Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Okay, I’ve got the dish set up,” Will said, bumping the door to Nico’s infirmary room open with his hip.

Nico watched as he bustled around, flitting from cabinets to dressers, to Nico’s side, then back out of the room after leaving a metal bowl on the bedside table. 

Daring a look, Nico stared into the still swirling water. It was cloudy, with bits of what looked like salt laying at the bottom. Soap bubbles drifted around lazily as the water spun in slow, methodic circles. He could see his reflection, faint and rippling. He stared down at himself, a pit hollowing out in his stomach.

Blood and dirt were still smeared across his face, and one of his eyes was more clouded than the other.

“Don’t drink it!” Will called, coming back in with a cardboard box under his arm, propped on his waist. “Now I ain’t got a ton of time, so we’re gonna have to make this quick.”

“What’s it for?” Nico asked. His voice was more worn and tired than he wanted it to, but if Will noticed, he didn’t comment on it.

“Your hands!” Will dropped the box on Nico’s bed, “You’ve got micro-pieces of glass in your skin, and I can’t in my right mind let that stuff just fester in there.”

“Glass…? Where—?” He racked his brain, slowly glancing up at Will. He didn’t remember breaking any glass on the quest.

“Strangest thing,” Will said, pulling an orange container out of the box. On its side, it read Arm and Hammer, Baking Soda in thick white lettering . “Both Annabeth and Percy swung by a few minutes ago, talking about the exact same thing—glass in their hands! The both of ‘em! Isn’t that interesting?”

The glass beaches in Tartarus. Nico thought. 

The pit in his stomach opened further, sucking his organs out of place, knocking his emotions out of overdrive. Wave after wave of exhaustion rolled over him, until he could barely keep his head up. Until he could barely keep his eyes open.

“Now, hang on a moment,” Will said, sitting down on the foot of Nico’s bed. He held the baking soda container between his knees, carefully scooping a teaspoon of it into a tiny cup of water, then adding a few drops of nectar. “Dip your hands in that bowl for me, yeah? Let ‘em soak while I work on this.”

Will’s plastic spoon scraped the sides of his little cup as he stirred.

Placing his hands in the bowl, Nico let the warmth pass over him. His fingers were so so numb, tingling and aching deep in his bones. Wisps of smoke curled off his palms, dissipating in the weird, salty soapy water. The burning ache spread the more his smoke poured off of him. 

It was an awful feeling, he decided. One he would do just about anything to get rid of.

“A’rite!” Will said, placing the small cup next to the metal bowl. It was full of an odd, grainy white paste that made Nico’s stomach turn just looking at it.

“I don’t…have to eat that, do I?” he asked.

Will gave him a confused look, then burst out laughing. 

He doubled over on himself, shaking his head. Blond curls spilled over his face. When his hair fell away from his ears, Nico noticed something odd. 

A little tan earpiece, curled out from the center of Will’s ear, connected just under the shell. Nico didn’t recognize it, but it seemed stuck on tight to his head, no matter how hard he laughed. 

“Of course you’re not eating it!” Will wiped his eyes. His face was red and he was grinning harder than Nico had ever seen someone before. “Gods above, no, it’s for your hands!”

Nico felt himself get hot, staring down at his hands in the bowl. The water was steadily turning reddish brown—runoff from the scrapes on his palms and wrists, he assumed. 

Will was still smothering little giggles, but began pulling other things from his cardboard box of wonders. A first-aid kit, a bag of plastic gloves, and a small brown bottle. It looked slightly like the bottles Nico would see people in DC carrying around, the ones everyone had on them after prohibition ended.

His fingers were getting wrinkly in the water, but Will was still focused on himself and his things. He poured some liquid from the brown bottle into his palm, hissing as he scrubbed his hands together.

“Son of a bitch ,” he said through gritted teeth, rubbing the liquid between his fingers, on the backs of his hands, his knuckles, his nails, everything. “I forgot my knuckles were cracked.”

Nico didn’t know what that meant, so he kept quiet. 

Thankfully, Will didn’t seem to mind, still paying attention to whatever he was doing. He scrubbed down his hands one final time, then very carefully peeled open the glove bag, using only his fingernails. His eyebrows were bunched together, his hair in his eyes. Nico glanced back at the bowl.

The water was now a definite ruddy color, like diluted wine. The pit in his stomach swallowed up his ribs, his lungs, his heart.

“Okay, take them hands out,” Will said. He didn’t even flinch when he saw the tinted red, murky, gross water. “Now I do have to touch you, so let me know if it’s too much, and we can take a quick break.”

Will scooped up both of Nico’s hands in one of his, turning them palms up. Even through the plastic of the gloves, the warmth seeping off Will’s hands made him want to recoil. To disappear into the shadows and let the current of shades and spirits take him wherever they pleased.

But he didn’t.

Will took a fingerful of the baking soda/nectar paste, spreading it across Nico’s palms. It ached in a new way. His skin was tugged and pulled, similar to when Reyna had stitched up his back. Although, this time, it was a little bit less painful. 

Only a little bit.

Will scrunched his face up, carefully massaging the base of Nico’s fingers.

“It’s like you slapped the hell out of a man made of glass,” Will said, making himself laugh. “Do we have those in Greek Mythology? Glass men?”

“No.”

“Aw,” Will pouted, still working the paste into Nico’s hands. “That would’ve been neat.”

He was holding the very tips of Nico’s fingers. His grip was strong. Way way too strong. Nico wanted to cut his fingers off and grow them back like a lizard with its tail. His skin was tingling and burning. 

It was too much. 

It was too much on his hands, it was too much on his skin, it was too much on him . 

It was too much.

It was too much it was too much it was too much.

His breath caught in his throat, and Will glanced up from massaging the paste into his fingers. Will’s eyes were big, wide, and worried. Not the worry Nico was used to, however. 

No. 

No, not the “ oh gods, what the hell is that thing?” look people would give him whenever he showed up at Camp Jupiter. No, this was a concerned look. A scared look. An “ I hope I’m not hurting him” look.

“Okay,” Will said, taking his own hands back. “We can stop. Take a breather. Just don’t move your hands, a’rite?”

Nico nodded. 

He was making Will waste his limited time just because he couldn’t touch people. Because touching people made him want to peel his skin off and wash it in a lake like an old woman washing her clothes in fairytales. Because he was weak.

Will held his hands midair, not moving, not touching anything. He only watched as Nico caught his breath slowly. His careful stare bore into Nico’s skull.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours. 

For being an ADHD demigod, Will stood perfectly still, his hands steady in their spot in front of his chest. 

He looked like a blond, living version of the Athena Parthenos, with his thin roman nose and his hard, almond shaped eyes. Nico wouldn’t have been shocked if Will was really an Athena kid. 

His shoulders were narrow and lithe. His face was a little thin as well, but it didn’t look like it was supposed to be so slender. Rather, like he’d been wrung like a wet towel, all the water squeezed out, leaving him dry and discarded. It looked like he was supposed to be a lot fuller than he was.

“I’m starting again,” Will warned, then resumed his baking-soda-nectar-paste massaging.

It didn’t take long this time before Will stopped with the paste, and carefully worked bandages around Nico’s palms and fingers. The sound of Will’s gloves squeaking against the coarse bandages made Nico want to curl up in a ball and wither away.

But it was over quickly.

“Now, we need to let it sit for 24 hours,” Will said, gathering up the bag of gloves, bottle of alcohol, and baking soda container into the cardboard box. “Remind me tomorrow afternoon to take these bandages off, and we’ll pull any residual glass out with tweezers. It’s crude, but effective.” 

He peeled his gloves off, folding them up and tossing them in the trash can across the room from Nico’s bed. He made the shot perfectly, the gloves didn’t touch the wall or the sides of the trashcan at all. 

Son of Apollo perks, Nico guessed.

“I’ll grab you something to eat, then we’ll get you cleaned and take a look at those stitches on your back,” Will said with a smile, “M’kay?”

Nico nodded, staring at his bandaged hands. It hadn’t registered to him how much his hands were stinging until the baking soda paste was smeared across them. Now, his hands were burning so much that it was a conscious effort not to clench his fists and scream.

“It’s working the smaller glass shards out,” Will rapped his knuckles on the bedside table for Nico’s attention. It was like he could read Nico’s mind. “It’ll sting for a while, there was a lot of glass in there.”

“Great.”

“Well,” Will hopped to his feet, patting his thighs with both hands, “I’m headin’ out, shout if you need me. I’ll bring you some lunch when I can, okay? And while your hands are still bandaged, I’ll wash your hair out for you, if you’d like. Or you can wait until the day after tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

He laughed. “We’re chatty today, aren’t we?”

Nico shrugged, turning away. He heard Will sigh, and could safely assume he rolled his eyes as well. A lot of people rolled their eyes at Nico, it was a fair guess at this point.

“Try and get some sleep, by the way. You look like hell.”

And with that, Will took his box and his water bowl, and left Nico alone.

Nico didn’t sleep. 

He didn’t trust this room, with its way too clean white walls, and its way too bright white lights. Everything smelled like alcohol, with faint hints of blood, if he focused hard enough. 

It made his head spin like an out of control top.

Everything was so bright, and everyone was so loud . 

He could hear the Apollo kids bustling around, shouting quick things back and forth to each other. It sounded like they were speaking in code. He heard Will yell Corner! a handful of times, as well as a little girl saying Needles, mind yourself! A voice Nico recognized as Lou Ellen—that weird Hecate kid—was ranting about something in Greek, rapid, slurred, and impossible for him to decode.

How did Will expect him to sleep with all of this noise?

He dropped face first against his pillow, letting out a low groan. This stupid infirmary, this stupid war, this stupid stuff on his hands—it was going to be the death of him. 

The bed was in the middle of the room, sandwiched between a bedside table, and a ceiling tall wooden cabinet, both of which were covered in marker doodles and sticky notes. One read: “ REMEMBER!!!! RUN PHARMACY KAYLA!!!! -Kayla” with several angry stick figures doodled on the sides. Another had nothing but hearts drawn all over it, each of them saying a different, encouraging message inside. The biggest heart said You’re loved.

Nico stared up at the sticky notes, only one eye peeking up around the white pillow. They were all either reminders, or cheesy, stupid self-love or encouragment messages. 

Despite himself, Nico wanted to take up Will on that hair-washing offer. His hair was greasy and clinging to the back of his neck, and having this slick, oily feeling on his scalp and back was damn near about to drive him crazy. 

Although, his skin wasn’t fairing much better. 

He was caking in dirt, grime, and blood, likely ruining this pristine, alcohol smelling bed.

Across the room on the opposite wall from Nico’s bed, was a metal box. It had a large speaker on the front, and a little light sticking out the side. Nico couldn’t guess what in the Hades that was for, but it didn’t matter.

He heard Will call out: “ Over top !” and rolled his eyes to himself. That guy was impossibly loud, and impossibly annoying.

A couple seconds later, the door opened, and Nico rolled over—although he was pretty sure he knew exactly who it was. 

He was right.

Will was holding a plate and a bowl over his head, his tongue between his teeth, staring intently up at them.

“Hey, Death boy!” he called with a small laugh. “Lunch time!”

“Don’t call me that,” Nico snapped. Or, well, he tried to snap, but his voice was weak and exhausted. It came out as more of a raspy whisper, which only made Will laugh again.

“Wow! I got a whole sentence this time!” Will set the plate and bowl down on the bedside table, “You make me feel like such a lucky boy.”

“I could kill you so easily,” Nico warned, but sat up, swinging his legs over the side of his bed.

Will let out a low chuckle, rolling his eyes, “Oh, I’m sure you could.”

He dropped himself in a swivel chair, wheeling himself over to the side of the bed. He was still wearing that hideous scrubs/khakis/flip flops combo, but now his shirt was spattered with blood, and raised, bright red scratches ran along his arms and throat. 

Spinning himself in a slow, lazy circle, Will encouraged Nico to eat.

“It’s good, promise,” he said. “It’s a lot of heavy food, ‘cuz we need you to put on some weight, so I’ll totally get it if you don’t finish it all.”

On the plate, there was a hefty scoop of rice, a slab of pink meat that Nico didn’t recognize, and a cup of plain Greek yogurt. In the bowl, there were dried dates, raisins, chunks of chocolate, and a granola bat that had been split in half.

“This is a lot.”

“I know, I know,” Will sympathized, his voice weirdly soft. When Nico gave him a confused look, however, the tone instantly melted away, changing back to its thick, sardonic nature. “We need to fatten you up, you little skeleton. I’m honestly impressed you can even walk .”

Hesitantly, Nico picked up a dried date, turning it over in his fingers. 

He hadn’t had a ton of food at any point during the past few months. 

He ditched the Camp Jupiter meals, he couldn’t buy food between camps (he didn’t dare go to the Jackson house again—not after he already dropped in unannounced on Percy’s birthday a couple years ago) and he’d been way too self conscious to eat on the Argo II unless it had been the middle of the night. 

Between that, Tartarus, and the jar? He didn’t have a steady source of food for ages.

“It's not poisoned.” Will snatched his own date from the bowl, popping it in his mouth. “See?”

“I didn’t—” Nico started, then sighed, taking a small bite out of the date. It really did taste amazing, but it made his stomach curl up and his throat get all dry. He swallowed hard. 

He’d heard about Venus Flytraps from a Ceres son at Camp Jupiter; how they'd close up after eating one fly, giving themselves time to digest and process. That’s how Nico’s stomach felt—the date was its fly, and his stomach had just clamped its leafy jaws shut tight .

Placing the uneaten half of his date back on his plate, Nico slid back on his bed.

Will raised his eyebrows, “Uh, that’s not…enough.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re going to kill me ,” he groaned, tipping his head back against the back of his chair, spinning himself in another circle. “At least eat one thing, then I’ll pop the rest in the fridge until you’re actually hungry.”

With a grimace, Nico ate the other half of the date, forcing himself to swallow. It made his stomach lurch and groan angrily, like the date was already threatening to come back up. 

For a couple minutes, he choked down food and waves of nausea. His only encouragement were Will’s dopey smile and dumb thumbs up that he’d flash whenever Nico actually chewed and swallowed something.

“Does it taste okay?” Will asked. His smile was crooked, and so was one of his canines, twisted just the slightest bit to the left. It only made his smile more friendly and welcoming.

“No,” Nico lied through a mouthful of the pink meat (which he learned was salmon) “Awful.”

Will snorted, his nose wrinkling. Nico wanted to reach out and press the wrinkles smooth with his thumb.

...What?

He shook his head. He couldn’t be thinking things like that at a time like this.

After a few more bites of food, Nico shoved the plate away. If he ate anymore, he knew he would vomit.

Will didn’t look fazed in the slightest, hopping out of his chair. He rummaged through the sticky note covered cabinet for a second, humming under his breath. 

Gods, did this guy feel anything other than unbridled happiness?

There was another one of those earpieces on the other side of his head too, although this one was mostly hidden by his mess of shaggy curls.

A new box in hand, Will plopped down on the bed behind Nico, making him jump in his skin.

“Stay in front of me , Solace,” Nico hissed. 

His fingers twitched, instinctively waiting to meet the cold steel of his sword’s hilt. 

His back was vulnerable. It was an opening. If Will decided he didn’t want to put up with him anymore…Well, he was almost a foot taller, with at least a hundred pounds on Nico’s next to nothing. 

Without his sword and without his shadow travel, Nico was as good as dead.

“Sorry, but I kind of need to be behind you,” Will replied. He doesn’t sound even remotely startled, the way most people are when Nico shouts at them. “Take your shirt off.”

“No.”

“It ain’t a question, get the goddamn shirt off.” Will’s tone was hard.

Nico took his shirt off. 

It was an ugly, bright red and yellow floral print button down, anyway. He folded it up in his lap, ignoring the cold air brushing against his spine. He’d somehow managed to forget about his hideous shirt during the fray of battle. Likely, his reputation was irreversibly ruined.

“Don’t touch me,” Nico warned.

“Don’t be stupid, I have to. It’s stitches,” Will scoffed. There was a pause, and then he softened his voice, “I’ll be as quick as I can, a’rite?”

The familiar smell of alcohol filled the air, as Nico guessed Will was sterilizing his hands again. This time, he didn’t curse against his cracked knuckles. He didn’t even wince.

“This’ll hurt,” Will said. 

He sounded borderline condescending, and it made Nico’s skin crawl. 

He wanted to rip Will’s teeth out. Or his own. Maybe both sets, if he really wanted to treat himself.

“I have a high pain tolerance.”

Will laughed, “Optimistic, aren’t we.”

There was a soft snap as he began cutting the old stitches, pulling the threat out of Nico’s wounds. The thread pinched at Nico’s raw, blistering skin. It made this god awful, slightly wet scraping noise, and Will dropped a piece of bloodied threat in a small plastic dish to Nico’s side.

“ Santo dio del cazzo, ” Nico cursed under his breath, digging his nails into his thighs.

“High pain tolerance, hmm?” Will asked. He sounded uncomfortably close behind Nico. So close, in fact, that Nico could almost feel the way his voice made his chest and throat rumble.

Nico wanted to tell him to shut up, but he was gritting his teeth too tight to speak.

“After this, we’ll take a breather, and put together your official record. After that you can actually get some sleep,” Will said, cutting and pulling out another thread. “It should take an hour, tops—so long as you work with me.”

Nico choked back a whimper.

“I’m assuming you were moving when you were attacked?” Will guessed as another threat came loose with a squelching snap, “You don’t have to answer, I’m just thinking out loud.”

With a pained grunt, Nico nodded.

“Hmm, okay. I’d venture to guess it happened a few days ago, with little to no rest afterwards. None of this skin got a chance to heal, it was just scabbin’ and tearin’ over and over. That makes me think you kept using your sword, likely not for fightin’ as much, but more just holdin’ it. Am I right?”

Nico nodded again. He’d hit the nail on the head so perfectly, Nico had to wonder if Will had some pieces of Apollo’s prophecy power.

“That’s no fault of yours,” he quickly added, “I know you had the quest and the Parthenos and junk. But after this? You’re not going to be doing any of that spooky magic for a long time. This injury is gonna scar somethin’ awful.”

“It’s—It’s not m—” Nico gasped, but couldn’t finish his sentence before another thread snapped.

“You don’t have to talk, I know it hurts.” The new thread came loose. Will placed it in the dish. “I’ve sewn and removed my own stitches before, and trust me, I know it’s absolutely god awful.”

Nico grunted, grabbing at his thighs harder. Little spots of blood sprang up where his nails were cutting his skin. If Will noticed, he didn’t react.

Spots swirled and blotted in Nico’s eyes, eating up whatever he was looking at. His head felt heavy, like his chin was tied to a thousand pound weight. 

Will pressed his wrist to Nico’s temple, pushing up upright, and he didn’t have the energy or constitution to fight it.

“You need to stay sitting up,” Will explained, “I know it hurts, but it’ll hurt a lot more if I fuck up.”

Nico let out a low groan in the back of his throat.

After ages of snapping, pulling, and bloodied thread, Will put his little scissors down.

“I’m gonna change my gloves,” he said. The bed eased up as Will presumably got to his feet. “Then we’ll clean your back up, and let the wounds breathe.”

“Breathe?”

Nico didn’t like the idea that his skin breathed on its own. He didn’t like to think that his body was able to revolt. To turn against him. Because if he was his own body, he’d hate himself.

Well—

“It’s a figure of speech,” Will clarified from somewhere behind Nico. “We’re just airin’ out the injury before it’s wrapped up again.”

“Oh.”

“A’rite!” Will said, apparently with new gloves. “This’ll sting, but it shouldn’t hurt as bad.”

He lied. 

It hurt so so much worse.

The wet fabric Will wiped over his shoulders burnt like the firewater in the Phlegethon. It burnt like he was taking a torch straight to his back, letting his skin melt away. It burnt like that time Nico was in the Sun Chariot, and Thalia Grace had lurched forward so hard Nico fell against the white hot floor.

But it was over faster than the stitches. 

It was over and it left Nico panting and shaking. 

His fingers were slick with blood, and his thighs were littered with little crescent shaped cuts.

“There, one more thing, okay?” Will asked.

Nico whined like a kicked dog, but nodded.

He expected more blinding pain. He expected to pass out, or to scream, or cry and throw up or anything.

But instead, a new feeling spread through his back and shoulders. Warmth seeped into his spine, massaging tension out of his ribs, undoing the knots in the back of his neck. It reminded Nico of the times he’d walk through the streets of Venice, one hand in Bianca’s, the other in his Mama’s. The sun beat down on their backs as it sunk behind the skyline. They’d swing him back and forth whenever he jumped.

Will’s hand was pressed firm between his shoulder blades, but Nico couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed.

He let out a little, contented sigh. 

Loosening his grip on his torn up thighs, he slumped forward slightly.

“Feels good, don’t it?” Will asked with a soft laugh. He took his hand off Nico’s back, but the warmth stayed. “That should encourage growth and healing, and maybe reduce pain, if I did it right.”

You definitely did it right , Nico thought.

Will made his way around the bed, stripping his bloodied gloves and tossing them in the trash can. There was a clipboard pinned between his elbow and ribs, and his scrub shirt was riding up slightly. Nico forced himself to look at anything else. At his face, which was a lot paler all of a sudden, or at the heavy bags under his eyes that Nico hadn’t noticed earlier. 

With a soft hum, Will dropped back down in his swivel chair, spinning around and sliding over to the bedside table. He dug around in the table drawer for a couple seconds, scrunching his eyebrows together. 

Eventually, he brandished a pen, twirling it between his fingers as he flipped through the papers on the clipboard.

“Yup, yup, all here. Okay, I know you’re not much of a talker, but this shouldn’t take too long!” He said with a stupid smile, “If you cooperate, that is.”

Nico pinched his lips. “I will.”

