Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It's in early September when he ends up smoking pot on the beach with none other than Percy Jackson himself. That idea alone has his stomach rioting on itself and he'd rather not find out whenever it'll end up with him puking or doing something he'll be even more disgusted by.

He doesn't know what he's still doing here anyway. He should have left when the other kids did or when he saw Percy arriving or when the Stolls told him they finally got the goods and asked him to join them tonight. Or not. Let's be honest, it's not like his junkie ass could have turned down free weed. Or rather weed that comes with the price of stargazing with his brother's murderer.

They're both laying on their backs on the cold sand, the ocean is roaring at their feet and darkness blooms from up above. They can feel each other's heat radiating from where their palms are a few centimetres apart. Something foolish and degenerate inside him stings with the desire to stretch out his fingers across the distance. He tells himself it's just instinct, that his stoned little mind can't tell the difference between this moment and the nights spent on the floor of the Hades cabin. He sits up before he has the chance to fuck up anything.

He doesn't realize how awfully silent they were until Percy too rises up, probably startled by Will's sudden movement

"You okay?" 

"Never been better," Will bites his lip and runs a hand through his curls. His hair is full of sand.

He frantically looks around from his own definitely-not-trembling hands to the roach still between Percy's fingers, to what seems to be an empty beach. Shit, he wasn't aware they were all alone. For how long have they been sitting like this?

"Where's everybody?" there's a shaky edge to his voice that he doesn't like.

"Sleeping, fucking, hopefully not drowning," Percy answers without turning his view from the ocean. The fact that he doesn't even glance at Will shouldn't bother him. It does. It does so fucking much but it'd probably bother him even more if he did look at him. Will wants to scream.

"Why are you still here then?" is what comes out of his mouth instead. Because really, why the fuck isn't Percy fucking Connor and some random third party right now, since that’s what he's been doing since breaking up with Annabeth anyway. That or drinking his liver to death. Not much of a difference really.

He doesn't verbally express any of those thoughts, but something is definitely showing on his face or in his tone because when Percy finally replies, there's an aggressive bite to his words that wouldn't have been there if he didn't feel attacked at least on some level.

"Definitely not because I enjoy your company, so you can rule that one out."

It takes Will aback for a second, because pissing off Percy Jackson to get such a direct dismissal is not something anyone can do. Maybe he should feel a bit scared by pissing off the probably most dangerous demigod currently alive, but he can't help but savour the pride swelling up in his chest from managing to get under Percy’s skin. 

Anything for the confirmation that Percy is at least as half angry at him right now as he has been for the past year. The anniversary of Michael's death and Percy's 17th birthday just passed anyway.

"So then why the hell are you here with me instead of screwing around with your friends?" He hates how childish his voice sounds in all its 15 years old glory. He feels too old to be 15. 

But he's also right. Because damn, Jackson, why aren't you charming NYU students into buying you beers with Drew or roughhousing with Clarrise so middle schoolers can place bets or slowly corrupting Jason into revealing his punk roots with Thalia. Or literally all the other million things you have been doing since coming back which you should continue doing tonight instead of doing whatever-the-fuck-this-is.

"Guess I wanted some peace and quiet and from whom else can I expect to completely ignore my existence besides you," he states it plainly, like he actually thought about it long before Will even asked the question. Like it's as simple as that.

Will clenches his fists into the sand and his bones crack up like glowsticks. He wouldn't be surprised if he'd just start shimmering every second now, fueled by all the rage he's been keeping at bay since New York. 

As if on cue, Percy pulls out his pack of smokes, dropping the roach inside — ever the ecologist — before picking up a cigarette. He closes the pack, but opens it again on a second thought, extending it towards Will.

It's the fact that Percy is still refusing to look at him that makes him accept it. Otherwise he'd feel like a child getting consoled with candy. He won't take being treated like a child by Percy.

He pulls out the lighter Nico gifted him just a few days ago. It's obnoxiously yellow with hippie stickers on it and he loves to recall the sheepish way Nico had looked at him when he pushed it into his open hand. Apparently he has stolen it from a vendor in Barcelona because it reminded him of Will. He lights his cigarette with it and notices Percy gesturing for him to pass it to him.

