𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐀; p jackson x d grayson ¹

𝙸𝙸.

Amphitrite, Percy's step-mother, has always stressed the importance of never going to another's house empty-handed. Whenever he tagged along on a diplomatic assignment as the Prince of the Oceans, she always thrust any gift into his hands to pass along to the delegates. "It's basic respect," she always said. Percy and Triton, his half-brother, both agree that it feels more like a peace offering.

Percy chucks a fresh batch of blue cookies in the oven to bring to tonight's dinner at Wayne Manor that he was so graciously forced to attend. Maybe it's Amphitrite's constant lectures on royal etiquette, or maybe it's because Percy truly felt the need for a peace offering to make it through tonight. 

Another rule Amphitrite drilled into him was to always dress for the occasion. But Percy doesn't think that dinner with his estranged family that he ran away from with no explanation has a defined dress code... So here he is, on video call with Piper McLean.

His friendship with Piper is arguably the silliest of all his relationships within the Seven. They truly enabled the chaos within each other, often harnessing their joint power to the fullest with some well-timed pranks and shenanigans. She had finally grown out of her prejudice against "girly" interests and found herself enjoying dressing up for herself. So now she's his go-to for anything socialite or fashion related. 

Now, the daughter of Aphrodite rests in her New Rome University dorm room, simultaneously watching Law & Order and getting Percy ready for this dreaded dinner. She munches on her popcorn thoughtfully as he showcases two options in front of her. 

"I think..." she starts. He leans forwards as she squints at him through the screen. "...Your kitchen is on fire."

She is exaggerating of course, but Percy summons a sphere of water while stalking into the kitchen nonetheless. Luckily, the oven has not started smoking yet when he opens it. In fact, the cookies are perfectly done, if not a little crispy on the edges. He glances back at the phone he had relocated to the kitchen counter.

"How?"

Piper shrugs, shoving another popcorn piece in her mouth and keeping her eyes glued to her TV. "I noticed you didn't set a timer, so I set one for you. You're welcome, dumbass." 

He sighs. Of course, leave it to him to be stressed enough to forget the most crucial step. Piper analyses him intently through the phone. 

"Okay, show me those options again?" 

Percy lifts both hangers up, face still firmly planted on the counter. The first option is a whole three-piece suit, tailored for his gala events at his father's palace. The second option is a stark difference: just a blue sweater and black distressed jeans. Piper snorts.

"Did you get those jeans from Nico or something?"

"Oh, c'mon! They're not that bad!"

Piper hums noncommittally, glancing between the options. "Okay, do not wear the suit. This is a dinner, not a gala."

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, a dinner with Bruce Wayne and his little circus of trust fund babies."

"Details, schmetails," she waves her bowl, no fear for the lives of the kernels hanging on at the edge. "I say wear the button-up underneath the sweater and jeans, then untuck the collar around the neckline. And maybe add some silver jewellery."

Percy goes away to his room to follow her instructions, fondly listening to her absentminded commentary about her show. He comes back to find her spacing out, staring at her near empty popcorn bowl. He could've sworn on the Styx it was at least half-full when he left.

Percy waves a hand at the camera. "I'm back. Pipes? Hey, Piper, you good—"

"I still can't believe you were a ward of Bruce Wayne, and you're the literal Prince of the Oceans."