Rated: T, for pretty obvious reasons.
Trigger Warnings (TW): Mentions of medication, swearing, disturbing thoughts, Percy being just too adorable for words, blood (but not necessarily gore), possibly panic attacks, and the usual innuendos that come with Poseidon being a total asshat with a thing for vagina among other sexual organs.
Pairings: Canon Olympian pairings, ones that go along with the original mythology—such as Hera/Zeus. There'll be some implied stuff, of course, like past Poseidon/Sally, past Athena/Poseidon, but it's mainly focused on Poseidon and Percy's father-son relationship. We'll see where it goes from there.
Spoilers: None, as far as I know.
Disclaimer: Don't own jack, man. But Riordan definitely owns my soul.
Chapter Two: Demigod
"Drop the bottle, Johnson." Poseidon watched in bemusement as Percy dropped the empty bottle on the desk with a loud rattle, his face still holding its uninterested, void expression. On the bottle, the prescription read Ritalin in bold black lettering, followed by fancy words that meant nothing to him. (1) A piece of tape on the lid had the boy's name wrote in the clumsy cursive lettering of Welch himself. Perseus Jackson. Dionysus must have "forgotten" his last name. Figures.
It had taken him months to remember how to properly pronounce Poseidon's name and even longer for him to learn his own nickname.
But Perseus? Really? Son of Zeus?
Dionysus leaned up from his worn leather chair; his nose crinkled in distaste. "Kronos wanted you to come here." It wasn't a question. Didn't have to be one, really. The middle-aged man knew better than to assume anything less of his boss. He didn't go to places like these without a reason. Poseidon nodded absentmindedly, looking around for something worth remembering—anything that would show how the conversation might end. There wasn't. "I could call Zeus up at any minute, you know." He could.
"You won't," Poseidon said, sitting down in the plastic chair (one obviously made for a child, he noted) across from Dionysus's desk with all the gracefulness of a ballerina with one leg. "You hate his guts." Who doesn't? The guy was an asshole. An asshole with a god-complex, to boot.
"He doesn't seem to think so." Dionysus heaved a sigh, yanking at one of his purplish curls in frustration. "I've been on probation ever since the Hades Incident," he grumbled. "Something about him getting a new head caretaker to replace me." (2)
Poseidon grimaced in sympathy. Yeah, Zeus was everything but merciful when it came to "his people" socializing with the family. Actually, he was down-right cruel. He only wanted the good publicity for himself, and he was willing to fight for it. Even if it meant not even he got any in the end. Hades, their eldest brother, knew that just as well as Poseidon did. Neither of them cared.
Unfortunately, that usually meant that the people they hung out with got the whole blame resting on their sad-sap shoulders. What a shame.
"Zeus has a big head; he thinks everyone kisses the ground he walks on." He shrugged. Blame darling Mother Rhea on that mistake.
Dionysus rolled his watery blue eyes, all the while grabbing Percy's wrist that had reached out to grab some of the candy from the intricately created bowl sitting in between the both of them. The boy recoiled, eyes flashing in a sort of wild urgency that he had only ever seen on a rapid dog begging for scraps. Percy began to tug away. Poseidon tried not to stare, though it was hard not to. Dionysus let Percy go, handing him a single piece of peppermint with a gruff pat on the shoulder following close behind. The older man turned against to Poseidon.
He gawked back at his calm visage, bewildered.
"Let's just get this over with. What does Kronos want?" What doesn't he want?
But instead, Poseidon said a blank "Just publicity", attempting to straighten the emotionless mask he had continuously been taught to don since early childhood. "You're having some huge charity bullshit soon. We'll give you all the money you need for funding, just tell the press about how saintly we are." Percy looked disgusted by the idea, but Dionysus remained unperturbed.
"Fine with me. But if my ass gets put on the fire because of you, the publicity won't be nice." Dionysus emptied his soda can with one last tip. Poseidon just nodded.
"Fair enough." For a second, he thought about what to do. "Brief me on what we're giving up our money on. Dad didn't tell me jack." He never does. Not on anything important, anyway.
Shooing Percy off with a hand, the elder nodded. The green-eyed man-child was out the door before he could blink.
"This is a halfway house, for lack of better term." Dionysus paused, thoughtful. "Well, it's made to be like one. Similar, close to, staged to mimic, whatever."
"Halfway house? Should I know what that is?"
"I doubt you even know what a 711 is; I'm not surprised."
"It's a gas station," Poseidon defended. "One goes there to get gas."
"Whatever. Just know we help kids...ease back into society." Oh-kay, that didn't sound weird at all, Poseidon grumbled to himself scathingly. Thanks, that explains everything.