He's almost forgotten Percy’s the kind of smoker who always lacks lighters. He never lacks company to ask from though and sometimes Thalia would spark it up for him. He wonders if they've taught Jason how to do that too by now. 

Once the lighter is safely back in Will's pocket the silence starts to chew them up. He's grateful that at least Percy's visibly uncomfortable too, even if it's subtle. It's in the way he arches his neck up when blowing out the smoke, sharp jawline and collarbones showered by moonlight popping out with the movement. He's making a show out of his actions, rehearsed divine allure trying to make out for human awkwardness. Will has paid enough attention to him to know that by now

They're halfway through the cigarettes when conversation sparks again.

"So you and Nico, huh?" He knows the nonchalance of it is not natural, but it doesn't stop him from choking on smoke any less.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He snarls once he's got his breath back. Gods, he's pathetic. 

"I saw him fiddling with it the other day. The lighter, I mean."

"So?"

"So? Is it true or not? Everyone's talking about it anyway."

"It's not— We're barely friends— Who is talking about it?"

"Don't get so defensive, it's just talks and bets, as always. I think Annabeth and I bankrupted half the camp when we got together." He expected for his voice to waver over Annabeth's name. It didn't.

"That's not the point, there's nothing to bet about because there's nothing going on." His face is probably all red and blotchy by now, telling by how hot his cheeks feel. Around him, the cold beach seems to mock him even more than the colder boy besides him.

"I think you're a little confused about how bets work, Solace." Percy delivers the line with one of his signature crooked smiles. Will wants to punch him hard enough to crook his entire face. It's not like he's strong enough to do any of that so he resumes to ignoring the retort.

"What do they say?" He asks plainly, acting as if he doesn't give a shit about the answer, praying that his godly skills will act up for once.

"I don't care to listen." Unlike him, Percy sounds sincere. It doesn't stop Will from being an asshole about it though. 

"Bullshit, you can't know about them but not know them! That's not how it works!"

"Why would I care about who you or Nico are fooling around with just based on rumours?"

"Because it's Nico, for Gods' sake!" He all but snarls, because it's one thing Jackson not giving a shit about the one son of Apollo he hadn't killed yet and there's a completely different thing him not caring about what Nico does. Because he knows exactly how Nico feels about Percy, even if it makes him boil up red and dirty with jealousy. 

In return, Jackson looks perplexed.

"Why would I get into Nico's life? He hates me"

Maybe that's what gets Will to bare his teeth. Or maybe it's the cheap vodka and smuggled blunts Trevor handed him. He'll never know now.

"Now that's where you're fucking wrong, Jackson. I am the one who hates you, not Nico." He slurred out half of the words and it's not exactly what he meant to say, but it's the best he could've done.

"You know, every time I imagine you saying that, I also imagine myself being shocked by it. It's funny that you finally get to say it and I'm—" he pauses to light up another cigarette, green eyes turned gold by the weak flame of his lighter, because apparently, he did have a lighter himself. It's the kind of thing that makes Will wonder how much of an act is he and how much is the actual Percy Jackson, born and bred in Harlem, "—simply too fucking high to give a shit about it." He lets out a hollow chuckle through the smoke, almost as if he's sorry for it. 

It takes Will aback and he dares to look the son of Poseidon in the eye for one second. His curiosity is met only by viridian emptiness behind clouds of smoke. Goosebumps rise on his bare arms at the sight of it; it makes him wonder what happened to the fourteen years old that swore to protect Bianca. Or the sixteen years old who, only a few months ago, chose to fall down to Tartarus rather than leaving Annabeth all alone. He can't find a trace of that boy in the body sitting besides him.

"So what do they say?" it must have been the third time he asked that question because it gets Percy's face to twist in an ugly scorn. There's pride to take in doing that.

"Drop it Solace, for fuck's sake," he puffs out a cloud of grey before turning to face Will, "listen, if you really gave a shit about what everybody is gossiping about you and Nico you wouldn't be here, high and alone with me on the beach instead of pumping the Aphrodite Cabin for info during whatever orgy everybody left us for."

