Archive of Our Own

Will tightens the bandage around the girl’s hand.

“Ow.”

“Sorry.” He says it just as dryly as she made her exclamation of pain, glancing up to see her staring blankly at the wall. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow, okay? Just so someone can clean it and re-bandage it.”

“Okay.”

Theres a shuffle behind her in the hallway, and they both turn to look, Will leaning to see around her. Vincent and Dahlia are in the hall, talking quietly, but they both look stressed, brows furrowed, hand flying. Vincent sighs heavily, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.

The girl looks back at Will, a question in her eyes, and Will shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says gently, shaking his head. “It’s fine.”

He finishes with the bandage, clipping it in place.

“Alright? Not too tight?”

She shakes her head.

“No, it’s good.”

“Alright.” He claps his hands, rolling back in his chair. “Get out of here, kid.”

“Thanks, Will. Feelin’ real looked after here,” she says, getting up.

“That’s what I’m paid for.”

“You’re not paid,” she says dryly as she leaves. He shrugs even though she’s not listening, watching as Vincent and Dahlia fall silent as she passes, giving her tight smiles.

“Alright, what the fuck is going on?” he asks when she’s gone, leaning on the doorway and looking at Vincent and Dahlia. “You’re scaring my patient.”

Dahlia looks at him and pushes him into the room, going to sit on the bed, and Vincent shuts the door.

“Y’all. What is happening.”

“Nico is here,” Vincent says. Will hopes his cheeks aren’t flushing pink, at just the mention of him, just his name.

“…Okay?”

“He’s too injured to leave, but he won’t let anyone clean his wounds or anything,” Dahlia says, and Will looks at her. She’s kicking her legs, her feet just barely grazing the ground. “And we’re getting worried about infection.”

“What’s the— What’s the injury?”

“I don’t know, but his shirt is soaked with blood and he won’t stop shaking.”

“I tried to talk him into just cleaning it,” Dahlia says, the worry audible in her voice. “But he wouldn’t let me close enough to touch him, he was, like, freaking out.”

Will leans against the wall, pushing his hair back and rubbing his cheek as he sighs heavily.

“So what do we do?”

“Well.” Vincent shoves his hands in his pockets. “We were hoping you’d know what to do. You’re friends with him, aren’t you?”

“No?” Will says like it’s absurd. “I barely know him.”

“But you know him better than we do,” Dahlia insists, gesturing to Vincent and herself. “And that’s worth something. Maybe you can talk some sense into him. Give him your whole infection spiel.”

“Nico isn’t really someone that lets sense be talked into him,” Will mutters, punching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. “And I don’t have an infection spiel.”

“And you know that about him,” Dahlia says, ignoring the second part.

“Yeah, you do too.” Will tosses a hand, making a face.

“Will, you’ve had actual conversations with the guy,” Vincent says. “You’ve actually spent time with you. You know him better than we do.”

“And.” Dahlia shrugs, raising a suggestive eyebrow. “You know.”

“I know what, Dahlia?” Will asks dryly. “What do I know?”

“Come on, Will. You’re telling me you haven’t missed him?”

“Oh my gods.” He looks at the ceiling.

“Will, could you please just go talk to him?” Vincent pleads. “He knows you, you’re— you’re a familiar face. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

Will groans loudly, throwing his head back and turning to face the wall, pressing his face to it in a sort of weak temper tantrum.

“What room is he in?” he mumbles against the wall.

“Twenty-one A,” Vincent tells him, holding a laugh back.

“You guys are the worst.”

He leaves them behind, ignoring Dahlia’s snickering and Vincent’s Thank you!

Room 21A is a little while away; down the hall, to the left, down the hall past the break room, to the right, down the hall again. He’s full of dread the whole way, taking deep breaths like he’s on his way to battle instead of on his way to see his crush.

The door is shut when he gets there, the 21A gleaming almost threateningly.

He pushes it open, knocking gently.

“Hey,” he says softly, his eyes finding Nico, a dark spot standing out in the white sterility of the hospital room. He’s curled up on the bed, his knees drawn to his chest, his face hidden behind his hair. Will shuts the door behind himself and moves toward the bed.

“Don’t touch me.”

Nico’s voice is rough, quiet and rumbling like he’s screamed his throat raw. Will blinks, almost startling.

“I’m not gonna touch you,” he says gently, sitting slowly at the end of the bed. “Just wanna talk.”

“Don’t wanna.”

Will stares at him, his chest aching. Nico looks so small, shrunk into himself and hiding. There’s dirt in his hair, and Will can only imagine how filthy his shirt is, pressed against his assumedly open wound.

“Then can I talk to you?”

Nico doesn’t move, his face still hidden in his arms.

“Nico,” Will whispers. “We just want to help you.”

“I don’t need help,” Nico says, lifting his face enough for his eyes to glare at Will. “Just leave me alone.”

“Nico. You need help.”

“No, I don’t.”

“There’s nothing wrong with needing help,” Will says, maintaining his gentle voice even though Nico is getting angry. “That’s what we’re here for.”

Nico just stares back, half his face hidden by his forearms, the other half mostly hidden by his thick hair. There’s something in his eyes, a sort of shining, aching vulnerability that reminds Will of a cornered rabbit, a terrified prey. Will’s chest tightens.

“It’s up to you,” Will says softly. “But you need to understand the risks of just leaving your wounds without cleaning them.” (Maybe he does have an infection spiel.)

Nico blinks at him.

“It’s going to get infected,” Will tells him firmly, gently. “Your shirt is dirty, and your skin is dirty and sweaty, and it’s going to get infected.”

Nico looks away before he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Why don’t you wanna let anyone clean it?” Will asks quietly.

“It’s gonna hurt,” Nico chokes. He’s crying. His voice is too high, weak and fragile, and his eyes are shining.

“I know,” Will says softly. “It is. But if you just leave it, it’ll be worse, you know that, right?”

Nico squeezes his eyes shut, and Will just catches a tear fall down his cheek before he’s hiding his face again.

“Nico, it’s your choice,” he says softly. “If you don’t want to, you’ll still have to spend the night here, that’s non-negotiable, but we’ll leave you alone. If you do, it’ll be as quick as possible, and you can rest.”

Nico’s shoulders are shaking.

Will wants to cry.

“It’s up to you,” he whispers.

“…Okay.”

Will blinks.

“Okay?”

Nico nods, lifting his face and wiping his cheek roughly.

“Okay.”

Will nods, taking a breath.

“I can get Vincent or Dahlia, or—“

“No, I want you to do it,” Nico interrupts quickly, his cheeks flushing red, and Will
nods, smiling softly.

“Alright.” He shifts where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m gonna go get some supplies, okay? I’ll be right back.”

He slides a tissue box in front of Nico wordlessly before he leaves.

“Did he agree?” Dahlia asks brightly when he gets back, and he nods, reaching to close the first aid kit he’d been using earlier. “What did I tell you?”

“Shut up.”

“How’d you convince him?” Vincent asks. He’s sitting on the desk, fiddling with a rubber band, stretched between his fingers.

“Gave him a choice,” he says, lingering by the door, first aid kit in hand. “Left it up to him.”

They both make considering faces, looking at each other, and Will mutters a quiet, preoccupied, “See you later,” before he leaves.

Nico is sitting cross-legged on the bed when he gets back, crumpled tissues in his hand, his eyes and nose and cheeks reddened. He takes a sharp breath when his eyes catch on the box in Will’s hand, and he exhales shakily.

Will sets it on the bed, dragging the old stool over and sitting on it.

“Have you changed your mind?” he asks gently. Nico shakes his head. “Okay.”

Nico takes another sharp breath, his eyes wide.

“I need you to take a deep breath,” Will says softly, looking into his eyes. “Slow.”

Nico looks into his eyes as he breathes, inhaling slowly, so deeply his chest and shoulders rise, and Will nods.