Will’s face lit up, and he twirled the pen again. “What’s your full name?”

“Uh, Niccoló di Angelo. Accent on the second O,” Nico said like he always did at the military school when teachers asked his name. They never spelled it right, but he didn’t ever correct them.

“That’s really pretty,” Will said absentmindedly, quickly writing it down. “Age?”

Nico fiddled with the shirt in his lap. “Fourteen, I think.”

Will raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question it, scribbling it on the paper, his tongue between his teeth.

“Gender and pronouns?”

“Um…?” Nico shot him a confused look, “I’m a guy.”

He wasn’t the pinnacle of masculinity, but he was…pretty sure he looked like a guy at first glance, right? Maybe his hair was getting too long. He should cut it, if people were going to start mistaking him for a girl.

“It’s a required question, man.” Will wrinkled his nose, “Don’t be a dick.”

“Sorry?”

“He…slash…him…” Will said as he wrote something down. Nico didn’t know if it was code for something or not—but he didn’t recognize it.

“Anyway. Date, year, and place of birth?”

“Uh, hang on—” Nico put his hand up, digging through his brain like Will had dug through the drawer for his pen. “January 28th, 1932. Somewhere in Venice.”

Will’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t look up from his paper. “Oh. Yeah, that explains it, I guess. You’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

“I know.”

He sighed, but continued. “Race and ethnicity?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“I figured,” Will mumbled as he wrote something else on the paper. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a pretty good guess. Primary language?”

Nico tilted his head, “What does that mean?”

Will let out a tired laugh, “What’s the first language you learned?”

“Oh, um…Italian,” Nico whispered, ducking his head down. 

He didn’t tell a lot of people. Mostly people assumed he either spoke only English and Greek, or maybe English, Greek, and Latin. He didn’t remember enough about Italy or where he came from to comfortably call himself Italian, though. Sure, he spoke Italian every now and then—usually when he would talk to Hazel, sometimes when he was frustrated—but he might as well be American with a little twist, right? 

That’s what he told himself, anyway.

“Actually, I could’ve guessed that one,” Will laughed properly this time, his eyes shining. “That’s my bad, man. You’ve got that cute little accent and everything.”

Nico grunted, pulling at one of his shirt’s buttons. 

He wished he’d asked for another shirt so he didn’t have to sit half-naked in this cold, uncomfortable room. Will wasn’t looking at him, he was focused too hard on his clipboard—but Nico was still uneasy being shirtless for so long.

“History of illness or hospitalization?” Will continued, tapping his pen on the edge of his clipboard for Nico’s attention.

“I had polio as a kid.”

Will quickly wrote that down, a worried expression flashing across his face—but it disappeared almost instantly, “Any allergies?”

“Cats.”

Will clicked his tongue, a small smile spreading across his face, “That’s actually kind of cute.” 

“Stop calling me cute.”

Will shrugged, “Nah. But you never really struck me as a dog person.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh.” Will twirled the pen a couple times, “Uh, okay. Family history of illness or hospitalization?”

“My uh,” Nico braced himself, not meeting Will’s eye. “My Mama had diabetes. Um…If that counts.”

“It does!” Will smiled for a second, then dropped it with an embarrassed cough, “Sorry, I’m not—I’m not smiling ‘cuz she had diabetes. I’m just—” he shook his head, laughing at himself. “Type 1 or 2?”

Nico blinked a few times, “I don’t know. We never really got the chance to go to the doctors much.”

Sucking a breath through his teeth, Will shook his head. “Right. Okay, sure, 1930’s. I totally get it. I don’t love it, but I get it.”

Nico grunted, biting back the urge to shout: No, you DON’T get it. You don’t understand! Get the hell out of my face and leave me alone!  

But yelling at Will was counterproductive and dangerous. And after the war against Gaea, Nico was well aware how strong that kid really was.

“Okay, final stretch here, Ghost boy!” Will said with a warm smile, “Do you have a sexual history? I know, I know, it’s super weird to talk about, I’m fully aware. But it’s important for us to know.”

Nico felt his chest get tight. 

His ribs were too small for his lungs. His heart was slamming around inside his throat, trying to beat its way out.

He’d never…done anything before, but he’d had thoughts. 

He’d had gross, awful, sinful thoughts. The kind he never wanted to admit to other people. The kind he wasn’t allowed to admit to other people. The kind that were going to get him killed some day.

He wasn’t supposed to think like that about other men. 

He couldn’t. 

He shouldn’t .

But he did. He did he did he did. 

He did think those awful thoughts, and people knew. 

Percy knew, Jason knew, Hazel knew. 

They were aware and it was only a matter of time before they realized, and they realized how disgusting Nico really was. It was only a matter of time before they all left him. 

It always happens.

It always happens.

“No,” he said, but his voice shook.

Will noticed it, he definitely noticed it. He looked up carefully, like Nico was made of cracked glass. His eyes were soft and kind, but his expression was completely unreadable.

“I know it’s uncomfortable,” he said, “But it’ll be better, and much safer, in the long run if I know these kinds of things.”

Nico forced himself to bury his shaking hands in his tattered, ugly floral shirt. Will didn’t seem to care. He was a doctor, for gods’ sake—he’d probably seen and heard way worse. 

Probably.

“Have you ever smoked?” Will continued.

“Once, but my Mama did regularly.”

“Oh! Good to know,” Will said, “Again, not good that you or she smoked, but it’s important for you to tell me these things.” He lowered his pen, “Are you up to date on vaccines?”

“Um…”

Will’s face fell, “Lord, okay, we’ll have to catch you up on those as quick as possible. I will not have any sort of outbreak in my infirmary.”

“Sorry,” Nico said quickly.

“Not your fault,” Will replied just as fast. “Okay! I’m gonna file this, then make my rounds. There’s clothes in the closet, but they’re probably going to be big on you, and they definitely won’t suit your…emo style and all that, but they’re clean and not in tatters.”

He got up to leave, but Nico put his hand out.

“Wait,” He said, and Will turned slightly, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah?”

“You asked me a lot of stupid questions, can…can I ask you one?” Nico braced himself to be struck. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, what’s up?” Will sat back down and spun himself around in his chair, leaning forward on the backrest.

Nico tapped one of his ears, “You’ve got these…things on your head, and I’ve never—uh, I’ve never seen them before.”

Will sighed, slumping his shoulders. His eyes went dim. 

“They’re just hearing aids.”

“Hearing aids?” Nico bit the inside of his cheek. He’d seen hearing aids before, and they were nowhere near that small or discrete. 

“Yup,” Will said with a halfhearted laugh. His eyes were big and sad, like a puppy’s. “Some Apollo kid I am. I can’t play music for shit, I can’t write poetry, I can’t shoot a bow, and on top of that?” he laughed again, shaking his head. “I’m fucking deaf .”

“You’re deaf?” Nico asked, “But you—”

“Can hear you?” Will cut him off, his expression turning from slightly sullen to steely and guarded. “Yeah, I know, don’t start with that.”

“Sorry.”

Will rearranged the papers, not meeting Nico’s eye. “I’ll get back to you later, m‘kay?”

Nico hugged his shirt to his chest, apologizing again. “I didn’t know it was a sore topic. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, you didn’t mean anything.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Seriously, it’s fine .” Will offered him a strained smile—but the metal box on the wall let out a sharp wail, the light on the side blinking rapidly. His expression melted away, replaced with a chalky faced look of horror.

“ Fuck .” Was all Will said before scrambling out of the room so fast he left his chair spinning.

Nico let out a confused huff, settling down on his side. He wanted to throw a clean shirt on, but his limbs felt like they were full of lead and sand, weighing him down, pinning him to the bed.

The siren echoed from the box for another good minute before petering out, the bustle and chatter of the infirmary dying with it. 

…Maybe dying wasn’t the best word to use for an infirmary.

Nico’s back was aching. The sunshiney warmth had faded once Will had left.

Dull, faraway pain throbbed through each bone, muscle, and vein. Every artery and every tendon burned like thousands of drakons were spitting their acid on his shoulder blades.

Shutting his eyes as tight as he could, Nico forced himself to drift off.

Chapter Text

“Hey there!” Someone shouted right by Nico’s ear, startling him awake. 

He opened his eyes to a new face, right in front of his own. The person had deep brown skin and huge, doey black eyes, a bright pink, frayed band aid across the bridge of their nose.

“Wh—!?” Nico was up in seconds, grabbing the kids’ face and shoving him back a few steps.

“Oh boy,” the kid rubbed his jaw, “Will was not kidding, you are jumpy.”

“Who—”

The kid lit up, putting out his hand, “Austin Lake! I’ll be your temporary nurse while Will is busy!”

Nico shook his hand. He wasn't nearly as warm as Will was. (Maybe Apollo kids didn't run hot. Maybe Will was just weird.)

“He’s busy?” Nico remembered the siren blaring, and the panicked look on Will’s face.

Austin frowned, tugging on one of his braids. “Yeah, today’s kind of important for him. He usually takes the morning off every year.”

“Morning…? But I—”

“Yeah, morning.” Austin made his way around Nico’s bed, flinging open the cabinet doors. “You slept through the night. It’s a new day, baby!”

Nico pushed himself up, scrubbing at his eyes. His back felt better, but not by a lot. It didn’t feel like his skin was melting off, anymore. Instead, it felt like someone was punching him in the spine over and over.

“Will told me he left your lunch from yesterday in the icebox in here, and to just give it to you again,” Austin said, pulling out the plate and bowl from the other day. “He said it’d be wastin’ food if we tossed it all out —” he pitched his voice up in a fake, southern twang, “—I told him that’s ridiculous, camp is like, magic and all that! We’ve got loads of food! But he wouldn’t listen.”

“He’s stubborn,” Nico agreed. 

The plate and bowl got placed in his lap, both of them freezing cold against his mostly bare legs. He really shouldn’t have worn shorts.

“I know, right?!” Austin sat down next to him, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Okay, I don’t have cool magic healing powers like Will, but I can still dress your injuries pretty damn well.”

“Aren’t you thirteen?” Nico asked. How could a thirteen year old with no magic possibly treat the huge, disgusting wounds on his back?

“And you’re fourteen,” Austin countered with a stupid smile. “And you brought the whole ass Parthenos back! We’re all pretty young, but that’s fine! That's cool! It works for us!”

“Right.”

Austin quickly got to cleaning Nico’s back, rubbing some kind of liquid on it that smelled like Hestia’s hearth. 

He went on and on about something to do with music, which was an odd change from Will—who only seemed to talk about either medical stuff, or Nico. Austin was something about tuning and changing strings on a guitar…and whatnot. It’s always the B string he’d complained, which made no sense to Nico, but Austin said it like it was a known fact of the world.

Nico was okay with listening to their one-sided conversation, working to break one of the thicker pieces of chocolate in half. The bandages on his hands made his fingers stiff and hard to control, but eventually, he got the piece to break. 

Stuffing one half in his mouth, he tuned back into whatever Austin was saying.

“And look, I told Cecil not to touch my shit, right? I literally told him like, hundreds of times ! So it really isn’t my fault that I gave him a bit of a black eye. He was warned!” Austin pulled out a roll of bandages from seemingly nowhere, “Goin’ around you.”

He barely gave Nico time to process what he said, before wrapping the roll around his chest, quickly covering every last bit of his wounds. The bandages were rough against his skin, unlike the ones on his hands, which were soft and pliable. However, the injuries on his back weren’t burning as much.

“Either Will or Kayla will come and check that again later, but not me!” Austin said with a grin, offering Nico an actual shirt. “I get the rest of the day off, ‘cuz the infirmary is so slow today!”

Nico slipped the shirt over his head. 

It was a basic CHB tee, but it smelled like laundry detergent and strawberries, and it was soft. So, so soft. So soft that Nico was okay if the bright orange drew unnecessary attention to him.

“Later, man!” Austin patted him on the shoulder, “Holler if you need anything! Kayla should be somewhere nearby, probably. And if she isn’t, cabin 7 isn’t too far of a walk.”

Nico nodded absentmindedly, shoving the other half of chocolate in his mouth.

It was a good couple of hours of Nico picking at his food, trying to keep his hair out of his face, and staring at the wall, before Will slipped into the room.

“Hey there,” he said. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his voice sounded a little stuffed up, but he was smiling. When he spotted the mostly empty plate in Nico’s lap, his face broke out in a huge grin. The kind of grin that was painfully infectious. Nico had to physically hold back from smiling as well. 

“You’re eatin’!” Will said as he made his way over.

“Good job, eagle eye,” Nico said through a bite of rice, holding his hand in front of his mouth. 

“How are your stitches feelin’?” Will asked, taking his seat in the swivel chair.

Nico swallowed hard.  “Your brother put something on them, and they don’t hurt as bad now.” He pulled a dried date apart, offering one half to Will, “Austin said today was important for you?”

Will winced, taking the date. “I kept askin’ him not to tell people about it and he keeps…not listening to me.”

Nico hummed. 

He was curious. Of course he was curious—any person in their right mind would be curious. Why would a day be special and yet make Will so sad at the same time? But one look at his tired expression and hunched shoulders was warning enough not to prod.

“Austin’s a good kid, honest.” Will spun the chair with his feet, kicking off the bed and the wall, “He just talks a lot.”

“You both do.”

Will chuckled slightly, “Maybe it's an Apollo thing.”

“It definitely is,” Nico said, popping another chunk of chocolate in his mouth, “When I met him, he never stopped talking. Or flirting. Talking and flirting.”

Will stomped his foot against the side of the bed to stop himself from spinning, staring at Nico. His eyes were wide, his eyebrows knit together.

“You’ve met him !?”

“…Yeah?” Nico scooted back slightly, “Haven’t you?”

Groaning, Will dropped his head back, sliding down in his chair. 

“So…is that a no?”

“Austin has, Kayla has, Lee—” Will paused, running his hand through his hair, “But nope. No. I haven’t.”

He stared up at the ceiling, his eyes going unfocused. A thick blond curl fell right between his eyebrows, and he half-heartedly tried to wipe it away. It only bounced back into place. 

Nico watched him for a moment.

Will really was pretty, even as disheveled as he was. The collar on his scrub shirt was pulled loose, fraying around his shoulders, and most of his hair was frizzy and flattened to the side of his head. 

He wasn’t allowed to think about these kinds of things.

He wasn’t supposed to.

“Are you…um…are you alright?” Nico asked, putting his plate and bowl on the bedside table.

“Yeah, yeah yeah yeah—” Will waved a hand in front of his face, “I’m okay. I’m sorry, I guess my head’s just on a little backwards today.”

Nico put his hands out, palms up. “Glass?”

“Right, yeah,” he took Nico’s hands carefully. His fingers were rough and calloused, and as he carefully peeled the bandages away, Nico could feel splinters of glass pulling out of his skin.

“ Santa merda— ” Nico hissed.

“Watch your mouth,” Will said with a small laugh. 

Nico went to apologize, then froze, glancing up at Will. He wasn’t looking at Nico, still focused on gently pulling back the bandages wrapped around Nico’s thumb.

“You uh, you speak Italian?”

“It’s the language of music, Neeks,” he said, still not looking at him. “I’m not entirely the worst Apollo kid.”

“You’re not…” Nico shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts. “I mean, what about Octavian?”

Will looked up from the bandages, raising an eyebrow. “One, not actually an Apollo kid, he was just a legacy—two? He was a fucking augur, Nico, an augur! That’s so cool.”

“I…don’t agree.”

Will didn’t respond, unwrapping the bandages a little faster. His grip on Nico’s wrist was unusually tight—so much so that his knuckles were paling. One of his fingers had a nasty cut just on top of a green and yellow bruise, spreading over the joints and stopping just before his nail.

Once the bandages were off one of his hands, Will ran his fingers down Nico’s palm, checking little crevices for bits of hidden glass. A static spark shot down Nico’s spine.

“Seriously, a-are you alright?” Nico asked.

“It’s just…” Will said after a moment, starting on the other hand. “Today was my brother’s birthday.”

Nico blinked. “Austin?”

“No. Lee. Lee Fletcher.” Will furrowed his eyebrows, unwrapping two of Nico’s fingers before speaking again. “It’s uh…also the day he died.”

“Oh.” 

Nico cursed himself internally. 

Why hadn’t he remembered? 

He’d helped with the funeral preparations for Lee Fletcher and everything. He’d helped the Apollo kids sew the shroud. Will hadn’t spoken at the funeral, however. A different, mousier-looking boy had. Maybe that’s why Nico didn’t put two and two together.

“And I couldn’t—” Will’s voice broke, and his grip on Nico’s wrist tightened. He let out a slow breath, unwinding the bandages faster. “I guess I’m mad? I didn’t get to go to his funeral.”

“You didn’t?”

Will shook his head, screwing up his face like he’d eaten something sour. “I’m sure it was lovely, but I…was stuck in the infirmary.”

“I didn’t see you get injured.”

“I wasn’t ,” Will said through gritted teeth. “I had a lot of people to treat. There had just been a huge battle. Nearabout everyone was hurt.”

Nico carefully counted down from fifteen in his head. “But…weren’t you only twelve?”

“Why don’t we stop talking about it.” He loosened his grip. “Please?”

Nico nodded.

“When we’re done with this, I-I’m going to give you a physical, okay?” Will’s voice was strangled. “I need to fully assess you in case there’s other injuries or underlying conditions I may have missed.”

“Okay.”

It didn’t take too long for them to clean up and re-bandage Nico’s hands. Nico zoned out for the most part, staring at the wall just over Will’s head while he worked. His hands weren’t as warm as they had been, but his touch was still sickening, and Nico had to force himself not to think about it.

“Alright, get up,” Will said, “I’d like to add a few more things to your file.”

Nico staggered to his feet, one of his knees wobbling dangerously. Will definitely noticed, he glanced down and raised a curious eyebrow, but didn’t say a word. He only got to pulling things out of the bedside cabinet.

“Put your back to a wall, any wall, I don’t care.” He rolled a tape measure around in his hands. “I’d like to check your height.”

“Why does my height matter?”

Will gestured to the wall, pulling the tape measure open. “You’d be surprised how much we need your height for.”

He instructed Nico to step on a metal tab on the tape measure, and to press his heels to the wall. Bracing one hand on Nico’s shoulder, Will read something off.

“Five foot six. You’re taller than I was expecting,” Will muttered, snapping the tape measure back into place. “It must be your posture. Okay, okay, let me get the scale set up.”

“Five foot six?” Nico asked.

“Um…that’s about a hundred and sixty seven centimeters—” Will tossed the tape measure on Nico’s bed, throwing the cabinet doors back open. After a moment of staring, he let out a dramatic groan. “Lord almighty, I keep tellin’ Kayla not to move my shit, and she just keeps on movin’ it—” He crouched down. “—I keep sayin’ Kayla, kid, some of us have bad backs, put the things everyone uses on the middle or top shelves! She never does.”

He grunted, pulling out a huge box and staggering to his feet.

“Do you want…” Nico cleared his throat. “Do you want help with that?”

“I’ve—got it—” he dropped the box on Nico’s bed, accidentally squishing the tape measure. “We’ve got magic, we’ve got gods, but no one can get us a good quality, normal, not billion pound scale.”

He started yanking things out of the box, deftly slipping pieces together. At one point, he nearly broke a pretty large pane of glass, but caught it just before it hit the ground. 

Slowly, he put the glass on the bed, his eyes wide and his lips pinched.

“Whoops,” he said to himself. “Maybe don’t do that , Solace.”

Eventually, Will finished piecing together the scale, placing it on the floor just beside Nico.

“Hop on, Ghost boy.”

The scale was freezing cold beneath his feet, and the glowing numbers made loud, obnoxious beeping noises as they changed. Finally they settled on 99.4 lbs, a set of numbers Nico didn’t recognize or understand.

Will leaned over Nico’s shoulder, staring down at the reading. Warmth radiated off his skin.

“Hmm…okay, I don’t…like that,” Will said.

“What does it mean?”

Will hummed a few times, tilting his head side to side. “45 ish kilograms. I’d like you to be at the very least, 50 kilograms. But gaining that much weight healthily takes some time.”

He did a few more tests—one with a cuff around Nico’s arm, and another where he took a light to Nico’s eyes, which made his vision go all spotty. 

With a quick warning: (You’re going to hate this part , he’d said) Will grabbed Nico’s elbow, running his flat palm over his shoulders, the back of his head, and between his shoulder blades. He pushed the hem of Nico’s shirt up, pressing firm against the small of his back.

Thank the gods he swerved to avoid Nico’s stitches, but Will’s boiling hot skin was setting his nerves on fire. The flames snaked their way through his veins, charring everything they touched, leaving Nico shivering in their wake.

Will took him by the shoulders, turning Nico around so they were facing each other. 

“Okay, deep breath in,” Will said, pressing the back of his hand against Nico’s chest. “And out. Good job.”

Nico could feel his breath rattling in his chest, but Will didn’t say a word.

“In,” Will instructed, wrinkling his nose. Nico complied. His breath rattled again, maybe louder this time. “And out.”

He took both of his hands off Nico tilting his head back and forth, like a confused dog. Nico gave him his best What the Hades was that for? look, but was ultimately ignored. Will scrunched up his face, mumbling something to himself and moving his hands in intricate little gestures.

“Okay, can I ask you a few questions? I need to confirm something.”

“Uh, sure,” Nico said, taking a wobbly step back.

Will hopped up on the bed, patting the spot beside him. Nico didn’t trust himself to hop, however. His knees felt dangerously weak, and the base of his spine was starting to really hurt.

Instead, he slowly eased himself up.

“Do your bones ever get stiff?” Will asked, turning to Nico ever so slightly.

“Wh—” Nico paused, “Pardon me?”

With a soft laugh, Will shook his head, “Lord, the way you speak is so darlin’. I mean, do you ever find it tough to move any part of your body, for no real reason? The day after a fight doesn’t count.”

