Work Text:
It has taken so long for Will to convince Nico, through the most achingly patient and gentle pace he could manage, that not all touch has to hurt.
From the moment they met, Will recognized the signs of touch starvation like the words were written on Nico’s pale skin. He watched Nico lean towards his friends, eager to be close. He watched the way he self soothed when he was anxious, rubbing his arms as if attempting to hug himself. But he also saw traces of something sadder and even more telling in the way Nico shied away from casual contact, how he flinched when a hand raised too quickly in his peripheral.
Will decided he would tread carefully.
Slowly, over the course of the year, he managed to silently disengage Nico’s fight or flight response to physical contact. Months and months of showing his hands before reaching for his shoulder or rubbing his back, endless hours of opening his arms as an invitation and letting Nico hesitantly come to him. Weekly Hades cabin movie nights were planned with hidden ulterior motives of successfully getting Nico to let Will drape an arm around him. Quite frankly, he was pretty damn proud of the progress thus far.
It has led to this.
In the middle of one of their aforementioned movie nights, while casually curled next to his best friend, Will feels him tug softly on the sleeve of his t-shirt. “Would it be okay,” Nico asks, just barely audible over the explosions on the laptop screen, “if I sat in your lap?”
Will’s heart shutters. He watches Nico, usually so deadpan and uninterested, and never one to initiate, as he slowly turns pink.
It captivates him more than it should.
He squeaks out, “Whatever you feel like, Neeks.”
Apparently much more eager than Will realized, Nico wastes no time, turning and planting himself sideways in Will’s waiting lap, nestling under his chin, and sighing with deep contentment.
Will finds himself suspecting that Nico has wanted to be in a lap for a while. He just quickly thanks whichever gods may be listening that his lap is the one Nico has selected. His chest thrums happily, and anxiously.
He cannot mess this up. He forces himself to steady his breathing, worried that Nico will feel the erratic beat of his heart. He needs to be relaxed, or this’ll all go to shit. He cannot mess this up.
Gently, testing the waters, Will brings his arms up and wraps them around his friend, and in response Nico burrows himself further into his oversized hoodie and completely sinks into him.
Will could sing. But that’s probably a bit more of a reaction than the vibe really calls for right at the moment, so he settles for burying his nose in Nico’s hair, his eyes squeezed shut and his lip bitten to contain his elation.
So now he’s stretched out in his bed, his best friend curled up against his chest, laptop playing some awful action film they had intended to make fun of, and Will can’t even begin to refocus on it.
Because Nico is in his lap and is also the most beautiful boy Will has ever seen.
“Comfy?”
Nico nods slowly against him, as if he could already be on the edge of sleep. Will chuckles, resting his cheek atop his head. “When did you become such a cuddlebug?”
Nico turns his face into Will’s collarbone. When he speaks, his breath is hot on Will’s neck. “I know, I’m as shocked as you are.”
Will laughs at that. “You don’t seem shocked.”
Nico burrows impossibly closer. “‘M more shocked that I actually… said something… this time.”
Will blinks. “You thought about this before?”
“Not in like, a creepy way, I swear!” Nico pulls back to look at Will in a panic. “Just that sometimes when you—you put your arm around me…” he trails off, too embarrassed or perhaps unsure how to finish, and Will wants more than ever to dip his head and kiss him.
He shakes the thought away. “You could’ve told me sooner.” He beams, giving Nico a light squeeze. “I certainly don’t mind.”
The affection suddenly too much, Nico flushes and scowls, turning his face away.
Almost like he’s flustered.
A thought dawns on Will like the sun breaking through the clouds: Nico could possibly return Will’s feelings for him. As soon as the inkling of hope wiggles its way into Will’s stomach, he knows he can’t let it go. No amount of anxiety or fear of ruining their friendship could put the thought out of his mind anymore.
He bites his lip, and before he can give himself a chance to wuss out, he says, “What else do you think about? With me?”
The back of Nico’s neck slowly turns pinker, and Will has to call upon all his self control not to kiss it.
Nico says softly, “Lots of things.”
Will reaches for Nico’s chin and turns it gently back to face him. Nico’s black eyes are impossibly wide.
“Like what, baby?”
Nico’s breath hitches. His dark eyelashes flutter. Will hadn’t even meant to let it slip out, but as soon as it does, he can’t help but feel like it fits perfectly on his tongue.
Baby. Nico, his baby.
He rubs his thumb gently against Nico’s soft lower lip and says lowly, “Go on. Name one.”
And Nico whimpers against that thumb, and like a dam breaking, surges to kiss him.
It surprises Will more than it should—really, he huffs at himself, when are you going to catch up?—but soon he’s pressing back against Nico’s lip and beaming, reveling in the way he can feel those eyelashes brush against his cheek, in the way the weight in his lap shifts to meet him, in the way this makes fireworks explode in his chest.
He revels in the happy little trill that sounds in the back of Nico’s throat when he’s squeezed even tighter, in the way he draws his arms up around Will’s neck.
He revels in the way Nico lets Will hold him, gently, completely, finally.