Chapter Text
Their junior year ends pretty quietly, all things considered. Percy had been worried that as most of their executive board graduated, the frat would start to fall apart. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Jason to run it, more that he didn’t trust the underclassmen to not lose their minds when Beckendorf left. Charles had been in charge for what felt like forever, in some kind of leadership role since his sophomore year, and had never faltered in his responsibilities.
Somehow, despite Percy’s doubts and general unhelpfulness, Jason manages to pull off the end of the year once the seniors graduate. He makes sure that all the underclassmen who were moving into the house get their keys, and that all the graduating seniors move all of their belongings out on time. He enforces the no-pets-in-the-house policy, somehow withstanding the wiles of the Stoll twins lobbying to bring their family dog next year, as a mascot.
Percy watches all of this more or less from the same spot on the sofa. He might still be bitter about not being president. He might just be burned out from finals, or hungover from blacking out to celebrate them being over. Even he isn’t sure.
To the best of his understanding, his job is to make sure people follow any rules Jason puts in place, and to back him up if anyone argues. No one bothered to tell him what a vice president does, beyond that, and at this point he doesn’t care.
Like, he wants to care, but at this moment, all he can do is sit and wait until the e-board breaks for the summer, and he can go home and cuddle his baby sister, and eat his mom’s food and walk his dog as far as she’ll let him. It’s his last summer before he enters the grind of senior year, and then the real world, and he wants to make the most of it.
It’s a hot morning in June when Jason finally collapses next to him on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table that’s been in the house probably since the fraternity was founded. It wobbles when he makes contact, and his Vans are in a stain that’s been sticky for weeks. Percy doesn’t point it out. Jason’s right arm is draped on the back of the sofa, close to Percy’s shoulders and he thinks he can feel the other boy’s body heat through his shirt. He doesn’t point that out either.
Jason’s voice is rough, with overuse or maybe just exhaustion, when he speaks. “You ready? My plane’s in a few hours but I can help pack your car if you need.”
They haven’t had a real conversation in probably a week, at least. They’d both been running for president, but Percy had realized, right before the election, that he was terrified of having that kind of responsibility and dropped out of the race. Even though it was his choice that made Jason the nominee for sure, he still resents him a little, the way he just seems better equipped to take on the role.
Even tired, the leadership is still there. Jason’s about to fly across the country, but of course his first thought is to help Percy pack, like he doesn’t live six hours away by car, like he doesn’t come back to the house over the summer anyway to make sure it’s still standing. It’s sweet. Percy hates him.
“I’m actually about to head out, but thanks man,” Percy manages. “Need a ride to the airport?” That’s a win for being an adult, for not hurting his best friend’s feelings over something he had nothing to do with.
Jason grins, the same stupid endearing grin he has when an underclassman asks him for help with homework, or dating advice, or to move a table. “Oh, that would be great!” He sounds a little surprised, like maybe Percy has let his emotions be too clear on his face, and Jason can tell that he’s still smarting from the election. They’re close enough, it wouldn’t be surprising if Jason had figured it out somehow.
He feels kind of shitty about that. It’s not Jason’s fault that Percy took his name out of the running for president. He doesn’t want to be punishing him for it, intentionally or not.
“Do you want to grab coffee before we go? My treat if you’re driving.”
Percy feels a smile on his face, like his traitor brain is falling for Jason’s boy-next-door, All-American manners. For a boy raised rich in California, he’s got an astonishingly good grasp on what Percy’s mom calls ‘midwestern voice.’ “Sounds good.”
They pile Jason’s bag into the back of Percy’s car, on top of all Percy’s shit. He allows himself to laugh at the way Jason has to fold himself into the shotgun seat because of the amount of bags in the car. He’s trying to be on his best behavior, but he’s not a saint, and Jason looks so put out about the whole situation.
He feels better by the time they’re on the way to the airport, each with the biggest iced coffee Tim Hortons could give them. He even insists on walking Jason inside to security, holding his backpack as the other boy wrestles his duffle bag onto the scale to check it.
When they get to the beginning of the TSA line, Jason turns his devastating smile on him again. Percy feels dumb and gay and a little sad all of a sudden as the other boy gently reclaims his backpack from Percy’s shoulder. He swings it on to his own back, and leans in and suddenly they’re hugging.
He’s been kind of angry since the election, at himself more than Jason, but it’s still made him pull away a little. It feels like he hasn’t had this in forever, didn’t even realize he was missing it until they were holding each other again. Maybe he’s been shittier than he realized.
Percy brings his hands up around his back, and wishes fervently that his face wasn’t pressed into a firm deltoid. It’s an hour or maybe 30 seconds later when Jason is stepping away, tossing a “love you, babe. Have a good summer,” over his shoulder as he goes.
Percy barely manages a “You too. Text when you land?” in response, wishing, not for the first time, that Jason wasn’t the kind of guy to call his friends ‘babe.’ Wishing, not for the first time, that he didn’t kind of love it.
Once Jason is through the TSA line, Percy heads back to his car. The drive home is easy, one he’s done a thousand times. As he pulls onto I-90, he pulls up the “drive home <3” playlist that his mom made him, with input from Estelle.
