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It’s Christmas, and Percy Jackson is lying prone on the porch of Cabin 13.
It’s been Christmas for about five minutes, moon high and sky dark. Surrounding cabins have lights that flash lazily – strung up along rudders and windowsills, green and red or blue and white or all at once. The light only reaches so far, however; Cabin 13 is bare of these decorations, leaving the cabin in its signature gloom. Nobody bothered to even lace holly and pine needles along the railing of the porch. It still looks like it’s waiting for Halloween to make a return. Thanks Annabeth.
And Percy is sprawled on the porch.
Face-down, in a tank-top and loose jeans without shoes, looking like he dropped like a sack of potatoes and didn’t bother moving afterward. There’s nothing saying otherwise, honestly. He looks serene. No crease between his eyebrows, no fluttering eyelids on the cusp of a nightmare, no twitching or sleep-mumbling or – okay, well, some sleep-mumbling because Percy doesn’t exactly have a penchant for being silent for very long – but just looking at him, you’d think he consciously decided to settle down for a nap and that’s that.
He murmurs, shoving his arm up over his head. The motion hides his face from view. Not that there’s much of a view in the dark anyways, or that anybody is around to see it. Just the night air and the warm breeze of artificial summer. There’s probably some harpies wandering around somewhere, eyes peeled for some less fortunate campers: they’d stopped harping after Percy so much given how many times the boy just leaves whenever he feels like it. Even then, the seclusion created by Cabin 13’s positioning allows for the illusion of vacancy. There’s nobody to see Percy.
Except Nico, but ‘nobody’ is a good way to describe him, so it probably counts.
Percy shifts again. And again. Rolls his body into a bowing-back kind of stretch, arms and legs trembling with the strain of it. He groans from deep in his chest, then yawns. His jaw clicks with it. “Y’gon’ keep star’n at me or y’gonna tell me where you went?”
He has yet to look at Nico, still going through the motions of waking up. Nico shoves his hands in his pockets, blinking down at the boy on the porch. Nico can’t really find it in himself to say anything just yet.
Percy doesn’t look surprised. He meets Nico’s eyes, even in the dark, all greenish in the dim moonlight and dark in a way Nico can’t really decipher just yet. He’s not had enough sleep to bother with it for too long. They stare at each other, expressions near matching: arched eyebrow, low eyelids, tired line of the mouth. The only difference is Percy’s managed to muster a semi-amused lopsidedness that seeps into the corners of his mouth. “C’mon.”
Where?
It isn’t spoken, but Percy just shrugs anyways like he heard it crystal-clear, “My cabin, duh. Let’s go.” And who is Nico to argue? The idea of beechwood interior, soft-rope netting accents, sandalwood-scented linen and open windows that Cabin 3 promised is far more enticing than whatever Cabin 13 had to offer. Thanks again, Annabeth.
It also isn’t exactly a new thing, Percy planting himself on Cabin 13’s porch and waiting – not quite like a dog for his owner, more like a very persistent dog that is convinced the person he’s waiting for is, in fact, his owner, when the opposite holds more truth to it – and then immediately toting Nico away to other places. Maybe if Nico had been younger, more hopeful, he’d think it means more than it really does. It still…intimidated him, in the beginning. How Percy just is (a whirlwind, a rushing tide, a swallowing wave,) and how easy it almost was to slip back under.
But this is no longer the beginning, so Nico doesn’t flinch when Percy grabs his hand. Simply basks in the warmth as Percy corrects his grab to be more of a hold, until he can slot his fingers in between Nico’s cold ones, callused palm against callused palm. “Sounds good,” He breathes – finally having unthawed his mouth enough to do so.
He’s not really sure when Percy had even stood up, honestly. Or when he’d approached. Or when he’d made the reach for his hand. But it’s where they are now, and much like anything else with Percy, Nico is content to follow. Mostly.
They meander across the grass and embedded trails easily. It’s a combination of chthonic-gifted night vision and demigod-driven special awareness and pastimes-ingrained memory that allows them to travel in one piece. The days for tripping and cursing loudly are long behind them, back when the harpies still tried to give a shit about two idiot children sneaking out after curfew. And if Percy somehow trips up anyways, well, only they know.