Nico thought back to those days he’d have in New Rome. 

The days where he couldn’t get out of bed. The days where everything in him was so sore and so tired. Where the joints of his fingers and the soft spots on his neck would be so stiff and feverish that he could feel heat radiating off of him. On those days, he could barely roll over. He couldn’t even move his fingers, let alone get up to drink something, and his throat and tongue and brain would dry up, leaving him in a dazed stupor.

He’d called those days flukes. Hazel had called them concerning.

“Um, I guess?” Nico tapped the sides of his thumbs together. “It’s not too bad, though.”

Will hummed, “Any tenderness or swelling?”

“Uh…?” Nico blinked a few times, like he was trying to read something off the inside of his eyelids. “I um—I don’t—”

Waving his hand, Will said quickly: “Tender means painful to the touch. Swelling means puffy when it shouldn’t be. Don’t be afraid to let someone know when you don’t understand something.”

“Shut up,” Nico snapped. “But, yeah. Sometimes. A-again, it’s not too bad.”

“And I know you get tired easily,” Will continued, totally ignoring Nico “I had a little chat with that Praetor lady about it just yesterday.”

“Reyna?” Nico perked up slightly, then felt his face get hot. “Sorry, keep going.”

Will chuckled under his breath, “She called you her little brother, I figured you’d like to know.”

Nico knew his face got even more red, because Will was full on laughing now. The red-rims in his eyes had nearly faded, and that stupid, infectious smile was starting to come back more and more.

“She’s one hell of a sister,” He said, elbowing Nico in the side. “Now, technically, a patient in your condition should be barred from all visitors for about a week—” he gave Nico a soft ( almost nervous? ) smile, “—but I think she’d be calm enough. Would it be alright if she visited sometime tomorrow?”

“Would it—” Nico scoffed, “ Yes . Of course it’s alright.”

With a scoff of his own, Will traced his fingers down his palm. “A’rite. Now, I ain’t got a proper look atcha, but I’ve got some pretty good guesses on what's wrong with you, if I do say so myself.”

Nico grunted.

“Stop me if you think I’m wrong, but I don't think I am,” Will warned, turning to face Nico fully. He crossed his legs. “You said you’d had polio, and I’m thinkin’ that left us with a partially lame leg. Like, it clearly still works, but not well .”

“Sure.”

“With…e’rythin’ else you’ve so reluctantly admitted,” Will said, waving his hand in a circle. “And what I can garner from just touchin’ you, my bets are on either an early onset case of Rheumatoid arthritis, or Lupus.”

“I don’t—”

“Know what that is, yeah, I know,” Will cut him off, slowly easing himself to his feet. He put his hand out. “Once I can give you a proper diagnosis, we’ll sort everything out, terminology wise.”

Nico stared blankly at his hand.

Will flexed his fingers, “C’mon, we’re gettin’ that hair a’ yours washed. Take my hand.”

“Why?”

“For support,” Will said. “We have a station for washing hair, but that’s public, and that doesn’t seem like you’re thing—so I’m makin’ the executive decision to let use the sink in the bathroom reserved for when my siblings and I stay overnight.”

“I don’t need… support ,” Nico pushed Will’s hand away, “But the other thing sounds nice.”

“Suit yourself,” Will said with a half shrug. He stepped off to the side, gesturing for Nico to get up.

As carefully as he could, Nico slipped off the bed, gripping the side of the mattress. His shorts rolled up on one side, and Will quickly looked away while Nico fixed them.

The minute he let go of the mattress, his knees buckled. Sharp pain shot up his spine, making his vision go spotty. Without a word, Will put his arm under Nico’s shoulders, scooping up most of his weight.

“It’s midday,” Will shifted carefully, bracing his hand on the side of Nico’s ribs. “E’reyone’s at lunch, so no one should see you like this. You can keep your cool factor for a couple more days.”

Nico rolled his eyes, trying to lean as far away from Will’s touch as he could.

“Drama king,” Will said, pulling Nico closer. “It’ll be easier on your…everything, if you just let me support you.”

Sighing, Nico slumped slightly, letting Will lead him out the door and down a weird, alcohol smelling hallway. 

The wooden walls rose up around them. They looked pretty tall to Nico, but with Will here, the room seemed impossibly cramped.

No one was around, thank the gods, and the only sounds were patients shifting, snoring, or groaning behind the thin, green curtains that separated their cots.

If those patients only got those tiny little curtains to seal them off, why did Nico get a whole room? That didn’t seem totally fair.

As if he read his mind, Will squeezed Nico’s side and said: “You were a special case. Hedge told me about your night terrors, I didn’t want you hurting yourself or another patient if something set you off.”

“ Hedge… ” Nico groaned. “I’m going to kill him . It’s really not that serious. He…juices up details a lot.”

“I’m not risking it.”

Nico scoffed.

“Once you have to calm down a real young, screaming Ares girl because someone’s nightmare woke her up, you get to be bitchy,” Will said, “A’rite?”

“Sure.”

Nico’s ankle rolled on a loose floorboard, and it was all he could do to keep from passing out. His head lolled, and he dug his nails into Will’s wrist so hard his fingers shook. 

Will didn’t even flinch, easing Nico to the ground.

Without taking his eyes off of Nico’s shaking hands, Will mopped up the blood on his wrist with the hem of his shirt. The little cuts were already fading, leaving behind thick, ugly red welts.

“You’ve got one hell of a grip,” Will laughed. He sounded surprised, but his voice didn’t hold that tremble someone in pain would, which Nico found odd.

“Sorry,” Nico said, rubbing his own wrist sympathetically.

“Oh, don’t be. You think I’ve never been hurt by a patient before?” To prove his point, he pulled the collar of his shirt down, gesturing to the (now fading) scratches Nico had noticed yesterday. “Some Venus legacy tried to pull my face off, but you don’t hear me complaining about it.”

Nico laughed softly, “what did you do to him? No one tries to pull people's faces off for no reason.”

“ Her ,” Will corrected, “And I just caught her by surprise, there was nothing I could do to stop her. Have you ever been jumped by a girl in acrylics? Because gods above , those things are deadly.”

“Acrylics?”

Will nodded, “They’re fake press on nails. They’re usually long, and goddamn do they hurt. Ask an Aphrodite kid, they probably know more about them than I do.”

The sound of clacking shoes echoed down the hallway, and Will’s entire face lit up. Nico’s heart fluttered like a trapped bird.

A pretty girl Nico didn’t recognize was coming down the hallway, a little pink purse bouncing at her hip. She was wearing chunky white high heels that were somehow spotless, and a baggy pink sweatshirt. Her dark, shiny hair was pulled over one shoulder, tied up in a pretty pink hair tie. An ugly, worrying looking gash tore through a swollen bruise on her cheek.

“Speak of the devil!” Will called, scrambling to his feet. 

The girl let out a loud, high pitched squeal, similar to Will’s sonic whistle. She lunged forward, smothering Will in a massive hug. She leapt up, wrapping her legs around his waist, hooking her ankles together. They nearly toppled to the ground, but Will caught himself on the wall.

Nico pulled his legs to his chest, praying she wouldn’t notice him, curled up on the ground like a helpless idiot. He hated feeling helpless, and that’s all this stupid infirmary was doing to him.

“Will, oh my gods! ” The girl said, cupping his face, hopping back to the ground. She had long, pointed black nails. Maybe they were acrylics, like Will had said? Nico didn’t know what they actually looked like, but if he had to guess, he’d say they looked like those. 

“Where have you been ?” The girl’s voice was deeper and more raspy than Nico expected, but it suited her. “I haven’t seen you in forever !”

“Man, I’m sorry,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I’ve been runnin’ over hell’s half acre the past few weeks. I didn’t have the time—”

The girl shook her head, kissing him on both cheeks, and then his forehead. “You work too hard! Loosen up, big guy!”

“Speakin’ of workin’,” he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning her head to the side. “Come back in a few, so I can get a good look at this bad boy on your face. Yeah?”

She snorted, touching a gentle finger to her injury, “Pretty hot, right? I beat the piss out of some legionnaire. He got a good slash at me, but I busted his face up real nice.”

Will laughed, shoving her by the shoulders. Nico’s stomach soured. The way these two were interacting made him feel…odd. 

He hunched his shoulders in on himself more, trying to get even smaller. The lighting was too steady and flat in this room, there were no solid shadows Nico could reach to shadow jump away, unless he got up and walked over to one.

The girl seemed to notice something, because she perked up, catching Nico’s eye.

“Oh, hey kid!” She crouched down, pushing her plaid skirt between her legs. “Have we met?”

Nico shook his head, but didn’t say a word. This girl was a lot.

“This is my current primary patient!” Will said, his tone holding an air of pride. “Nico, meet Drew Tanaka, my close friend of about a year now. Drew, meet Niccoló di Angelo, my pain in the ass of a few days.”

Drew made a little ‘o’ shape with her mouth, her eyebrows arching. “ You’re Nico di Angelo? That hot Roman lady told me about you!” she tapped her chin with one of her long, black, possibly acrylic nails. “I totally thought you’d be taller.”

Nico glared at her, but his position from the floor really wasn’t helping his scare factor. She didn’t seem fazed by his expression, which meant it wasn’t working like it used to. He was used to people flinching when he was angry. Running away whenever he so much as touched the hilt of his sword.

But now, crumbled on the floor in a baggy, bright orange camp shirt, completely unarmed—Nico felt more helpless and tired than he ever had before.

Drew twirled a strand of her hair around her finger, looking him up and down, sucking her teeth.

“Honestly, I see the potential,” she said finally, pursing her lips. “The camp orange actually compliments your skin pretty well, which is amazing, because we get them for totally free!” she tilted her head to the side, “I’m seeing a good 2c, maybe 3a curl pattern hiding under all that grease. Yup, no yeah, definitely 3a. Bringing that out would totally soften your face up! You’ve got promising bone structure, and maybe if we cleared up those eyebags…”

Nico felt his face go red and hot. He tried to break her gaze, but Drew was still scrutinizing him, her dark eyes flitting back and forth.

“Drew…” Will warned, crouching down beside her, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “He didn’t ask for appearance advice.”

She blinked, smothering a laugh into her fist. “Right, my bad. I need to stop doing that!”

Will wrinkled his nose, grinning.

Something about the way his hand was resting on her arm, and the way she looked at him so gently. Something about the unfamiliar softness in both of their expressions…Nico’s brain did a 180 as he reassessed what he was seeing.

The whole world seemed to flip flop on its stomach.

“Are you two…” Nico waved his finger between the two of them. 

Will didn’t seem to understand, but Drew broke out laughing, hunching her shoulders.

“No sir!” Drew said through giggles, patting Will on the chest. She scrubbed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “This big boy is a fully fledged man-kisser. And he’s really really not my type.”

Will rolled his eyes, “And your type would be?”

Drew clicked her tongue, giving Will a stupid grin. “Women, mostly.”

Nico’s stomach dropped, his blood turning to ice. 

There was no one around, but Drew was just…announcing it? Announcing being a queer? 

She said it like it didn’t even matter. 

Like she wasn’t even remotely afraid. 

He knotted his fingers in his shirt, forcing himself to breathe in and out slowly. In and out. In and out…

Will caught his eye, raising his eyebrows slightly. He mouthed ‘You okay?’ and Nico nodded as softly as he could.

“Now, Drew, we were on our way to wash Nico’s hair,” Will said, his eyes still on Nico. 

Drew’s head shot up, something behind her eyes shifting. 

Nico had seen that kind of expression before—several times, actually. 

Usually when his friend (co-worker?) Leo Valdez got to talking about one of his machines. Sometimes he’d see the look when Percy was thinking too hard about…whatever he thought about. 

That man was a mystery . 

Other times it was Annabeth, when she would go hard in on one of her plans or projects.

“Wait right here,” Drew said, “Do not use those shitty ass infirmary products on this little boy’s lovely hair, you hear me?” 

She poked Will in the chest over and over until he shoved her away, nodding.

With that, she scrambled to her feet, darting down the hallway. Her heels clunked softly as she ran.

Nico’s hands were still shaking, his vision growing blurry at the edges. 

They just admitted it like that. 

Just admitted to being queers out in the open—where anyone could’ve heard them. They talked about it so casually. So easily. They talked like it was normal , like no one could hear them.

No one did. 

No one was around. But there could have been .

Will frowned at him, but didn’t say a word. He sat down properly, letting his head fall back against the wall. Their shoulders were almost touching, but not quite. Warmth radiated off of Will in waves, like a heater.

“I know Drew can be…a lot,” Will said, turning every so slightly, “but she means well. Most of the time.”

Nico grunted. He couldn’t bring himself to speak. His fingers felt like blocks of ice.

Will touched the little scratches on his wrist, tracing one of them with his ring finger.

“Sorry,” Nico said, digging his knuckles into his knee.

“Huh? Oh, no, dude it’s fine,” Will waved his hand. His eyes were still on his wrist. “It doesn’t hurt.”

One of the fluorescent lights flickered a couple of times before fizzing out completely. The lighting in the room wasn’t really affected, but Will sighed, knocking the back of his head against the wall over and over.

“I hate that stupid light. I’ve had to replace it four fuckin’ times this month,” he groaned. “I think somethin’s wrong with wirin’, but I don’t have the time or the knowhow to fix it. At this point, I’m considerin’ just letting it stay broken.”

“Do you…need it?”

Will shook his head, “Nah, but it’s real annoying to look at, you feel?”

Nico nodded.

A few moments later, Drew came running back in, her pink purse now bulging with what looked like a billion different bottles. Skidding to a stop, she dropped down on Nico’s other side, pulling her purse into her lap.

“Okay, we’ve got a whole stash of hair care products in my cabin,” she said, emptying her purse's contents. “All the way from type 1 hair, to 4c,” she bit her lip, sifting through the bottles. “Speaking of, is there any way I could catch your sister before she leaves? I have some of my sister's things for her, and I think she’d like them.”

“Which sister?” Will asked, grabbing one of the bottles.

“Oh you know, the Roman one?”

“They’re—” Nico shook his head, “They’re both Roman.”

Drew furrowed her eyebrows, “Oh, I didn’t know that! I’m talking about that sweet little black girl. Hazel, wasn’t it? Silena left behind all her haircare stuff, and everyone who’d use it at camp already has their own.”

The mood seemed to dampen for a moment the second Silena’s name left her mouth. Will touched her wrist with two fingers, but didn’t say a word. 

Nico had known Silena. She’d been his informal guide at camp while he was waiting for Bianca to come back. The whole time he was there she’d played cards with him, she’d braided his hair, she’d carried him on her shoulders, and she’d held him when he’d woken up screaming—claiming his sister had died.

Drew fiddled with one of the bottles, handing it off to Will.

“I’ll let Hazel know to stop by your cabin if I see her,” Will said, turning over the blue and yellow bottle in his hands. His voice was a little worn. “What’s sulfate free mean?”

“Wait,” Drew put up her hand, blinking heavily. “Who's the other sister?”

“Reyna,” Will said before Nico could. Nico nodded along.

Drew glanced between Will and Nico, as if looking to see if one of them was lying.

“The hot Roman lady?” She asked, when Nico nodded again, her face turned bright red. “Oh man . Oh Gods, do not tell her I called her hot.”

Nico let himself laugh, but his stomach was still churning horribly.

“Okay, okay okay,” Drew picked up a few more bottles, “That sulfate free shampoo will help wash the grease and dirt and whatever out of his hair, while being pretty gentle on his scalp. You’re not allergic to anything, right, kid?”

Nico started to say no, but Will cut him off, proudly saying: “Cats!”

Drew snickered, “There’s no cats in the shampoo, Solace.”

He gave her a dopey smile, the tip of his tongue between his teeth.

“This one,” —Drew grabbed another blue bottle only this one had a green cap instead of yellow— “Helps loosen knots, and doesn’t weigh your hair down.” 

She tossed Nico the bottle, but he didn’t catch it in time. It thumped off his chest and landed in his lap, knocking his breath away for a second.

“How long do you plan on taking?” She asked, picking up two different vaseline tub-like containers. One of them was green and blue, the other pink and blue. “Because this mask should treat damaged hair, and this crème should promote damage repair.” Drew shot a look at Nico, “—and I really think you need it.”

“Oh hush up, Drew,” Will said as he gathered the bottles and tub into his arms. “He basically saved the world, he gets to have a couple bad hair days. He’s well since earned ‘em.”

“Honey…” Drew took a piece of Nico’s hair between her fingers, “I think this is a bad hair year .”

Nico pulled his head back, bumping into the wall. He didn’t know how he was supposed to be feeling. Drew was picking on him, but her tone was light and none of her words really stung like Nico thought they should. And beside that, Will’s praise was making his stomach turn even more.

Drew clicked her tongue, giving him a soft look. “But it’s fixable.”

Will staggered to his feet, struggling to hold all of his things. Nico stumbled up as well, leaning heavily on the wall. Drew stayed sitting.

“I had lunch already, I’m just waiting on Piper,” she explained, “We’re supposed to go grab coffee and catch up later today.”

Will looked between Drew and Nico, then shrugged. Fumbling the bottles around, Will tucked all of them in one arm, offering his other out to Nico.

It would be pointless to argue , Nico thought, sliding up against Will’s side. 

Will broke out in a huge grin, wrapping his arm around Nico’s ribs. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes were shining.

And as much as Nico would hate to admit it, as they awkwardly shuffled down the hallway, his back didn’t hurt as much as it usually did. On top of that, he didn’t feel those familiar muscle spasms in the backs of his legs and thighs, and his spine wasn’t aching and burning like it always would.

Will’s shirt was riding up slightly, the warm skin on his hip brushing up against Nico’s arm. It made his stomach and brain jolt.

Will had to let go of Nico’s waist to shoulder the door open, drop his supplies on the counter, and flick the lights on. Nico’s side immediately got cold.

The bathroom was pretty small, with baby blue walls and fake sun decals scattered around in no particular pattern. A few of them had been scraped down, deep scratch marks etched into the paint. A large, floor to ceiling supply cabinet loomed in the corner, its dark brown wood a sharp contrast to all the pale blues, whites, and yellows around the rest of the room. A hole lined with linoleum was dug out of the ground, like it was built as a stand-in for a proper bathtub, and never got replaced.

Will busied himself by the huge, almost basin-like sink, scrubbing down the insides with a hand towel.

Pain flared up Nico’s spine, and with shaking legs, he staggered over to the sink. Will didn’t acknowledge when he slumped against the counter, clinging to the side like his life depended on it. Hell, he didn’t even seem to hear him.

“You can sit in the sink, or in the tub, but I’m not having you lean over and risk straining your neck,” Will said, gathering up the hair products again. “Either way, your knees are gonna hurt, unfortunately. Sorry about that. But your spine is my top priority. We can sacrifice the knees.”

Nico rolled his eyes, “I’m not made of glass.”

Will raised an eyebrow at Nico’s bandaged hands. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Glancing between the hole-in-the-ground tub and the huge sink, Nico sighed. His dignity would be in total shambles, but the sink looked like it would be easier on his back.

He pointed to the sink. 

“Right!” Will made his way over to the huge cabinet, “We might have a step-stool in here. Somewhere…”

He fumbled with the doors, pulling open different boxes and drawers inside the cabinet, grumbling strings of Greek curses each time he didn’t find what he was looking for.

“Can you climb it?” Will asked, standing on his tip-toes, rooting around in another box. “Not up the cabinet, I meant—” he laughed at himself, “Sorry, I meant into the sink.”

“Oh, uh, maybe?” Nico loosened his death-grip on the marble counter, steeling his nerves. “Probably…” 

He stared at the counter, which was a good couple of inches higher than his waist. He could climb it if he really tried, but he couldn’t even imagine how much it would hurt. Not to mention what would happen if he slipped.

“Sorry…um…no, actually.”

Will glanced over apologetically, “I can’t find the stepstool, I can help you up, but I’d have to touch you.”

Nico pinched his lips.

On one hand, Will’s skin was so warm that it made Nico’s stomach crawl. (Apollo kids must run hot, Nico decided. Reyna and Hedge were never this warm.) If he had to touch him for more than a few seconds, Nico was sure he’d lose his mind.

On the other hand, his greasy hair was clinging to the nape of his neck, and sharp, needle-like pain was digging into the base of his spine. If he tried to climb up the counter and fell, he might screw himself up irreversibly. 

He didn’t want to be touched, but his hair really was driving him insane.

“Fine,” he said after a few moments.

Will made a little noise that sounded somewhere between a gasp and a cough. “Really?”

He felt his face get hot, “Yeah.”

It was stupid, really. 

Nico had transported himself, two other people, and a forty-foot tall statue across literal continents without needing more than a little support. Despite that, a sink was knocking him down a peg. Or maybe four.

Scrambling over himself, Will made his way back to the sink. His shirt was rumpled and slightly dusty, and there were remnants of what used to be a cobweb laying on top of his hair.

“You’ve got…” Nico tapped his own hair.

“Hmm?” Will looked up, tilting his head back like he’d be able to see his own hair. “Where?”

“Like…right here,” Nico said, tapping his hair again. 

Will ran his fingers through his hair a couple of times, brushing up against the web, but never actually catching it. 

“Here, I got it.” Nico got up on his toes, ignoring the flare of pain in his knees, and scooped the cobweb out of Will’s hair. Will’s breath snagged.

His curls were just as soft as they looked, which only made Nico even more hyper-aware of his own, flat, greasy, disgustingly stringy hair. He really really needed to wash it before he tore it out of his scalp.

“Oh,” Will ran his hand over his hair. His eyes were wide. “Thank you.”

“I got you clean, now you need to return the favor,” Nico said, wiping the cobweb on his shorts. His heart was jack-hammering. He’d definitely over-stepped some kind of boundary, but it was too late to turn back now. “How do I get in?”

