When In Goode

Percy's Magical Ruler

Bruce Banner's life has seemingly come to a sudden standstill. It's a loop, a broken record, a rewind button that's been pushed too hard and now it's jammed into the remote. (Dammit Tony, what did Steve tell you about giving Thor free reign of the living room electronics?!)
In conclusion, the Hulk, a monster feared by even the mightiest of men, the one who smashed the god Loki into the lounge room tiles, is utterly stuck. No kidding. Bruce Banner cannot take one more day of high school. Maybe it would be okay if he had a class of respecting seniors, whose mischief making days were behind them, or a group of fresh-faced, eager-to-please freshmen. But no. Bruce teaches science to a bunch of juniors, immature seventeen year olds who like spitballs and don't like pop quizzes on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, or Fridays.
Hah. Director Fury must be having a hell of a laugh up on the helicarrier right now, because yesterday Bruce almost Hulked-out completely, and nearly smashed the safety shower in his rage.
He has half a mind to pull out of the mission, because there is no way Bruce wants to recruit some half-witted, jerk teenage boy for SHIELD if it means he'll have to see the delinquent around from time to time. Forget his scientific curiosity, and the potential danger he could be presenting to the entire city of New York, Bruce included. Nope, sorry, grey hairs and premature aging lines aren't his thing.
Of course, it's understood why Bruce has to be the one to root out the kid. For starters, he's the only one who doesn't have a professional kill record a mile and a half long, and won't faint at the sight of an iPhone (love you Steve and Thor, no disrespect intend – Oh quit your whining, Tony says way worse stuff about you!)
And really, if worst comes to worst, the Hulk may be necessary for an extraction.
That doesn't mean Bruce likes it.

There is something Bruce likes to call Doctor's Intuition, and before you ask, yes, he just made that up one the spot.
But he thinks he may have found him.
It seems too fast, and a little unnerving to think that the boy at the center of a worldwide manhunt could be sitting on a desk in Bruce's classroom after school. It seems downright frightening to think that Bruce is currently bandaging this boy's leg. It just seems ironic that Bruce stumbles upon the kid while he's trying to ward off bullies. And it's just kind of the good doctor that he had stepped in and shooed the brats away.
The kid's name is Percy Jackson. He's a junior, he's tall, there is indeed a mop of messy dark hair growing from his scalp, and there is a nice tan on his skin.
Bruce takes one look at the kid, notices the large and inflamed scrape down the teenager's leg from the scuffle in the schoolyard, and offers to clean it up for him, because the amount of damage Bruce has seen wounds like that do to people in India is not pretty. Percy had been pretty hesitant to accept the offer. He looked almost... wary.
Then he stuck his hand in his pocket, shrugged, and trailed several feet behind Bruce, down the hall to 412.
"I have you for science. Third period." He states, looking around the simple green colored room, so as not to be forced to meet his 'teacher's' eyes. Bruce lifts a shoulder in an absentminded 'probably' gesture, and bends down to dig through his SHEILD supplied briefcase. He remembers seeing a first-aid kit in here somewhere...
"So why were those kids bugging on you?" He asks conversationally, carefully even, because the constant threat lingers in his mind, halfway in the shadows. Percy glances nervously at the clock, takes note that it has been less than three minutes since he first entered the classroom, and plunks down on one of the desks nearby.
There is a buzz of silence while Percy attempts to formulate an answer that won't give anything away. "Well... I guess I'm just kind of a bad kid, ya' know. Like, I don't get around to turning in my homework most of the time. I'm tardy a lot, and I skip some classes for family issues. And... because I'm ADHD and Dyslexic." He sighs halfheartedly and stares up at the ceiling. "Are you gonna pick on me too now?"
Bruce gives a half laugh, half cheer, as he holds up the first aid kit. He pops the latch open and begins to root around for some disinfectant and bandages. "Nah. Got enough of that from my parents to figure out pretty quickly how it made people feel. I've seen a lot of people who ended up seriously hurt because of something they couldn't help." He tosses a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a bag of cotton balls over his shoulder to Percy. "Put that on. And don't bother listening to them. They're just looking for a reaction to laugh at."
A dry laugh bubbles from Percy's throat before he can stop it. Bruce looks over curiously.
"I think they're mad that I have a teacher on my side. Mr. Blofis is my step-father, and he's pulled me out of more scrapes than I can count. There was this one time I had to leave halfway through third period, and he let me go. I guess he's pretty stingy about that sort of stuff with other kids." Then Percy realizes how that sounds and backpedals quickly. "I mean, he knows that it's important, when I have to duck out. He's not like... willingly allowing me to skip school because he's my step-father."
This caught Bruce's attention. Sure, Percy had mentioned something about family issues before, and how sometimes he had to leave school, but for other students to take an interest in the amount of time he spent out of classes, well... that had to be a considerable amount. Casually, he attempted to bring up the topic.
"So what requires so much attention?" He asks after a moment's pause, to seem as though he was thinking.
The teenager looks startled, his bright sea-green eyes taking on that 'deer-caught-in-headlights' look, and he stumbles over his words for a minute. "O- Oh, just... Well, I have to- It's really complicated, see... It, uh... It varies. L-Like once there was something wrong with my Uncle H's business, he's a really important... person," Percy says lamely, "And normally my family relies on the younger people to sort things out. I take a lot of... trips, dealing with... competitors, and I guess... Well, kids probably think it's weird that I can't turn in my classwork most of the time, and then I'm entrusted with the duty of... Well, you know."
There is a drawn silence while Percy blushes and dabs at the bloody scrape running down the length of his leg. He winces when the disinfectant goes on. Bruce chortles lightly, and tears off a piece of stretchy white gauze.
"I'm not great at explaining things... Sometimes my cousins will ask me if I'm sure there's not some kind of Dyslexia for speech that I might have." He awkwardly scratches at the back of his head. "I don't really get the chance to... ya' know, talk about myself a lot. There's normally more pressing things than which kid was picking on me that day... So thanks, I guess. For fixing me up and listening." Bruce pins the bandage in place and gives him a kind smile.
"Well, I'll be here for a semester if you need anything. You know where my room is." He gestures around him in a weak attempt at a joke. He isn't sure if Percy is laughing to be polite, or if he just enjoys bad humor.
"You know, Mr. Perkins. I kind of had my doubts – a lot of the teachers here aren't exactly qualified to teach ADHD dyslexic kids who come from delinquent schools. But I think you're okay."
And he waves, before swinging his backpack over his shoulder and runs out the open door.