“Idiot,” Nico admonishes. There’s no bite in it. Hasn’t been for years.
“You’re more of an idiot, Mr ‘I disappeared again without telling my best friend’ – that is me, by the way, you don’t have the choice, we’ve been over this – ‘and made him sleep on –“
“I didn’t make you sleep on the cabin’s porch, Jackson, you did that all by yourself.” The delivery is flat, as is di Angelo charm, but Nico can’t quite keep the wry tone as mirth-free as he’d like. Percy’s knowing grin is followed by a bubbling kind of laughter. He squeezes their hands.
The laughter washes away, and as Percy takes his first steps up the porch to Cabin 3, Nico finally figures out what the dark quality to his eyes is. It hadn’t left at all, no matter the tensionless companionship; his eyes are stern-dark, keeps them deep like a storm on the sea, and Nico tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. “I did,” Percy allows, “But you said you’d be…back, earlier than. Y’know. Past midnight.”
“I did,” Nico echoes. Makes his feet follow Percy’s as they enter his cabin.
Even with no lights on, the cabin is light. Softly glowing blue from the fountain, the sound of lapping water gentle in the periphery. The translucent curtains flutter with the draft. The seashell netting attached to the curtain-railings clack and tap against each other before settling. As they step further into the cabin, floorboards whine under – well, Nico’s boots, mostly, since Percy’s still barefoot and padding around and tracking dirt.
“And you weren’t back yesterday,” Percy says. It’s not an accusation, simply listing it off, since they’ve been over this enough times. He leads Nico towards his bed, and continues after Nico nods, “So that means something happened.” It’s said a little more accusatorily this time.
Instead of answering, Nico flops down. Percy and Tyson both got gifted with less-than-modest queen-sized beds in the remodeling process, and while he’s certainly dropped by for a nap or two on Tyson’s bed before, he’ll…always like Percy’s better. It’s probably to do with the linen. It’s not amazingly soft and it always catches on scars or scabs the wrong way, and the mattress is kind of lumpy because Percy doesn’t sleep in a set spot and leaves weird indents everywhere dependent on his latest sleeping position. Still, as he curls his fingers into the old crochet blanket Sally sent, Nico thinks he’s never slept as well as he has in Percy’s bed.
Not that he’s there often.
“It’s not. Like. A huge deal.” He avoids Percy’s gaze as he says this. He’s conscious of how dark Percy’s eyes already were, smiling regardless, and he has yet to even figure out just what caused it – there’s no point to add more on top of it.
“Not a huge deal,” The boy repeats flatly – and in one smooth motion he’s yanking up both the jacket and the sweatshirt Nico’s wearing and slapping his hand squarely on the shoddy bandaging and adhesive he had thrown on a couple hours ago.
Immediately, Nico is curling in on himself, growling, “Oh, you dick!” The area screams under the impact, the pain lashing out in throbbing waves from the epicenter. He almost brings his own hand up to clutch it, but forces himself to drop it loosely in his lap; there’s no point in grabbing something that hurts from being touched. It’s bad enough that Percy’s still pressing it. Nico hisses through his teeth in lieu of hitting the boy. He glares.
Percy doesn’t look remorseful at all. His hand lets up on the pressure, finally releasing their hand-holding (they hadn’t stopped before now?) to look at the wraps. Silence falls over them. It’s routine, even before their more solidified friendship, and Percy’s hands skirt the area with ginger touches and mapping of the gauze. The gentler the touch, the more the burning sensation eases.
It’s still dark, and as much as Nico wants to continue hiding in it, he reaches over to pull the string for Percy’s lamp on the nightstand. A warm light bathes the bed and reaches out along the wooden boards, but doesn’t fill the entire cabin.