Looking slightly dazed, Will put his arms out, kind of like he was offering a hug, kind of like he was bracing himself for an attack. Nico glanced between the counter and Will, reconsidering his choice.

Will didn’t say a word, but his expression told Nico he was waiting for the go-ahead.

Sucking in a slow breath, Nico nodded.

The second he did, Will hooked one arm under his shoulders, scooping up his legs with the other. 

Nico’s head spun. 

He was practically on his back, his stomach and throat completely exposed. Clearly, Will was taking care not to touch the bandages around Nico’s chest, but that only left his spine open to the air as well.

Before he had the chance to say anything, he was in the sink.

“What the actual hell ,” he muttered, brushing off his shoulders, trying to wipe away the feeling of Will’s way-too-hot skin. The sink basin only came up to about his mid-back, leaving his shoulders and head well above the faucet.

“Sorry, I probably should’ve warned you,” Will said, although he didn’t look terribly sorry. He still looked a little stunned, one of his hands resting very delicately on his hair.

“How is this supposed to work?” Nico said, and then immediately became aware of way too many things all at once. How he’d mangled the word supposed , how he was going to have to take his shirt off again, and how he was completely trapped on this counter until Will decided to let him down.

“Well, the sink head actually stretches,” Will leaned over Nico’s head as he spoke, his beaded necklace slapping Nico’s forehead. Seven beads, Nico noted. “So you won’t have to duck.”

Nico tried to shy away from him, but there really wasn’t anywhere to move.

“I meant my clothes.”

Will paused, “Uh, just…just keep them on, we can get you new ones after.”

Nico nodded, and Will quietly busied himself with the product bottles, fumbling with a few of the larger ones. After a few seconds of reading—with no warning whatsoever—Will flicked the water on, effectively soaking Nico’s entire right side.

“ Buon Dio, Solace!” Nico cried. The water was freezing , and Will did nothing but double over laughing.

“Holy shit—” he gasped out, clutching at the edges of the sink, “Holy shit , I’m sorry—I didn’t think it’d come out so quick—!”

It takes them both a good few minutes of cursing and laughing to get situated. 

Most of it was Will, who couldn’t seem to go more than a sentence without slipping in some kind of profanity. 

He had a…very colorful vocabulary.

Nico remembered the time he got his mouth washed by a preacher for saying hell during Sunday school. He didn’t understand why it had happened at the time, and his mama had gone ballistic when he had told her about it. She’d taken Bianca and Nico outside the church and shut the door. 

Despite that, they could still hear her shouting, rapid fire Italian that was so vulgar Bianca had covered Nico’s ears.

They’d never gone back to that church.

Eventually, Will grabbed the still running faucet head, lifting it up so he could properly douse Nico’s head and shoulders. The water was, thankfully, warmer now. It spilled in his eyes and he had to squeeze them shut, but it was much more pleasant than before.

“Uh, I think this is the one Drew said goes first…” Will muttered to himself, squinting at the teeny tiny text on the bottle in his hands. “I think. Probably. Lord, I cannot read. I’m gonna have to touch you again.”

“Can’t I just…?” Nico reached for the bottle. 

White-hot pain shot through his spine. Every nerve and bone and artery on fire. The cuts on his back screamed and wailed for him to stop. 

“ Nope —” he choked, hunching over on himself.

Will laughed again, much softer this time, and pressed two fingers to Nico’s shoulder. That odd, summery feeling washed over him again, and he couldn’t help but sigh into it.

“I think I’ll do it,” Will said, and Nico nodded.

He poured some slightly purple cream into his hands, and buried them in Nico’s hair. 

The feeling was weird at first. As far as he could remember, Nico had never had someone else wash his hair. Even when he was a little kid, the minute he was able to, he took to cleaning and grooming himself.

Will huffed, rubbing his nose on his shoulder. “Ugh, this stuff smells strong . What is that…lavender? Jesus lord.”

“I think it’s nice,” Nico said, toying with the hem of his drenched shirt.

“Oh it’s nice, don’t get me wrong,” Will tugged out a few of the more stubborn knots in Nico’s hair, “But did it have to be so much ? It’s like shoving a whole lavender bush up my nose.”

“Dramatic.”

“I am not! ” Will said indignantly. He thrust one soapy hand in Nico’s face. “This shit is strong!”

With one finger, Nico pushed Will’s hand away.

They fell into an awkward silence as Will lathered up and rinsed his hair out. He tugged out a few knots and tangles, and massaged the back of Nico’s head.

“So…” Will started, rinsing his hands off, grabbing a different bottle. “What was that little freak-out in the hallway all about?”

Nico blinked, “Hmm?”

“With Drew. You looked like you were gonna start hyperventilatin’ outta nowhere,” Will explained.

With a jolt, Nico scrambled for an excuse. 

He’d already told Percy he was a queer, and that almost sent him into a panic right then and there. He couldn’t tell Will, could he? He didn’t know this kid.

Sure, Will was apparently a queer too, but Nico’s ribcage was still closing in tight around his lungs and he didn’t want to tell him because he was trapped on this counter until Will let him down. 

What if Will had been lying? What if it had all been an elaborate scheme to out Nico? It was stupid, but it wasn’t off the table.

“Hey, don’t zone out on me,” Will said, tapping Nico’s shoulder. He buried his hands back in Nico’s hair. “You don’t gotta answer, I was just curious.”

“No I—” Nico cut himself off, shaking his head. “It’s not important, it’s not—don’t worry about it.”

Will hummed under his breath.

The hair washing went pretty fast. 

For some reason, the water made the warmth from Will’s hands slightly bearable. He carefully wound out knots in Nico’s hair, pausing at one point to duck out of the room, sniffling and saying: “ Lord, I’m sorry, the smell is gettin’ to me .”

He combed sweet smelling conditioner through Nico’s hair, massaging it into his scalp. Apparently they had to let it sit for almost twenty minutes, and Will got bored easily.

Will’s hands were calloused, wide, and rough. Nothing like his fathers. His father’s hands were slender, Nico remembered. They were delicate, crafted and created specifically for archery and music. For the lyre, to be more exact.

Apollo had been disgustingly obnoxious, hitting on the Huntresses—the thought of those girls left a bitter taste in Nico’s mouth—and forcing Thalia Grace to drive his sun chariot, no matter how much she refused.

Will wasn’t nearly as annoying. Although, with his tests and chipper attitude, he was certainly gunning for second place. He was a lot kinder, and a lot more gentle. And as far as Nico was concerned, he’d never hit on (or even dealt with) the Huntresses. Anyone who had no ties to the Hunt was alright in Nico’s book. (As cool as she was, Thalia still freaked Nico out.)

“Ugh, your hair is so thick,” Will said. His voice almost made Nico jump out of his skin. He was sitting criss crossed behind Nico on the counter, playing with a slick chunk of Nico’s hair. “I’m so jealous.”

“Hmm?”

“My hair breaks insanely easily, it’s not even funny,” Will continued. “Perpetually sun-damaged, and all that.”

“That sounds…annoying,” Nico said, rolling one of his shoulders.

“Oh my gods it is .” Will leaned around Nico’s shoulder, “Literally, it drives my Ma crazy whenever I visit. I shed like a fuckin’ dog.”

Nico bit back a laugh, “Your mom’s cool?”

“Oh so cool.” Will was still playing with Nico’s hair, but his hands were vibrating, like he was bursting at the seams. If Nico turned around, he knew Will would have that familiar, dopey grin on his face.

Nico rolled his eyes and scoffed. “You can talk about her.”

“ Thank you ,” Will breathed, “Oh my lord, she’s a singer right? Damn near broke her heart when we figured out I was deaf. But she’s so good —I fully cried when I got my first hearin’ aid and heard her properly for the first time. I don’t have any tracks on hand, but lord I’ll have to get some for you. I love love showing people her music!”

Nico laughed under his breath.

“Oh hush up, you,” Will said through a laugh of his own, batting the back of Nico’s head. “Gods, I wish I could show her camp. This kinda stuff would totally fascinate her.”

“Why can’t you?” Nico asked.

“Mortals can’t cross the border, ‘less they come from the ocean, and I ain’t about to have my Ma swim to camp.”

Nico blinked, “They can’t?”

“Cross over? Nope, not even if they wanted to,” Will said, and Nico can feel him shrug. He must be closer than before , Nico guessed. “It’s somethin’ Mr. D put in place in what…the 60’s? I think. Apparently some mortal family nearabout got themselves killed while campin’. Chiron says it was a Hellhound, rumors ‘round camp say it was a dragon.”

“Um…Rumors?” Nico craned his neck around to look back at Will. He was right, Will was a lot closer than before, knees huddled to his chest, purple conditioner coating his hands.

“ La diceria, ” Will said without hesitation, giving Nico a half smile. “Or is it pettegolezzo ?”

“ Diceria ,” Nico confirmed. He turned back around, and Will’s hands were instantly back in his hair. A shiver ran down his spine.

After a few moments of Will curling Nico’s hair around his fingers, and chattering aimlessly about whatever—his siblings, some guy he got into a fight with, the post-war clean up—something beeped.

“Aye—oh my goodness!” Will’s grip tightened on Nico’s hair. “I forgot I set an alarm, good gods.”

He cleaned his hands off, sending another wash of warm water down Nico’s arm, and slapped something on his wrist. A watch—but much nicer and sleeker than the watches Nico knew in the 30’s.

“Rinse time!” Will said cheerfully, and before Nico could register what that meant, hot water was spilling over his head. 

With a sharp gasp, he blinked water out of his eyes.

Will laughed, cupping a hand against Nico’s forehead to keep the water away from his face.

They rinsed and wrung out his hair pretty quickly. The sweet smell of lavender hung in the air, but faded slightly the more conditioner ran down the drain. Will waved his hand through the air like he was trying to push the smell away faster. It didn’t really work, he only sneezed and scrubbed his face, glaring at the bottles on the counter as if they’d personally offended him.

Will eased Nico up and out of the sink, helping towel his hair down. Nico was unsteady on his feet, clinging to the wet counter like a lifeline.

“There’s dry clothes and underwear and all that in the closet,” Will said, ruffling Nico’s hair. “It’s all clean, nothin’ in there’s ever been used before. Then why don’t we get you settled for some sleep, a’rite?”

Nico nodded.

“Gods, my hands are gonna smell like flowers for weeks ,” Will groaned, shouldering the bathroom door open. Once the door clicked shut, he called: “Knock when you’re done! I’ll just…be here!”

Followed by a thump as he probably dropped to the ground.

Nico got dressed as fast as his aching muscles would let him. Another bright orange shirt— of course —and way too big, way too baggy blue jeans. The waistband hung loose around his hips. Thank the gods the shirt was too long for him. No one would have to see his stomach today.

There was another one of those metal boxes with a siren on the wall. Nico made a mental note to ask Will about it at some point.

With clean hair and clean clothes, Nico could almost pretend the past few months never happened. The sleeves on the CHB tee covered pretty much all of the bandages on his chest—the only reminder of… everything being his wrapped and bruised hands.

He staggered over to the door, knocking twice. A sharp, burning jolt shot through his fingers.

“Fuck, hang on!” Will yelled. He tossed the door open, a little red faced and out of breath. With a start, he looked Nico up and down. His eyes softened. “You’re so much smaller than I thought.”

“ Scusami? ” Nico looked up at him.

Will leaned forward slightly, offering Nico his arm. “It’s the clothes, I’m sure. They make you look so scrawny .”

“Hey,” Nico said, wrinkling his nose. He took Will’s arm. “Didn’t your mother teach you to be polite?”

Will shrugged, “Nah. But she did teach me how to uppercut a man twice my size.”

“Good,” Nico said, letting Will lead him down the hallway.

They didn’t run into any of Will’s friends this time, which Nico was more than thankful for. Drew was kind (in a way), but she was so much . Will had enough of a personality for two men, adding Drew into that mix was borderline overwhelming.

Will forced the door to the private room open, letting Nico sit on the swivel chair while he changed the blood stained sheets.

“Remember, you can always shout for me if you need anything,” Will said, struggling to hook the final edge of the fitted sheet. “I can’t hear too well, but my siblings can. They’ll let me know.”

Nico nodded. He’d never do that, of course, but Will’s whole face lit up. His stupid grin was infectious. Nico smiled back.

With a grunt, Will finally got the sheet on, tossing two fresh pillows and a crumpled blanket against the headboard.

Nico got into the bed on his own, easing himself up as carefully as he could. Will stood by, one hand braced on the side of the bed, eying Nico. Once he seemed to be sure about something, Will mussed up Nico’s hair again.

“Would you stop that?” Nico asked, but dropped down on his side, letting out a low breath.

“Your hair’s just so cute all curly,” Will said. “I’ve got other things to do, but I’m serious, yell for me and I’ll be here.”

And with that, he was gone.

Chapter Text

Nico woke up twice in the middle of the night, before properly getting up.

Once, when the alarm on the wall went off again, and another time by a cold chill running down his spine. One that he knew all too well. 

There was that familiar ringing in his ears. The heartbeat that wasn’t his own thrumming behind his eyes. Panic blossomed in his chest. Digging into his nerves. His breath snagged in his throat, building to a scream. But he knew where he was—he couldn’t disrupt so many people like that.

He buried his face in his pillow and waited for it to pass.

The third and final time Nico woke up was to shouting. Someone was screaming and hurling insults at someone else.

Clutching his head, Nico swung his legs over the side of his bed. 

Propped up against his bedside table was a little silver cane, a note taped to one of the handles. Nico took the paper, unfolding it. It took him a moment of squinting, but the letters finally formed words. 

For some odd reason, the whole thing was written in Italian—though that was a little easier for Nico’s dyslexia. Besides, his English brain hadn’t woken up yet.

It read:

Hey! This is for you! Sorry, it’s a little crude, and sorry I’m not delivering it personally! But we can’t have something fitted to your needs right away, so I figured it was at least a little bit better than me carrying you everywhere. Better for both of us, I have stuff to do, and you get to keep your dignity! And besides, I’ve been super busy today. 

I also figured Italian would be better on your eyes—hope I’m getting the subject verb tense right! I haven’t brushed up on other languages in literal ages! Feel free to correct me on whatever, I can take it! I’ve got pride of steel.

Sorry, I probably won’t be available too much today, I’ve got a lot of stuff I need to deal with.

— Will ♡

Nico folded up the note, placing it back on the table. 

Will apologizes a lot , he thought. 

The little heart drawn on the bottom made his stomach flip flop around like he was dropped from a high height.

He took the cane a little awkwardly. He didn’t really know how to use it, but with the smooth metal under his palm, he hobbled towards the door. 

The person outside was still shouting—seemingly at nothing. No one was responding to them.

Nico eased the door open, poking his head out just slightly. Two people were in the hallway, a good ways away from Nico’s door. Will, and that huge Ares camper, Sherman Yang.

Will’s face and shirt were smeared with blood, and his shoulders were hunched only slightly. His curly hair was slightly flattened, stringy and matted.

“You let her die!” Sherman’s fists were balled at his sides. His face was red and puffy.

“I did everything I could.” Will’s voice was completely monotonous, his expression void. “I didn’t let her die.”

“You’re supposed— you’re —!” Sherman took a step back, wringing his hands together. “You’re supposed to be the fucking healer ! You’re supposed to fucking save people! Campers aren’t supposed to die here!”

“I know that,” Will said. “She hid her injuries for a while. There’s only so much I can do when someone comes to me that late.”

Sherman’s chest rose and fell heavily. Will preemptively braced himself, turning his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

With a wordless yell, Sherman punched Will straight across the face. Amazingly, Will didn’t fall. He didn’t even stumble. He just popped his jaw back into place, wiped up the blood dripping from his nose, and apologized .

“Look, I’m so so sorry. However, I’m completely sure she’ll go to Elysium. I can—I can guarantee it to you.”

Sherman screamed again, and Will let him.

“You’re a useless fucking medic, you hear me?!” Sherman shouted through clenched teeth. His voice was wobbling dangerously. “You’re fucking useless! What’s the point of a medic if people still fucking die!? ”

Will’s expression softened, “I’m sorry. I really do the best that I can. I know that doesn’t always work.”

Fingers twitching, Sherman pulled back. He struck Will across the face again—a flat palmed smack in the other direction this time. 

Once again, Will didn’t fall. 

Blood was still trickling out of his nose and a split on his lip, pooling at his chin. A deep, ugly bruise was starting to spread across his face.

“I’m sorry I let you down,” he said.

Fumbling slightly, his hands shaking, Sherman staggered out of the infirmary. He punched the wall on his way out.

Nico couldn’t move, frozen in place, watching as Will mopped up all the blood on his face. The hallway was eerily silent. The only sounds were Will’s heavy, haggard breathing, and little drops of blood spattering against the ground.

And then he looked up.

He met Nico’s gaze. His expression was completely empty, his eyes blank, bloodshot, and bleary.

They stood in total silence for a moment. 

Will touched the forming bruise on his cheek with two fingers. Nico glanced between him and the door over his shoulder.

A small, strained smile spread across Will’s face, and he made his way over to Nico, stumbling over his own feet. His eyes were slightly manic, a wild glint somewhere behind them.

“Good morning, Nico!” He said, clapping his hands. “I’m so sorry you had to see that!”

Nico didn’t say a word, glancing over Will’s shoulder where Sherman had stormed out. Will’s expression turned almost panicked. His face paled.

“I-I’m glad to see you’re testing out the cane—” his eye twitched. His hands were shaking. “How is it fairing you?”

“It’s…fine.” Nico was still staring over Will’s shoulder. “It’s too…short for me…? But um…”

“Do you want breakfast?” Will asked, wiping his still bleeding nose. “Because I could get you—I could…” he paused. “No—No I can’t …shit. Shit. I can’t—I can’t go out there—”

Nico furrowed his eyebrows. 

He didn’t know how to cheer people up. Will was gasping for breath, his eyes watering horribly. Judging on the way Will acted, Nico could guess something that might help. 

Was he really going to do this?

Yup .

With a deep breath, Nico lurched forward, pulled Will in as tight a hug as he could muster.

Will froze underneath him, his breath shaking. He was trembling head to toe. Both of them were.

They stood for a second.

And Will crumpled against him, completely deflating. His head dropped on top of Nico’s. He stayed supporting himself, thank the gods. Nico could hear Will’s heart racing over itself in his chest like a scared rabbit.

With a soft sob, Will wrapped his arms around Nico’s head. Hot blood dripped against Nico’s scalp. His skin was crawling like a nest of fire ants, but he kept his arms tight around Will’s chest.

“Your hair still smells like the shampoo,” Will murmured.

Nico rocked back and forth on his heels the way Bianca used to whenever he was upset. It worked for him, maybe it’d work for Will. He dug his knuckles into Will’s back, just between his shoulder blades.

“ Stai bene, amico. ”

Will sobbed, hugging Nico’s head tighter.

“I just…I try so hard ,” he cried. His voice made his throat rumble against the top of Nico’s head.

“Can we step out of the hallway?” 

Will nodded softly. Nico reached around for the cane he’d propped against the wall, not letting go of Will. It was a little strenuous on his back, keeping one arm tucked around Will’s waist, blindly slapping at the wall with the other—but he managed.

He let Nico tug him back into the room. Nico flicked off the lights when they entered, which made Will soften. Sometimes, when he was wound up, Nico would need to shut out everything to calm down—lights, sounds, smells, textures—everything. 

However, the way Will relaxed (physically, at least) told Nico he’d made the right call.

They settled on the bed, Will and Nico sitting criss-cross facing each other. 

Nico still had his hands braced on Will’s shoulders. 

Will was shivering and wiping his eyes, his chest heaving and stuttering. Blood stained his face, smudged over his lips and chin. His hair was frizzy, sticking up all over the place. His skin was unusually pale. One of his hearing aids cracked and chipped from where Sherman had punched him, a tiny chunk missing from the plastic.

With a deep, heart-wrenching sob, Will yanked Nico into another hug. He buried his face in Nico’s hair.

A little uncomfortably, Nico patted his back.

“You’re alright,” he said softly, “What—um…what happened?”

“ I fucked up, ” Will gasped out, “I—I couldn’t—I stepped out of the room—gods I’m so stupid .”

Nico rocked back and forth again, bringing Will even closer to him. Sobs tore out of his chest so violently Nico worried he might hurt himself.

“You didn’t…um…you didn’t mess anything up,” Nico said. He still couldn’t bring himself to curse in English.

“But I did, I—” Will paused, “I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t—oh my fuckin’ gods. ”

Nico rubbed a half circle against Will’s spine. He listened to Will’s ragged, awful sobbing for a couple more seconds, ignoring the searing pain in his arms. The whole room felt almost suffocating. The windows were shut, the curtains drawn. Nothing was moving, save for Nico and Will.

“Shit. Fuck. I have too…” Will pushed away from Nico feebly, his hands falling limp at his sides. “I have work to do, I can’t—”

“No,” Nico took him by the arms. “You can’t help anyone when you’re…such a mess.”

Will’s eyes were welling up again. He scrubbed at his face desperately. “Gods…oh my Gods , Sherman was right.”

Dropping his hands in his lap, Nico cocked his head.

“That little Ares girl,” Will explained, “I-I think I mentioned her before. The young one…” he took a deep, slow breath, shutting his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “She…I guess she was—she was more hurt than she let on. There’s only so much I can tell from touching someone and—”

Nico put his fingers on Will’s knee as gently as he could, his hands shaking.

“It had to have been one of those Cynocephali—” he put his hand over his mouth and nose, staring blankly over Nico’s shoulder. He let out a low sigh. “Nasty bite on her stomach. Must’ve gotten infected on the battlefield…oh my lord…”

Will’s voice tapered off.

