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Percy isn’t sure why he’s even here, to be honest. It’s a thought that has only grown stronger these past few days as he gets lost in winding hallways and looks up and sees massive chandeliers hanging above him. The whole house carries some unidentified smell that somehow matches the fanciness of the manor, like lavender and old books.
He’s spent most of his time finding ways to avoid Bruce Wayne, who is the freaking Batman, and it's getting difficult because the guy has some sort of secret sense for finding scrawny orphans. Percy’s running theories for Bruce taking him in are a convoluted revenge plot, a PR stunt, and worst of all, pity. He really hopes that last one isn’t the case, because he hates that look adults give him. Pity was rare for Percy Jackson, though. He’s accustomed to being the invisible boy. All in all, Percy is not sure why he’s avoiding the billionaire, and he isn’t sure he wants to.
One person he isn’t avoiding however, is Mr. Alfred Pennyworth, who is incredibly British, and currently placing down the most holy object in the world on the kitchen counter. Blue food coloring. Percy had asked for it on the first morning in the manor, and now Alfred has granted his wish, like a wrinkly posh genie.
Percy grins and rolls the small glass bottle in between his fingers. The cool feeling of it is soothing, and he continues rolling it while he instructs Alfred. He feels like a general giving important orders as he tells him the right amount of flour and egg. Alfred has this twinkle in his eye as Percy explains the importance of the oven’s temperature, and helps him tie his apron since he still can’t tie knots yet.
They measure things out and forgo verbal communication, opting for taps and smiles. It’s the first time Percy has used an electric mixer- his mom could never spare money on one. He rolls up a ball of dough, hands stained blue from the dye. If he closes his eyes, he can convince himself he’s with his mom, giggling in their tiny kitchen, dough smudged over his face. She’d raise her hand up and wipe his cheek, and he’d grin. His lips have fallen into a frown now. It’s painful to think of her still.
“Master Percy, I believe the oven is heated appropriately.” Alfred says, and Percy finishes up the last few raw cookies.
“Just Percy is fine, Alfred.” He mumbles, voice rumbly from being quiet. Speaking is kind of hard when the person who listened most was gone. Alfred dodges Percy’s preference.
“We will lift the tray together,” He takes one side of the metal and exaggerates a grunt. “Be quick Master Percy.”
Percy nods, grips the tray, and they waddle over to the oven, heat reddening their faces. Almost immediately after they slide the tray in Alfred closes the oven, and Percy is cold once again. It’s going to be twenty minutes before the cookies are out, and another five for them to cool. So, for Percy, about a million years. He feels proud of himself though, for doing something that reminded him of his mom.
Jason is really bad at this big brother stuff. For one, Percy keeps avoiding him. He’s hiding and Jason hasn’t been able to find him. He’s quiet at dinners, too. Every time Jason tries to welcome him in, he just bolts.
So he’s been giving him space. It’s what he thinks is right to do- but it’s his first time being an older brother, so he isn’t sure. The last thing Jason wants is to give him space. He wants to wrap his arms around him and tell him everything will be okay. He wants to be a better brother than Dick has been so far.
When Jason first heard of the newest addition to the Wayne family, he was on YouTube, watching bruce get owned by an eicht-year-old boy. He knew immediately what was going to happen. Black hair? Check. Light eyes? Check. Trauma? Check.
Brue had started building a file on Percy Jackson, which Jason had read about a million times. It's essential that he knows everything he can to ensure that he feels welcomed. Percy’s favorite color is blue, his favorite hero is Superman, he has ADHD and dyslexia... The list goes on. It may sound kind of dumb, but seeing Percy crying a couple days ago twisted something in him.
And if Jason is going to make him feel better, giving him space isn’t going to cut it.
He sets off on a journey around the manor, the living rooms, the kid’s room, the dining room. It is in that latter mentioned room that he smells it. The most heavenly scent that has ever been placed in front of him. Jason dashes in right in time to run into Percy, who crashes into him with a little ‘oof’.