There’s a sharp intake of breath. “I saw the bruising in the dark, but. Y’know. Worse in the light, all that.” Percy’s hands connect at the thumbs and span the breadth of Nico’s ribs before beginning to pick at the adhesive strips messily taping the gauze in place. “Gods, you didn’t even try to properly wrap it? What –“
And Nico thought he’d been doing a good job at keeping his breathing steady. He had been, up until his ribs started getting poked at. (Okay, not really, but for the sake of his pride he’ll pretend. Though the squirming definitely hadn’t been an issue beforehand.) Of course, Percy noticed anyways. “Easy,” The boy ushers. He moves his hands away from Nico’s ribs, only to place one on the small of his back and the other on his shoulder. Tipping Nico towards the pillows, laying on his good side. Then hitching Nico’s legs up over his lap. “Just. Stay still. You know the drill.”
He snorts.
Percy’s chuckle is a balm; it keeps Nico settled for about three seconds because he’s back to gritting his teeth as the adhesive strips get torn from his skin. Those were some good adhesives, sure did the job. Leaves his skin feeling sticky, though. And yeah, bringing his knees to his chest only makes working with his ribs more difficult, but Percy’s adaptable and they’ve done this enough to know that there is no stopping Nico curling up and settling like a human-rock.
“’Broshia?” Nico hisses out.
“You didn’t take any already? Idiot.” A beat. “Top drawer.”
Top drawer was definitely a new spot. The most sensible place Percy has probably ever squirreled away his personal stash of ambrosia, but that means Percy’s been homesick. That’s the usual pattern: the more normal-house-storage-spot an ambrosia stash-spot is, the stronger Percy’s been wanting to go see his mom. Considering the top drawer of his nightstand is always empty, the fact that something is in there at all, like there would be in, say, an apartment bedroom – yeah.
It makes sense. It is Christmas.
The little ziplock baggy of ambrosia reminds him of aniseed hard-candy. Blocks of it that are smooth yet gritty against his fingers. Nico stuffs a block in his mouth simultaneous to Percy beginning to pry the gauze from the actual wound. Blood has clotted and kept the cotton stuck.
If Percy’s judgmental tut is anything to go by, he’s done a poor job. Which he already knew. He’s too busy focusing on the pain dampening as he chews the ambrosia to really taste it – it’s metallic, honestly, like he’s bitten his tongue, and he’s not really sure what that means – and he bites out, “Didn’t have any. Wasn’t expecting…it.”
He hadn’t, in all fairness. It snuck up on him as he was doing some last minute Christmas-present-browsing-but-not-buying-because-he-only-buys-Hazel-presents, and. Well. Suddenly there was shrieking of late-evening shoppers and a display window shattering and…birds squawking. Cue metal, blade-like feathers. Not exactly the best way to announce the store closing for the night.
“Expecting what?” Percy asks, half-distracted as he finally picks the last of the cotton from his wound. “Well,” Percy murmurs, fingers returning to prod the area, “Ambrosia dealt with the bruises. The, uh, gaping hole in your side? Not so much. Though that’s probably the fucking glass still wedged in there!” His voice raises an exasperated octave towards the end. Like usual, the concern underneath is subtle enough to be an afterthought.
Nico growls again when Percy begins brushing out the bigger pieces of glass out. “It’s not a gaping hole,” He grouses, twitching and fingers spasming against the bedding (though, he can’t really feel anything, so ambrosia’s working a little more than Percy gives it credit for,) “It’s just a –“
“Yeah, I know, a huge-ass tear in your meat-layer that’s still bleeding and full of glass bits that looks like something gave you a big ol’ cut and then decided that wasn’t enough and directly stabbed you for good measure.”
A pause. Nico stares stubbornly down at his hands. Percy’s eyes don’t leave his wound, nor do his hands. He wipes away blood roughly, taking bits of glass with it, with the remains of the cotton gauze. Still silent. In his peripheral, the furrowed eyebrows have made a reappearance and there’s a stiffness to the frown on his face. Pensive.
One of Percy’s hands leave his skin, swung out in the direction of the fountain. The gentle trickling becomes more of a swoosh as the water is beckoned; ribbon-like as it curls around the outstretched hand and wrist. “Was it stymphalians? And, like, something else?”
As the water comes into contact with his side, Nico finds himself huffing through his nose. It’s cold. Always is. It’s hard to fight the shiver, even as the warm breezes still pull through the cabin. “Yes to the first part.”