There's no reply to that for a while, mostly because Will is too shitfaced to understand half of the words said and he's still wrapping his head around the orgy he just found out about. He considers that Jackson might be bluffing, but knowing their campmates, he's probably right.

"You're such an asshole, you know that?" He settles on saying in lack of a more intelligent answer.

"You've been nonverbally saying that to me everyday for the past year. Trust me, Will, it's not much of a surprise." His voice is too smooth, too even for how much he's been drinking and smoking and maybe that's what makes Will finally go off.

"Will you stop that already?" He swears he's loud enough to be heard all the way to camp.

"Stop what?"

"The ice queen behaviour? The acting-all-cold-and-emotionless-since-Annabeth-broke-up-with-me-so-I-won't-have-to-ever-be-vulnerable-again bullshit? The crap that made you say you're too high too care about what I think about you or Nico? Even if we both know it's a fucking lie?" Will rises up to his feet, screaming as loud as his lungs permit him. The sand rises up around them, getting into his sneakers and hopefully into Percy's curls as he stomps around to accentuate his points.

Jackson holds his gaze, once again infuriatingly unmoved, face full of dust and sand as he finishes the millionth cigarette of the night.

"Actually, I broke up with Annabeth."

"That's not the point."

"Sure, but you had your facts wrong."

"Like your version is any better. Like by 'I broke up with Annabeth' you don't mean 'Thalia forced me to break up with her because we were fucking toxic and she didn't want to watch two people she loved destroying each other'!"

Jackson swallows a knot in his throat and it almost satisfies Will. Almost.

"What are you trying to prove, Will?"

He's short on a proper answer, so the gaping silence that follows is left to be filled only by the vicius ocean waves. In a way, they make Will feel like Percy's already won. By the simple fact that they're still talking. By the fact that they're two feet away from the ocean. He should have known he could never win. Jackson's next words only make his loss more humiliating.

"You want to be with Nico? You want to confess? To be close to him? To hold him tight enough for him to decide to finally stay? To tell him you love him again and again until he finally believes it? Fine, then go and do it. But don't stand here, lecturing me about repressing emotions when you're a fucking coward about the one person you've allowed yourself to care about."

Percy's eyes don't leave his the entire time and Will doesn't dare to either, out of fear or hesitance, he doesn't know. He stays put, his body tensed up with unease, as the son of Poseidon takes him apart, dissects him to his core without any mercy. Cold eyes send shivers down his spine, but for the first time in weeks there's no emptiness anymore, only seaweed green fury and cynical passion. It makes him look mad. It makes him look like a god.

(Will — he'll think much later, back in the Hades Cabin, arms curled around protruding ribs and face sunken in dark locks — very much preferred the hollowed eyed corpse rather than the wrathful godling)

In one swift movement Jackson rises up, brushes off most of the sand clinging to his body and takes off towards the camp.

He's out of sight by the time Will gets his critical thinking skills back. He's left all alone with the waves and he can't help but think he's lost anyway. The ocean would kill him in Percy's place and it might even be kinder, but the result is one and the same: Will Solace is a coward and cowards don't get happily ever afters. 

Chapter Text

For Will, winter break has always brought troubles. More demigods at camp means more shifts at the infirmary, adding that Nico's chances to randomly disappear rise this time of the year, adding the Winter Solstice, which can never go well, not catastrophic being the more optimistic outlook. Now adding the fact that Jackson's back at camp. Now adding that said Percy Jackson is on the infirmary's doorstep, bleached long hair, almost as a mockery to Annabeth's, blown up like a lion's mane. It violently brings out the green of his eyes; the sight is mesmerising enough that he doesn't hear Percy's question.

"I'm sorry?"

Jackson crooks his eyebrow in indignation, before repeating the question. If there was a championship of How fast can you piss off Percy Jackson, Will is more than sure he'd win gold by a landslide.

"I said," he starts loud and strong, showing off his annoyance but lowers his voice for the next words, "I've got some stuff from Clovis and we'd like to shoot up tonight, thought you'd want to join us."