His sea green eyes widen impossibly, and Jason is struck with the image of a baby seal.
“Sorry.” The kid mumbles, voice soft and head turned down. He tries to push past him but Jason catches his shoulder.
“It’s fine. Did you,” His eyes roam over the messy blue dough-stained countertops. “bake all this stuff?”
Percy nods and shakes Jason’s hand off. “Yeah. Alfred helped a little, he should be over- huh. Where’d he go?” The kitchen is empty of elderly british butlers. Percy crosses his arms and pouts.
“He’s betrayed me. I’m stuck here with you now.”
Jason’s breath catches. He didn’t consider this option- Percy hating him. Ugh, what good of a Robin is he if he can’t consider the possibilities?
“I mean, not that you’re awful or whatever. I just… You don’t know me and I don’t know you. And I’m in your house. So you probably hate me or, or whatever I guess.”
Oh. That’s why he’s been avoiding me. Jason squats down a little to be eye to eye with Percy, but he hasn’t hit his growth spurt yet so it’s kind of demoralizing. I can’t believe I’m only a couple inches taller than an eight year old kid.
“I’m not mad at you Percy. I want you here. You seem like a pretty cool guy.” The younger boy looks doubtful. “You kicked that clown in the face a couple days ago. That’s some cool guy behavior.” Percy looks up, confusion etched into his sea green eyes.
“But I made Bruce look bad. On TV and everything. And I’m in your house, and your dad just picked me up off the street for whatever reason.” God, he needs a confidence boost.
“It was totally awesome though. And now Bruce is doing all that environmental stuff with Wayne Enterprises and planning to start a scholarship program-“
“Yeah, but I was mean to him. And my mom said that no matter how angry I am, or how much I want to impress someone, I should always be the better person. And I wasn’t. So Mr. Wayne and you just want me here because you feel bad for me. I’m like- I’m a PR stunt. ‘Bruce Wayne’s Street Rat Kid’ or something.” Jason can’t hold back his laughter at that, and he’s doubled over, stomach sick.
“Oh my god, Percy you are not a PR stunt. Bruce just likes you. It’s what he did with me. I stole the tires off the Batmobile, y’know.”
Percy frowned in doubt at the first statement, but he shakes his head at the second one.
“No way. You’re just telling me that to make me feel better.” He pushes past Jason and slips through the doorway. The second Robin follows.
“I’m not lying! I even threw a tire iron at him and called him a boob!” Percy stops in his tracks, turning his head to grin.
“Really?” Jason nods. “That is so cool! That’s not nearly as bad as what I did but that’s crazy! Holy shit, so you’re like, also abducted? Or whatever he calls it?”
“Uh-huh. I used to live in Crime Alley, which is the poorest part of Gotham.”
“So, you’re a charity case too?” Percy blurts before slapping his hands over his mouth. Ouch.
“We’re not charity cases, Percy. How many times do I have to tell you this? Batman sees something in us, okay? An opportunity to do good, or inspire us to do good.” Percy scrunches up his face, tilting his head like a puppy. “We’re all weird and different, and so is Bruce. He-“
“Is a child collector? He collects children? Yeah, that is weird.”
“No, Percy-“ Suddenly, Jason gets a brilliant idea. He grabs Percy’s little hand and tugs him along. “C’mon.”
He drags Percy from room to room despite his high-pitched protests until he reaches what Jason has dubbed ‘The Den.’
A huge old sofa dominates one side of the room, along with some battered armchairs and a coffee table. A big screen has been installed into the opposite wall.
“Behold, little one, heaven on earth.” Jason says, arms spread wide. Percy’s eyes are giant once again.
“That’s the biggest TV I’ve ever seen in my life.” Jason picks up the remote and hops on the couch, sinking in to the cushions.
“And this will be the greatest movie you’ve ever seen.”
