk. The Bats are not known for letting things go until they know every minute detail about it.
Jason continues, “Tim, he’s your age. He’ll seem quiet at first, but if you get him talking about photography or skateboarding, he’ll never shut up. He’s also really smart, but he's kind of an asshole about it.” He hesitates for a moment, “Don’t tell him I said that.”
Annabeth and her siblings had said that the third Robin was the smartest and the most capable Robin (the cabin has at least $200 in camp contraband betting on if Robin Number Three is a child of Athena), so Percy would have to be careful around him too.
“Duke is maybe a year younger than you. He’s a good kid, and he’s also really charismatic. Don’t let him con you into playing pranks on the others, you will start another prank war.”
Jason’s description of Duke reminds Percy of Leo, who also cons people into starting camp-wide prank wars with his charisma. Duke’s age seems too old to be the newest Robin and too young to be Gotham’s resident murdering crime lord, the Red Hood. That leaves him as one of the only daylight heroes in the city, Signal.
Since Signal’s appearance a year or two back, there had been a bet on if the vigilante was a child of Apollo. Sadly though, a satyr traveling through Gotham confirmed Signal to be just a metahuman, no ichor running through his veins. Percy had unfortunately lost twenty drachmas on that bet.
“Damian is the youngest, he’s about twelve. He is the biggest bitch I’ve ever met,” Jason says without remorse.
Damian is only twelve, which makes him the newest and fifth Robin. This Robin comes with swords, which makes him the best one in Percy’s mind, no matter what his brother says.
From the front of the car, Bruce Wayne finally interrupts their conversation, “Jason… Don’t say that about your brother,” he says long-sufferingly.
Jason turns towards the front of the car. “What? Am I wrong?”
“...He’s just going through a phase.”
“He’s been going through a phase for the past two years,” Jason agrees.
“Jason.”
“Okay, okay,” he relents, hands up, surrendering. He turns back to Percy. “But seriously though, he’s an ass, but he’s… kind, I guess, once you earn his trust. He’s also obsessed with animals which is why our house has basically turned into a farm the past few years.”
“A farm?” Percy asks incredulously.
Jason smirks, “We have a cow in the backyard.”
His jaw drops, “A cow? No way.” Percy’s mind goes back to when he was fourteen years old and made friends with a cow-fish he’d named Bessie. … He misses Bessie. He turns towards the front of the car. “You let your kid have a cow? In your backyard.”
Jason claps a hand on his shoulder. “Bruce may look intimidating, but he is a giant pushover.”
Percy decides right then and there that he’s very jealous of Damian and his cow. He’s so jealous he doesn’t notice the mischievous glint in Jason’s eyes.
“So,” his brother starts, catching Percy’s attention, “You and Annabeth. How’d that happen?”
He feels the blood rush to his face. It’s not often he feels embarrassed when he talks about Annabeth, but this is his older brother asking about his love life. He feels fourteen again, insisting to anyone and everyone that he didn’t have a crush on his best friend.
“I- well. It just kinda… happened. Y’know?” Percy stammers.
Jason gives him a blank stare. “No, Percy, I don’t know. You’ve been missing for ten years, I don’t know anything,” he says monotone.
Percy grimaces and focuses on Riptide in his hands, “Yeah, that’s fair.” Ignoring the ‘damn right’ whispered under Jason’s breath, he continues, “She’s been my best friend since I was seven. She’s kind and nerdy and she’s got these amazing visions for the future. And we’ve been through… a lot,” he sighs. “But being with her is like breathing, y’know. It’s just something I was made to do. She kissed me on my fifteenth birthday and the rest is history.”
He forces himself to tear his gaze from his pen/sword and faces his brother. Jason’s staring at him like he’s crazy, then he suddenly starts to laugh. “Oh my god,” he says through laughter. He sobers up with a soft smile, “I remember your first crush. It was on this black-haired girl in the park, and you said you were gonna marry her because her favorite color was blue.”
Percy chuckles, “Annabeth’s favorite color is green. The color of my eyes she says.”
•~🦇~•
“Jesus, that’s so sappy, Perce,” Jasons says, the nickname slipping out before he can stop it.
His brother’s smile drops for a second before returning. “Yeah, all our friends are sick of us, but it’s whatever ‘cause I love her.”
Those three words take the breath out of his lungs, like he’s suffocating all over again. When did his brother become someone who could say “I love you” and mean it? Jason can see it in his eyes, that Percy would do anything for his girlfriend. He used to be the kind of kid who said he loved everything just to say it. Back then, they really didn’t have anything to love but each other. All their clothes were ratty and torn. Most often, their food was stale from sitting in dumpsters. Everything they owned was second hand. When Percy said he loved something, he never really meant it.