Will doesn't even bother to ask what he means by "we". All junkies in Half-Blood know each other, for the sake of solidarity and necessity really, so the question is never who, but how many?

"Also," Percy continues when he gets tired of Will's silence, "we thought having someone who actually knows the proper way to use a syringe might be best for everyone." He says it as if he's discussing last night's game capture the flag.

"Wait, you really mean injectables?"

"I did say shooting up, Solace."

"I thought you were messing up with me." Will pretends to inspect his stethoscope very carefully, two can play the game of nonchalance. "Usually you keep to the cheaper stuff," he says that hoping to offend Jackson and get him to storm off. There's no visible reaction, so it turns out that Will can only take gold at How fast can you piss off Percy Jackson by accident.

"Usually Clovis is not so generous or rather, he's not awake long enough to make generous acts," his tone leaves no room for dissatisfaction, and yet his voice is strained, tense when it shouldn't be. He's drumming his fingers on the doorway and Will wonders what's got him so riled up when Jackson crosses the room in two strides, stopping right behind the son of Apollo. Bleached ringlets fall besides Will's face when Percy lowers to whisper directly in his ear. 

"So are you in or out, doctor?" His breath against his skin is colder than the December wind and Will's shoulders rise up with nerves. He can feel the hard planes of Jackson's abdomen shift against his spine and it draws a shaky gasp out of his throat. Shame rises from the pit of his stomach to bloom his cheeks red and he swears he can feel Jackson's grin pressed to his neck.

"Same place as always?" he manages to reply, hoping that it would get the hellion behind him to back off and let him live another day.

Granted, it works, Jackson gives him a hum of approval before walking away. He's gone for good by the time Will unfreezes and turns around.

Two substances Will had decided a long time ago he should keep away from: drugs and Percy Jackson. And yet he's said yes to both of them for tonight.

“You’re late.” Is what he gets when he approaches Jackson and Connor at the beach after barely escaping from the sing-along. He tried his best to not look suspicious to Kayla and Austin. They don’t need to know he’s relapsed, on top of everything.

“Sorry, some of us have siblings who care about their well-being,” he’s pretty sure Connor side eyes him even though they both know it was meant as a jab at Percy specifically. An objectively shitty one maybe, but Will simply can't deal with smartassery after spending two hours treating a bunch of first-years who fell off the climbing wall for the first time. Definitely not the last, but he didn't tell them that.

“Let’s get this over with,” Percy says, as if to himself, but unable to help the way the ocean breeze carries his voice stronger than intended.

“Just the three of us?” Will has to ask, because sure, getting baked at parties doesn’t mean you’ll end up injecting ketamine on the beach on a Thursday night, but only three people out of hundreds of traumatized teenagers sounds fishy.

“What, you want more people around while you’re tripping?” Jackson gestures with his cigarette towards a circle of rocks down the beach. A lighter sparks on and allows Will to see about a dozen heads huddling behind the boulders. He thinks he recognises Katie Gardner when a hand laid on his shoulder brings his attention back to the son of Poseidon.

"No, this is fine." He gathers as much intensity he can in his gaze as he glares into sea-green eyes, but Percy doesn't seem particularly interested in him beyond his answers. Point highlighted by the way he pulls away not one second later.

Will doesn't understand what he feels bitter about anymore.

They're all alone, again. Because Connor probably left to join an orgy, again. Because stoned stargazing with his brother's murderer twice in four months is the kind of luck Will has. 

But this time he's too high to care even if fucking Kronos was sitting besides him. What is a child-eating titan to a manic godling anyway? They'll both make promises they aren't going to keep, kill your brothers and sisters and eventually eat you alive. That's just how it works, big fish eats small fish. And one thing Will knows for sure is that he will never be a bigger fish than Percy Jackson. He's pretty sure no one will be, but that's one of the things they don't talk about. As if pretending that Percy hasn't outgrown his demigodhood will shrink back his powers into something less alike of a god. Good luck to Chiron for that one. Will doesn't want to be here when it blows up in his face. When Percy blows up in his face.