“I uh…felt her die,” Nico confessed, hand still on Will’s knee. He ran his thumb back and forth, slow enough not to hurt his hand. “If it means anything, she um, she did go to Elysium. As far as I’m aware.”

“Oh, thank the gods…” Will put his trembling hand on top of Nico’s. “I promised Sherman I just—” he let out a shuddery breath. “Fuck…” Another shaky breath. “ Fuck…” And another. 

He was barely breathing, just huffy little gasps. Pale and glassy-eyed, trembling head to toe, Will squeezed Nico’s hand. Blood was still dripping down his chin. Nico wanted to wipe it away and hold his face gently.

Gods. He was pathetic.

“The blessing of Apollo is fading,” Will said, his voice low and gravely. “Usually, people don’t—they—oh gods…” he looked faint, still gasping, “Normally demigods have a stronger constitution than mortals, I don’t know why…I don’t—Is it—I don’t understand. ”

“You did everything you could.” Nico tried to keep his voice quiet. “Sometimes the Fates are cruel.”

“ Sometimes ?” Will wiped his still bleeding nose. “I just wish I’d done better. We haven’t lost a patient in so long I just—gods. What did I do wrong ?”

“ Basta! ” Nico snapped, gently punching Will in the chest. “Nothing. Things happen sometimes, everyone needs to die at some point.”

Maybe that was too blunt. 

Will buried his face in his hands, muffling more harsh sobs. 

Cautiously, Nico wrapped his arms around Will’s shoulders, easing him up into another hug. His skin wasn’t impossibly warm anymore. He felt like a normal, scared, exhausted kid. Blood soaked into the shoulder of Nico’s shirt.

He stroked Will’s hair like Bianca would whenever he cried.

“Why don’t I get you something to eat?” Nico asked, threading his fingers through Will’s hair. His skin began to burn and ache the more he held onto Will, but he refused to let go. 

He probably shouldn’t risk the walk to the Dining Hall and back—especially not alone—but his stomach was starting to growl, and Will was in absolutely no shape to go anywhere.

“No…No I can…” Will tried to push himself away again. Another strangled sob worked its way out of his throat, and he crumpled back against Nico’s shoulder.

“Can you really?” Nico rubbed little circles into Will’s back. It came across more mean than he wanted it to, but it did the trick. Will slumped even more. “Let’s say I’m just…I dunno, getting used to the cane?”

Will didn’t respond, shivering violently.

Nico eased out from underneath him, laying Will against the bed as gently as he could. He curled in on himself, laughing softly.

“Gods, I’m supposed to be doin’ shit,” he mumbled. 

Nico slipped off the bed carefully, catching himself on the bedside table before he fell. The silver cane was freezing beneath his hand, and his legs shook and ached with each step.

“You,” Nico said, pointing at Will. “Stay put. I’ll be back fast.”

Will nodded slowly, and Nico made his way out of the room.

The hallway was quiet and uncomfortable. 

It smelled vaguely of alcohol, and a little puddle of Will’s blood still layed spattered on the ties. Nico’s cane clacked awkwardly. There was a Sherman-fist sized hole in the wall just next to the door.

A little pang shot through Nico’s heart.

He remembered the impossible, boiling fury he’d felt when Bianca had died. Hell, it still lingered under his skin, bubbling to the surface every now and then. Sherman was no doubt feeling the same, awful, disgusting anger.

But Sherman was scary. He was huge, and muscular, and he could probably pop Nico’s head like a grape if the mood struck him.

Nico decided he would avoid him as best he could.

The minute he slipped out of the infirmary front door, he ran into a little girl—maybe eleven, maybe twelve?—with green hair and bags under her eyes. 

Literally, he ran into her. She bounced off his chest, nearly toppling them both to the ground.

“Lord, sorry—” Nico said, then stopped himself. That’s something Will would say. He gripped his cane to stay standing. “I-I’m sorry.”

The little girl laughed, her whole face scrunching up. “Watch where you’re going, big…guy…?” 

She raised her eyebrows, squinting at him. Her brown eyes darted back and forth. She reminded him of a little mouse, her mouth and cheeks twitching. She jerked her chin to the side every couple of seconds. 

“Oh my gods, are you that kid Will’s treating?” she asked, then muttered something to herself. “You are, aren’t you! Nico, isn’t it? Niccoló di Angelo?”

He nodded. (Although, he’d never get used to people using his real name.) She was still twitching, like someone had overloaded her with energy, but she seemed pretty annoyed by it.

“Kayla Knowles, Will’s cooler sibling,” she said, but didn’t offer her hand the way Austin did. She swiped a strand of green hair behind her ear. “Um…is he okay? I…y’know, I heard what happened.”

Nico glanced over his shoulder at the infirmary door, then back at Kayla, seesawing his hand. 

He really wasn’t sure what was up with Will. 

Sure, Nico had never seen him cry before—especially not like that—but he’d also barely known Will for a handful of days. Maybe he cried all the time, maybe this was the first time in years. Who really knows?

Kayla bunched up her eyebrows, frowning.

“I’m—” Nico gestured vaguely towards the Dining Hall. “I said I’d get him something to eat. I don’t—I don’t think he wanted to go on his own.”

Kayla only frowned more. “Oh, oh man…it’s that bad?”

Nico tapped the patch of blood on his shoulder. Kayla’s eyes widened. She rapped her knuckles on the side of her neck over and over. 

“Did he get hit again?” Her voice wavered. Nico nodded. “ Fuck , this always happens.” She flapped her hands a few times, glancing from Nico to the dining hall and back. “Did you ice it? Did he ice it? Did he check for cracked teeth? Broken bones? Who hit him? And where?”

Nico put his hand up, “Woah. Woah. Lentamente, per favore. ”

“Sorry—” she kept flapping her hands, rocking back on her heels. “Sorry. He’s just…really easy to worry about.”

The nerves building their way up in Nico’s stomach wanted to agree with her. 

Instead, he said: “One of his ear…things…? Is cracked. I don’t know if it’s broken though.”

Kayla hit her wrists together, her eyes darting everywhere but his face. “We should have spares in the cabin. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll get him some. Where is he?”

“My uh, my room,” Nico said without thinking. Kayla gave him a confused look, raising one eyebrow, and his heart dropped to the floor. His blood ran cold. “He—No. No no no. Don’t—gods, no. No. ”

“Gods, slow your roll, dude,” she said, putting her hands up. Her fingers were still twitching. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I’m…I’m getting food,” Nico said, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Great, I’ll check on Will, yeah?” She pushed past him without waiting for a response.

He watched her go, then shook his head slightly, like he was a dog shaking off water. That little girl was a lot to talk to .

Must run in the family, he thought.

He stumbled down the infirmary stairs, clinging desperately to the railing, praying no one could see him.

And no one really did. 

With the camp shirt and jeans, he practically blended into the crowd of bustling campers. He did notice, however, many other kids with canes like his, or crutches, or wheelchairs. He’d never taken the time to look around at everyone before. Never took the time to properly assess the camp.

He didn’t have the time to gawk, however. 

He was on a mission.

Get food fast, get back faster, and…be a good friend? Nico didn’t know how he was supposed to deal with situations like these. 

He never had to, before. 

Most people he hung around seemed to be allergic to their feelings—like Percy and Leo, with their impenetrable walls of sarcasm, or Reyna, who was just too busy and too focused for her emotions. Even Jason, who liked to pretend he felt nothing but being happy and being annoyed.

The dining hall was somber. 

Most kids had left to go home pretty quick after the battle, including more noticeable faces—namely the Seven quest demigods. Although…the Hephaestus table looked more sullen than most. 

The tables were noticeably barren, with only a handful of Athena kids, one girl at the Demeter table, and no one at the Apollo table. They must’ve all been busy in the infirmary.

Nico lowered his head, slipping past tired swaths of kids.

Back after the Battle of Manhattan, the dining halls had been lively—full of chatter and cheering and overall excitement that they had won . But now, less than a year later, no one was happy to win a second war.

Clarisse La Rue had her arm around Sherman’s shoulders at the Ares table. In her other arm, she was cradling baby Chuck, who was waving his meaty fists every which way. Nico almost smiled (that baby was freaking cute) but Sherman had his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking. Smiling might've been...insensitive.

The Romans all sat at their parent’s Greek-counterpart’s tables, awkwardly integrating with their siblings—all except for a familiar face.

Reyna was sitting at the head table with Chiron and Mr. D, the same way Nico had the year before. Her hands were folded, and her plate was empty. Her hair wasn’t in its protective braid anymore, spilling around her shoulders. Gaze trained on the table and eyebrows knit together, her expression was dark. 

Anybody else would’ve been wary of her, given her sharp glare and tense shoulders, but Nico knew better. He knew her resting face was just mean looking.  

She glanced up from her plate, and her whole face lit up.

She pushed herself away from the table, saying something to Chiron, before running over.

“Nico!” She skidded to a stop in front of him, putting both hands on his shoulders. “How are you?” There was a pause, and she followed that up with: “That blond boy told me you were on bedrest. Are you?”

“I’m fine. And uh. Kinda?” He glanced around the dining hall. Where was he supposed to get food here?

Reyna’s grip tightened slightly, “Then why are you… not on bedrest?”

“Will’s not…” Nico wrung his hand in a circle. “He’s not feeling well. I’m just getting us breakfast.” He glanced around the dining hall. “Speaking of, how do I…do that?”

Reyna pursed her lips to point to a Satyr and Nereid duo on one side of the hall, who were handing out plates to different demigods. 

That was an odd gesture Nico had noticed her make a ton of times on their quest. Originally he thought it was because her arms were preoccupied, then he thought it was because she was too tired to move—but it turned out to just be a way to point or gesture while being completely subtle about it.

He’d caught himself mimicking the gesture a lot more than he’d originally planned—a habit he was trying to break.

One time, in San Juan, she’d actually pointed to something instead of using her lips, and neither Nico nor Hedge knew what to do for a good couple of seconds. They’d stared at her for a minute, she’d glared them down, narrowing her eyes—and then they both jogged off towards where she was pointing.

“Wait,” she said, tapping Nico’s nose and snapping him back to reality, “How long are you locked down for?”

“Today’s my last day. I’m set free tomorrow. ” Nico put his free hand on her wrist, pushing her away from his face. He could feel the eyes of a few curious campers boring into the back of his head. He didn’t want to be the talk of the camp. Again. “Unless Will changes his mind, of course.”

“Of course. Like a dictator,” Reyna snapped her fist closed, shaking it in Nico’s face. “Boom. More infirmary time.”

“Yeah,” Nico agreed, “Boom.”

With a soft laugh, Reyna patted him on the shoulder. “Go get your breakfast, okay? I’ll find you later, there’s some stuff I need to talk to you about.”

That made Nico’s stomach turn, but he nodded. He squeezed Reyna’s wrist, then hobbled off.

The satyr—who had a hairnet on his beard and flowers strung between his little black horns—grinned big at Nico. He handed him a plate of some American breakfast foods. A few small sausages, twice slices of french toast, chunks of potatoes, and a sunny side up egg. 

It all looked alright, although the smell was kind of sickening. (There were so many different, greasy smelling foods. Good gods.) Though, it wouldn’t nearly be enough for two people, especially not someone as big as Will. that guy had to be at least 6ft.

With a slow, deep breath, Nico steeled his nerves before asking: “Could I get extra? I need to feed a friend.”

“Fuck yeah, my man!” The satyr grinned, scooping some more food onto Nico’s plate. Two more sausages, another egg, and a pile up of the little potato chunks. “You’re a new face, ain’tcha?! Name’s Tam!”

“Nico,” he said, pulling the plate to his chest, trying his damn hardest not to drop anything. The plate was significantly heavier now, which made his wrist ache and the remaining glass in his palms burn.

Tam grinned wider. “Nice name! I had a buddy named Niko a while back! Though we spelled it with a K. Is yours a C or a K? You know, he once ate a run over veggie burger for a single drachma. Or was it two? I don’t know. Wild guy, that Niko was.”

“Um, I spell it with a C,” Nico said, stepping back slightly. “And I…probably won’t be doing that.”

“I’m not hearing a no~ ” Tam sang, and Nico rolled his eyes so hard he could practically see his brain. That only made Tam laugh. “Seriously, hope to see you ‘round, kid!”

“Yeah, uh, same.” Nico turned to limp out of the dining hall.

Will was sitting on Nico’s bed, criss crossed, hands folded in his lap. 

The blood was off his face now, and the bruise on his cheek was swollen, ugly, and deep brownish red. His sandals had been discarded, and his socks had little sun and star decals on them. One of his hearing aids, the cracked and broken one, lay on the bedside table.

“Hey,” Nico said. When Will didn’t respond, he raised his voice slightly. “Hey?”

Will looked up, and smiled. It was crooked, the beaten half of his face not moving all that much. That only brought attention to his slightly snagged canine.

Nico stumbled over, handing him the plate before collapsing backwards on the bed. The mattress was cool against his aching arms and the back of his neck.

“Seriously, I'm sorry you had to see that,” Will said, poking the side of Nico’s face with a piece of french toast. “I usually compose myself before getting back to patients.”

Pushing himself up, and wiping syrup off his cheek, Nico shrugged. “It’s okay.”

Will hummed. “Not really.”

Nico grabbed one of the sausages, chewing on it slowly. Will was halfheartedly rolling a piece of potato under one finger.

“You better be planning to eat that,” Nico said. “I’m not eating anything you’ve rubbed your hands all over.”

“I am,” Will replied, popping the potato in his mouth. “See?”

The air around them was thick, beating down on Nico’s shoulders. He wanted to do something to alleviate it. Anything . 

“It…uh. It wasn’t your fault,” Nico said. Which maybe wasn’t a great idea, but it's what he needed to hear after Bianca’s death.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Will said a little too quickly, gripping the sides of the plate until his knuckles turned white.

“Right.” Nico took another sausage. He was starving . If he hadn’t been wound up over the morning’s events, he probably would’ve devoured the whole plate in a matter of seconds. “I saw Reyna.”

Will nodded slowly.

“She asked if you were like a dictator, running the infirmary,” Nico said, clenching his fist where Will could see it. “Boom.”

He let out a small huff—one that might’ve been a laugh under better circumstances—and placed the plate on the bedside table, brushing his shattered hearing aid to the side with two fingers. For a second, Nico thought Will would get up and start his usual bustling.

Instead, Will sat back down, then laid against the mattress, hands laced together on his stomach. Nico glanced between the plate, then Will’s sullen face. With a grunt, he stuffed the last piece of his sausage in his mouth, and nestled down beside Will. (With a good foot of room between them, of course. Nico’s poor heart could only handle so much.)

“I also saw your sister,” Nico added. “Little green one.”

“I know,” Will said, “she stopped by a bit ago.”

Nico drummed his fingers on his stomach. “She’s a lot. Why does she twitch?”

“You know, we’re not actually sure.” Nico could feel Will shrug, the sheets moving with his shoulders. “I thought it was Tourette's Syndrome at first, but that was a dead end.”

Nico had no idea what Tourette’s Syndrome was, but he kept his mouth shut. There was plenty he didn’t know about the modern world, he didn’t want Will to think he was completely in the dark. 

Back when he was younger, they called people who twitched like that erratic, lunatics, nutjobs—the like. Nico was pretty sure if he said anything like that about Kayla, he’d get popped in the mouth.

“Gods, I hate being a medic,” Will said. His voice was so strong so suddenly that Nico almost recoiled. He fought against it. “Don’t get me wrong, I love helpin’ people…” he rolled over on his shoulder to face Nico, hissing against his bruised cheek. Nico rolled over as well. “But gods, I hate bein’ a fuckin’ medic.”

“Can’t you quit?” Nico asked, although he knew it was a stupid question the moment it left his mouth.

Will’s eyes dimmed. “Nope. I’m the only one who can heal heal people. E’ryone else in my cabin can administer treatment just fine but other than that it’s…just me. It’s tirin’.”

Will ran his fingers along the wrinkled bed sheet, tracing out each dip and fold like he was charting a map. “I like helpin’. I like healin’. But gods, I miss my Ma.”

“What?”

“I can’t visit, I can’t call,” he shrugged. His voice was getting watery again. “I’m barely allowed to leave camp, as is. I can’t fly all the way down to Texas.”

Nico wound the sheet around his own fingers slowly. “Yeah, I kinda know what that’s like.”

Will gave him a curious look.

“My mama’s dead,” Nico continued. “She died in like…1940.”

“Mmm.” Will took to playing with the bedsheets as well, instead of just stroking them. “Can’t you summon the dead? Why don’t you just talk to her?”

“I’m not able to call her up,” Nico said with a sigh, “My father won’t let me. It’s forbidden or…something.”

Will snorted, “That’s stupid.”

“Yeah. But it’s probably also stupid to insult a god,” Nico said. 

Will made a little noise of agreement. 

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Nico continued: “I could always shadow travel you down for a couple hours. If you want. Like…just to stop by and say hello. You wouldn’t miss any infirmary duties.”

Will’s expression brightened for a second, then it dropped immediately. He shook his head. “No way, dude, that’d kill you.”

With a half laugh, Nico rolled his eyes, “Not right now. Just at some point. Whenever you’re really missing her.”

His eyes softened, “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Will smiled (like, really smiled, with teeth and crinkled eyes and everything) and Nico’s heart did a little tap dance against his ribs. “Gods, you’re awesome.”

Nico shrugged.

His stomach was doing summersaults. Praise like that was uncommon on the Argo II, and even more uncommon in New Rome. People were just expected to go above and beyond in Rome, and no one had time on the Argo for compliments. And no one liked dishing them out apart from Hazel and Piper, and occasionally Frank.

Something behind Will’s eyes readjusted, like a puzzle piece finally getting put in the right slot. “Wait, how’re your hands holdin’ up?”

“Huh?”

“I totally forgot to check all that glass. Gods, I’m an idiot.” Will pushed himself up, gently grabbing Nico’s elbow to help him do the same. Nico wanted to protest (he didn’t need Will’s help to sit up ) but the spot on his arm Will was holding burnt like a brand. It made Nico lightheaded and dizzy.

“Is it buggin’ you?” Will asked. His hand left Nico’s arm as he got to unsteady feet. One of his knees dipped, and he laughed at himself, shaking his head. “Wow, Jesus—jelly legs.”

Like someone had flipped a switch, Will quickly got back to his usual flitting around. He turned the lights on (although he flinched against it, Nico noticed) and he darted back and forth between the closet and the cabinets and Nico’s bedside table.

The smell of rubbing alcohol filled the tiny room as Will scrubbed down his hands.

“There’s a bag with some tweezers and stuff inside it in that little drawer right there,” Will said. “Couldja grab that for me?”

Nico complied, rifling around in the tiny drawer. The tweezer bag was buried under a trash heap of other junk—bandaids, plastic gloves in little baggies, a tupperware of Ambrosia squares—all doctor-y stuff. He pulled the bag out, holding it as far from his chest as he could. He didn’t know if he needed to or not, but he couldn’t risk messing something up and ruining Will’s mood even more.

“Thanks,” he said, suddenly at Nico’s side, taking the little bag and placing it on the bed. He sat down next to Nico ( Right next to him. Their knees were bumped up against each other). The mattress sank underneath him, pulling Nico even closer.

In one movement, Will gathered both of Nico’s hands in his, unwinding the bandages on his left hand.

He was wearing blue plastic gloves, but Nico’s heart still stuttered and stumbled over itself at the slightest touch. Will’s skin was still warm, even through the plastic. Nico prayed to whoever would listen that Will—who’s thumb was pressed right up against his wrist’s pressure point—wouldn’t notice. 

He noticed anyway.

“I know you don’t like being touched,” Will said as he pressed his gloved thumb down harder, making Nico’s fingers curl in on themselves. “But this is better than letting your cuts fester.”

Nico half-thanked whoever had been listening to his prayer. That had been better than the alternative. ( Hey, why’s your heart beatin’ so fast? It’s not supposed to go that quick. Are you feelin’ okay? Do we need to do more tests? Lemme examine you again, a’rite? )

Nico shuddered at the thought.

Bandages fully peeled back from his hand, Nico finally got a good look at the horrorshow that was his palms. Jagged cuts criss-crossed his hands, oozing red and white. The edges of each cut were tinged green, the skin blistering and swelling by his joints. Little bits of black glass shimmered under the watery infirmary light. The blood and puss was a sharp, disgusting contrast against Will’s clean blue gloves, and Nico’s bruised and pale skin.

His head spun. 

He’d seen injuries—of course he had—but this was new. It was like he’d torn his palms across hot pavement and dunked them in acid. His stomach felt like it was climbing up his throat. His breathing quickened.

Will glanced up from his hands, raised an eyebrow, then dug his thumb into Nico’s wrist harder.

Slowly, but surely, Nico’s nausea faded. Swallowing hard against the bile in his throat, Nico sighed. His stomach settled back down in his gut. (Although his heartbeat was still going a mile a minute. Now he had an actual reason.)

“Neiguan pressure point. Pericardium. P-6,” Will muttered, carefully pulling a piece of glass out with his little tweezers. It didn’t hurt as much as Nico had been expecting. Hell, it didn’t even hurt at all. Will set it down on a paper towel on the bedside table.  “Pressing it calms and eases nausea and vomiting,” Will continued, “It’s used a lot in post-chemotherapy acupressure.

It mostly sounded like gibberish to Nico, who was still trying not to gag. His physical nausea might’ve been alleviated, but his brain still scrambled against his skull trying to understand what he was looking at.

Will continued pulling out little pieces of glass, absentmindedly running his thumb up and down Nico’s wrist. Eventually, there was a small pile of glittering black and gray glass sitting on the table next to them. 

An extra stubborn chunk lodged right at the base of his thumb seemed to give Will some trouble. He wriggled it, tugged it, and even pushed it back and forth—but nothing seemed to get it loose.