“How do you want me to touch you?” he asks when Nico’s breathing is even, and Nico blinks in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Some— Some people don’t like being touched too lightly or too hard,” Will explains awkwardly. “What do you like?”

Nico looks away, biting his lip, thinking.

“Light,” he says finally. “I think.”

“Can you show me?”

Will holds an arm out, and Nico looks at it, his eyes scanning from his fingertips to his elbow before he’s reaching out and ghosting his fingertips over it. He’s shaking, but his hand steadies slightly when he wraps his fingers around Will’s wrist, gently squeezing.

“Okay,” Will says, but Nico doesn’t let go, still holding him lightly, his eyes trained on his own hand on Will, silver skin against gold. He’s cold. Will wants to wrap his arms around him.

“Sorry,” Nico breathes, still holding him. He blinks like he’s going to cry.

“‘S okay,” Will says, smiling even though he isn’t looking at him. He’s content to sit here as long as Nico needs.

But Nico pulls his hand away after a few more seconds. It looks like he has to force himself to tear it away, his whole arm moving away with, shifting so his sleeve falls over his hand, and then he’s tucking his hand away, crossing his arms.

“Need you to lay down, sweetheart,” Will says as he opens the first aid kit, mentally chastising himself for the pet name, but Nico doesn’t say anything, silently shifting down onto his back and looking at the ceiling.

His jacket falls open and Will finally sees his shirt. It’s bloodstained and filthy, covered in dirt and grime, and Will’s chest tightens.

Nico takes a shuddering breath.

“Can you lift your shirt up for me?” Will asks quietly.

Nico nods, hesitating before he reaches down and pulls the hem of his shirt up. Will inhales, pressing his lips together.

It’s not bleeding anymore, but it looks raw, like part of his midriff has been skinned. Will can see specks of dirt on the glistening reddish pink flesh, and he holds back a deep sigh.

“Okay,” he says calmly, gently nudging Nico’s shirt up further, watching his belly rise and fall. “What I’m gonna do is ask you to take a deep breath, and you’re gonna hold it, and I’m gonna clean this, and then you’ll exhale when I’m done, okay? Quick.”

Nico nods at the ceiling, his eyes shining again.

“If you wanna stop, or pause and take a break, or anything, you let me know, alright?”

“Okay,” Nico says weakly.

Will nods to himself, swallowing, and pulls out the foaming alcohol cleanser, popping the cap off. Nico squeezes his eyes shut.

“Big deep breath,” Will instructs, grabbing gauze. Nico hesitates, then inhales deeply, and Will pumps the cleanser onto the wound.

Nico’s stomach tenses, and he whimpers, gritting his teeth.

“You got it,” Will says softly, waiting a second before he wipes it away quickly. “You got it. And exhale.”

Nico exhales, letting out a little sob.

“Good boy,” Will murmurs. “One more time, okay?”

“Gimme a second,” Nico says breathlessly.

“Of course.”

Will waits, setting his hand on Nico’s leg gently, his thumb brushing back and forth as Nico breathes, blinking tears back.

“Okay,” he says finally, his voice breaking.

“Okay,” Will repeats. “Deep breath.” He squeezes his leg gently before doing it all again, his heart clenching when Nico whimpers again. “Almost done, honey.”

Nico exhales shakily, his hands lifting to his press to his face.

“No one’s ever called me that before,” he says breathlessly, and Will’s face burns.

“Sorry.”

“No, ‘s okay.” Nico covers his face with his arms. “It’s fine.”

Will suppresses a smile, reaching back to the first aid kit.

“I’m gonna put some antibiotic ointment on it, okay?” he says. “It’ll also keep the bandage from getting stuck.”

“Okay.”

Will finishes quickly, smoothing tape down over the bandaging, hearing every hitch in Nico’s breath, every tiny whimper and whine that makes Will want to cry.

“All done,” he says quietly, tossing the tape back into the first aid kit and closing it. Nico exhales slowly, lowering his arms and looking at the ceiling. “You wanna sit up?”

“No, it’s okay,” Nico says, his breath stuttering in his chest. Will sits back on the stool, rolling over to look at his face. His eyes are squeezed shut, his face contorted in discomfort.

“Hey,” Will says softly, watching as his eyes open and find him, glistening with unshed tears. “You okay?”

Nico looks back at the ceiling, a tear falling down his temple into his hair, his lip trembling.

“I hate this,” he says weakly.

“What do you hate?” Will whispers.

“I hate needing help,” Nico says angrily, another tear falling. He starts to sit up, wincing and squeezing his eyes shut. Will wants to help, but Nico didn’t ask. “I hate hurting, I— I hate crying.”

He wipes his face roughly, taking a sharp breath and looking across the room.

“Nico,” Will whispers, leaning forward slightly. Nico’s eyes cut to him, his lips pursed and frowning, his eyelashes clumped together with tears. “You’re allowed to cry.”

Nico closes his eyes again, his throat bobbing as he swallows.

“There’s nothing wrong with needing help,” Will says gently. “Everyone needs help sometimes. And you’re not immune to the curse of human existence.”

Nico cracks a tiny smile, wiping his cheek again.

“Being in pain sucks,” Will continues quietly. “But it’s temporary, okay? You’re gonna heal. You’re gonna be okay.”

Nico leans against the wall, grimacing and letting his head fall back.

“And tears are human too,” Will says tightly. “People cry. I cry.”

“Can’t imagine you crying,” Nico mutters.

“I’ll cry right now.”

Nico giggles quietly, turning away, but not enough to hide his smile. Will’s heart does a somersault.

“Okay?” he asks quietly, tilting his head. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

Nico looks at him, still smiling weakly.

“…Okay.”

Will gazes at him. It looks like he’s wearing mascara, his lashes long and clumped together, his eyes dark and shining like a cartoon. There are dark circles under his hooded eyes, purple and blue like bruises, his cheeks rosy red. There’s a nick on his chin, a dark red line that will heal into nothing in the next few days.

His hair is shaggy, choppy and messy like he cuts it himself with child-safe scissors in a gas station bathroom. (Will wouldn’t be surprised.) It’s falling in his face, down his neck. Will wants to push it away, tuck it behind his ears. Run his fingers through it until there aren’t any tangles, until Nico falls asleep.

“Will?” Nico says softly, as though Will isn’t already looking right at him.

“Yeah?”

Nico hesitates, his mouth twisting like he’s holding back from speaking, and then he’s taking little breaths, stammering. Will tilts his head, looking at him, waiting.

“…Can I— Can I have a hug?”

Will blinks in surprise. Nico’s eyes flick across his face, back and forth between his eyes, like he’s scared, and Will’s whole body aches.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Of course.”

He moves to sit on the edge of the bed, holding his arms open, and Nico leans in, wrapping his arms tightly around Will’s neck. Will’s heart pounds in his chest. (He hopes Nico can’t feel it.)

Will slides his hands over Nico’s back gently, closing his eyes. Nico is trembling, his face buried in Will’s neck, and Will almost shivers from his breath against his skin.

“I’ve got you, honey,” Will whispers when Nico’s shoulders start shaking. “It’s okay.”

Nico’s arms tighten, and they sway as Will slides a hand up to his head, his fingers pushing into his hair as he murmurs to him.

When Nico finally pulls away, his face lowered, he’s taking stuttering, gasping breaths. His hands runs down Will’s arms, his skin cold against Will’s, until he’s holding his forearms the way he did earlier, gripping him lightly, his fingertips pressing into him.

“Slow,” Will whispers, running his fingers through his hair, feeling Nico squeeze his arms. “Deep breath, Nico.”

Nico drops his head to Will’s chest, his forehead pressing just under his collarbone, inhaling deeply. The breath is interrupted by sharp, short gasps until he exhales smoothly, holding onto Will.

“There you go,” Will whispers, dragging his fingers through Nico’s hair. “You’re okay.”