"They're good kids," Dionysus said suddenly. "Don't let the brats hear me say that, but they are. Messed up in the head, but good."
Poseidon's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "Messed up in the head?"
Dionysus gave him a long look, one that left Poseidon fidgeting. "You were right. Your father told you zilch." The older man sighed, propped up his head on his arms, and squared his shoulders to speak. He had this dry look of This-Is-Fantastic. Poseidon tried not to have any sort of look at all. "This is a place for brats with mental disorders and substance abuse issues. Mostly the former. It's a way for Zeus to get a good buck–a nicer way to get little shits with way too much baggage out of the adoption process." At Poseidon's widening eyes, Dionysus carried on. "You've been to plenty of charities and care-homes. It's no big deal." He didn't really care what the younger believed, that much was obvious, but by his rapidly paling complexion it probably looked like the young adult was about to faint.
He sputtered, completely thrown. What the hell was his dad thinking? No, he knew the answer to that. Kronos wanted to make an image. An image that portrayed them as saints.
But they weren't. "So, that Tyson kid...?"
"Recently blinded in a car accident: completely blind in one eye, almost lost all vision in the other. Lost one of his mothers. He doesn't live here; his remaining mom just wanted him to get to know some of the kids. Keep them company, help cheer them up. Hopefully get him to be a bit more social. The works. He's a very special case, not like a lot of the others."
"Meaning?"
"He's coming here because he wants to. A lot of the kids stay here because someone ordered them to." Poseidon mused about that for a minute, his fingers drumming nervously against the desk.
That explained a lot. Explained the while-not-suffocating but careful precautions and the worried looks and the moody, red-eyed kids at every corner. "And, uh, Jackson?" Despite everything, the kid didn't seem half bad. A little too mature for his age, but that wasn't necessarily a con. Kinda mouthy too, but he didn't have any room to complain.
Dionysus' eyes darkened. "It's not my place to gossip about the people here. This isn't the girls' bathroom."
"Dionysus," Poseidon would deny it if asked, but he let himself grovel, just a bit.
"Mr. Olympia."
"Dionysus."
Annoyed with the whole thing, Dionysus began to grumble under his breath. Poseidon grinned. "Found his mother's dead body when he was small. Four, I think he was. Screwed him over, obviously. He'd been travelling foster home to foster home for some time, but they never kept him long. Minus the one he's been staying at, anyway. Foster father's pretty insistent on him going home every night." His grin slid off his face, fell to the floor, and did not attempt to crawl back up to its original place. Dionysus didn't notice. "Now that I think about it, he's only spending the night tonight because Tyson wanted to as well. They're good friends; Tyson's very attached to him."
Poseidon's brow furrowed. "Why?"
"Damned if I know. He's got an attitude."
"No, I meant why didn't they want to keep him before?" Poseidon couldn't get over that. Even Kronos wasn't that cruel. At least he had found uses for his children.
The purple-haired cherub shrugged a though it wasn't anything to be concerned about. "Panic attacks—and pretty nasty ones at that. Most people don't like sniveling stage brats." Dionysus shot him a pointed look at that.
He ignored him. "Who's the mother? Anyone you knew?" The kid was familiar. Too familiar, actually. Maybe he had met his mother? Or even father, who knew? Kronos had caused him to meet a lot of people, and even without that, Poseidon had went through a partying phase. A partying phase that had caused him to meet a lot of people, men and women alike.
Besides, he sort of looked like her.
"Tch, no. Name was something with an S..." He shrugged. "Selena, maybe."
Oh, no way. "Sally?" Dionysus arched a black brow at him.
"Yeah, I think that's it. You know her?" Poseidon smiled, feeling sick. He remembered Sally, remembered her cheery smile and the way she'd tuck back that one piece of hair that was never out-of-place.
"Knew her."
Dionysus grimaced a little, but didn't look sympathetic. He would not pretend to like Poseidon. "Boring topics aside, Mr. Johnson arrived here a couple of months ago, a troubling amount of schoolwork and court order in hand." The man shrugged. "He's all right. More of a observational case than some of the more concerning patients. Can be a bit of a brat, but who isn't around here?"
Poseidon's lips pursed. "You say the word brat too much," he said, but didn't really care.
"So does your father."
"Fair enough." He paused. "How old is Percy?"
Dionysus tapped a finger against his temple in contemplation. "Turning eight in August, I believe." The twenty-four year-old ogled him. Oh, no way. Sally was his age; she would have only been sixteen when Percy was born. Poseidon had spent a huge slice of his Sophmore year with her. They had dated for quite a while. (She had been his longest relationship, funnily enough.) He didn't remember her dating anyone after they broke up, but he had left soon after. Maybe...