“Oh lord,” Will said, leaning his head back slightly. “This’ll probably hurt, m’kay? But it’ll be over, quick as a wink.”

Nico nodded. Will rubbed his wrist a few more times, then took both thumbs, pushing the skin around the glass together. Sharp, white hot pain flared up Nico’s fingers. He nearly screamed, but—true to Will’s word—it was over almost instantly.

Will took the glass in his fingers, examining it carefully.

“Oh, nope, I was wrong,” Will said under his breath, squinting harder. “That’s not glass.”

“Not gl— not glass? ”

“Nah, see?” Will scooted closer to Nico, so close that their thighs touched, and held up the piece of not-glass. Unlike the rest of the black glass on the table, this thing was bronze colored—stained with blood, and jagged at the edges. “It’s shrapnel. Can’t believe I let that stay in your hand so long.”

Nico stared at the hunk of metal. 

“Festus,” He said after a few moments.

“What?”

“Leo—Leo’s dragon.” He reached out to grab the piece of metal, but Will pulled it back. 

“Oh…” Will hummed, dropping the metal alongside the rest of the glass. “Wish I got to speak to him more. He seemed interestin’.”

Nico shook his head, “He was, but lord—uh—sorry, gods, he was a lot.”

Will went to say something, then paused. His eyebrows went up, and he bit back a laugh.

“Lord?”

Face going hot, Nico turned away from him.

“That’s my thing, Neeks,” Will said, poking Nico in the chest. “Your thing is…I dunno, being emo?”

“What’s… being emo ?”

Will laughed properly this time, tossing his head back. Nico felt his face get even more red. Peeling his gloves off and tossing them in the trash can, Will wiped his eyes. 

“Gods, I love talkin’ to you, you’re a riot,” he said with a soft smile. “Lemme just…”

Will took Nico’s hands again, delicately maneuvering around the cuts. Summer-y warmth spread through Nico’s fingers, through his veins, easing up the stinging pain. His grip was loose on the backs of Nico’s hands, but it sent his heart slamming against his throat.

“ Buoni dèi, ” Nico mumbled, trying to force his heart rate to slow. “I’ll never get used to that.”

With a snort, Will shrugged. He looked slightly lightheaded, his eyes going unfocused. “Man, I’m not so used to it either. It makes me all woozy for a while.”

He squeezed Nico’s hands gently before his grip went lax. He was definitely looking paler.

“I’ve got other patients to check in on,” Will said, taking his hands back. “Thanks a ton for bringin’ food, though. You rule.”

Will patted Nico’s thigh, giving him a warm smile before jumping to his feet. His face was still puffy and bruised, and his eyes were still kind of watery—but Will snatched up another piece of french toast, ruffled Nico’s hair, and disappeared out the door.

Nico watched the door click shut, then stared down at his hands. The jagged, ugly cuts were already fading, some of the bigger wounds shimmering like Nectar.

His face still felt hot, and his heart was hammering in his skull. Each stupid, crooked smile, each dropped G, each time he toussled Nico’s hair—gods, it was way too much. 

His mind was racing. It was tripping over itself, trying to explain what the hell he was thinking. What the hell he was feeling .

(He knew already.) 

He knew, he just didn’t want to admit it to himself. 

Laying back down, Nico let out a low, tired groan.

Not again.

Chapter Text

Nico shot up in his bed. Hand clasped over his mouth. His hair was already knotted again, falling in his eyes. He couldn’t see the room.

It was too dark. He couldn’t see anything .

He’d been lucky. 

He’d known he’d been lucky, going almost three days without a nightmare. Maybe it’d been the calming feeling of the infirmary. The private room. The tension off his shoulders.

Maybe. Maybe it was one of those.

Everything around him was closing in. 

Collapsing. 

The smell of stomach acid and blood and pomegranates seeped into his brain. All around him. 

All around him, all encompassing.

He could still hear the screaming. The disembodied shrieking he’d heard so clearly. 

Bianca. Bianca’s questmates.

He’d heard the sickening snapping. Crunching. Bones breaking like twigs. He’d heard it all echoing through his skull and he hadn’t understood . He didn’t. He couldn’t. 

He still can’t. He still can’t understand.

He’d heard their screams. 

He’d listened to them scream and cry and wail and he didn’t understand because he was ten.

Digging his fingers into his hair, Nico pressed his palms hard against his ears. He had to shut it out. 

All of it. 

All of it had to go because there was so much and he was so little and he didn’t understand. He didn’t understand . He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand.

It was too dark. Too dark.

Too dark. He couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t see and he couldn’t feel and he couldn’t hear anything but the screaming and crunching and wailing and crying.  

It was too much.

Too much.

Cold bronze froze under him. Against his back. Against his neck. All around him.

Bronze ceiling walls and floors.

The room flooded with light.

No bronze.

There was no bronze and no screaming but he didn’t have his sword . He was unarmed he was defenseless he was vulnerable he was—

Something touched his shoulder.

Liquid terror pooled in his stomach.

Before he could think. Before he could pause. Nico had whoever’s neck in a tight grip. 

Tight tight tight grip. 

Digging his nails into warm warm way too warm skin.

Warm.

Very warm. Too warm.

Blisteringly hot…

His vision cleared.

Will was peeling Nico’s fingers off his throat one by one. He didn’t seem startled. He didn’t seem scared. His eyes were calm and his face was calm and he was way too calm . 

He was too calm for where they were.

Will pulled Nico’s hand away.

Red welts laced his throat. Like a decorative necklace. Little sliver shaped cuts stood on the side of Will’s neck. Nico’s stomach tightened.

Will threaded their fingers together.

“Hey,” he said softly. 

So softly Nico could barely hear him. 

He could barely hear him about the screaming and the crunching and the crying and the wailing and the—Nico clutched at his head again. Will’s hands went with his. Wrapped in his hair.

“ Hey, ” Will said again. “Look at me, yeah?”

Nico shook his head. He grabbed at his hair, tugging harder.

“Breathe…” Will’s voice was a little rough. He must have just woken up. “ Breathe .”

He couldn’t. He couldn't, he couldn't, he couldn't.

His breath was stuck in his throat. A hot lump stabbed against the insides of his neck.

“It’s scary, I know, but whatever it is, it can’t hurt you,” Will’s tone was softer now. Gentler. One of his hands was braced on Nico’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing in slow circles. “You’re doin’ great.”

The hand threaded in Nico’s slipped away, coming to settle on his chest, right above his rabbiting heart.

They both ignored how the very tips of Will’s fingers slipped through Nico’s skin briefly.

“Look at me,” Will said. When Nico didn’t comply, Will cupped his hand to the back of his head. “Come on, this’ll help. Just look at me.”

Nico brought his eyes up.

Someone whispered behind him. Two people. Three. Building voices, mounting and climbing over each other. Hushed, impossibly whispering, growing louder and harsher. 

Begging him to slip into the shadows. Begging him to die with them. 

Begging, begging, begging.

He stared at Will’s face. He didn’t look him in the eye.

This was humiliating.

“Good job,” Will said as he pressed his hand on Nico’s chest a little harder. “Breathe in with me? Slowly.”

Shaky breath after shaky breath. 

The whispering only grew louder and louder. Around them, the floors oozed blood, the red and brown stalagmites growing sharper and larger. Bubbles of puss—healing monsters and titans and giants alike—slowly burbled and ballooned until they popped.

“Hey, keep breathin’,” Will said, running one hand over Nico’s hair. “You’re just havin’ a panic attack, that's okay, that’s normal.”

If Nico could think straight he’d maybe ask what the hell a panic attack was.

“It’ll pass.” Will’s hand from Nico’s chest to his shoulder. “Can you stand up for me? Movin’ is good for you, we needta get your blood pumpin’.”

There was another strangled, gurgling scream somewhere behind Nico. Right behind him. Right behind him.

He jerked around.

Nothing was there.

Nothing was there.

Just a cold, scratched bronze wall. Little tally marks etched into the side.

His heart thrashed against his ribs, tearing his lungs to shreds. Will’s touch on his shoulder and head was fading. He only stared at the bronze wall behind him. He only leaned into the screaming and crunching and whispering and wailing.

“ Nico ,” Will’s voice was harsh out of nowhere. When Nico glanced back at him ( The jar vanished. The jar vanished. ) he instantly softened. “Whatever it is you’re seeing, it isn’t real. Or—or at the very least, it’s not…it’s not physically here.”

With shaky hands, Nico reached out, grabbing the front of Will’s shirt like it tethered him to the ground. To reality.

Very very carefully, Will helped him climb off the bed. Both of his hands— way too warm, way way too warm, way too warm— were on Nico’s shoulders now. Will eased him to the ground.

Nico staggered. Will caught him.

“Come on,” Will said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Whisper. A whisper. 

Behind him the overlapping whispers swelled. Filling his head. Stamping out all of his other thoughts. People begging him to join them. To die with them. To become a shade like he was always meant to be.

They screamed and clawed at his ears. At the back of his neck. At the back of his skull.

“I can’t—” he started, cutting himself off with a ragged sob. “I can’t— ” 

He can’t what?

Think? Breathe? Speak?

None of the above? Mark all the boxes?

Will’s hands disappeared off his shoulders.

His tether snapped.

The fabric wound in his hands didn't feel real. Ratty orange camp shirt. The word half was faded. Underneath read “ head medic”. Those words were also faded. The brown ink disappearing into the orange.

It wasn’t real.

It couldn’t have been real. It had to have been Tartarus playing another trick on him. Messing with his mind. Warping what he saw and what he didn’t.

The whispering grew and warped. Shouting. Scraping. Screaming.

Will pressed his hands firm over Nico’s ears, pulling him forward slightly.

The whispering stopped. The screaming stopped. The scraping and the scratching and the crunching and snapping stopped.

His hands were knotted in the front of Will’s shirt. They were standing in his room in the infirmary, both barefoot, both exhausted. The room wasn’t dark. A small lamp in the corner was on. The wood floors, slightly warped with age, were cold under Nico’s feet.

He wasn’t trapped. 

The door was propped open, the curtains in the far window were pulled shut, but fluttered ever so slightly.

Nico could kind of hear Will’s voice, but he couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Will didn’t seem to remember that, with his hands over Nico’s ears, Nico couldn’t hear a word he was saying. Instead, he waited patiently for an answer, smiling. Nico only blinked. Will stared at him, raising an eyebrow. After a few more seconds, he must have realized something, his eyes widening.

Laughing to himself, Will took one hand back.

The whispering picked up again. Boring into Nico’s skull.

“D’you wanna head outside?” Will asked, “It’ll be good for you.”

Immediately, he cupped his hand back over Nico’s ear. The whispers faded into nothingness again. His thumb ran over Nico’s cheekbone.

The moment Nico nodded, Will’s whole face lit up. He pulled Nico right up by his side, leading him out the door. His warm hands were still cupped around Nico’s head, which made his stomach turn in on itself.

They were out the door and in the field in a matter of moments. 

Wet grass dragged against Nico’s ankles. Will didn’t seem terribly fazed by it, but Nico cringed every single time a thicker, wetter piece of grass stuck to his foot. He internally thanked the gods when they stepped on the tilled dirt of the strawberry fields. It still felt disgusting—dry, grainy dirt sticking to wet skin—but it was an improvement.

Will gestured to the cabins, over-dramatically mouthing Harpies but Nico shook his head, pulling them both to a stop.

“The harpies are scared of me,” he said, hoping his voice wasn’t too loud or too quiet. “They’ll leave us alone.”

Will’s shoulders sagged, and he smiled softly.

His hands carefully left Nico’s head, hovering just a few inches away. They both waited. Nico held his breath. 

Maybe the gods decided to grace him, just this once. The whispers didn’t come back. All he could hear were the chirping crickets and some nymphs rustling in the tall grasses.

He gave a halfhearted thumbs up.

Sighing, Will dropped his hands on Nico’s shoulders. They stayed there for a moment, before Will went bright red, and practically leapt back. He held his hands up like he was under arrest.

“Cold showers and being outside at night can help both panic and anxiety attacks. Cool air and cold water calms blood flow, and over lengthy periods of time, diminishes surpluses of cortisol,” Will said all in one breath. Hands up, face still a little flushed, he looked like he was being interrogated. “So we’re uh…outside. 'Cause it's cold.”

“Cool.” 

One of Nico’s knees wobbled, and Will quickly eased them both to the ground.

The dirt was infinitely worse once he was sitting in it. Little ants and beetles skittered around between fuzzy leaves and vines. The strawberries were all pretty much gone—harvested and sold—only a few, tiny stragglers left behind. 

Will plucked one of the runt strawberries, rolling it between his fingers. It was barely the size of his thumb nail, tinted mostly white and green. Only the very very base of it had started to turn red.

“I don’t actually like strawberries,” Will mumbled, probably more to himself than to Nico. “But we get ‘em with like…every meal.”

“Every meal?” Nico asked, yanking his foot away from a centipede.

“Every single meal.” Will fake shivered. “It’s torture. Fruit’s just way too sweet for me, y’feel? I’m more of a vegetable guy.”

Nico wrinkled his nose. “I’ll pass on both.”

Laughing, Will bounced the strawberry off Nico’s chest. “You’re such a child.”

Nico rolled his eyes, rifling through the leaves of a nearby vine, looking for a decent sized strawberry to throw back. He didn’t find one, settling for tossing a pebble at Will. It nailed him in the shoulder.

“Hey! That’s not fair!” Will kicked some mud at him, then pulled his leg back, waving one hand. “I’m sorry, sorry, you’re recovering, I’m not. No dirt kicking on my end.”

“Coward.”

Will kicked more dirt at him.

“You’re the worst ,” Nico said, shying away from a curious swath of ants.

Will grinned, pulling a large leaf from one of the vines. His smile faded. “How are you feelin’, by the way?”

“Um…” Nico pinched his lips, “Hang on. Is there…is there an English word for sfinito ?”

“…Maybe? No idea what it is, though,” Will said with a shrug. “But I think I know what you mean.”

Nico picked a leaf of his own, tearing it into little pieces. For what might have been the first time, the silence that hung over them was comfortable. Will lounged backwards on his hands, staring up at the stars. Nico wanted to stare as well, but he’d had just about enough of ‘sleeping under the stars’ for more than one lifetime.

Will still had heavy, almost red eyebags, and slightly bloodshot eyes. Teartracks stained his face like they’d been branded into him. His shirt was rumpled, and wrinkled terribly from where Nico was death gripping it.

With a deep sigh, Will turned to look at Nico.

“What was…” he waved a hand next to his head, “…That all about?”

Nico kept shredding his leaf, furrowing his eyebrows. “I don’t know. It just happens sometimes.”

“You missed my question,” Will pressed a little harder, leaning forward. “ What happened?”

Nico pressed his thumbs together, dropping the shreds of his leaf on top of a wriggling worm. “Sometimes…I don’t know why, but I hear people talking to me. Usually when I’m stressed.”

Something in Will’s expression shifted, but he didn’t say a word, gesturing for Nico to continue.

“They want me to be a shade with them. I-It’s not too serious,” Nico said, staring at his hands. “Been like this since I started shadow traveling.”

“Since you—” Will blinked a few times, touching his forehead with the backs of his knuckles. “Oh…okay, okay.”

“It uh, doesn’t usually go away that fast,” he admitted, his voice dropping a little, “Thanks.”

Will smiled, “The fresh air helped?”

More like you helped, Nico thought, but kept that to himself. “It did.”

“ Yes! ” Will pumped his fist. He flushed all the way down his neck, dropping his hands in his lap. “Sorry. I get excited too easily.”

Nico cleared his throat. “It’s nice, actually. After all the doom and gloom on the Argo II, that is.”

Will’s eyes glinted, crinkling as he grinned impossibly wide. Nico smiled back.

There was another stretch of warm, comfortable silence. Nico twirled a strawberry vine around his fingers. Will was still staring at the stars, his eyes wide and bright. Without the sun, they seemed almost navy blue—much darker than they were earlier. Nico wanted to focus on them longer, but Will glanced over at him. He immediately turned to the sky again, rubbing the back of his neck.

One of the harpies screeched above them. Will nearly lept out of his skin, digging his fingers into the dirt. Nico only stared up at the harpy, wishing he wasn’t lounging like an idiot. Maybe he would’ve been more intimidating then. The harpy hissed and glared back—Nico’s gaze didn’t waver. He’d seen far too many monsters to be scared of a harpy, of all creatures.

She beat her leathery wings, huffed, and darted off over the cabins.

“Oh sweet Lord above—”  Will grabbed the front of his shirt, like he was trying to catch his heart before it jumped out, “I ain’t never see one of ‘em up close—” he ran his other hand over his hair, “Christ—she’s ugly ‘nough to turn sweet milk to clabber.”

Nico’s brain spun over itself. Will’s accent usually wasn’t too strong, and he could still understand it—but now Nico was grasping at straws, trying to piece together what he meant.

“Clabber?” he decided on.

“Sour milk,” Will dropped back against the strawberry plant. “Man you’ve got serious balls, starin’ down that thing like it owes you money.”

“What?”

Will waved his hand. “Nothin’, nothin’.”

Fiddling his thumbs together, Nico scooted over next to Will. He didn’t lay down (he figured that’d be bad on his injured back) but he sat barely a few inches away from Will’s shoulder.

“Nice night, ain’t it?” Will asked softly.

“Yeah.”

He jolted, like he wasn’t really expecting Nico to respond. They shared a small, quiet laugh—the same as if they were sharing a secret—and Will smiled up at him. That stupid, crooked toothed smile that made Nico’s insides flutter.

“I don’t see why you ever left,” Will said, “You’re plenty nice to spend time with.”

Nico shrugged, “It’s more complicated than that.”

“I don’t doubt it…” Will paused for a moment, pushing himself up, so he and Nico were sitting shoulder to shoulder. When Will was on the ground, their position had felt normal—but now? Now Nico’s heart thrummed. Their elbows brushed, and heat radiated off of Will’s skin like his own veins were boiling. 

Somehow, this position felt far too intimate. It made Nico want to crack his skull open.

“I’m glad you decided to stay.” Will’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper.

“Um…” Nico’s mouth was lagging behind his brain. “Yeah. Me too.”

“So uh, I know you’re still recoverin’ and all,” Will said, turning slightly to face Nico. “But I gotta do a supply run tomorrow, and you’re being discharged. Would you wanna head into town with me? See the real world without bein’ in mortal peril all the time?”

Nico froze up a little. 

Being in the big city sounded stressful, maybe even overwhelming. He’d lived for two weeks or maybe three (he lost count) on the NYC streets. It was not a place he wanted to go back to.

But at the same time, Will looked a little bashful, a little hopeful—and his stupid expression was churning Nico’s stomach.

“I never go into the big city, so you wouldn’t have to worry ‘bout other people,” he offered. He gave Nico that same smile with the same twisted canine.

And he caved.

“Yeah, that sounds fun,” Nico said. Sirens were blaring in his head (You know what’s happening! This went horribly last time! Remember Cupid, moron!) but he ignored them as best he could.

Will grinned even wider, bumping their shoulders together. He quickly scrambled to his feet, offering Nico his hand, brushing dirt off his shorts with the other.

“C’mon, Ghost boy,” he said, “Let’s get you back to bed.”

Nico took his hand, letting Will pull him to his feet and lead him back to the infirmary. 

The heat from his skin was starting to get a lot less unbearable.

Chapter Text

Nico woke up to someone poking his face over and over. 

Letting out a low groan, he waved the giggling person away. He knew it was Will before he even opened his eyes. There was no disguising the heat that poured off his fingertips.

“Wake up, Death boy~” Will sang. “It’s release day~”

Nico cracked one eye open, “Vaffanculo. ”

He fake-gasped, “That’s no way to speak to your doctor.”

Muttering various Italian curses, Nico pushed himself up. His arms ached. A new, trembling pain blooming across his back. White hot needles stabbed up his spine, tearing the skin apart. He dug his nails into the wrinkled bed sheets, his breath coming in shallow huffs.

“Oh—” Will carefully placed his hands on Nico’s shoulders. “Hang on.”

That amazing, summer-y warmth flooded Nico’s back, chasing away the burning ache. Nico wanted to lean into it, but the warmth woke his brain up a little more. Something that had been scratching at the back of his head finally came up, front and center.

“No, you hang on,” Nico said, shifting slightly, pushing Will’s hands off his back. 

Will raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“You…” Nico tossed the words around in his head, trying to come off in the least rude way possible. “Always seem…tired after you do that. And you said you have stuff to do today, no?”

Already a little pale, Will nodded. “I do. Why?”

“I—” Nico let go of Will’s wrists, waving his hands around. “Can deal with the pain, I’ve done it before. It’s okay. But you need…um…you always look dizzy. That’s bad for a doctor.”

Wrinkling his nose, Will shrugged. “Sure, yeah, but you’re comin’ with me today, aren’t you?”

Nico blinked.

“Last night, I asked if you’d wanna come, just to like…” Will rubbed the back of his neck, “Um…you know, get some fresh air? ‘Cause you’re bein’ discharged, and all.”

“Oh…” Nico nodded, “Yeah, no—uh…yeah, sorry I forgot. But you’re—not fun when you’re…dizzy.”

He regretted the way he phrased it the second the words left his mouth. Snorting, Will turned away. His shoulders shook as he tried (and failed) to suppress his laughter. He waved his hand in his face, holding up his finger in a one moment gesture.

“Don’t you dare laugh at me, Solace.”

“Shut up—” Will said through half swallowed giggles, his hand over his mouth. “Oh my gods—you’re so stupid.”

“Hey!”

“Just—let me heal you, m’kay?” Will’s face had turned slightly red, his eyes watering as he tried not to keep laughing. “You’re my primary patient—”

“I was your primary patient,” Nico cut in. “I’ve been discharged, remember?”