Droplets begin hovering in the air. One. Two. Three. A couple more, until they form into one blob, and Nico begins to see the little shards suspended in the water. Once droplets stop joining the blob, Nico begins to feel his skin knit together. it’s an odd feeling, first starting deep where the feathers had dug, until the wider stretch of scrapes are gone altogether.
The water is willed away, but Percy’s hand remains. Warmth seeps into his skin, wherever Percy’s fingers rest down to the center of his palm. Nico pretends he’s not immensely aware of each of his ribs and how they feel waterlogged (somehow in a good way,) underneath the other boy’s touch. He looks up, finds Percy already staring at him. His eyes aren’t as dark as they had been. Knitted eyebrows still present. Mouth, however, loosened into a relieved little smile.
Worry, Nico decides. Nico’s been worrying him, probably since yesterday when he said he’d make an appearance and then failed to do so. “Second part was me falling against a broken window.” Because I’m an idiot.
Percy hums, sliding his hands up until he can hook his fingers into the shoulders of Nico’s jacket and beginning pulling it down his arms. He sits up, starts helping by shrugging off the other arm. In under a minute, the jacket is being thrown to the floor. Boots next. Percy’s hands dragging his sweatshirt back down his torso, palm leaving a warm trail on his thighs through his jeans. Rushing fingers unknotting the laces, pulling the leather tongue back and fingertips digging into the rubber soles. Then they’re off. Hard clunk clunk as they hit the floor. “Sounds like somebody hasn’t been sleeping well, if they’re falling over despite…” Percy’s tongue sticks out a little as he begins to unbuckle Nico’s belt. He doesn’t finish his thought, and Nico is content to leave him be.
The older boy dumps the belt on the floor. Unbuttons Nico’s pants, stands, and grabs them by the hem at his ankles and pulls. They come off in one whoosh, and are, like everything else, dropped. “Is that my sweatshirt, by the way?” He asks over his shoulder. Nico stays flopped on the bed in just his boxers and said sweatshirt, that may or may not in fact belong to his friend.
Percy’s jeans pool at his feet after a second of fiddling. He steps out of them, strolling towards the trunk at the bottom of his bed. He opens it, bends down. Nico stares at the contrast of the black waistband of Percy’s underwear, then at the little skulls dotted all over them. “Are those my underwear, by the way?” He asks in the same tone.
Green eyes blink at him, then down at his shorts, before he arches an eyebrow. “Touché.”
Something soft suddenly lands on his face.
Pulling it off reveals it to be a pair of sweatpants. Navy blue. Smell like the citrus detergent Sally uses and the mustiness that couldn’t be removed from the last time Nico wore these and then landed in a mudslide. Not that he minds. The earthiness of it blends well with the citrus. He closes his eyes for a second. Just breathes. It’s good.
The bed dips by his feet; he peeks, and watches Percy’s eyes soften. “Weirdo, put them on already.” He squeezes Nico’s ankle, then pats his knee, reaching over to grab the cup sitting on the nightstand. There are a few chunks at the bottom of it. Nico watches, confused, as Percy gets up with the cup and tips it out the window.
So that’s where the bits of glass went. He hadn’t even realized Percy had put the water away.
He opens his mouth to tease – until the hair on his arms stands up and a tingle runs down to his fingertips. He stares hard at Percy’s door, searching out until he can detect the heartbeat and the soul that approach Cabin 3’s porch in tandem. Percy’s only a step behind, turning his back to Nico as he faces the door. “Jason?” He guesses. Was Jason visiting camp?
“…Annabeth,” They say in sync as a creak from the porch officially signifies somebody else’s presence.
Percy releases his stance, turning his back to the door and shutting his trunk unceremoniously. He hums to himself something along the lines of have yourself a merry little Christmas as he starts to unhurriedly kick Nico’s clothes and boots in the general direction of his trunk. No further effort is put in.
“I thought I saw you two walking by earlier.” Annabeth kicks the door shut behind her, leaning against it with crossed arms. She’s in an old shirt – one of Nico’s, he’s surrounded by thieves, unbelievable – and seemingly nothing else. The shirt’s big enough to keep her modest (not that anybody really cares.) Nico finds himself following the snarls and knots of her hair down over her shoulders. He smiles at the sight. “Finally show up then, did you?” She keeps her voice airy.