“‘M okay,” Nico says softly, sleepily. He lifts his head, and Will’s hand falls to their laps, Nico still holding his wrist. “Sorry,” he whispers, his eyes fallen to their hands. He looks exhausted, his eyes red, and almost closed like he’s seconds from falling asleep.

“It’s okay,” Will says gently. He turns his hand carefully to hold Nico’s arm, his fingers pressing into the thick fabric of his jacket, his thumb brushing back and forth. “I’m a hugger, I don’t mind.”

Nico smiles weakly, squeezing Will’s arms.

“You should go to sleep,” Will says softly. He watches Nico’s eyes flutter shut for a moment. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning, okay? I’ll check on your wound again and then you can go home.”

Nico nods lightly, closing his eyes.

“Okay, bedtime, di Angelo, come on,” Will says, standing, and Nico’s hands fall from his arms. (Will mourns the loss of his cool skin against Will’s.) Nico leans back, wincing without opening his eyes, and Will holds his shoulders, lowering him onto his back until he’s laying down, exhaling sharply. “There we go.”

Nico is drifting off by the time Will stands up straight, and Will whispers a soft good night before flicking the lights off and leaving, shutting the door quietly behind himself.

He exhales as soon as it’s shut, a smile overtaking his face, and he turns to press his face to the wall. It’s cold against his skin. But it doesn’t feel as nice as Nico.

His whole body is tingling, every nerve ending on fire in a way he’s never felt before. It feels like there are butterflies swarming in his stomach. He aches.

- - -

“Morning, honey,” Will says lightly, sitting on the stool across from Nico, who’s leaning against the wall, squinting at Will sleepily. His eyes scan over Will’s body, catching on his t-shirt and shorts, reading the words across his chest. (Raise your hand if you’ve ever been personally victimised by Julius Caesar.)

“Morning,” Nico grumbles.

“Alright, show me your tummy,” Will says,
opening the first aid kit and moving closer to the bed. “Then you can be on your way to take a nap in the comfort of your own bed.”

Nico scoffs, raising an eyebrows and shifting so he can lift his shirt.

“How are you feeling?” Will asks as he carefully peels back the tape.

“Fucking awful.”

Will glances at him. He’s resting his head against the wall, his eyes closed.

“What would help?”

Nico hums thoughtfully. Will removes the bandaging, inspecting the wound. It’s reddish around the edges, but not infected.

“The sweet release of death,” Nico says finally, and Will drops his hands, one of them landing on Nico’s leg, glaring at him. His eyes are still closed, but he must feel Will looking at him, his lips spreading into a slow smile before his eyes crack open to look at him.

He giggles when he sees Will’s stony expression, wincing and letting out an Ow.

“That’s what you get,” Will says, watching Nico giggles again, letting his eyes close. “You’re not allowed to say shit like that, you fiend.”

“Or what, you’ll kill me?”

Will looks at him, wide-eyed, and Nico grins, his eyes shining almost mischievously.

“You said you’re feeling awful, but I think you’re feeling great,” he says reaching for the bandaging in the first aid kit. “Snarky little shit.”

The door opens as Will starts snipping bandages, and they both lookup. Nico’s smile falls, and he seems to shrink into himself, his legs lifting so his exposed midriff is hidden as one of Will’s sisters, Joy, walks in, first aid kit and colourful clipboard in hand. She stops short when she sees Will, and their eyes lock for a few moments as she takes him in. His eyes are wide, begging her not to say anything.

“I thought you were off today,” she said despite his silent pleas. He tilts his head.

“I am,” he says, not wanting to lie. “But.”

Her eyes flick back at Nico.

“Oh.” She hesitates. “Do you need any help?”

“No,” he says. “I’m good.” He widens his eyes at her, subtly gesturing toward the door. She stares back blankly before her eyebrows furrow in confusion. After a second, her chin juts forward, and he nods.

“Oh,” she says again. “Oh.” She hesitates a second longer, visibly lost on what to do, and then she pivots on her heel. “Okay, love you, bye.”

“Love you too,” Will says lightly before the door shuts, and then silence falls. Nico’s legs lower to the bed again as he relaxes.

“Can Apollo kids… communicate telepathically, or something?” Nico asks after a silent, awkward moment. Will glances up from the bandages, his face red.

“Hm?”

“You guys barely exchanged a word,” Nico says, smiling softly. Will looks away.

“Joy isn’t great with social cues,” he says fondly. “I think over the years, we’ve just…”

“It’s really cute.”

Will smiles, placing the bandaging.

“So you’re off today?”

“Uh.” Will presses it down flat as gently as possible. “Yeah.”

“…You came in just for me?” Nico asks slyly. Will sends him a glare, his cheeks burning. “Hm?”

Will pulls the tape toward himself, praying for himself to stop blushing.

“Yeah, my favourite patient,” he mutters.

He places some tape down, glancing up, and Nico’s eyes cut away from him, his cheeks flushing pink. Will grins.

“What are you doing after this?” Nico asks after a quiet moment, looking at Will shyly. Will glances at him, snipping the tape.

“You flirting with me, di Angelo?”

“Shut up.”

Will snickers, placing the tape and smoothing it down carefully.

“I have no plans,” he says lightly. “Why do you ask?”

Nico shrugs half-heartedly, looking away, his mouth twisting.

“Okay, well,” Will says, sighing and finishing with the tape. “You’re all done.” He gently fixes Nico’s shirt. “Your bandages should be okay for a while but if you want them changed you can come by and have someone do it or you can do it yourself if you have the materials.” Nico nods. “Alright, you’re good to go. See you around, I guess,” he says lightly, standing from the stool, but Nico leans forward, grabbing his arm.

Will stops short, looking down at him with a smile. Nico tugs, avoiding Will’s eyes, and Will sits down again, tilting his head at him. Nico’s fingers tighten around his arm for a second before he lets go just as quickly as he grabbed him, his hands tucking into his lap.

Will waits, gazing at him, wanting to push the hair out of his face.

“Do you wanna hang out?” Nico asks quietly after a moment, looking up at Will, and Will grins, every cell in his body lighting up with excitement.

“Yes.”

Nico suppresses a smile.

“Okay.”

- - -

“You’re cheating.”

“I can’t cheat at go-fish, dumbass.”

Nico sends him a glare over his cards. The golden light is reflecting in his eyes, making them look like they’re sparkling, and Will could swoon.

“Do you have any fours?” Nico asks.

“You already asked me that,” Will tells him. “No.”

Nico lets out a frustrated groan, snatching a card from the pile on the floor between them.

“Oh.” He pulls a card out of his hand, holding them both up to Will. “Hah.”

“Nico, do you have any sevens?” Will asks as Nico is setting the cards aside.

Nico clicks his tongue, pulling another card out.

“Fuck you.”

Will snickers, setting them aside.

He wins the game easily, laughing as Nico pouts, complaining.

“You’re the worst.”

“You are such a sore loser.”

Nico suppresses a smile, throwing his cards at Will, who flinches away and giggles.

“Dick.”

“You’re so mean to me.” Nico leans back against his bed, his head resting against the heavy blankets that fall over the edges.

“I nursed your wounds,” Will says, leaning forward with emphasis. “And you’re saying I’m mean.”

“Uh-huh.” Nico is laughing. Will wants to cry.

“You’re such a pain.”

Nico tilts his head at him, leaning forward, and then he’s grabbing cards from the ground, throwing handful after handful of them at Will even as Will hides his face and laughs and rolls onto his side.

“You little shit,” he says as Nico leans over him, showering the side of his face with cards.

“You’re a little shit,” Nico retorts, and then he leans back against the bed, watching as Will sits up. His cheeks are flushed. Will looks down at the cards.

“…You wanna play again?”

“Yeah.” He slides some cards across the woods floor to Will to sort and shuffle. “I’m gonna win this time, though.”

“Okay, Nico.”

Nico throws another card at him.