It stings, seeing every way that Percy has changed physically and emotionally, how he’s matured and grown up without him, while Jason still feels like that kid who came home one day and couldn’t find his brother. Jason knows he’s grown physically, knows he’s built like a fucking bus, but he’s doesn’t feel like he’s grown like Percy has.
Maybe that’s because every time he makes some progress, the universe decides to shoot him in the foot with a rocket launcher, but he still feels that same anger and sadness he felt ten years ago every single day.
The car rolls to a stop, and Jason startles when he realizes they’re already back at the manor. It’s dark outside, almost eight in the evening, when they get home.
Jason hesitates to get out of the car. He wants to stay in the small bubble he’s created with Percy. He hopes that his older siblings, or at least Dick, have gone to their respective homes for the night. He doesn’t want to deal with his overdramatic siblings and their reactions to Jason keeping yet another secret from them. They’ll start wailing about betrayal and broken trust —even though they’re just pretending— just to piss him off.
Most of all, he doesn’t want his siblings to scare off Percy. Though, Jason suspects his brother has gone through worse than meeting a pack of people with the emotional ranges of nail files.
•~🐚~•
The car rolls to a stop outside of a large house, more of a mansion than anything else. Even though it leaves Percy breathless —Annabeth would overthrow the Gods to get her hands on the blueprints for this place— Percy can’t help but think it’s small compared to his dad’s palace.
He doesn’t have any bags in the trunk, so there’s nothing for him to do when he gets out of the car except stare up at the mansion. Rain falls onto him, soaking his clothes and hair. It’s soothing, the presence of his father’s domain, his domain, around him. He doesn’t feel as overwhelmed.
After a few seconds, Jason rounds the back of the car and stands beside him. “Yeah, it’s a bit much, if you ask me,” he says, wrapping an arm around Percy's shoulders. “But don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”
Jason leads Percy up the path to the front door, the butler and Bruce Wayne following behind them. His brother lets the butler open the door for them
The door opens to a beautiful room —a foyer, he thinks it’s called. He imagines that this is what Nico’s cabin would look like if he had expensive taste. As they walk in, Percy’s head turns from side to side, taking it all in. “Holy shit, man.”
Beside him, Jason snickers, still leading him towards what he can assume is the living room. This room is just as gorgeous as the last.
He notices two people in the living room. A man, older than Jason but younger than Bruce, lounging on the couch watching what looks to be a rom-com on the TV. The other is a boy, probably around thirteen or so, reading a book in an armchair by the couch.
As they enter the room, the two boys turn their attention towards them. The boy raises an eyebrow at Percy, looking at him like he’s gum beneath his favorite pair of shoes. “Father, why did you return with two Todds? We didn’t need another one.”
Before Percy or anyone else can respond to that, the man speaks up, “Jaybird, did you clone yourself?” he asks incredulously.
The boy scoffs, “Obviously not, Grayson. Though if Todd did clone himself, he did a particularly bad job at it. The clone is not only shorter than him, but also tanner,” he pauses, squinting at Percy’s face, making him squirm uncomfortably. “His eyes are a different shade of green, too. And their bodies are different. The clone has a swimmer’s build. Todd is built like the Hulk. Also-”
“That’s enough, Damian,” Bruce interrupts the boy —Damian, he knows now— from the other side of Jason.
Percy turns to face his brother, raising an eyebrow. Jason just rolls his eyes and smirks. Turning back to face his other siblings, Jason sighs, “Dick, Dami, this is my younger brother Percy,” he says gesturing to him. “Percy, these are two of my other brothers Dick and Damian.”
Damian and Dick stare at him for an uncomfortable second before Dick perks up instantly and walks over to shake Percy’s hand. The man’s smile would look genuine to any other stranger, but Percy notices how the man’s eyes are full of confusion and surprise.
Damian, on the other hand, stays where he is, looking at Percy with distrust. “Since when do you have a younger brother, Todd?”
“Since I was four.” After a moment Jason continues, “Aren’t you going to say hello?” he asks, annoyed.
“No,” Damian says bluntly. “If he’s your brother, why wasn’t he also adopted?”
“I was kidnapped when I was six,” Percy cuts in.
“You don’t look like you were kidnapped,” he says, probably noticing Percy’s new t-shirt from Annabeth —it says Don’t Krill My Vibe on it, he loves it— or the converse with sea life painted on them that Rachel had decorated. It doesn’t help that the hospital gave him and Annabeth babay wipes to clean themselves up with, so Percy doesn’t look like he’s been in an explosion or on the run for the past decade.