He bares his teeth at her, wadding up Percy’s sweatpants and chucking them at her. He grumbles as she simply snatches them out of the air, and begins to pull them on herself.
“With a big ol’ hole in his side, yeah,” Percy tattles. He only grins when Nico glowers at him, though goes easy when Nico manages to scrabble at his shirt and drag him back onto the bed.
Annabeth’s eyes immediately snap to him, interrogation half out her mouth – interrupted only by the sight of healed skin as he dramatically hikes up his sweatshirt. “It was not a ‘big hole’, it was a cut.” Percy shuffles around until he can sit on his knees with Nico’s legs over his lap. “And it didn’t take much to heal it –“ He sits up, bonks his forehead down on Percy’s shoulder – “Thanks, by the way, but yeah. It wasn’t a huge deal.”
“It was a pretty big deal,” Percy tells Annabeth, “Couldn’t sit still if I touched it –“
“I did just fine, thank you –“
“Did the whole ‘I’ll pretend I’m a rock’ thing –“
“You know I can’t help that!” Nico frowns down at Percy, who just snickers. The bouncing of his shoulders has Nico jostling, but he stubbornly keeps his head on Percy’s shoulder. “You prick.”
The bed dips as Annabeth crawls up onto it, wedging herself between the two of them. She sits most of her weight on Nico’s lap, back against his front, with her legs sprawled perpendicular to his own. Her hand finds Percy’s, though, squeezes his fingers and starts kneading into his swollen palms. Despite the artificial warmth of the camp-controlled weather, some effects just can’t be avoided. Swore joints and swelling being one of them.
Percy doesn’t seem too perturbed by it, surrendering his hand easy. His spare is on Nico’s ankle, rubbing circles into the bone there – even though it doesn’t really hurt that bad, had healed over nicely during the summer. He lets it be, lets his friends pamper each other. They’re very tactile. They make a good pair. Always have.
And if Nico gets to reap the benefits of cuddly idiots? Well, he’s not exactly complaining.
“Well,” Annabeth starts. She fixes him with a firm look, all smokey-eyed and stern lip; she’s shorter than him now – they both are – but she still manages to make him feel small and thoroughly reprimanded. Annabeth’s true demigod power, probably, considering she makes even the biggest-most-baddest of demigods humbled. “I’m glad you’re safe. And here. I didn’t really feel like having to go on a quest to find your scrawny ass for Christmas.”
Nico mock-pouts, but melts under the warmth in her gaze. He reclines against the pillows with nothing more than a hum. He snorts, listening to Percy grumble about he’s not scrawny, he’s nice and lithe and Annabeth’s answering yeah, and he’s gonna be even less scrawny once we get to your mom’s for dinner –
Which has him opening his eyes (he had closed them?) and watching the two of them mumble to each other. All he can really see is the back of Annabeth’s head and all her sleep-tangled curls, and the general bulk of Percy’s shoulders and one his broad hands circling her waist – but it’s good, it’s homely, the sight brings him comfort. He’s missed this. The absentmindedness of it all; Percy still rubbing his ankle even as he lowers to press a kiss to the girl’s temple. It’s good. Makes Nico feel safe.
“Didn’t know I was coming over for dinner,” Nico mumbles.
Percy does something that leads to him and Annabeth capsizing. They’re all laying down now. The girl in the middle, her hair in Nico’s mouth and on the pillows and tickling Percy’s nose. She makes it a point to scoop Nico ‘round the waist and tug him closer so they can all fit on the bed. He doesn’t flinch away like he used to. He doesn’t feel horribly embarrassed, either, when Percy’s arm wedges beneath the pair of them and pulls until they all roll over and are forced to lay on him. Annabeth fully on his chest, Nico tucked under his arm and pillowed by Percy’s shoulder. What a mess.
Annabeth folds her arms under her chin. “Yes you did,” She hums, looking at him fondly. Then one of her hands comes out to touch his face, thumbing gently under his eye, “Though I’m not surprised if you forgot. Looks like you haven’t been sleeping again.”