- - -

Will kicks at Nico’s legs before he collapses onto the ground next to him, leaning against the tree Nico is sitting against.

“You’re so annoying,” Nico says dryly, looking back at his book.

“I’m aware,” Will says, crossing his arms and leaning back comfortably. He turns his head to look at him. His hair is tucked behind his ears. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Nico says, looking at him, his fingers slipping between the pages of his book as he closes it.

“How’s your tummy?”

Nico’s cheeks turn pink and he looks away, glancing around before stretching his legs out and lifting the hem of his hoodie so Will can see the wound. It’s dry, scabbed over, the skin around it a faint shade of pink that must itch torturously for Nico. Will nods, and Nico drops his hoodie again.

“It’s gonna be gnarly when that scab falls off,” he says, grinning when Nico wrinkles his nose.

“Ugh. Gross.”

He looks away, and Will nudges his arm.

“What time did you get up today?” he asks. Nico suppresses a smile, shrugging.

“None of your business.”

“I’m your primary caregiver, you fiend.” Nico giggles quietly.

“I don’t know,” he says, even though he obviously does. “Maybe one-ish?”

“Nico di Angelo,” Will says with a sigh, listening to Nico’s giggles.

“William.”

Will just gives him a look, and Nico lifts the collar of his hoodie over the lower half of his face, hiding his flushed cheeks but not hiding his shining eyes.

“I like sleeping,” he says defensively.

“I do too,” Will argues. “But I still get up at a reasonable time.”

“No, you fucking don’t,” Nico says firmly, dropping his hoodie. “I know you wake up at the asscrack of dawn—“ Will interrupts with a loud laugh. “—and that you go to bed at like midnight.”

“Not true. I’m reasonable.”

“Lies.”

“Whatever, Nico.” He settles against the tree, looking away.

Nico is right, and Will knows it. He wishes he could trade routines with Nico, wake up late and go to bed early, sleep for hours and hours and hours. Actually rest. But when he spends too long outside the infirmary, when he isn’t ready at any given second to do whatever it is that he needs to do to help or save someone, he gets restless. Anxious. He feels like everything is going to go wrong.

Dahlia kicked him out of the infirmary today when she found out he spent the night there. Go home and go to sleep, you idiot, she’d said, grabbing his shirt and pushing him toward the exit. You’re more help when you’re rested.

He was supposed to go back to the Apollo cabin. Take a shower. Change. Go to bed. But the idea of it, of leaving and taking a nap when anything could happen, made him feel sick. So here he is, sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree trunk.

He looks at Nico, who’s looking across the green, his eyes trained on two boys. They’re flirting with each other, one of them playing with the other’s hair, the other blushing and pushing him away with a smile. Will glances at Nico again. There’s no readable expression on his face.

“You okay?”

Nico blinks, looking at Will briefly before looking back at the boys, watching one kiss the other on the cheek.

“The world is very different than it was when I was a kid,” he says softly. He looks down at the book without opening it. Just looking. Avoiding looking at the boys, at Will.

Oh.

Will bites his lip, shifting away slightly.

“Is that…” He pauses, swallowing nervously. “Is that a bad thing?”

Nico looks up at him, staring blankly for a moment before a smile crawls across his face, and then he glances back at the boys again. They’re talking quietly to each other, oblivious to the rest of the world.

“No,” Nico says lightly. “No, it’s not a bad thing.”

Will nods, relaxing slightly. Nico looks away from the boys, biting his lip and taking a breath.

“What’s wrong?” Will asks quietly. Nico shakes his head before letting it fall to rest on the tree, his eyes trained on the sky that’s shimmering between the leaves of the tree that are shaking in the wind.

“I, uhm.” Nico swallows, licking his lip. Will watches his throat bob, wanting to kiss it. Nico’s eyes close for a moment like he’s collected himself, and then he lifts his head from the tree. “I’m gay.”

Will blinks.

“So, it’s— it’s not a bad thing,” Nico continues awkwardly. “It’s just… I’m getting used to it.”

“Me too,” Will blurts, his face burning when Nico looks at him. “The— I’m gay. Also. Me too.”

Nico smiles at his babbling, looking back out over the green, taking a breath.

“Cool.”

Will nods, facing forward, his nerves buzzing, his fingers tapping his legs gently.

“Cool.”

They’re quiet. Will is acutely aware of Nico’s every breath, of the slight movement of his knees knocking together as he fidgets, of the fact that he hasn’t opened his book again and is still just… sitting there.

Until he’s shifting, his book in his lap and his hands on either side of himself, listing himself up and moving closer to Will. He relaxes, taking a breath when he sits again, their arms and legs pressed together.

Will looks at him. He’s smiling still, looking aimlessly across the green, his feet tapping the ground gently. Will grins.

He settles further against the tree, sliding down so he’s slouching, crossing his arms over his chest comfortably and looking up at the sky. He hears Nico open his book and thumb through the pages. Content settles over him like sunlight, and last night’s lack of sleep suddenly catches up to him, his eyelids dropping and his breaths slowing.

He falls asleep. He doesn’t notice Nico glancing at him and smiling brightly, happily, doesn’t notice when his head falls to Nico’s shoulder and Nico moves closer to make it more comfortable for him.

- - -

“So what happened?” Will asks, holding Ava’s wrist gently, pressing his thumbs into it. She’s kicking her feet from where she’s sitting on the cot next to him, and he can hear the soles of her shoes scuffing on the ground.

“I tripped,” she says sheepishly, tucking her hair back. “And caught myself, but I think my wrist bent too far back and now it hurts like a bitch.”

Will hums quietly, feeling her eyes on him as continues working on her wrist. It’s definitely sprained, and he releases her to reach for the bandages beside him, spinning on the stool to find them. He glances around the room as he rummages through the drawer, his hand faltering and his expression lightening when Nico appears in the entrance of the infirmary, his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket, his shoulders hunched uncomfortably. He’s looking around, scanning the room, and when his eyes catch on Will, he blinks, his lips pressing into a suppressed smile.

One minute, Will mouths, and Nico nods, leaning against the wall beside the door. Will grins at him and looks back to Ava, bandages in hand.

“So you sprained it,” he says lightly, taking her hand again and wrapping the bandages around her wrist tightly, up between her index finger and thumb and back around her wrist. “I’m bandaging it for compression, and you’re gonna stop by Mattie— You know Mattie?”

He glances up at her as he’s fastening the bandage.

“I think so?”

“Purple hair, they’re sitting by the back exit.”

She looks over, tilting her head as she looks.

“Okay, yeah.”

“Mattie will get you an ice pack, and you can come back later if you want another one when that melts.”

“Okay,” she says brightly, and he fastens the bandage with a clip.

“There you go.” He moves back, giving her a friendly smile.

She smiles back, leaning forward and flicking a lock of hair aside even though it’s not in his face. He instinctively moves back, laughing uncomfortably.

“Thanks, Will,” she says again in that bubbly voice of hers. “I’ll see you ‘round.” And then she’s hopping off the cot, holding her wrist up. Will smiles awkwardly, turning to watch her go. She passes by Nico, who’s already started walking closer, his hands still shoved in his pockets. He looks at Ava when she passes, tilting his head and turning to watch her before looking back Will with an exaggeratedly confused face. Will laughs lightly, grimacing.

“Hey, honey,” Will greets him, looking up at him when he stops in front of Will.

“She likes you.” He’s still looking at Ava, and Will blinks. Nico looks at him when he doesn’t say anything, and Will feels like he’s falling backwards suddenly. Nico’s eyes are shining almost the way they were when he was in the infirmary, when he was hurt and scared and trapped.

Oh, Will thinks. …Oh.

“I don’t care,” he says quietly.

Nico blinks at him blankly, and Will takes a breath, rolling the stool closer, looking up at him, setting his hand on his hip and gripping his jacket lightly.

He watches as Nico’s throat bobs as he swallows, watches as his eyes widen in realisation. Will stammers silently for a second before he says softly, “Don’t worry.”