“Don’t remind me!” Will put on a fake melancholy expression, his hand over his heart. “I’ll miss you ever so dearly.”

“Dramatic,” Nico said, biting back a smile. It clearly didn’t work, as Will’s whole face lit up, and he pressed the bit on.

“Who else will I get to over explain medical procedures to…” Will frowned, his eyes shining.

Elbowing him in the gut, Nico rolled his eyes. “Oh, you’ll move on. I’m not the only dense demigod there is.”

“Far from it. Did I ever tell you about the time Harley came in and was like I forgot to tell you I broke my ankle, Mista Will! ” Will said with his stupid, crooked toothed smile. “That little asshole was lucky it was an oblique fracture, and we didn’t have to do any surgery. But it was still total murder to treat.”

Nico’s brain short circuited at Will’s smile. He didn’t even know what an oblique fracture was. 

“Hold on, have you done surgery here before?”

Will bunched up his eyebrows, sucking his teeth. “Once or twice. Not counting helping deliver a baby.”

Nico couldn’t imagine having to lay down for surgery, knowing full well his doctor was a fifteen year old boy who was probably wearing flip flops with his scrubs. He’d rather risk operating on himself. How he would pull that off, however, Nico wasn’t sure.

“It certainly wasn’t pleasant,” Will added. “I’ll spare you the gorey details.”

“ Grazie. ” 

“Of course, of course,” Will said. He hopped to his feet, stumbling and catching himself on the bedside table. “You get dressed, yeah? There’s plenty of clothes in the closet behind you.” He gestured vaguely over Nico’s shoulder. “Then, would you want camp breakfast, or would you want to buy something in town?”

Nico thought it over. Camp breakfast was always ridiculously greasy—fatty, miserable American foods. Mr. D always said campers requested it, but Nico couldn’t bring himself to believe it, much less bring himself to stomach so much of it.

“In town?” Nico asked. “The food here is so…same-y.”

“Awesome!” Will said, shooting Nico a thumbs up. “I’ll look over a map, or bug a native New Yorker for directions, or…somethin’.”

Laughing to himself, Nico gave Will a look. “Solace, it’s a big grid. It’s really not that complicated.”

“I am a southern boy,” Will said, poking him in the chest. His face was slightly red. “I don't do these big city streets too well.”

Nico rolled his eyes as hard as he could.

“Okay, okay—” Will clapped his hands, “Your cane should be in the closet, get changed, and meet me by the infirmary exit in fifteen?”

“Got it.”

Will grinned, ruffling Nico’s hair and patting him on the head, before turning on his heel. 

The door clicked shut behind him.

The minute he was gone, Nico let himself deflate, rolling his shoulders and hunching his back slightly. He found himself holding his breath around Will more—constantly tense, keeping his spine straight and his shoulders back. Not that he thought Will would hurt him (that was only a background fear at this point), but rather, some part of him wanted to appear more put together. More appealing.

Gods…what was wrong with him…

Nico staggered to his feet, shakily making his way to the closet.

His cane was inside, just as Will promised, along with a small pile of bright orange shirts, and a plethora of different size and style jeans. Piper would know all the different styles. She’d lecture Nico about which ones would suit him best, or something dumb like that.

It was difficult, given his shaking knees and the sharp pain in his back—but Nico managed to wriggle into another camp shirt and a pair of slightly tattered jeans. He absolutely hated the orange, but he didn’t exactly have an option.

He had to try on several pairs of the sneakers in the closet, before he found some that fit. They were ratty and off white, the laces were frayed, and one of the tongues was torn slightly—but at least they were comfortable.

Nico took his sweet time getting to his feet, begging internally for the pain shooting up his legs to just go away . His cane was freezing cold, which soothed the leftover fever in the injuries on his palm.

He hobbled awkwardly out of the room (which he vowed to help clean out later). The hallway was stuffed with people, bustling and talking. Kayla waved to Nico, thankfully without stopping to chat. She had a huge bundle of bandages in her arms, and a box of what seemed to be plastic gloves balanced on her head.

Nico had to worm his way between people, nearly falling off his feet several times.

It took him a bit to get to the front of the infirmary—but luckily, Will wasn’t there either. He gave himself a moment, hand braced on the wall, to collect himself and catch his breath.

It was a surprisingly pleasant day out. There were a few campers chatting on the big house steps, and a few more hanging in the strawberry field. 

Down in the arena, Percy and Annabeth were sparring. No swords, just wrapped fists. Annabeth's hair was done up in rows of neat little braids, golden beads hanging off the ends. Percy’s shirt was already sweat soaked—but they can’t have been training too long. Nico watched carefully, leaning on his cane. 

Percy ducked under Annabeth’s right hook, catching her in the side with his elbow. Without a moment's hesitation, she tucked her arm around his neck, whipping him around in a circle before laughing and letting him go. He laughed as well, a hand on his head like he was dizzy. She said something to him, wringing one of her hands in a circle. He nodded, and put his arms up in front of his face with a dopey grin.

Annabeth widened her stance, landing a few direct punches against Percy’s forearms. He barely stumbled. She punched a few more times, hopping from foot to foot, trying to find an opening.

It was nice to watch them, Nico realized, without feeling that bitter churning in his gut. They were just a couple of kids having fun and messing around. It was nice to see Percy as just…some guy. A kid and his girlfriend, both of whom were Nico’s friends.

His friends .

“Hey, man!” Someone said, directly beside Nico.

Nico flinched so hard he nearly fell off his feet. A warm hand grabbed him by the shoulder, holding him up.

“Sorry, sorry,” Will laughed, his nose wrinkled slightly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay.” Nico waved his hand dismissively. “I was just…uh… come si dice...? Lost in thought?”

“Lost in thought is right,” Will confirmed with that stupid crooked toothed smile. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

Nico glanced back at Percy and Annabeth. She was ruffling his hair while he crouched over a little. Both of them were laughing.

“Nothing important.”

Will put his face right next to Nico’s, following his line of sight.

“Oh!” He patted Nico on the shoulder. “Yeah, no, it’s wicked cool to watch those two practice together, ain’t it? Plus,” Will let out a low whistle, “Annabeth’s got shoulders to rival Heracles.”

Nico tried to smother a laugh behind his hand.

“Hey! You can’t hide that from me!” Will pointed an accusatory finger in Nico’s face. 

Nico rolled his eyes, but dropped his hand—almost like he’d needed Will’s permission to enjoy himself. Gods, this was getting embarrassing.

“Okay, so we have a mortal money stash in the big house that I grabbed.” Will headed down the steps, gesturing for Nico  to follow. “It’s a good three hundred dollars, so let's take care of it, yeah?”

“Is that a lot?” Nico asked. It was a bit awkward to get down the stairs with a cane, but Will offered a stabilizing hand without a word. Nico’s palm buzzed with static and nerves where their skin met, although it wasn’t quite as bad as it usually was.

“Yeah, you could say so,” Will laughed.

Nico hummed, stumbling off the steps. He wiped the static off his hand on his jeans. They picked their way through the strawberry patch, being extra mindful of the budding flowers. Nico had learned the hard way that nymphs do not enjoy it when you step on their flowers. And to be frank? He wasn’t a fan of waking up with a bed full of worms and dirt.

Will was sifting through bills in a thick, peeling leather wallet, chewing on his lip. His eyebrows were furrowed. The bruise on his cheek had faded rapidly from the day before, but it was still pretty prominent—a worrying splash of deep red across the side of his face.

“You’ve got a staring problem today, dontcha?” Will asked without looking over at Nico.

“Oh—I’m sorry.” Nico felt his face get hot. He stared at his feet.

Will chuckled. “Nah, it don’t matter none. I totally get it.”

Nico kept quiet, stuffing his free hand in his pocket.

“You know,” Will said, coming to a stop at what Nico assumed was the camp’s border. “When I was younger, I had the biggest crush on Percy.”

Choking on his own spit, Nico nearly fell face first into a patch of flowering strawberries.

“What can I say?” Will shrugged. He absentmindedly grabbed Nico’s shoulder to stabilize him. “He was cute, and I was young.”

Nico didn’t say a word. That familiar bud of white hot terror bloomed in his chest, right beneath his sternum. It wormed its way through his lungs, seeping into every vein and artery it could find.

“I mean like, okay. He’s still pretty fuckin’ hot, but I’m not into him anymore,” he continued. “There was this one mortal guy I saw on a supply run last year who I was swoonin’ over for a while, but I never saw him again. Plus, my ma always said to never go for an inner city boy.”

“I—” Nico started, his voice cracking. He shut his mouth again.

“Oh, sorry.” Will glanced over his shoulder, “Is this a weird topic? I don’t have all that much to talk about outside the infirmary. I don’t do much other than my job.”

“No, I—” he chewed the inside of his cheek. “It’s fine, it’s fine, you keep talking.”

Will chatted cheerfully as they made their way through the woods, moving his hands in delicate, detailed motions. 

It took them a good twenty minutes to break through the forest, and Will had well since talked Nico’s ear off. That boy couldn’t go more than a few seconds without starting up some new conversation—despite how few and far between Nico’s responses were.

“Oh, sweet lord above—” Will waved a hand in front of his face, scrunching his nose up. “I definitely smell the city. Whew boy.”

“It doesn’t smell that bad,” Nico said, sniffing the air. “Just…smoggy?”

“When you live your whole life in a camp with nothin’ but fresh air? Yeah, it is that bad .”

“I slept on the streets for a while, you get used to it after a bit.”

Will frowned, “You…uh, never mentioned being homeless before.”

“It never came up,” Nico said with a shrug. “I didn’t think it was all that important.”

“It brings up more health concerns, that’s for sure. But we can talk about that later.” Will pushed aside a large thicket of branches, bowing slightly. “After you, my good man.”

Nico let out a small laugh, dramatically bowing back, his hair flopping in his face. “Why, thank you, sir.”

The two of them shared a bout of laughing, bumping shoulders as they headed onto the sidewalk. 

The city was louder than Nico hoped, however there weren’t nearly as many people as he’d been bracing himself for. Some people shouldered past them, but all in all it was rather empty.

“Uh…m’kay…” Will pulled a crumpled sheet of paper out of the leather wallet, squinting at it. “The Duane Reade pharmacy should be open…it’s on 4702 5th street. That’s not terribly long of a walk…I don’t think? Uh…we should still get breakfast first though, I think. Whatcha in the mood for?”

Nico shrugged.

“Doesn’t have to be breakfast food, it’s past ten, most places should be open,” Will offered. “Just whatever you wanna eat.”

“Could you pick?”

Will groaned, his head lolling back. “Gods…okay, um…I think there’s this place called Go Nonna off 44-64 11th street? If you’re in the mood for Italian.”

“I… am Italian, Will,” Nico said. He politely ignored how horribly Will mangled the word Nonna.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Yeah, I’m in the mood. It’s been a long while since I’ve had some actual Italian food.”

Will grinned stupidly wide, his eyes shining. Nico smiled back—not quite as hard, though, he still wasn’t all that used to it.

They walked side by side for a while. 

Nico tried to soak in the sun as much as he could. He’d been holed up for barely three days, but going without sunlight for so long was honestly quite exhausting. Will seemed to be basking as well, his eyes half lidded. His hair almost glowed, which Nico had to tear his eyes away from before he got caught staring for the third time in the past half hour.

“Ooh!” Will said, taking Nico’s free hand. He gestured to a pretty little building with a cursive sign. Nico had to guess it read Go Nonna , but the swirly, swoopy font was murder on his dyslexia. “There it is!”

Will yanked him inside. 

The interior was gorgeous, with plush carpets and shimmering gold lights. Everything smelled warm and welcoming, Nico couldn’t stop himself from sighing into it.

Nico spotted the receptionist first—a lovely young woman with a hooked nose, and beautiful beaded earrings. Her little nametag read Arianna Buscaglia. Nico gestured for Will to stay put, and hobbled up to the woman.

“ Ciao! Io e il mio amico stiamo cercando un tavolo? ” He asked. The woman’s eyes lit up.

“ Salve signore. Dovremmo avere un'apertura,” she responded. Her voice was much thicker and deeper than Nico had been expecting. Quite frankly, it suited her. “ Tavolo solo per due?”

“ Sì signora,” Nico said with a nod. He glanced over his shoulder, shooting Will a dumb smile. Will had one eyebrow raised, his mouthing hanging open slightly.

“ Proprio così, signori, ” Arianna said with a smile. 

She picked up two menus from the table in front of her, scooting around the side. She had fine pressed suit pants, embroidered with golden thread at the hems, which Nico thought were weirdly pretty. Will caught up next to Nico, giving him a double thumbs up.

Arianna set them at a table near a window, placing the menus down on opposite sides. She gave Nico a smile, and said she’d be back with water in just a bit.

The second she was gone, Will dropped his chin in his hands. His grin was dopey and his cheeks were slightly red—which made Nico’s stomach do panicked summersaults.

“Gods, that was so cool,” he said. “I knew you were fluent but…just…oh my gods… wow. ”

Nico felt himself flush all the way down his neck, “It’s—really no big deal.”

“You speak two whole languages, man,” Will slapped one of his hands on the table, “That’s pretty freakin’ cool.”

“I—” Nico stared at the tablecloth, pulling at one of the little wrinkles. “Um…I-It really isn’t. Most people at camp do.”

Will shrugged, “But your voice drops so much…like, goodness. It’s all smooth and stuff.”

Nico hid his face behind the menu, praying to as many gods he could think of that Will couldn’t see how miserably red his face was. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to compliments. Especially not compliments from Will. There was something about the delivery (the accent, it was definitely the accent) that made Nico’s insides squirm.

His stomach growled as he skimmed the menu. Everything just seemed so much more appetizing to him than all the Greek style camp foods. His mouth was watering just looking at it.

“Gods…I haven’t had bucatini carbonara in literal decades…” he mumbled, which made Will laugh. “Could I get a soda?”

Will laughed harder, “Of course! You ain’t gotta ask me. Couldja tell me how to pronounce this?”

Nico leaned over, trying to find what Will was pointing to.

“Ah! Oh, gnocchi alla sorrentina. It’s mostly fluffed and boiled potatoes. It’s better than it sounds.”

“ Gnocchi alla sorrentina, ” Will echoed. Repeating the phrase to himself a couple times. “ Gnocchi alla sorrentina… A’rite, I think I got it…?”

“You’re a fast learner,” Nico said—mostly to himself.

Will flushed, waving his hand dismissively. “Y’know, my ma always said that. I do my best.”

Nico kicked his feet under the table as he read the menu. Arianna brought them glasses of water, and let them know a waiter would be on their way in a moment. Nico took the water with a quiet ‘ grazie ’, spinning the straw around, clinking the ice chunks together.

A cute waiter with a nice suit introduced himself as Ethan Dimitri. He and Nico had a clipped conversation in Italian, although his accent was a little more wonky and hard to understand than Arianna’s had been. He brought the two of them sodas (Will got a Coke, Nico got a Ginger Ale), complimented Will’s hair, and took their orders. Will ordered the gnocchi alla sorrentina and Nico ordered tonnarelli cacio e pepe .

“So like…” Will drummed his fingers on the table. “Okay, I know you’ve been discharged, but would it kill you if I asked you to check in once or twice a week? Just quick little once overs—nothin’ all that big.”

“Why?” Nico took a sip of his drink. The bubbles stung the cuts on the inside of his mouth.

“You really do worry me, Neeks.” He didn’t meet Nico’s eye, tearing at the corner of his napkin. “It feels like you downplay your symptoms. It—I don’t know. I’d just…I’d have a bit more peace of mind if I could give you a check up every now and then. To see if you’re doin’ alright, and all.”

Nico’s stomach tied itself up in knots, butterflies moshing in his gut. It was admittedly…a little odd to have someone care so much about his well being. “Sure, yeah. I can…y’know, check in whenever. I—I’m not exactly busy these days.”

“Thank the gods,” Will said with a heavy sigh. He dropped his shredded napkin. “Like, you’re my friend, dude. At least I hope we’re friends—and it kills me to see how much pain you’re in. Physical pain, I mean. I get pretty worried.”

“I can tell,” Nico laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. Will had such a weird talent with making Nico all nervous. “Thank you for the cane, by the way. I never actually—-I-I mean, well, a lot was going on.”

Will’s expression soured, the light in his eyes dimming ever so slightly. Nico’s gut twisted in on itself. 

“It’s been a tough week, that's for sure,” Will mumbled. His shoulders slumped. “It’s…Christ, Neeks, it gets real hard sometimes.”

Nico reached across the table without thinking, gently laying his hand over Will’s wrist. “I know, il dolce , I know.”

The words slipped out before he could stop himself. Il dolce. A sweet. Pudding. An old, dust covered nickname his mama used to call him when he was feeling crummy, just to make him smile. Nico regretted it almost the second he said it.

Thank the gods, Will didn’t seem to mind.

“Sorry, sorry,” Will said softly, placing his hand over Nico’s, dragging his thumb back and forth across his fingers. His eyes were watering, red rimmed and tired. “This is supposed to be a fun outing. Nothin’ heavy and depressin’.”

Nico shrugged, “I don’t know, I’m more used to the heavy stuff.”

“Exactly my point. It should be a nice, fun day off,” Will said, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. “For the both of us.”

“Uh…” Ethan held out two plates of steaming food, “Scuse me, boys.”

Both Nico and Will jumped back. Nico held his arms all folded up to his chest. Ethan placed the plates down, wishing them a good meal, and heading off.

He and Will ate mostly in silence, save for the clinking of utensils, and a few spared comments: “Lord above, this is good as all hell” and “This is better than I remember it being ”.

“Okay,” Will said, taking a small sip from his drink. “We need some new medical scissors, ‘cause the ones we got are startin’ to go to shit, and let me tell you, it ain’t easy to work around. We also need more compression bandages, aseptic wipes, disinfectant, and a fuck ton of plastic and/or latex gloves.”

“Watch your language,” Nico scolded playfully, trying to bite back his smile. “We’re in public.”

“Oh! Sorry!” Will said, ducking his head down a little and clapping a hand over his mouth. “Force a’ habit. I’m not usually outside of camp.”

“So where do we get this stuff?” Nico asked as he twirled some pasta around his fork. “Drug store?”

“Yeah, basically. I know where e’rythin’ is, don’t worry.” Will took another swig from his drink.

Nico couldn't stop himself from staring at his adam's apple bob up and down. There was something so fascinating about Will. Maybe it was the little scars across his throat. Maybe it was the freckles on his cheeks like misdirected spray paint. Maybe it was his calming nature. Maybe it was a horrific amalgamation of all of the above.

“Neeks, seriously,” Will said. His cup clinked hard as he set it down. “Is somethin’ the matter? You’ve been starin’ all day.” He carefully touched his cheek. “Did the bruise get worse?”

“No I—” Nico sucked a breath through his teeth, bracing himself like he would for an attack. Holy crap. He was really considering this. “I actually…wanna tell you something. I-If that’s okay.”

Will blinked in surprise. He wordlessly gestured for Nico to continue. 

Regret tore at the inside of Nico’s gut, shredding his stomach lining, threatening to push his breakfast up his throat into his lap. He’d thought this through. He was 90% sure Will was like him. 80% sure. 

Okay, 40%.

Will’s expression didn’t change. Mild curiosity—one eyebrow raised, slight wrinkle on the bridge of his nose.

“I—Gods…um…” Nico tore at the skin on the side of his thumb nail. Blood bubbled up in his cuticle, dripping down the side of his knuckle. “This is hard to say…I—”

He stopped. 

Will’s stare was too intense, unwavering and undeterred by Nico’s slight trembling.

“I’m a—a queer.”

A stretch of silence spread across the table. Will’s eyebrows were pinched together.

Fear pooled like liquid fire in Nico’s stomach.

Had he misunderstood? Was Will not really a queer like him? Had he just outed himself, endangered himself, and ruined a friendship in one fell swoop? Was he going to have to run again? Was this the end of his fresh start?

“OH! ” Will said after a moment. His sudden exclamation felt like a punch to the gut. 

Nico shrunk away. Will was bigger than him. Much bigger. They were in a secluded area, far from people Nico knew. Bianca had warned him not to tell anyone for this exact reason. 

“ 1930’s !” He continued, laughing slightly, a bewildered expression on his face. “I completely forgot. No one says a queer anymore. As far as I’m aware, anyway. You threw me off!” 

Nico flinched again, and his face softened instantly. Will reached across the table, placing his hand over Nico’s, just as Nico had done earlier. 

“I know it must be tough, comin’ from that time and bein’ gay.”

Nico pinched his lips, nodding. Waves of nausea rolled over him. He swallowed thickly.

Will sighed through his nose, putting his other hand over his mouth. “Look. I’m from the south. It—Well it ain’t quite the same, but…” he listlessly shrugged. “It ain’t great either, bein’ gay down there.”

“What…” Nico’s voice frayed. “What was it like?”

Will’s eyes turned sad. A distant, almost empty expression crossed his face. “Scary. Real scary.”

“Demigod scary?”

“Nah. Mortal scary,” Will corrected. “But—oh boy, 30’s Catholic Italy? I woulda lost my damn mind.”

Nico dipped his head. “Bianca always said I should keep quiet about it—” he put a finger to his lips. “ Tranquillo, soldatino, ” he muttered. “Be quiet, little soldier. She meant well. She wanted to protect me, but…you know. I-It’s tough.”

“It’s tough,” Will echoed. “My Ma’s the same way. She supports me, last I checked. She’s just worried that others…won’t. I love her to bits, but lordy it stings sometimes.”

He squeezed Nico’s hand, furrowing his eyebrows. Nico carefully maneuvered his hand, flipping it over so he and Will were palm to palm. He ran his thumb along the top of Will’s knuckles.