“When does he ever?” Percy snipes.
“When does he ever?” Nico parrots, meeting those green eyes. they stare for a moment, before the other boy groans and accepts defeat. It garners a scoff from their girl, who just rolls her own eyes at them.
“Idiots. You both need to start trying to sleep better. I can’t always come and sleep in a dogpile with you.” At the very least, she looks a little remorseful about the fact. Though, in all fairness, it’s probably because he and Percy are fixing her with a dejected sort of sulk.
Percy curls his arms tighter around them, huffing petulantly. “But we like sleeping with you.” A pause. Then some snickering. Nico doesn’t have look at the boy to know he’s waggling his eyebrows. He meets the girl’s equally as unimpressed stare, and they groan in despair and Percy’s snickering graduates into a chuckled, “And we like sleeping with you too!”
Even as they bounce a little with Percy’s laughter, Nico has to pause. He frowns, furrowing his eyebrows. Something about that joke doesn’t quite…sound right. While he’s trying to figure out just what is wrong – ‘we’? – Annabeth is fixing Percy with a smirk, tone mirthful as she points out: “You can’t say ‘we’ when one of us hasn’t slept with you yet.”
Which…only makes it worse. Annabeth and Percy have had sex – he had to listen to Percy cry about it (yes, cry, the boy came to his cabin and cried because it had been ‘mortifying’, though thankfully they’d talked it out and, no Percy, just because you came too early for your first time doesn’t mean you’re bad at sex. Idiot.) It’s a memory Nico tries to force out of his head, only to unfortunately remember in moments such as this.
That still begs the question… Nico frowns, confused, and mumbles, “What do you mean ‘yet’? why would I have sex with Percy – like…ever?” Granted, he wouldn’t be opposed. But he’s long since given up on any of those kinds of ideas. It’s been years, now, and Percy and Annabeth aren’t going to magically break up. To be honest, Nico would be upset if they did. They’re his best friends. He loves them, sure, and he loves them, sure. But. They’re happy as they are. And Nico’s happy as things are.
Silence falls over them. Annabeth’s lost her humoring smile, now looking about as puzzled as Nico feels. Percy’s stopped chuckling, but he seems more contemplative. “Well, if you’re not into that, it’s fine!” He doesn’t seem to broken up over it, thank the gods (note the sarcasm,) but it still doesn’t clear up anything. “No pressure, obviously, like. There’s nothing wrong with –“
Something on Nico’s face must make more sense to Annabeth, since she finally cuts in. “Hold on, Kelp Head.” Her eyes narrow in suspicion, the gray of them churning like a brewing storm as she starts thinking through the situation.
“Huh?”
Nico sits up a little, trying to keep himself from tensing. Because it’s not a situation worth tensing-up for, he just feels. Out of his element. Confused. Kept out of the loop. And that’s a reason to be tensed for, especially when it sounds like they’re several steps ahead of him. Percy whines a little as he pulls away, so Nico doesn’t react too harshly when Percy settles an anchoring hand on his hip. Hell, he doesn’t even react at all. The tactile element of The Percy Package and Nico’s own desire for contact had eliminated the awkwardness waaay back in the beginning. They’re too close as friends – all three of them – for him to really have a reason to flinch from them anymore.
That, and. Percy’s hand on his hip is nice.
So is Annabeth’s hand on his thigh, as she pushes herself up a bit too. Her hand stays there. As does Percy’s. Annabeth finally speaks again, though her question is directed at her idiot of a boyfriend: “I thought you talked to him about it?”
“About what?” Nico asks lightly, though neither of them are looking at him anymore. He snorts, though can’t quite tamper down the fondness. Their silent conversations are a language he doesn’t understand, but that’s never made him feel pushed away. He has his own quiet language with them, too, and Percy and he have one and he and Annabeth have one. It’s okay.
Percy makes a weird face. Then squints at Nico. “You said yes? What’s the problem?”
Nico stares at him, “Huh? Said yes to what?”