Nico’s tongue slips across his lip, and he looks away sharply, looking around the infirmary, at all the kids receiving and giving care, at the kids with their friends, bantering and laughing and distracting each other. He takes a breath, and Will starts to move his hand off of his hip, but Nico stops him, setting his own hand on Will’s. His fingers hold his wrist lightly.

“Okay,” he says softly.

Will smiles at him, glowing.

“So are you hurt?” he asks, glancing at Nico, up and down. “Or did you just come to say hi?”

“Just wanted to say hi,” he says. He pulls Will’s hand away from his hip, holding it between his hands and swinging it fondly. “You spend too much time here.”

“You miss me?” Will teases.

Nico looks away, almost scowling, but his eyes are still bright. He squeezes Will’s hand.

“Uhm.” Will tugs his hands gently. “My shift ends before dinner,” he says. “If you wanna go with me.”

Nico looks at him.

“If you wanna sit with me,” Will adds. “Specifically. Do you wanna sit with me at dinner?”

“Is… Is that allowed?”

“I’m your doctor,” Will says dismissively. “I’ll write you a note or whatever.”

Nico smiles softly.

“Okay?” Will asks, and Nico nods.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Nico looks down at their hands, squeezing and swinging, his mouth twisting like he’s thinking.

“I should probably… go. Right?” he says quietly, his hands loosening on Will’s, and he glances away.

“You don’t have to,” Will tells him, holding back the absolute desperation that furled in his chest. “You can hang out here. If you want.”

“You don’t think I’ll freak anyone out?” Nico asks, only half-joking. Will furrows his brows.

“No,” he says dryly. “And if they get freaked out that’s their problem.”

Nico ends up sitting in the cot next to Will, talking to him about his day. About the books he’s currently (three books; Will doesn’t understand him at all), about what time he woke up (Will gives him a Look and scolds him when he finds out, and then he looks away with a blushy smile because Nico wasn’t awake for all that long before he came by to say hi to Will).

When a kid shows up, maybe ten or eleven years old, Will cleans his scraped knees while Nico distracts him by showing him his rings: the skull on his left index finger, the black stone on his other index finger, the thin gold band around his pinkie. (“This one my older sister gave to me, and this one my little sister gave to me.”) The boy doesn’t even notice when Will finishes patching him up, so Will just sits back and watches, listening as he asks Nico questions, while Nico answers with his soft voice.

Nico waves goodbye when the kid leaves, and Will realises he’s fucking gazing at him. Heart eyes to the extreme. He could cry.

“What?” Nico asks, tucking his hands under his legs. Will shrugs weakly.

“Nothing.”

Nico follows Will to the dining hall, and he ends up sitting next to him, their legs pressed together under the table.

“Hi, Nico,” Joy says brightly, sitting across from Will. “How’s your belly?”

Nico blinks in surprise, his fork stalled on its way to his mouth, and Will suppresses a laugh.

“Fine,” he says. “It’s almost healed, I don’t need to use bandages anymore.”

“That’s good!” She shifts in her seat, lifting a leg up onto the bench so it’s between the edge of the table and her chest and pulling her ear defenders off her neck to put them on the table. Nico looks at them, tilting his head to see the colour stickers.

“I like your headphones,” he says lightly, and she beams, snatching them up and holding them out to him.

“They’re ear defenders,” she says. “They keep noise away from my ears. I wore them today in the training arena and in the amphitheater because noise is really overwhelming to me.”

Nico takes them tentatively, looking them like they’re an alien object, his eyes wide and shining as he inspects them.

“You can try them on if you want,” Joy says, taking a bite from her pizza.

Nico carefully lifts them and places them over his ears, a second passing before his face lights up and he looks at Will with wide eyes, his lips parting in awe. He lifts them off his ears for a moment before placing them again, a slow smile spreading across his face. Will’s whole body hurts. (The pink of the ear defenders looks fucking beautiful on Nico.)

“Aren’t they cool?” Joy asks when Nico takes them off, and he looks at her with wide eyes, handing them back. Will turns to look at Vincent, who’s sitting next to Joy. Vincent is grinning knowingly, and Will mouths oh my gods before looking at Nico with a pained look in his eyes.

“What?” Nico says, catching the look.

“Nothing,” Will says lightly. “You’re just really cute.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Nico says dismissively, tossing a hand as he looks back at Joy, and Will cackles. “Where did you get them?”

“My step-dad got them for me from Amazon but you can probably find them somewhere in the city if Chiron lets you go.”

“I might have to get some,” Nico says. “Maybe not pink, but—“

Joy giggles, scrunching her nose.

“It looks good on you,” she says, shrugging.

“Yes, it does,” Will agrees quietly, and Nico elbows him. Will snorts.

“I like how you decorated them,” Nico says, leaning over his plate to talk to Joy, and Joy gasps, beaming brightly.

“I love stickers,” she says excitedly. “Almost everything I have is covered in stickers.”

“Including her bunk bed,” Vincent contributes, and she nudges him.

“It’s cute.”

“It is,” he agrees, then leans over her slightly to talk to Nico. “Mine has fairy lights.”

“Fairy lights,” Nico repeats softly.

“This is my favourite one on these,” Joy says, moving the ear defenders to show Nico a big Hello Kitty sticker. “I have a ton of Hello Kitty stickers everywhere, she’s my favourite.”

Nico looks at her blankly, leaning over the table with his arm between him and his plate.

“What is Hello Kitty?” he asks quietly, and Will sees Joy visibly tense up, her lips pinching together. Will grins.

“Nico, you don’t know who Hello Kitty is?” he says. Nico looks at him.

“I was born in nineteen thirty-two,” he says sassily, and Vincent laughs loudly. “I don’t know who Hello Kitty is.”

“Can I tell you about her?” Joy asks in a tight voice, her whole body tense, and Nico nods.

“Yeah,” he says lightly. Will moves over slightly, setting a hand on Nico’s leg and tugging so he moves in front of Joy as she’s doing a little victory dance, smiling so widely her eyes squeeze shut.

“Okay, so,” she starts excitedly, wiggling in her seat. “She was created in nineteen seventy-four by Yuko Shimizu, but she was designed by Yuko Yamaguchi, and her first appearance was on a coin purse…”

Will watches fondly, eating his dinner and gazing at the two of them: Joy speaking rapidly and excitedly, talking with her hands and pointing to stickers on her ear defenders when she mentions other characters, and Nico listening intently, his eyes wide as he nods and smiles at her.

They continue talking all through dinner, and she even gets Nico to talk about Mythomagic, which Will knew Nico was interested in, but didn’t realise Nico was as into it as Joy is into Hello Kitty. Nico doesn’t talk as rapidly or loudly as her, but he’s still ranting, which Will has never heard him do, never thought he’d hear him do. Joy looks at him the same way he looked at her, eyes wide and listening, and she’s rocking side to side the way she does when she focusses.

Vincent is listening too, his eyes looking back and forth between them, and then he looks at Will, giving him a broad, knowing smile. Will gives him a pained look, covering his face with both hands.

Vincent and Joy head to the Apollo cabin after dinner, after saying goodbye to Nico, and Will looks at Nico, who isn’t quite smiling, but looks content, his expression light.

“So.”

Nico looks at him, grinning.

“You like Joy?” Will asks, turning so he’s facing Nico, his legs on either side of the bench.

“She’s really cute,” Nico gushes. “I like, like, listening to her talk. She’s passionate”.

“You’re passionate,” Will says adamantly. “I’ve never heard you talk about Mythomagic.”

Nico’s face flushes, and he shrugs shyly.

“I like Mythomagic.”

“Oh, do you?”

Nico shoves him half-heartedly.

“You’re so annoying.”

“And yet,” Will sighs. “You come to eat dinner with me and spend the whole time infodumping with my little sister.”

Nico looks at the table, grinning, before he looks up around the dining hall, watching people leave slowly.