Oh, don't be stupid. He looks just like you. Poseidon paid his thoughts no mind. But...
Look at the kid's fucking eyes, Poseidon. You're not blind!
He knew those eyes, saw them in the mirror every day—he and the mirror were best friends; they were very well acquainted. The same eerie green tinged with the slightest hint of pale blue, "the color of the sea", as an old friend often joked. But it wasn't possible. There was no way, right? She would have told him, would have found a way to contact him, surely.
Poseidon's head jerked up to meet Dionysus's curious orbs with an audible snap. "I have an idea."
Monsters of a Different Mold
"This is a horrible idea," Percy said tersely, sitting uncomfortably in the backseat of Poseidon's fancy-shmancy car. Angrily, he picked at the thick seatbelt, feeling like he was suffocating. The belt squeezed unpleasantly at his ribs with every slight shift he made. This really was a horrible idea.
He scowled at the man, making sure he could see from the mirror. He received a sneer in return.
"Deal with it," Poseidon snapped back. If it wasn't for the fact that he was driving the car, Percy would have hit him. He didn't want to "deal with it". He didn't want to be here at all. He shot a dirty look at the backpack lounging by his side. They weren't expecting him to spend the night with this guy, right? He would sooner leap out of a five-story window.
As he leaned back into the seat, he let his gaze—grumpy and a little more than cross—slide over to the window. His breath caught itself in his throat. Oh.
Oh.
His eyes were dinner plates, he was sure. This was the rich street (he shouldn't be so surprised), with its new roads and cat fights every other week. The street with large, grand houses of columns and pretty designs and silk curtains that Percy wished he could use for his sheets. The yards varied, some full of gardens and apple trees, others with a tree house and a jungle gym. Oh God, they can afford a jungle gym. These people are loaded!
Only one house had a fountain in the yard, though. And that was the one they were pulling up to. The fountain was large, lying on immaculately cut grass, its pale shade of blue shining like the pearls from under the sea. It was made generously full of twirls and curls of marble, twining in and out of each other to make beautiful shapes that didn't have names but really should've. "Whoa," he said stupidly. Poseidon smirked.
Percy regretted opening his mouth. "I still don't know why you want me at your house." Poseidon rolled his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"You're going to tell the nice reporter about how nice and kind I am."
He about face-faulted at that one. "You're one of those guys," he accused. Just as he had guessed. A total asshole.
"Excuse me?"
"All you care about is money and face." One of the man's finely sculpted eyebrows ticked up in amusement. From what Percy could tell, he thought it was comical that a stupid seven year-old like him could say something like that to a guy like, well, Poseidon. He didn't think it was so funny.
"That's what being in business is about, kid." Then business is stupid, he wanted to say.
"Sounds fun," Percy deadpanned instead. Poseidon sighed, one hand reaching up to run a hand through his hair. He was trying not to look irritated, Percy noticed. Why did he bother? They both knew that Poseidon didn't like this any more than Percy. So why?
"Look," he began again, staring at the man in the front seat with no small amount of distaste. "I don't like you, you don't like me. Can't you just take me back and grab a better kid?" He pursed his lips, upset and wishing to go home. Home where the Stolls and Luke were and Chiron (the greatest foster father he had ever had) took him out shopping for groceries just so he could purchase blue food dye without the other kids noticing.
And if not there, back to the facility. At least the facility would eventually let him go home. If he stayed he would probably die here, and then he definitely would never get to go home. "Why not one of those poster kids with a big smile and photogenic face?" He wasn't ready to die yet.
"I didn't think you'd be able to use the word photogenic in a sentence." Percy shot him a dirty look for that. "And to answer your question, I can't."
"Can't?" Oh God, he was going to throw a temper tantrum... if only for the sheer reason of making Poseidon crash his car...
It was a stupid car.
Poseidon rolled his eyes, glancing up at the mirror even as he parked. He did not notice Percy's livid expression—or if he did, he just didn't care enough to comment on it. "Yeah, can't. I have to find something out first." What is this, Scooby-Doo?!
"Anything specific?"
The elder just smirked at him with those too-white teeth (Who was his dentist, anyway? Percy'd like to smack them firmly upside the head. Someone could go blind!) before opening his door to get out. "Don't worry your pretty head about it."
"Don't call me pretty. It's weird." He shuddered in disgust, reaching to open his own car door, though Poseidon beat him to it. Percy's lips curled up into a defensive snarl, shoulders hunching up as he shuffled out of the vehicle. It was a nice looking car. All sleek and shiny and indestructible.