“It’s kinda nice to talk about it,” Will admitted. His voice sounded a little sheepish. “A lotta people at camp—they just don’t get it. They come from supportive areas, they’re not gay, etcetera etcetera. Hell—Kayla has two dads! A-and it’s nice that they’re all happy but…it’s also nice that someone knows what it’s like, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Nico said. A harsh lump was rising in his throat. “It’s—It’s nice.”

The two of them sat in a bitter, tired silence for a minute before Nico spoke up again.

“I was scared,” he started. He stared at the table cloth, his eyes burning. “Cupid, he…forced me to tell Jason. I wasn’t ready, I—I don’t know. He kept calling me a coward, he kept telling me I wouldn’t ever be able to accept myself, I—I don’t—gods…I think he was right.” Nico huffed. His words were sticking together. “I don’t—I don’t think I can ever a-accept it. I am a coward.”

“Hey…” Will squeezed his hand. “Neeks, look at me. Look at me, yeah?”

Nico glanced up.

“Dude, you are, by far, the least cowardly person I have ever met.” Will’s expression was warm and welcoming. “You transported the fuckin’ Parthenos across continents. You fought in a war, half fuckin’ dead, and came out standin’. You—I don’t know what you saw, durin’ those years you were gone from camp, but gods be fuckin’ damned, you’re still pushin’, and that is admirable. That’s—That’s more than admirable! Hell, it’s incredible!” Will squeezed Nico’s hand, giving him a gentle smile. “And there is nothin’ cowardly about any of that.”

“ Maledizione...devi smetterla…” Nico mumbled, sniffling and scrubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“Not until you believe me,” Will said, his voice impossibly soft. “M’kay?”

With a weak, watery laugh, Nico nodded. “Okay.”

Chapter Text

Ethan showed up to take their plates a little while later, dropping the check on the table in front of Will. They argued over how much to tip for a second, before Will decided on leaving the waiter a fifty dollar bill, saying “Ah, Chiron won’t miss it.”

Their conversation left Nico drained, swaying on his feet as they made their way out of the restaurant. 

His cane kept him upright, sure, but it didn’t offer too much else when it came to stability. Will hooked an arm over his shoulders, hugging him gently as they followed a sheet of poorly scribbled directions to the drugstore. Nico didn’t fight it. He didn’t have the energy. And if he was being honest? He didn’t care at this point.

He leaned his head on Will’s shoulder, trying to read the messy directions.

“What’s it say?” he asked. His voice was frayed and husky.

“Ehh…” Will seesawed his hand, “Buncha junk ‘bout street numbers and whatnot. I dunno, Percy wrote it for me, and this kid, let me tell ya, he…” he sucked a breath through his teeth. “…Really ain’t got the best handwritin’…”

“I don’t have good writing either, cut him some slack.” Nico elbowed Will in the ribs. “I never made it past primary school, if I’m being honest with you.”

Will let out an astonished laugh, “Never?”

“Nope, not even once. I basically dropped out in my fifth year. Demigod stuff got in the way.”

“Yeah…it tends to do that. I got to the end of middle school ‘fore quote un-quote Demigod stuff got too much and I had to drop out. Oh shit, this is our turn—” Will dragged Nico left down the sidewalk, nearly toppling them into a couple of young ladies, who both laughed and pushed past them.

“ Scusa, scusa, ” Nico mumbled, but the girls paid him no mind.

Will chuckled to himself. “ Scusa ,” he echoed. “ Ah ! That’s so cute, I can’t get over it.”

Nico elbowed him in the gut as hard as he could. “It’s not cute . It’s Italian.”

“Nah, man, you’re cute. The Italian’s just a bonus,” he said dismissively, waving one hand. “Ooh! I think that’s it!”

He yanked Nico off his feet before he even got the chance to be flustered, dragging him into a little store. The door slid open, as if by magic.  Nico had to do a double take.

“What…?” He tugged on Will’s sleeve, “Look at the…” he gestured to the door, which had slid shut again. “The uh…the door, why…?”

Will snickered, “Automatic doors, man. They’re new to this century.”

“Automatic…?”

“So you’ll summon an army of the dead, and that’s totally normal,” Will said, taking Nico by the arm. “But an automatic door is where you draw the line?”

Nico nodded fervently. “It’s crazy.”

Will rolled his eyes, a small, fond smile playing across his face. “ You’re crazy, di Angelo. C’mon, grab a basket and help me stock up, yeah? I didn’t bring you along for leisure and chattin’.”

“Yeah right,” Nico said with a laugh.

They each grabbed a red plastic basket, breaking apart to weave their separate ways into the drugstore. Nico was given a short supply list. Size L latex gloves, Hydrogen Peroxide, Liquid Cold & Flu medicine, Tylenol Extra Strength Capsules, and disinfectant wipes. It was simple enough, Will had borrowed a pen from some girl at the counter so he could write it down on Nico’s arm.

The goal was simple: Find all the items on his list before Will found all the items on his list. Easy enough.

Nico hobbled through little linoleum aisles, his cane clacking rhythmically. He was on a freaking mission. He found the Tylenol first—but it took him way too many precious seconds digging before he could find the Extra Strength Capsules. The bottles rattled obnoxiously with his shaking hands, but he tossed them into his basket and moved on.

He found the Hydrogen Peroxide next. Will hadn’t given him a set amount of bottles to grab, so he just pushed an armful into the basket (the weight nearly knocked him off his feet, but Will wouldn’t need to know that).

Gloves were easy—they were tucked into the far back, a row of protective sanitary supplies from smallest to biggest. Nico grabbed two boxes of L sized gloves, taking a moment to marvel at how big they were. His hands weren’t small, by any means. They were lanky, and knobbly, and scarred to the high heavens—but gods above, they weren’t anywhere near as big as Will’s.

The disinfectant wipes were in the same aisle as the gloves—sanitary items and whatever. That was easy.

It took Nico embarrassingly long to find the Cold & Flu medicine. The ink on his wrist was smudging, and his legs were starting to seriously tremble and ache. He was slowing down a lot. At this rate, Will would beat him, and find all of his stuff first.

Nico stumbled and staggered, leaning all his weight on his cane and cursing in Italian under his breath. Pain flared up his spine, exacerbated by his still healing injuries.

“ Fottuto dio… ” he muttered. The basket he was carrying wasn’t doing his back any favors.

He pressed on, gripping his cane so hard his arm shook.

By the time he found the Cold & Flu medicine, his legs were seconds from giving out on him. He tossed a couple boxes in his basket, giving himself a moment to lean against the shelf.

Gritting his teeth, he rolled his shoulders. The pain was bad, but not unbearable. There was no use bugging Will over it. He’d give himself some time to lay down and recuperate back at camp.

Nico and Will met up at the register (Will had won the game, and rubbed it in like the smug bastard he was), pooling their baskets together. They counted up all their items, Will counting off on his fingers. He guessed it should amount to about 200 USD, but neither of them were good enough at math to be totally sure.

Nico was starting to feel a bit woozy, pain still racing up and down his spine. The world seemed to spin beneath his feet, warping like it was made of thin plexiglass. The muscles in his cane arm twitched. He really should mention it to Will—but they had so much stuff to transport back to camp. There was no way he would drain Will’s energy over some pain Nico could tough out.

“You a’rite?” Will asked under his breath, leaning in slightly. “You look crazy pale.”

“Im—I’m always pale,” Nico said through a clenched jaw. A white hot spike rammed through the small of his back.

With a snort, Will said, “Yeah, that’s true.” He put out his hand, palm up. “Gimme your basket. Imma tally the stuff again.”

“It’s heavy,” Nico warned, passing the basket over.

Will raised his eyebrows, lifting the basket like a barbell weight a couple times. His shoulder flexed under his camp shirt. Nico had to force himself to not look. It’s not like Will was incredibly buff, per se. He had a good layer of baby fat still on him, but underneath, muscles clearly lay taught and ready—without a doubt, he could easily bulk up. 

For a second, Nico’s mind strayed to Will working out. Sword fighting in camo pants, greeves, and a camp shirt. 

How well would he do on the climbing wall? He was a bulky guy, that's for sure, but Clarisse La Rue was a bulky girl, and she was a pro at the wall. Maybe he could scale it easily. Maybe Will was more athletic than Nico had originally assumed. 

Nico noticed a thin, white scar that had clearly been stitched up a while ago, trailing from Will’s bicep up under the sleeve of his shirt. It seemed to poke out a little under the collar, but that could’ve been a different, similar sized scar. Nico kind of hoped it was a different scar.

“Heavy?” Will asked with a fake laugh. Nico’s attention snapped back immediately. He felt his face get hot.

“You’re the worst .” Nico’s voice broke on the word worst . The god’s must’ve been out for him.

“You do have like…a crazy low body fat percentage,” Will said, tilting his head. His eyes flitted over Nico like he was breaking down a confusing patient file, sucking his teeth. “So you likely don’t have enough to support a ton a’ muscle. We can totally work on that—simple fix.”

“I—” Nico paused, glancing down at his arms. Will was right, he was pretty skeletal. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been after…everything…but it certainly wasn’t flattering. “Simple fix?”

“Oh so simple,” Will assured with a half laugh. Both baskets in one hand, he hooked his free arm around Nico’s shoulders, propping him up wordlessly. “This stuff should just about drain the money we have. If you’re not feelin’ well, we can hop on back to camp?”

“No, no I’m fine,” Nico said, shaking his head. “It just hurts. That’s how it is sometimes. I can deal with it.”

Will paused. “You know I can…fix that, right?”

“Ah but—” Nico waved his hand aimlessly. “You’re carrying the things, and the healing makes you so… Qual è la parola? Not tired…no, um…” he snapped his fingers. “ Svogliato? What’s the English word?”

Will pursed his lips. “Um…l-listless…? I think…?”

“Oh…yeah, that’s the one.”

“Okay, sure—” Will shifted the baskets on his arm. They both shuffled up as the line moved forward. “I get tired. Whatever. That’s the price of a hymn to my dad. But it’s worth it, man. I like helpin’ people.”

Nico hummed. “Weren’t you crying on my cot the other day? About how tired you were?”

With a scoff, Will rolled his eyes. “That’s low, di Angelo.”

“I’m just saying!” Nico raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. His cane clattered to the ground. His legs burned as he crouched to pick it up.

It felt good just to joke around. After so long alone, wrestling through the misery of Tartarus, and his peer’s terror on the Argo II—he needed someone he could just laugh with. 

Will dumped everything on the counter, striking up a conversation with the cashier about music, the weather, and some other nonsense.

Nico mostly tuned it out; he knew next to nothing about modern music. 

As stupid as he felt, he simply savored the twang in Will’s voice; the way the sun seeped through the windows behind the cashier; the faint smell of some previous customer’s perfume, still lingering in the air. Life outside of being a demigod. The beauty of being…some normal kid.

Something deep in his gut settled. A ball of anxiety slowly thawing away.

“What do you boys need all this stuff for?” The cashier asked in astonishment. Her name tag read Sara . 

“Ah, we’re counselors in trainin’ for a boy scout troop!” Will answered without a moment’s hesitation. “The boys run through supplies so fast, it’s like they eat ‘em. Why, hell, uh—Mikey alone coulda gone through four boxes ‘a bandaids if we didn’t stop him. Right, Neeks?”

“Uh…” Nico blinked. “Right. Mikey’s um…Mikey’s always busting his knees. Trees, rocks, sticks—you name it, Mikey’s hurt himself on it.”

Sara let out a soft laugh. Will snorted, hiding behind his fist.

“Kids, amirite?” Will said, raising his eyebrows. Something flashed behind his eyes that caught Nico’s attention. An oddly somber look—but it vanished so quickly, Nico assumed he was seeing things.

“ Right ,” Sara agreed, scanning the last few items. “I’ve got two girls of my own, and oh my goodness, are they a handful! One of them just learned to speak, and she’s been yelling her little head off for hours on end.”

“Oh my gods, I was the same way!” Will sifted through the camp wallet. “Accordin’ to my Ma, the minute I learned my first words, there was no shuttin’ me up.”

“He never grew out of it,” Nico said with a half smile, half eye-roll.

Will scoffed, turning to face Nico. “Well I’ll be damned. An insult from the mouth ‘a the Ghost King himself.”

Nico whipped around, stage-whispering: “You heard about that?! ”

With a laugh, Will turned back to Sara, giving her an apologetic shrug. “This man can tell a killer ghost story. The kids nicknamed him Ghost King behind our backs—but I found out eventually.”

He winked at Nico, who fixed his gaze firmly on his shoes. 

“For an extra ten cents, would you like a paper bag?” Sara asked, muffling giggles behind her hand. 

Will glanced at the pile of supplies on the counter. “Oh absolutely, yes please.”

He handed Sara a little silver coin, maybe a third of the size of a drachma. Nico had never seen a coin like it before. Not up close, at least. He must’ve looked just as confused as he felt, because Will let out a soft laugh.

“It’s a dime,” he whispered, leaning right next to Nico’s ear. “Ten cents.”

Nico shivered. “Um—cool.”

He had no idea how much ten cents was, but he wasn’t about to ask in front of the cashier.

They paid, Will gathered the bag in his arms, and they headed out.

Will was weirdly quiet. He’d been a chatterbox on the way, and he’d been a chatterbox in the store—but now he stared into space, his eyes dull. There was a larger than average freckle just above Will’s lip, which twitched whenever he moved his mouth or wrinkled his nose.

Nico savored the quiet for a moment, basking in the sun, letting the cool breeze brush against his neck. 

But…after a few blocks of complete silence, that ball of worry built up in his stomach again. Churning and digging, like there were moles in his gut who were trying to find their way to the surface.

“Ah, um…” Nico cleared his throat, “What’s…what’s up?”

Will snorted, that stupid little freckle twitching. “What?”

“You look upset,” Nico said, staring back down at his cane. The methodic clunking kept him focused.

There was a long pause, before Will heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I mean, I guess I am.”

Nico frowned slightly, “What’s wrong?”

Will paused.

“If I tell you, could you…” he sighed, shifting the bag in his arms. “Could you promise not to think less of me?”

“Of course.”

Will gave Nico an almost desperate sort of look. “Promise?”

The ball of worry ached in his gut again, growing bigger and bigger—but he nodded. “I promise.”

Will took a slow, deep breath. “Look, I—gods, I know I get worn out. From the hymns and stuff. It makes me feel all…hollow—” He patted his chest. “Right in my lungs. Like, I dunno, there’s a blackhole in me eatin’ up my energy.”

“Will…” Nico said softly.

“It wasn’t always like this,” Will continued. “It was always tiring, but…this is new. It—It started at the worst fuckin’ time. Right before Gaea rose and started screwin’ with camp. Somethin’ like…changed. I dunno. But now it feel like I’m usin’ all my own strength to heal people, a-and I ain’t callin’ on my dad anymore.”

He ran a hand over his hair, squeezing his eyes shut for a second.

“I guess it shouldn’t be a problem, but now it…fuck, Nico, it means I gotta take breaks in the infirmary. I’m wastin’ precious time ‘cause I can’t get my act together. People's lives depend on me and I—I’m lettin’ ‘em down.”

“Will,” Nico started, trying to keep his voice level. “That’s not your fault. You—people need breaks. That’s just…that’s how we are.”

“No, Neeks…” Will shook his head. “It’s—fuck…healin’ people is the only way I can feel good about myself. It makes me feel useful. Like people actually—like they actually need me—” he let out a bitter laugh, “—how fuckin’ selfish is that? How pathetic am I, that savin’ people’s lives makes me happy ‘cause I did somethin’, not that a fuckin’ person didnt die. ”

They walked in silence for a moment.

“You don’t have to be useful,” Nico said softly.

Will grunted.

“Seriously. You don’t have to be useful to be…cared about.”

“But why should they care if I’m useless?” Will asked, his voice impossibly small. “If I’m not helpin’, what reason do they have to like me?”

Nico blinked in surprise. He tried to respond, but his voice failed him. 

Will was the last person at camp Nico could imagine disliking. He was kind, he was funny, he had that stupid, slightly twisted canine that made his smile just a little lopsided. He was the first person at camp who didn’t flinch when Nico looked at him. The only person who made eye contact with him and didn’t falter. The first person he wasn’t related to, who treated Nico like a human being, and not a weapon, or a monster, or a curse.

“Exactly.” Will’s voice was sour. Angry. He hugged the paper bag tighter to his chest, cardboard boxes clunking together inside.

Nico frowned, “But…I like you.”

Will didn’t say anything.

“Seriously,” he continued, staring at the sidewalk ahead of him. “You—You always treated me like I was just some kid. I’ve never…no one at camp treated me like that. You didn’t treat me well because I was scary, or intimidating, or weird—you treated me nice because you are insufferably sweet. I like you, because you’re the first person at camp who didn’t care that I’m a…taboo kid. I was just another camper to you. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to be…just another camper. It was a dream come true, meeting you.”

Will stayed quiet. They walked side by side for a while in total silence.

Finally, he laughed, sniffling and rubbing his face. “Man, I’d hoped this would be a fun, stress free outing. I’d hoped we could just have some fun together.”

“Stress free doesn’t work for demigods.” Nico shrugged.

“You could say that again.”

Nico bumped their hips together.

“Also,” Will started again. His voice got all hoarse. “Mikey was uh. What we used to call my brother. He uh—he passed. I don’t know why that’s the first name that came to mind.”

“Mikey?”

“Mike. Michael Yew.” Will gestured with a flat palm, just at Nico’s shoulder. “Barely 4’6. ‘Nough attitude to make up for it, though.”

“Didn’t he—” Nico chewed his lip. “Didn’t he die last summer?”

Will’s expression tightened. “Yeah.”

Nico pressed his arm against Will’s.

“I’ve uh—I’ve lost a lotta siblings,” Will gave a bitter, half hearted laugh. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”

“Oh—oh my gods,” Nico glanced up at Will, his eyebrows knit together so tight his face ached. “Will, no. No you don’t just—you don’t— Will… ”

Nico couldn’t think of the words fast enough, floundering slightly. He waved a hand in a circle, but the words simply wouldn’t come to him.

If you had told Nico a few days ago that he’d be this concerned about the cute, happy-go-lucky, gifted son of Apollo, he would’ve scoffed and walked away. Maybe he would’ve raised an eyebrow, or rolled his eyes—but he wouldn’t have believed you. Not in a million years.

On the outside, Will seemed practically perfect. He was calm, he was collected. He was pretty, and talented, and favored by his godly parent. Everyone at camp knew him, and everyone at camp loved him. He was friends with even Mr. D and Clarisse La Rue, for Hades’ sake.

To see him this hollow was…jarring, to say the least.

“Sorry, you—you know what it’s like,” Will sniffed, rubbing his eyes. “I’m out here preachin’ to the choir.”

“Will, it’s…it’s okay,” Nico said softly. 

“I’m sorry.”

They fell into silence as they turned off the sidewalk, pushing their way through the brush.

Will made Nico wait on the porch while he ran inside the infirmary, made rounds, and put away all the new supplies.

It felt pretty bad getting kicked outside instead of following Will, but Nico was mostly fine with it. Mostly.

Nico stared out at the rest of the camp. He spotted Annabeth and some big, burly guy, in a very heated match of tetherball. One of Annabeth’s sisters was whooping and cheering so loud, her voice echoed around the valley. Annabeth’s braids were all pulled into a little ponytail, and she was wearing a camp shirt that looked so big on her, that it must have been Percy’s. 

Soft, wispy blue clouds swept across the sky, like a dry brush painting. The sounds of campers chattering, broken up by the occasional wild cheering from that Athena girl, was almost like a lullaby to Nico. A soft medley of life, swelling and seeping through the camp.

This whole place teemed with life.

Sure, it reeked of death as well—shrapnel scars tore across the grass from Festus’ explosion; the Athena Parthenos stood tall and regal, her shadow pouring over the field; charred trees and bloodstained dirt patches speckled the entire camp. But despite all that, despite all the tragedy that hung around Camp Halfblood, it was a safe haven.

Nico realized, with a start, that this place might have… finally become the home he and Bianca had been searching for.

He smiled to himself, leaning heavily on his cane.

Maybe he could make a life here. Maybe he could be happy. For real this time.

Will came back out a good twenty minutes later. His eyes were puffy, and his face was slightly flushed. He didn’t say a word, just looked at Nico sadly, and collapsed in one of the deck chairs.

Nico hobbled around, carefully settling in the chair next to Will’s.

“Didn’t mean to be such a downer,” Will said after a few moments. He didn’t look at Nico. “Seriously. But I liked hangin’ out with you.”

“Yeah, no, yeah,” Nico said. He let his cane fall to the floor, clasping his hands on his stomach. “This was fun. I had fun. I don’t mind the depressing stuff.”

Will snorted. “Next time, let’s make it a proper date. Without all the cryin’ and shoppin’ and shit. Sound good?”

Nico flushed all the way to his scalp. Date ?

“Yeah. That sounds good,” he said.

Will fell silent again, one hand on his stomach, the other hanging off the side of the chair. He stared out into space, his eyes unfocused and watery. Biting back the spike of nerves in his stomach, Nico reached out cautiously.

He slid his hand into Will’s, leaning back and staring up at the porch roof. Will didn’t say a word, but he squeezed Nico’s hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Nico could see him smiling, ever so slightly.

“Are you—” Nico started. “Are you okay?”

“Not yet,” Will admitted. “But uh, I think I will be. I told Kayla I needed a break for a little while.”

“A little while, as in a couple minutes, or a couple days?”

Will hummed. “I’m not…I’m definitely not at the couple days level yet. I was thinking more like an hour?”

“Baby steps,” Nico said softly.

He saw Will turn, glancing down at their hands.

He squeezed Nico’s fingers, and said: 

“Yeah. Baby steps.”