Because it will happen eventually. Once, when he spent the night in the Hades Cabin and they were both too soft with sleep to consider the impact of words before they left their mouths, Nico had told him about the one time Percy had choked him. 

"Looking back to it, it was probably an appropriate reaction considering I'd just sort of betrayed him and turned him over to my dad," Nico's tone was light and giddy. At the time it was unusual to hear such high spirits  from him. Will remembers how he drank the sound of it, afraid he was never going to be blessed like this again.

"But?" This was right after the September encounter and something underneath Will's skin was starving for anything regarding Percy. As much as he regretted putting a stop to Nico's joyous antics, he couldn't help pushing it.

"But—" there Nico took a glance at him for one second before turning to the ceiling. The naked skin of his neck trembled as he swallowed in empty. Will resisted the urge to press his lips to it. "I guess I'll never forget the way he looked in that moment, like— like he wanted to eat me alive, and — " his eyes were squeezed close. Whatever he was going to say next, he didn't want to face it."

"And what?" Will leaned over him with desperation he shouldn't bear. Not for something like this. He didn't imagine getting this close to Nico’s face would play out this way.

"And I wanted him to do it." He didn't even get the chance to run his mind over the words before Nico's eyes sprung open to see Will above him and he stretched up to clash their mouths together.

It was too clumsy and hungry to be anything other than violent, but once given the taste, Will couldn't stop. He has that tendency. They bit at each other like wolves, hands fisted in hair, nails digging into skin. He'd mapped out Nico's body, drawing saccharine whines and hitched breaths out of him until they both fell prey to exhaustion.

It was only in the morning, when raindrops shot like bullets onto the cabin windows that Will's thoughts came back to Percy.

He's facing a hip, when reality becomes clear again. He angles his head back into the sand to watch Percy sitting next to him. Legs curled up, arms around them, golden hair blown by the breeze. He's watching the ocean, meaning he's thinking about anything but it.

"Good trip?" He asks when he catches Will gawkily staring at him.

A monosyllabic groan is the most Will can manage to reply.

"You were really out of it for a while. I was getting worried," if he means as a joke or as a truth, neither lands. His voice is too shaken and emotionless to be anything but blunt. 

"Sure you were."

A minute of silence passes before Will decides he hates it. It leaves too much room for his fucked up brain to play with him.

"Before, I never thought you'd like this."

"Like what?" 

"Silence, loneliness."

"Do I look alone?"

"With company like mine, you can be quite lonely," he catches Jackson's bitter smile out of the corner of his eye. He mirrors the expression. "Still, it's different from when you're the life of the party."

"I can enjoy both. You should know that." Afterwards, Will will think that if he wasn't too high to care, he might have caught the innuendo.

He will also blame the next thing he does on the K.

Like burned, he rises to sit up and that's what gets Jackson to finally turn his head to face him. A moment of cloudy eye contact passes, trying to perceive what goes on behind those saltwater eyes before Will accepts his failure and leans forward.

A firm hand on his shoulder stops him.

"Whatever you want to do, don't," Percy says, tempest voice crashing the moment like glass.

"I just―" The shock sobers Will up, dashing to explain, to deny, to dismiss.

"Don't throw everything you have away on a K-Hole whim." As if we had enough for a fucking K-Hole, Jackson , Will will laugh acridly tomorrow.

But in the present, it takes him aback.

"And what is the fucking everything that I have?"

"You really think you can spend night over night in the Hades Cabin without people talking?" Percy laughs with vigor he shouldn't have and this time Will knows it's at him. 

"That's― that's―" 

"That's what Will?"

Nothing, not everything, he wants to shout, but his mind can't decide whenever he'd be lying or not.

"It's…"

"Let it go Will, chase your happines and cage it, please. Live, fucking live . You blame me for taking Michael's chance to a good life, yet you throw yours away."

In the distance, the ocean continues to roar, stubborn and unmovable, unbothered by teenage distress. Besides the flesh-bound bleached haired sea, Will is left speechless and devastated. Not another word is spoken until sunrise.