Percy hated it. Really, he hated a lot of things. And people, he didn't like people either. People were stupid.
(Now, now, Percy, dear, a voice in his head reprimanded, sounding bizarrely like his pre-K teacher. It was freaky. I know your mommy taught you not to use the word hate.)
Mommy wasn't here.
"—and make sure you don't," Poseidon paused, irritated. "You paying any attention?" He jumped, head snapping up to look at the man with staggering speed.
"Yes," Percy fibbed, far too quickly for his taste. The old guy clearly didn't believe him. The disarming smile shot his way didn't waver his resolve.
"Uh-huh, sure. Let's just get inside, it looks like it's about to rain." Blinking, Percy looked up at the sky. Huh, it really did. He hadn't noticed.
The sky was rapidly darkening from a silvery blue to a light grey, the clouds swirling angrily into one huge mass. It looked like it would swallow him whole. He could almost imagine the thunder they'd hear later tonight. Michael—one of his friends at the facility—had mentioned there being a chance of a storm two days before. Dang. He really hoped it wouldn't thunder.
("It's okay, Percy, God's playing bowling with Satan! I bet he just made a strike!" And she'd smile real pretty down at her stupid, useless son, like he was the best thing in the world.)
He'd never liked storms, he brooded, tugging his hoodie closer to his face to ward off the sudden chill. They were loud and had always hurt his fragile mother's ears. Things were fuzzy now when it came to her, but he remembered that. Sometimes she would curl up with him on his bed with his ocean comforter thrown over both their heads, and just bury her face into the pillows, holding him close while he whimpered and sobbed that "Mommy, I'm scared". He could see that in the back of his head, fluttering in and out of memory, but he never forgot.
He knew he had been loud and obnoxious, but she had never cared. She was just too kind, too perfect to ever raise her voice about anything to anyone, even when she probably should have. Definitely should have. He wished she would have.
By the time he started to resurface from memory lane, head spinning, they were inside.
Monsters of a Different Mold
The first thing the kid noticed was the fish tank, and from the childish look of excitement on his face, Poseidon could tell he had found one of the few things that made the boy truly happy. At least that was something they shared; it would make things for manageable.
And even if he thought aquatic life was the dumbest thing since Snuggies for dogs, the tank was just cool. Never let it be said that Poseidon Olympia didn't cook in style.
It was in the kitchen, a good four feet tall and resting fully against the back wall. It then proceeded to turn into a countertop, ending just where the refrigerator sat. Colorful wildlife swam around, maneuvering through bright coral and eccentric decorations of all shapes and sizes. A half-full coffee mug sat on a napkin, but the kid didn't seem to notice or care.
Percy was in awe. He was babbling about all the kinds of fish under his breath, craning his head to catch a look at everything last detail. Oohs and even an astounded (and maybe impressed) no way filled his ears. He was literally bouncing up and down, his hair moving with him. There was a good chance he would push his nose up against the glass to get a better look. Mouth grinning and green eyes glittering, the boy turned to speak to him. Dimples flashed. Poseidon almost smiled.
Then the boy's eager appearance dropped just as quickly as he came, becoming one of embarrassment. Pink stained his face before he was able to put on a more neutral face, creeping stealthily across his cheeks to the tips of his slightly too-large ears. The bouncing stopped as rapidly as it came; he was soon entirely out of his reverie. "Sorry," he mumbled. He glanced down at his tennis shoes, a small frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. Percy obviously didn't like the idea of Poseidon knowing anything about him.
Poseidon laughed. "Don't be. It is pretty great." The boy nodded begrudgingly.
"Yeah."
He rested a hand on Percy's shoulder. The child's whole body shrank back, and he let his hand drop uselessly back to his side.
Poseidon didn't try again. "Let's show you around."
"…Okay."
(1) Ritalin, in case you don't know, is a medication used for ADHD. It's not going to be mentioned much, if it all. At the moment, Percy's ran out (if you couldn't tell).
(2) This care-home is ran by a profit organization, Zeus', for the sole purpose of money. It's not to help the community. That's why Zeus can take Dionysus' job. Kronos is trying to use Zeus' "project" against him, by getting some publicity from them—donating money and getting great reviews in response. And it's not like Zeus can refuse. It's two organizations against one another at this point. All of this is probably horribly inaccurate but forget it. It's a mere plot device to get the ball rolling.
Also, please remember that I don't have a beta. If there are any mistakes kindly tell me about them and I will do my best to fix them.