It’s a cute playlist, and he lets his mind drift as the New York scenery flies by. He knows by now the places he feels safe stopping. He’s been on T (and passing) long enough that he could probably pee safely in any of the rest stops, but old habits die hard.
He stops once outside of Albany, and manages to make it to the NYC gridlock by a perfectly respectable 3:15. He’s at his mom’s apartment by 4, and he leaves the majority of his shit in the car in favor of bounding up the stairs to see his family.
Paul isn’t home yet, but his mom and Estelle greet him enthusiastically, and Mrs. O’Leary throws herself at him with the full force of her body. He loses his balance, tumbling over as she lays down next to him, throwing her massive head into his lap and drooling all over his shorts as he rubs her ears. It’s so fucking good to be home.
The days blend together into weeks. He picks up shifts whenever he can at his old job from high school. They take him back every summer, and he’s grateful for the money, doesn’t even mind the monotony of cashiering. The grocery store tends to be quiet, and he’s friendly with the elderly lady who runs it.
When he’s not working, he walks Mrs. O’Leary. They go around the city, or to Central Park. A few times when he’s feeling really ambitious, he piles her into his car and they drive out of the city, to the longer, more wooded trails. Sometimes he brings Estelle in her stroller, and relishes in the feeling that the three of them could be the only ones in the world.
He appreciates it, the way that she and Mrs. O’Leary love him unconditionally, and are only really interested in looking around in wonder at the city or trails around them. It’s almost humbling, the uncomplicated way that they love him and he loves them.
He sees Grover when he can, but he’s got a big fancy internship at some nonprofit this summer, so he’s spending most of his summer trapped in some office building. It’s kind of funny, Percy thinks, that Grover got into conservation work because of how much he loves the outdoors, and all it’s led to is working in the middle of the city. Still, he seems happy when they catch up, so it can’t be all bad.
Slowly, he starts to feel like a person again. Every time Paul claps him on the shoulder, or his mom kisses him on the head as she walks by, he feels warmer, loved.
He loves being in college, feels like himself more there than he ever did in high school. His boys are his favorite people in the world, and his professors are supportive and seem to genuinely care. It still grates on him sometimes though, to be so far away from his family that he loves so much. He feels selfish for even thinking it, knowing people like Jason and Piper and Leo are thousands of miles from home, when he’s a six hour drive at most.
When he’s gone, he feels an irritation in his conscience, like he’s slacking on some kind of familial duty. He knows it’s fucking misogynistic to feel like he’s the man of his household, like he shouldn’t leave his mom and sister to fend for themselves. His mom is the smartest person he knows, and would verbally kick his ass if he said it out loud. He doesn’t even really believe it.
It just nags him, like it has ever since he came out. His dad wasn’t there so he had to step up. He’s a boy, so he has to be the breadwinner. It’s so fucking stupid. Sally Jackson works her ass off for her family, and she’s his hero. His mom doesn’t need anything from him, and he loves her for it.
He’s always wondered if there’s any kind of research on it, some kind of evidence linking transmasculine people who grew up with single moms to internalized misogyny.
Anyway. It’s good to be home. It’s good to feel useful to his family, buying groceries when he can get away with it, bringing Estelle some new books when he gets the chance. With Paul’s added income, his family isn’t even really struggling anymore, much more secure than they were when it was just him and his mom and he was getting kicked out of schools because no one bothered to show him how to manage his ADHD. Still, he supplements their finances when he can, out of habit. Out of internalized misogyny, apparently.
Right after they all get home, the e-board group chat goes nuts for a little while like it always does. Jason texts it when he lands- “Just touched down. Have a good summer everyone :).”
(Percy tries not to feel superior when he gets a separate text- “finally home thanks again for the ride :)) make it back to sally okay?”)
(He tries even harder not to feel superior at the grammar differences, at the leadership persona that Jason feels like he has to project as president versus the real Jason, the one he gets to himself.)
They all check in from their respective homes, swap plans for the summer and talk about nothing for the first few weeks. After that, it peters out for a little while, and Percy is grateful for the break. God, he loves them but he doesn’t really care what Leo is making in his mom’s shop. He doesn’t need to hear about it every day.
He still texts with Jason almost every day, and Frank at least a few times a week, but mostly surface-level stuff, Jason texting him pictures of the beach and his dog, and LA at night. Percy sends him back pictures of Estelle and Mrs. O’Leary, along with commentary on the regulars in the grocery store who remember him from last summer, and Rachel and Grover, when he sees them.
Frank sends him about the same things, just keeping him updated on whatever the fuck there is to do in Vancouver (which is apparently not a lot).
It takes until the Fourth of July for the group chat to start back up. He’s lying on the beach in Montauk, thinking sort of half heartedly about putting more sunscreen on his chest. It’s possible that his doctor said something about not letting his scars get sunburned. It’s also possible that Percy wasn’t listening when he said it.
