Work Text:
Jason sat by the small fireplace, it was fake fireplace; the apartment wasn’t made to handle a fireplace, but it was still a fireplace altogether.
Percy was rustling around in the kitchen doing Gods know what.
But Jason sat in front of the small fireplace, remembering a past.
A past that was before a crazy clown, bombs, crowbars, Lazarus pits, and so, so much training.
A time more peaceful than what came after.
Peace was something Jason knew at one point. A point when he was still young.
Peace was never really allowed on the streets, but it was in Wayne Manor. Peace was something there was was cherished by Jason.
Peace was something cherished even now; the only thing keeping it the most peaceful was his boyfriend.
But the peace of Wayne Manor was nice.
Days and nights where he was curled up in a chair, the old library smelling like coffee and paper, and a book in his hands.
Peace was something loved there. Those small moments that made life seem not too bad.
But in the middle of all those stood one thing.
A fireplace.
Percy told him stories of the Hearth.
A place where no one could get mad at each other.
A place that was for calming moments.
A woman who cherished the peace just as much as Jason used to.
Peace was something new in his world now.
But in the center of all his peace lay one thing.
A Hearth.
The symbol of a goddess who loved everyone, no matter what and tried for peace, over and over again. A goddess who loved family, blood or not.
The hearth was peaceful and calming.
The sound of the firewood cracking filled the small apartment as Percy sat next to him.
And maybe a Hearth wasn’t just a fire, but a person as well.