“Yeah, ‘cause I escaped.”
“So you’ve been held captive since Todd’s adoption ten years ago?”
“No, I escaped after a few days. I’ve been on the run from my kidnappers for the past ten years.”
“Why-”
“Demon Brat, enough,” Jason says harshly, leaving no room for argument.
“I was merely making sure-” he starts again.
“Dames, enough,” Dick says, much more gently than his father and brother.
The boy huffs as if they’re the ones in the wrong while Dick stares at Damian intently. He seems to consider something before he speaks up again, “I apologize,” he says begrudgingly. Judging by his wide smile, Dick seems to think that his younger brother’s basic manners are an accomplishment.
Despite this, Percy smiles at the boy, “It’s cool, not the first time I’ve been interrogated.”
Damian looks at him warily and he sees Jason and Dick raise their eyebrows from the corner of his eye. Does Percy know that he’s intentionally sowing seeds of chaos? Yes, yes he does. But if his brother and his family can fight a fucked up clown and guy whose primary method of madness is riddles every other week, then they can handle Percy saying weird shit a few times a day. … Hopefully.
Before anyone can say anything else, a voice accompanied by footsteps coming down the stairs reaches the living room, “Do any of you know who Alfred is setting up a guest room for?”
Damian, apparently never one to shut his mouth, is the one to reply, “Come down here and see, Thomas.”
Another teen —Thomas? apparently— rounds the corner, but stops in his tracks as soon as he spots Jason and Percy standing next to each other. He’s obviously confused, but unlike his brothers, he greets Percy before asking any questions. “Hey, man. I’m Duke. Nice to meet you,” he says, reaching a hand out.
Percy shakes Duke’s hand, which is surprisingly warm (he might need to re-evaluate that satyr’s evidence, Duke totally looked like one of Apollo’s), and smiles. “Percy. I’m the one staying in the guest room.”
“Cool! How long are you staying?”
Before Percy can answer, Jason interrupts. “Forever. I’m never letting him out of my sight again.”
Percy rolls his eyes, “No, I’m not,” he says to Jason. Turning his attention back to Duke, “I’m probably only staying a few weeks.”
“Nuh uh. I let you walk home alone once, and you went missing for ten years. You’re staying.”
“Jay, you don’t even live here anymore. You only come here when you’re forced to,” Dick points out. “Why would you want Percy to stay here?”
Jason starts to list reasons out on his fingers. “One, my apartment only has one bedroom. Two, I live in a shitty part of town. Three, I’m broke.”
Percy knows that there’s a fourth reason: it’s much easier to hide the fact that you’re a vigilante in a giant mansion than it is in a cramped apartment.
Bruce sighs, “That could all be solved if you’d just let me pay for an apartment.”
Jason waves his father off, “Besides, you guys want me to be here more for “family bonding” or something,” he says, using air quotes. “You never said which family I had to be here to bond with.”
Dick squints at him disbelievingly, “Are you seriously using the reappearance of your missing brother to shirk off of family time with us?”
“Yes.”
•~🐚~•
Soon after Jason and his brothers started bickering, Alfred had freed him from the conversation to show Percy his new room.
The room is pretty bare. Beige walls with generic modern art hanging on the walls, a dark blue —almost black— bed set softly rests on the bed, and an empty closet that would soon be full once Mr.D sent his clothes from camp. Alfred had assured him that he would be able to decorate his room however he would like once he got settled in.
Percy sits down on the plush mattress, running his fingers over the comforter. Rain hits the window beside him. He’s always loved the rain, even before he was claimed as Poseiden’s son. On nights like this —before everything— he would dance in rain, eyes filled with wonder as water hit his skin.
Jason hated it, always worried Percy would get sick, but Percy never did.
There’s always been a part of him that kept hold of his brother’s memory, but Percy never had the time to lose sleep over him. He couldn’t worry about whether his brother was eaten by those cyclops when Percy was fighting them himself.
At some point, he just… forgot. He made a new family. He made a new older brother. Everything was fine. Until it wasn’t. Until Luke changed.
Jason’s changed too, Percy thinks. His eyes are green instead of blue. He’s got a matching white streak in his hair. He’s quicker to annoyance than he was when he was young. And, he's got so many scars, just like Percy. (Because he's a vigilante for some Zeus forsaken reason!).
But, he’s also stayed the same. Jason still looks at Percy the same way, filled with love and concern. He’s still kind yet sarcastic. He still smiles the same way. He’s still Jason.
Percy just wishes they could be honest with each other.