Will gazes at him, at the bridge of his nose, at the apple of his cheek that rises as he smiles.

“Do you have, like, cards and figurines and stuff?” Will asks finally. “For Mythomagic?”

Nico looks at him, trying to glare, but his eyes are shining and sparkling like a cartoon.

“Can I see?” Will asks even though he doesn’t answer.

Nico looks away sharply and hides his face by tugging the collar of his sweater up, and Will grins.

That’s a yes.

(They end up in the floor of Nico’s cabin, cards and figurines and pamphlets and dice scattered between them. Nico talks more confidently when it’s just the two of them, gesturing with his hands and rambling as his thoughts produce spin-off thoughts. He’s beautiful.)

- - -

Will adjusts the plate over his chest, wincing as the strap digs into his shoulder, watching two campers spar across the training arena. They’re both laughing, the girl’s braid swinging around her head as their swords clash loudly.

Will flexes his hand by his side. He doesn’t have a sword. He’s not a sword person. He’s not a fighter.

He sighs, turning away and reaching for his armour, but his eyes catch.

Nico is sitting in the corner, his eyes trained on another pair of campers sparring. He’s sitting against a wall, a knee drawn up to his chest, his elbow to the wall, his fingers pressed to his cheekbone and temple like he’s studying them, a hand out to balance his sword, the point of it pressed into the ground. He’s focussed, brows furrowed and lips frowning. Brooding. Hot.

Will’s face flushes when Nico’s eyes cut up to him, and Nico tilts his head, raising an eyebrow.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he says, lifting his head from his hand and letting it rest against the wall.

“Uh.” Will glances away. “I don’t know?”

“Are you training?”

“Uh,” he says again, looking down at his armour, at his empty hands. “I guess.”

Nico doesn’t say anything, his eyes scraping up and down Will’s body. Will, suddenly self-conscious, looks around the arena. When he looks back at Nico, Nico is smiling up at him. He’s almost smirking.

“Wanna go?”

“Go…” Will stares back. “Go where?”

Nico lifts his sword, slashing through the air as he jerks his chin in the direction of the others.

“Do I wanna spar with you?”

Nico tilts his head silently.

He looks at people like this a lot: tilted head, wide eyes, almost expressionless. Will knows that people think it’s creepy. (It almost feels like Nico is looking right into him, past his skin and bones, into the very foundation of his personality, of his existence.) But Will’s never minded it. It doesn’t feel intentional; Nico doesn’t seem to notice it at all, and Will suspects it may just be the way he is.

“I don’t have a sword.”

Nico blinks.

“They have those wooden ones.” He stands heavily, turning to place his sword so it rests against the wall in the corner. “So I don’t accidentally kill you,” he adds, his eyes glinting when Will scoffs.

“Very confident, aren’t you?”

“Mmhmm.”

Will follows him across the arena, catching the wooden sword that Nico tosses to him.

“You ready?” Nico asks, swinging his own wooden sword, looking at Will with a smile in his eyes. Will bites his lip, gazing at him, at his ripped jeans and jacket that’s two sizes too big. They’re circling each other slowly, and Will grins.

Then Nico is lunging forward, swing his sword, and Will blocks it, laughing. Nico swings again, smiling, and Will blocks again, stepping back.

Their swords clash and clatter as they move, almost in a sort of dance, and Will forgets about the others that are also training, too distracted by the way Nico’s hair flies around his head as he dodges the dull blade of Will’s sword, by the way Nico’s eyes have lit up like there’s a fire behind them. But it’s different than the fire that Will’s seen in them before, the angry, enraged fire that made him look mindless.

No, it’s not that.

He’s just having fun.

He laughs when Will lets out a loud Fuck!, just managing to block blow after blow and blow from Nico before moving back enough for Nico to miss. He’s out of breath, panting, and he knows he’s red-faced, but he doesn’t care, because Nico is smiling at him like that.

“You’re getting sloppy!” Nico sings.

“Oh, am I?”

Will swings his sword. Nico blocks it. He’s laughing again, and Will thinks he might die. Partially because he’s exhausted, every muscle in his body straining as he and Nico move around the arena without a care for anyone else training, but also because Nico’s laugh makes every other sound in the world sound like a garbage dispenser.

Their fighting reaches a climax, their swords blurring in the air so quickly that Will can barely keep up, and then it cuts off abruptly as Nico’s sword twists around Will’s and flings it from his hand. Will has barely processed it before he’s up against a wall, hitting it with a thud and a startle and a gasp as dull wood presses against his neck.

Will exhales. Nico’s eyes meet his.

Nico is grinning. (There’s a gap between his front teeth that Will’s loved since he met him.) He’s close enough for Will to count the faint freckles that are scattered across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, for Will to see his long eyelashes and the red spot of his lip where he’s picked the skin off. They’re both breathing heavily, Nico’s eyes flicking back and forth between Will’s.

“You win,” Will breathes.

Nico’s smile falters and fades, his eyes lowering to Will’s mouth like he’s trying to find the words in the air between them.

Will can feel his breath on his face.

And then Nico is pulling away, dropping the sword to his side, his cheeks flushing pink. Every trace of the confidence and swagger he had is gone, replaced with a soft shyness that cuts through the air.

“I win,” he says lightly, pushing a hand through his hair.

He picks up Will’s sword for him.

- - -

“How are you so fucking bad at this?”

“There’s no need to be mean,” Nico says, reaching and grabbing a card from between them before adding it to the growing pile in his hand. The stack of cards between them as fallen because of their shifting weight on the bed, the cards now just scattered and sliding on the blankets. “Damn it.”

“You’ve gotta have a king in there.”

“Hah.” Nico looks over the top of his cards, grinning. “Go fucking fish.”

“Ugh.” Will reaches out, hovering his hand over the cards like he’s casting a spell. “I’m feeling this one.” He picks on up, flipping it over, but it’s a four. “Damn.”

Nico giggles, his eyes sparkling.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” Will breathes.

Nico blinks. His smile falters. Will looks away, at his cards.

“It’s your turn,” he says, swallowing, embarrassment creeping over his face in the form of bright blush that he knows Nico can see even in the dim lighting of his cabin.

“You keep saying things like that,” Nico says softly, looking at his own cards.

“Things like what?”

Nico glances at him, shuffling through his cards, shrugging lightly.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “Nice things, I guess.”

Will lowers his cards.

“…Should I not say nice things to you?”

Nico shrugs again.

“I don’t mind it, I just…” He fidgets with his cards, reorganising them and flicking the corners of them. “It feels like it doesn’t fit.”

Will furrows his brows, tilting his head.

“What do you mean?”

Nico glances at him. He shrugs again.

“People aren’t nice to me,” he says quietly. “I mean, Hazel and… Like Joy and Vincent are nice, but not… not like that. It feels weird when you say those things.”

“Like when I call you beautiful?” Will asks, his voice hushed like they’re sharing secrets. Nico’s cabin is silent. If Will listens he can hear kids outside laughing.

“Yeah,” Nico says, his cheeks pink. “And when you… when you call me sweetheart and stuff.” He bites his lip, his mouth twisting like he’s thinking hard. “And the way you touch me,” he breathes.

“How do I touch you?” Will whispers.

Nico looks at him, his eyes flicking back and forth between Will’s. He hesitates, the cards shaking in his hands.

“…The way I like,” he says. His eyes are shining like he’s going to cry. “Softly,” he adds so quietly Will almost doesn’t hear it.

“Is that a problem?”

Nico looks back at his cards, shrugging again.

“‘S more than I deserve,” he says lightly, carelessly, as though the words don’t send daggers through Will’s chest.

“What?”

Nico looks at him, wide-eyes with a blank sort of confusion.

“I just…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know, I don’t think I…”

“You don’t think you deserve kindness,” Will says. Nico blinks. “That’s mean.”