They spend the next two hours or so watching Fantastic Mr Fox, a charming Wes Anderson movie that makes Percy cry, and then shrink under the big quilt on the sofa in embarrassment. The message is kind of obvious, to Percy at least.
They get the cookies about ten minutes in and Jason begs for the recipe, though Percy tells him that he’ll have to prove worthy first. (It’s a lie though, he’s already pretty worthy in his eyes.)
Percy drifts off halfway into The Little Mermaid, and he when he wakes up his bed the next morning, he can vaguely remember strong arms carrying him upstairs. It’s that hazy memory that drives Percy out of bed that morning and into the kitchen, where a baggy-eyed Bruce sits at the breakfast bar, black coffee in tow.
He doesn’t hesitate to hug him, wrapping his little arms around Bruce’s enormous body. He mumbles an apology and steps to the side for further explanation, eyes downcast like he learned from Gabe.
“I’m sorry for avoiding you and not being grateful. I should’ve said thank you, and I should’ve known that-“
“Chum, don’t apologize. I should’ve gone out of my way to make you feel welcome.” Bruce rumbles, standing up and setting down his coffee.
“Huh?”
“Jason told me about last night. And… I’m not great at these things, but as your father now I must-“
“My father?” Bruce’s eyebrows scrunch together at the question.
“Yes. I signed the adoption papers yesterday, didn’t Jason tell you?” Adoption papers? My dad is lost at sea. Not gone, lost he’ll come back. My dad is lost at sea…
“I don’t understand.” What- this is all happening too fast.
“You are under my protection now. You’re a Wayne.”
“No, I’m not. I’m a Jackson. Like my mom.” The room is getting a bit stuffy, and Bruce’s face is looking a bit panicked.
“Percy, why don’t we sit down, okay?” Percy nods shakily, breath coming in small gasps that sting his chest. My dad is lost at sea. Not gone, just lost… Bruce sets his hand firmly on his shoulder and Percy flinches so hard his head hits the kitchen counter. He slams his fist on the cool tile floor. The pain is grounding.
“I’m sorry Mr. Wayne. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Percy shakes his hands nervously and looks away.
“No, it’s not. I’m sorry, don’t be mad at me. Don’t be mad at me, please don’t…” He stops when he can’t get air in anymore. Percy takes in a breath but a sob rolls out. I’m so stupid. I’m retarded. I’m so dumb, god… Can you cancel an adoption like you cancel a marriage? Like, ‘This one’s a dud, can I try again?’
“Percy? Hey, kid?” A callused thumb wipes at the salty tears he didn’t realize were flowing. Percy looks up. Pale gray-blue eyes meet sea green. “I chose you for a reason okay? I chose you because-“
“Just shut up! Shut up, okay?!” The words are too smooth for how broken Percy feels. Bruce’s eyes glaze over and his mouth zips shut. The black haired boy looks away for a moment. It feels like a million years. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to shut up I just- I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Bruce says, as if it makes since. As if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I promised you I wouldn’t hurt you, remember?” Percy mutters a confirmation. “I also promise I’ll be honest with you, got it? From here on out. Okay?” Bruce stands, extending a hand to Percy.
“Okay.” He takes his hand. It’s cool against Percy’s forever-warm skin. Bruce flashes pearly white teeth.
“Great.” He lets go and stoops a little to better meet Percy’s reddened eyes. “Now, it’s late July and your birthday is in August. What do you want?”
What do I want? Is this guy insane? I was just crying on his kitchen floor like a baby. Percy’s mind supplies. He tries to formulate an answer. No one has ever really asked what he wanted. His last birthday gift was a set of Pikachu pajamas his mom could barely afford.
“I like Pokémon and stuff like that. Collecting or whatever.”
Bruce nods firmly and his lips tip upwards. “I’ll see what I can do. Now, let’s get some breakfast, shall we? What’s this Alfred has been telling me about blueberry pancakes?”