His eyes are closed behind his sunglasses, but he can hear Estelle and his mom splashing around in the water somewhere to his left. He can sense more than hear Paul in the chair next to him, flipping through some book that one of his coworkers had recommended. He has a massive travel cup of sangria next to him, that he’s been working on for most of the day. His mom had snickered at it, but otherwise not commented. He isn’t drunk, but he’s comfortably tipsy.
His sunscreen contemplation is interrupted by his step dad's hand on his ankle, gently shaking him. “Perce. Percy. Bud, your phone’s buzzing.”
He sits up, feeling a burn in his abs that reminds him he should probably go to the gym at some point. Paul tosses him his phone, and he groans as he recognizes the group chat flashing across the screen. He gets a mock-sympathetic look from Paul as he unlocks the phone, briefly glancing at the picture of him and Jason that’s been his background since Jason drunkenly set it months ago. He taps into Facebook Messenger to see an already incredibly long conversation about fundraising ideas for the next year.
“Hey guys!” Jason had written. “Hope everyone is having a good break so far. I just talked to Annabeth about philanthropy for next year and she thinks the Gammas are going to really step up their game. I am, of course, not encouraging competition because any philanthropy should be to help the cause, not to embellish the reputation of an individual organization. However, I’d like to raise more than them (lol). Anyone have any ideas to pitch?”
Leo had responded first, to mock Jason for being so dramatic about the whole thing, and then to pitch a wet t-shirt contest, (“but for us! It’s not misogynistic if the people being drenched are men!”). Frank had pitched some kind of complicated idea that Percy doesn’t have the energy to read at this moment.
Will just sent a photo of him and Nico, clearly already drunk at their Fourth of July party. The caption is “Can this wait, Grace?” Percy emphasizes it, and attaches a picture of him with Estelle from that morning, an American flag in her tiny little fist. She’s in his lap, he’s leaning down to kiss her cheek and they’re wearing matching tank tops. He thinks they’re adorable.
“Sorry I’m doing my JOB,” is Jason’s response. “Also, I forgot what time it was on the east coast. Please continue drinking I support you.”
He “likes” the picture of Percy and Estelle, too, ignoring the one of Will and Nico.
It’s such a Jason response that Percy feels a bolt of fondness in his chest. The boy cares so deeply about the frat, for more than just “brotherhood,” or however they market themselves. He genuinely wants to follow through on their philanthropy, wants to make a difference in the community around them. It’s why Percy took himself out of the running for president, because he knew Jason was a better fit for the job. He probably could have done it fine, but Jason’s ability to stay on top of everything that needed to be done was unmatched.
Three years ago, he never would have been able to step down, but they were closer now. They still fought, constantly, but the arguments were over dumb stuff, (who would win in a fight, who would win in a fight if they had superpowers, etc). They no longer had any heat behind them, like they did when they were nineteen, and Percy thought every insult was someone undermining his right to be in a frat as a trans guy, and Jason ached to prove himself as more than the son of a businessman.
They lived together now, and knew each other better than almost anyone else. They were each other’s best friends, in a way that he could have never predicted their freshman year. Jason had seen him cry on the phone with his mom about missing Estelle’s first steps. Percy had seen him break down after hanging up with his own sister, who was overseas volunteering in a war zone, but refused to leave because she could “do more good here.” That shit bonds people.
They made a good team, and now, a few months removed from his decision, Percy was grateful he had chosen to take over as vice president. They were effectively equals, but Jason got to handle the part that he loved and Percy hated, being the face of the frat at all public events.
He sends a quick heart to the group chat, texts Piper to ask her to take Jason out to a party for the Fourth so he doesn’t stress about planning events all night. He tosses his phone back to Paul, who patiently slips it back into the family tote bag as Percy rolls over to let his back burn in the sun for a while.
The dam finally broken, his e-board responsibilities start to return. They have group Skype calls to set up a tentative event schedule, and go over house rules for the upcoming year. Jason has changed his mind about the house bylaws and wants to bring his dog, an emotional support golden named Jupiter, and they have to amend the constitution to allow it. (Percy seconds this motion immediately. He says it’s because he wants Mrs. O’Leary to visit, but it’s mostly so he can see Jason light up every time he sees his dog. It’s fucking cute.)
As school gets closer, it’s even more administrative, making sure they have everyone’s shirt sizes on file for rush t-shirts, making sure everyone has their emergency contact paperwork filled out in case they get like, alcohol poisoning or something. He’s not super clear on why this isn’t Frank’s job, given that he’s the secretary, but he’s happy to have something to do.
Somehow, it’s late August all of a sudden and his mom is helping him pile his bags back into his car. Neither of them are crying, but he feels it creeping on as Estelle throws her arms around his neck. He kisses her on the forehead and passes her to his mom so he can hug Paul as well.
As they separate, Sally gently tugs on the Star of David around his neck, pulling it out from under the collar of his t-shirt and patting it so it lays flat on his chest. “Call if you need anything sweetie.” They’ve done this a thousand times, but it always feels uncomfortable in the same way, like a part of him wants to stay in their tiny apartment forever, instead of heading back upstate.
He slides into the driver’s seat and shuts the door behind him, trying to ignore his sister’s eyes on him as he pulls into traffic and heads north.