Annabeth groans, dropping her face into her hands. It’s Percy’s turn to look confused. Good, the idiot deserves it. Nico blinks at Percy, who blinks at him, and then he finally states: “You said you love us. I asked. You said yes.”
And Nico nods, because yes, he remembers that conversation. A little under a month ago. Together walking through the strawberry fields hand-in-hand, the sun timid with rainclouds forming and the humidity keeping them horribly drenched in only shirts and shorts. Do you – like, okay, this might sound weird, but you love me and Annie right?
It’d caught Nico off-guard for a moment. Thought he’d been caught-out, wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was. But he’d looked at Percy, and Percy was serene if not a little curious; holding his hand still felt safe, not a trap, so Nico had said yes, of course. You two are my best friends. I love you both. It’d sufficed enough as an answer.
Good. We love you too. That was it.
Percy seems to be recalling the same thing; his knit eyebrows and frown had melted away into a pair of soft eyes and a lopsided kind of grin. Rosey cheeks. The hand on Nico’s hip is petting more than cradling, now, thumb on his pelvic bone. “I did,” Nico allows, slowly, “I just. Didn’t realize it was…something else.” He looks to Annabeth for support.
She’s tracing patterns on Percy’s chest. Still in thought, looking between the two of them, lips pinched. “It was supposed to be an invitation –“ She sounds cautious, which makes Nico’s chest tighten. What was there to be cautious about? Before Nico can ask just what the invitation was, she snatches him up with her silver eyes. “We want you to be with us. As in. Be with us. Together.”
Nico blinks.
She groans, dropping her face into Percy’s chest, “I knew I should’ve talked to you myself! Gods Percy!”
“Whaaaaaat?!” Percy whines back, “I didn’t know he got confused!” When Annabeth won’t look up to meet his puppy-eyes, he fixes them on Nico instead, “Nicooooo, m’sorry, I didn’t realize you took it the wrong way.” Pwease fowgive meeee.
Nico blinks. Then clears his throat. “Oh,” he croaks out.
His face feels hot. Is it getting hot? Or were they hot? Their hands are still on him, on his hip and on his thigh, searing his skin. All fluttering breaths and hummingbird heartbeats and their souls feel restless in their skin. Shifting and winding. Intertwined with each other, Nico’s always known that, seen it, but –
Oh, it feels much too close in here. The walls are creeping in, he can see them. Why would they want that with him? Is that even how relationships work? They’re for each other. They fit. There’s not meant to be any room for him – which is fine, it’s always been fine, because Nico loves them and he’ll love their happiness even if there is no room for him to be a part of it. He has what he has. The world isn’t ending and they’re his best friends. It’s fine.
His chest feels tight. Percy’s hand moves, leaves a blazing trail from his hip to the center of his back, hand firm and pressing – when did Percy sit up? When did Annabeth leave the bed? Where is she? Is she okay? Maybe she’s having second thoughts. Realized it wasn’t worth it, wasn’t worth ruining their dynamic – and that’s okay too, because there’s no point in dedicating time to Nico. He’s not anybody worth… his relationships all end up ruined and he’s not good with these things, so it’s okay, he knows this, he was just a step ahead of Annabeth for once. She’s moved away, probably, changed her mind. Left the cabin. Doesn’t want to share with him. Doesn’t want to share even a bed, now that she’s realized he’s not… for them.
He knows this. Why is it hurting? His chest feels even tighter. Breath whistling in his throat.
Green. “Easy,” The green says, framed in black eyelashes, “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about any of that yet, let’s take it easy for a second.” Nico knows that green.
The heated trail moves. There’s two on him, now, those hands. Cradling his ribs while a weight settles on his shins. Green eyes are on him, having to sit up a little bit to meet him, but there’s a smile there, too. “Yeah, okay. You’ve already gotten your breathing back, that’s good. Real good.” He hadn’t realized it’d even gone in the first place.
More consciously, Nico takes a deep breath. Much like his breathing, he hadn’t noticed the rest of the room around him having disappeared either. He takes in Percy on his lap. Immediately searches for Annabeth, to find she hadn’t traveled very far at all: she’s kneeling at the foot of the bed, and he feels stupid for thinking she would’ve run out. He rubs his eyes, humming a little in response to Percy’s own humming – silly, like that, like some kind of back and forth in some kind of rhythm that he’s having trouble hearing fully.