He drops his cards into the pile between them, looking at Nico, who blinks again, frowning.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” He looks at Nico intently. “You deserve kindness, Nico.”

Nico looks back at him, his eyes wide. The cards fall from his hand.

Will leans slightly closer.

“You deserve softness,” he whispers gently. “Even if you don’t think you do.”

Nico eyes glisten. His lips purse, and he swallows, and Will wants to comfort him and hold him and he doesn’t know what to do, and—

“I wanna kiss you,” Nico bursts, his voice too loud, to fast, and Will’s eyes widen, his lips parting in fucking awe, because Nico fucking di Angelo just said he wants to kiss him. Will’s whole body hurts. “Is that— Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Will says quickly. “Yeah, of course that’s okay.”

Nico exhales sharply, his eyes still wide on Will’s, almost frantic, like he doesn’t really believe him.

“It’s okay,” Will says again, softly, nodding. “I want you to.”

“…You do?”

Will smiles, his eyes burning.

“Yeah.”

Nico reaches out, one of his hands grabbing the front of Will’s t-shirt and tugging him in. And then he kisses him.

It’s a firm, lingering kiss, and Will’s eyes fall shut as he sighs. He isn’t sure what to do with his hands (he isn’t sure what to do with himself) and they stay in his lap, even as he leans in closer. Nico pulls away after a moment, and Will shivers at the slick sound of their lips separating, leaning in mindlessly.

He opens his eyes after a second, blearily finding Nico gazing at him, wide-eyed and awestruck, his hand tightly gripping his shirt.

Will nods lightly, finally moving his hands to run over Nico’s legs gently. Nico releases his shirt, his hand pressing to Will’s chest. Will can feel the coolness of his skin through the fabric. He shivers again.

Nico’s hand slides up his chest, over his neck, and then he’s pulling Will back in again, shifting onto his knees so he’s closer as their lips meet again. Will’s hands tighten on Nico’s legs, gripping his thighs gently as Nico’s lips part against his, as he tilts his head, as a soft whimper escapes Will’s throat.

Nico pulls away, licking his lips before kissing him again, desperately burying his hands in Will’s hair and holding him in place. Will’s head tilts back, and he slides his hands up to hold Nico’s waist, gripping the thick fabric of his hoodie.

Will loses track of time, holding onto him and feeling his teeth catch his lip, feeling his tongue swipe over his mouth and doing the same, trying and failing to hold back small noises when Nico’s fingers catch tangles in his hair. When Nico pulls away again, they’re both gasping for air, and Will opens his eyes to look at him.

His cheeks are flushed, and his lips are shining, and his chest is rising and falling, and he looks fucking ethereal.

So Will tells him.

Whispers it to him, watching his cheeks redden even more.

Nico gently runs his fingers across Will’s cheek. It almost tickles. Will knows what he’s doing, knows that he’s tracing his freckles. He pulls at Nico’s legs gently, tugging him until he’s lowering himself onto Will’s lap, his knees on either side of his hips.

Will touches him softly. The way he likes. Lightly drags his hands over his sides and chest and neck, holds his face between them like he’s something fragile, like he’s something worth being delicate with. He knows Nico is one of the strongest people he’s ever met; he knows he doesn’t have to be so careful. But he can see how Nico is melting, can see how his eyes are closing and his whole body is relaxing, heavy on Will’s lap.

Will leans close, his nose brushing against Nico’s. He smiles fondly, brushing the backs of his fingers over Nico’s cheek until he’s holding his chin tenderly.

“So sweet,” he murmurs. “You’re such a darling.”

Nico scoffs weakly, opening his eyes and looking at Will.

“Kiss me,” he breathes.

Will grins, leaning in and kissing him again, holding his face between his hands, letting his lips part when Nico pushes his fingers into Will’s hair. Nico tugs lightly, his tongue slipping across Will’s lips before it dips between them. Will gasps, moving his hands so they’re pressed to the small of Nico’s back, holding him tightly, their chests pressed together, heart to heart.

Nico seems to notice that Will likes the hair thing. He keeps tugging at it as they lick into each other’s mouths, as Will clutches at him with abandon, one hand pressed firmly to the small of his back and the other cradling the back of his head. Will hums softly when Nico sucks at his bottom lip, and Nico finally releases his hair, his hands sliding down to his neck.

“Gods, I like you so much,” Nico gasps when they part, breathing hard. “Cazzo.”

Will leans up and licks at Nico’s lips teasingly, beaming when he giggles quietly.

“I like you so much, too.”

Nico’s fingers brush deftly down the sides of Will’s neck, his eyes following along like he’s mesmerised by it.

“It feels good when you touch me,” he says softly, looking into his eyes. “When you’re nice to me. I— I know I said it feels weird, but it’s— it’s nice.”

Will reaches up and touches him. Caresses his face. Brushes his thumb under Nico’s eye and feels the soft brush of his eyelashes.

“Will you let me be nice to you?” he whispers.

Nico’s eyes squeeze shut, and his lip trembles.

And he nods.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, okay.”

Will smile, brushing his fingertips over his cheeks and leaving soft kisses on his lips, on his cheeks and jaw and chin. He kisses the tip of his nose, grinning with Nico scrunches it up, giggling, then pulls Nico’s chin gently so he leans his head down, and he kisses his forehead.

“My beautiful boy,” he murmurs. Nico’s cheeks flush pink, and his fingers tighten where they rest on Will’s neck. He leans his head down further, nosing under his jaw so he tilts his head back, and then nuzzling into his neck. Will smiles at the ceiling, running a hand over the back of his head.

Nico’s hands are shaking. Will presses his own hands to his back gently, running up and down his spine, under his hood.

“Are you okay?” he whispers. Nico nods, his forehead to Will’s neck. His hands slide to Will’s chest, pressing over his heart.

“Just…” He takes a breath. “Overwhelmed. A little bit.”

Will closes his eyes, letting his cheek press to Nico’s head.

“I got you,” he murmurs.

Nico takes a slow breath that hits Will’s neck and sends chills down his spine. His hands press to his chest for a moment longer before he wraps his arms around Will’s neck. Will aches.

“So I guess we’re done with the cards, huh?”

Nico laughs lightly, his fingertips pushing into Will’s hair.

He doesn’t answer, instead opting to press his lips under the edge Will’s jaw in a slow kiss, and Will inhales slowly, his fingers spreading over Nico’s back.

“You like that,” Nico whispers against his skin, and Will breathes a soft yeah even though it’s not a question.

Nico shifts to wrap his legs around Will’s waist, settling in his lap comfortably and smiling before kissing him again, and Will can feel that his lips are curved into a smile.

Will feels like he’s floating. Nico kisses all along his neck, and then pulls away to delicately pull the collar of Will’s shirt out of the way so he can kiss his bare shoulder. Will knows he’s kissing his freckles. It makes him want to cry.

Will’s breath catches in his throat when Nico’s teeth graze his skin. Nico grins.

“Little shit,” Will breathes.

Nico giggles, dragging a fingertip over Will’s throat.

“I thought you were being nice to me,” he says softly, one hand buried in Will’s hair, the other almost petting his neck. Will is suddenly glad they’re sitting on the bed and not standing, because his knees would be weak if they were. He would be on the floor.

“Is this actually happening?” he asks suddenly, gripping Nico’s hoodie, and Nico tilts his head, smiling, his eyes dropping to Will’s lips.

“I really hope so,” he says quietly.

Will gazes at him.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, pulling at his back and kissing him again. And then again, softly and carefully and lightly, and Nico is smiling, his eyes shining.

“I didn’t…” he starts when they pull away, their foreheads presses together. Will hums quietly, smoothing his hands over Nico’s waist until Nico speaks again, his voice soft and breathy. “I didn’t think I’d ever get… anything like this.”

Will kisses him again. When he pulls away to look at him, Nico straightens up, gazing at him with lidded eyes, and Will shifts his legs so they’re not crossed anymore, letting Nico fall to sit on the bed directly with Will’s legs around him. Nico scrunches his nose, now eye-level with Will, and Will smiles fondly.