He would lean into Percy’s hands if the position made it easier. They’re still attached to his ribs, but warm like sunsoaked rocks now, not the all-scalding intensity of earlier. It’s comforting. Percy can probably feel every one of his breaths.
“I…dunno why that happened.” Nico’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth, his hands heavier as he drops them onto Percy’s arms. He looks at Annabeth over Percy’s shoulder, giving her nod; it’s her cue to come back over, now that he doesn’t feel so closed-in, and she does. Crawls over just-this-side of too fast, but he doesn’t mind. He knows she’s just worried.
As she settles against his side again, in his old shirt and Percy’s old sweatpants (it looks so right, it feels good, makes him warm,) she shrugs one-shouldered, “It’s okay. It was kind of sudden, and we’re all tired.”
She tucks her hands flat between her thighs, legs stretched out in front of her. She rests her head on his shoulder; her hair smells like berry-blend shampoo she always brings home from college, with pine needles and remnant campfire settled finely on top. Nico closes his eyes to it, lets his cheek rest on her crown – despite the revelation of what they want (still dubious, really, maybe it’s just a game they’re playing) – he can’t help but still want contact. He’s too used to the cuddling at this point to turn it away.
“So,” Annabeth starts with a murmur. He’s grateful she doesn’t sound careful. She stopped trying to tiptoe around things like he’s a scared stray dog back in the beginning, learned fast that he’s just like Percy; doesn’t like sugarcoating, doesn’t like eggshell-tiptoeing, doesn’t like being treated any different. Nico finds his breath catching anyways.
Percy’s hands give a squeeze to his ribs, before curling up against his other side. To be surrounded like this…feels good. “You don’t have to be with us if you don’t want to,” Annabeth’s saying, but her voice is getting a little tight, breath hot on his neck. “We’d just. Really like it if you did. Love it, in fact.”
“Because we love you.” Percy punctuates it with a kiss to his temple.
And that’s normal, Percy gives chaste kisses – cheeks, temple, shoulder, hands. Anywhere he can reach, usually. And Nico’s gotten used to that, just another tactile-affection thing, but suddenly there’s so much more depth to it. What was presumed to be the shallow foam of the surf being much deeper, much vaster than had been recognized. He swallows thickly. Percy’s chuckle vibrates through his chest and Nico feels like his world is being shaken from beneath him.
“Oh,” He mumbles. Soft. Not a denial.
“But,” Annabeth cuts back in, “You have a choice. And if you say no, it’s. It won’t change anything, unless you want it to.”
“But also, if you say ‘no’ I will start grossly sobbing and make a public scene of it.” Percy’s smile is pressed hard against Nico’s skin, and even as Annabeth admonishes him, Nico can’t quite stifle the chuckle.
He takes a moment to think about it. Thinks about how Annabeth and Percy have always been just that: AnnabethandPercy. PercyandAnnabeth. There’s never really been…room for a third. Yet, he also can’t deny that he loves them. They’re his best friends, his favorite faces to see after a long day, the people he bothered keeping in contact with even when he had worked to drive everybody away time and time again. Not even Hazel had made that exception, sometimes. Regretfully. Before having fully come to a conclusion, the words are slipping out: “Good thing I’m not saying ‘no’ then, isn’t it?”
Maybe it’s because they’re all tired. It’s half an hour into Christmas now, and they’ve got a big day ahead of them, and they need to sleep. Maybe by tomorrow they’ll take it back. Say that it was a lapse in judgement, that they didn’t really mean it, sorry, maybe they should all just stay friends after all. And that will be okay. They’ll go to Sally’s and share presents and have dinner, and it’ll be the same as normal.
But for right now, though, Nico keeps his eyes closed. Let’s sleep take him. The last thing he hears is Annabeth snorting, we need to talk about this more, but apparently it can wait in a tone of finality. Percy just hums.
Nico hums back.
It’s a good way to start Christmas. Warm. Loved.