“I’ve had a crush on you,” he says quietly, “since we met.”

Nico blinks, his lips turning into a tiny frown.

“Really?” he asks weakly.

Will nods, reaching up to touch his face, brushing his thumb over his cheek.

“Since before we met, really,” he says. “Saw you during the last battle.” He traces circles over his jaw, gazes at his lips. “Saw how incredible you were, how fucking brave.”

Nico’s cheeks are flushed a lovely shade of pink.

“And then I actually met you and you were a stubborn little—“

Nico interrupts with a giggle, hunching his shoulders and looking down before his eyes meet Will’s again. Will hadn’t noticed the sun go down outside, but it’s sending beams of orange-gold light into Nico’s cabin, directly across where Nico is sitting, making shards of his dark eyes glow amber.

“And then I actually got to know you, and…” He drifts off, gazing at the sparkle in Nico’s eyes, at the way the apples of his cheeks raise when he smiles, making his eyes squint. “I just fell. Hard.”

Nico’s smile falters, and he looks like he might cry.

He leans in and kisses Will again, sucking his lower lip and tugging his hair and moving close enough that their chests press together.

“Me too,” he says breathlessly when they part. “I— I thought you were really pretty,” he adds shyly. “And then you got mad at me for not staying at the infirmary, and I really didn’t wanna stay because I realised I— I liked you, and I was so scared I was gonna, like…” He shakes his head, wide-eyed. “Completely humiliate myself.”

Will scoffs, shaking his head.

“You’re so fucking cute.”

“I never—“ Nico cuts off with a little gasp, looking frantic, panicked. Will reaches up to hold his face gently, murmuring a soft It’s okay. “I never thought you’d like me too. I thought— I thought we were just friends, and that was— that was all I was gonna get.” He takes a breath. “And I— I was okay with that, because you’re my best friend, and I’m…”

Will’s eyes burn. He tugs Nico into a hug, wrapping his arms around his neck and hiding his face, squeezing his eyes shut and trying hard not to cry. Nico slides his hands over Will’s waist, slipping his fingertips under his t-shirt. His hands are cold. It feels good.

“We can be best friends,” Will says softly, his voice muffled by Nico’s skin.

“Yeah?”

Will nods. He closes his eyes.

Nico smells like incense. Like smoke and old flowers. Like home.

“Can you also be my boyfriend?” Nico asks, and Will grins, nodding again.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Will whispers.

Nico kisses his neck again, smiling against his skin.

“You like doing that, don’t you?” Will asks, letting his head fall to give Nico more space to do as he wants. Nico hums affirmatively, his teeth grazing his skin again, and Will bites his lip.

“I’ve wanted to for a long time,” Nico murmurs. And then he’s slipping his tongue across Will’s skin lightly, and Will feels his whole body explode in a ball of fire. Nico doesn’t seem to notice. He does it again, more intently, holding Will’s shoulder and the other side of his neck, his fingertips slipping under his sleeve.

“I like your neck,” Nico mumbles between licks, and Will laughs lightly.

“Are you a vampire?”

Nico giggles and bites down, making Will laugh again while his nerves light up. A soft sound escapes him, and Nico drags his tongue over the bite, grinning.

“Jesus, Nico.”

“You taste good,” Nico says against his neck, and Will laughs, squeezing his eyes shut.

“You’re a menace.”

“You like it.”

“I like you,” Will murmurs.

Nico pulls back enough to look into his eyes, the shadows of the room casting across his face. His eyes are still shining vulnerably like he doesn’t quite believe him.

“I like you,” Will repeats, whispering and leaning in close enough that their lips brush. “So much, baby,” he adds, just to see how Nico will react, and he has to hold back a satisfied grin when Nico exhales sharply, swallowing and tightening his hands in Will’s hair.

Nico kisses him slowly, deeply, breathlessly, holding his head in place, and Will gently slides his hands under his hoodie. Nico pulls away with a gasp and Will stops, looking at him worriedly, but his eyes are closed, his brows furrowed, his lip caught between his teeth.

“Is this alright?” Will asks softly, and Nico nods, taking a deep breath.

“You’re so warm,” he murmurs.

Will presses his hands further up Nico’s waist, smiling when he realises his hands are wide enough for his fingertips to run over Nico’s spine, over the bumps and divots. He watches Nico’s expressions change, watches his eyebrows relax, watching his lip slip from his teeth so his mouth is hanging open, and he looks asleep until he squeezes his eyes shut and blinks them open, looking at Will.

His eyes flick down to Will’s smile, and then he’s tugging him in by the back of his neck and kissing him hungrily, sucking on his lip, licking into his mouth.

Will squeezes his shut, kissing him back just as hard, and pushes him back gently. Will pulls away, breathing hard, and moves so his legs are out of the way for Nico to lay down. Nico looks up, moving up so his head is on a pillow, and then his face scrunches up with frustration as he pushes a hand under his back.

“The fucking cards are everywhere,” he grumbles, shoving a card away, and Will laughs, sitting back on his calves so he’s kneeling between Nico’s legs.

“I forgot about them,” he says, still laughing and pushing the cards into a pile, but Nico grabs at his shirt, tugging at him.

“Forget about them, come here.”

Will turns to look at him, setting a hand on his thigh gently, gazing, in awe. His lips are red and shining, and his cheeks are flushed, and his hair is messy, and a burst of pride swells in Will’s chest. He did that. Nico tugs again, looking at him desperately.

“Please.”

Will melts.

He leans over, catching himself with a hand next to Nico’s head, and kisses him softly, lowering himself to rest on his forearms, his fingertips pushing into Nico’s hair.

“Of course, honey,” he murmurs against his lips. Nico’s arms wrap around his neck, and Will lets his weight fall to one arm, his other hand sliding under the arch of Nico’s back, finding the hem of his hoodie and slipping under it to press to his skin.

Nico whines, gripping Will’s shirt tightly, wrapping his legs around Will’s hips. He pulls his face away, his head falling back to the pillow, breathing hard.

Will looks at him, at his closed eyes and kiss-bitten lips.

“Alright?” he asks, starting to move his hand, but Nico’s hand jumps to his arm, stopping him.

“Stay there,” he says quietly. “Please. …It feels good.”

“Okay,” Will murmurs. He brushes his thumb back and forth, gazing at Nico and thinking. Nico takes a deep breath, slowing his breathing, sliding his hand up to hold Will’s shoulder.

Will presses a kiss to Nico’s chest over his heart.

Nico smiles at the ceiling.

“I’m really happy right now,” he says softly. “Like… really happy. I might pass out.”

“Don’t pass out,” Will says, laughing lightly. “I won’t know what to do if you pass out.”

“You’re the doctor, you should know exactly what to do if I pass out.”

Will laughs again, letting his head fall to press his face into Nico’s neck. Nico hand pushes into his hair.

“Well I wouldn’t have to know what to do if you don’t pass out,” he says.

“We’ve just said ‘pass out’ way too many times—“

“That’s your fault.”

“Shut up, Solace.”

“Solace?” Will lifts his head, looking at Nico, offended, cracking a smile when he sees the amusement in Nico’s eyes. “Are we still on a last name basis?”

“What would you prefer?” Nico asks, setting a look on him, lifting his hands to push Will’s hair out way. Will hadn’t even noticed it falling in the way, curtaining around their faces like it’s trying to hide them.

“What would you prefer?” Will tries not to shiver when Nico’s fingertips run behind his ears and along his jaw.

Nico’s cheeks turn pink, and he suppresses a smile, his tongue running over his bottom lip.

“Shut up,” he says again, softer. “Darling.”

Will exhales, his eyes widening.

“‘Darling’ is nice,” he says, nodding with raised eyebrows. “I like it.”

“Kiss me.”

“Yes, sir.”