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The problem with dating a son of Apollo, Nico decided, was that mornings were non-negotiable.
Bright, loud, syrup-scented mornings.
Will bounced into the cabin like he was fueled by sunlight and golden retriever energy. Nico was fairly sure the sun actually shone brighter when Will entered a room, and he’d made peace with that. Mostly.
This morning, however, Nico had cocooned himself deep into the bunk blankets of Cabin 13, firmly wedged between his underworld plush bat, a book he’d fallen asleep reading (something vaguely magical and Victorian Will had recommended), and the lingering threads of a dream he didn’t want to leave behind just yet.
“Rise and shine, death boy!” Will chirped.
Nico groaned. “I will rise, but I refuse to shine.”
“That was almst a joke. Progress!”
“Go away.”
“Nope.” Will plopped himself on the edge of the bed, narrowly avoiding a tangle of bones from Nico’s last necromantic experiment. “It’s pancake day.”
“I don’t care.”
“There’s syrup. And strawberries. And I made you coffee.
That last part cracked open one eye.
“You made me coffee?”
“I personally sacrificed sleep and woke up early to brew your favorite shade of bitterness, yes.” Will held out a mug that read Caffeine is my coping mechanism in black gothic lettering.
Nico sat up slowly, like a disgruntled cat, hair a disaster and cheek wrinkled from the pillow. He took the coffee and sniffed. “You didn’t put milk in it this time?”
“No milk. No sugar. Just pure, soul-crushing bitterness. Like you.”
Nico smirked despite himself and took a sip. “Okay, maybe you can stay.”
“I knew coffee was the key to your heart.”
“Only part of it.” Nico hesitated, then added, “The other part might be pancakes.”
“See! I knew you were secretly soft.”
Nico scowled. “Don’t push it.”
Will grinned and leaned in, brushing a kiss over Nico’s temple. “Meet me at the dining pavilion when you’re ready. I saved you the good syrup.”
As Will disappeared back into the sunlit world beyond, Nico sat with the coffee warming his hands and a not-so-secret smile pulling at his lips.
By the time Nico arrived at the pavilion (fully dressed and pretending not to be pleased), Will was already halfway through a conversation with Kayla and Austin about some band he claimed was life-changing. Kayla raised an eyebrow when she spotted Nico.
“He lives!” she whispered dramatically.
“Barely,” Nico said, sliding into the seat beside Will. “You owe me for dragging me into the daylight.”
Will handed him a plate. “I paid my dues—with caffeine and affection.”
“You’re not wrong.”
The pancakes were perfect. The syrup was even better. But the real highlight was the way Will’s foot bumped gently against his under the table, steady and warm like a heartbeat.
Later that day, they walked the trail around the lake, hand-in-hand, mostly quiet. It was one of Nico’s favorite parts of their relationship—how silence didn’t need to be filled.
But eventually, Will spoke up.
“You looked like you were having a dream this morning.”
Nico blinked. “How would you know?”
“You were talking. Something about… doors?”
“Ah.” Nico looked away. “Yeah. Not a nightmare, just… one of those weird dreams where you’re walking through a bunch of rooms and forgetting why you entered each one.”
“What do you think it meant?”
Nico shrugged. “Probably nothing. Maybe everything.”
Will nodded. “Well, if you ever want to talk about it—”
“I know.”
They stopped by the edge of the lake. A breeze stirred the surface, sending ripples across the water. Will let go of Nico’s hand just long enough to pick a small, stubborn dandelion from the grass. He twirled it once, then offered it to Nico with a sheepish smile.
“For the dark prince of my heart.”
Nico stared at the flower.
“Seriously?” he deadpanned.
Will looked mock-offended. “It’s symbolic! A flower that thrives in adversity. Grows through cracks. Stubborn, unkillable.”
“I’m not a weed, Will.”
“You’re the most beautiful weed I’ve ever met.”
Despite himself, Nico took the dandelion. “You’re lucky I like you.”
“I know.”
That evening, after dinner and sparring and a quiet half-hour in the infirmary where Will taught Nico how to change a bandage without stabbing the patient, they returned to Cabin 13.
Will had a book in hand. Nico had a quiet hum in his chest that might have been contentment, or maybe a song from the Fields of Asphodel still echoing faintly in his bones.
“Movie night?” Will asked.
Nico shrugged. “You’ll fall asleep again.”
“No I won’t.”
“You said that last time. You snored through the last half of Howl’s Moving Castle.”
“I was editating!”
“Loudly.”
Will flopped dramatically onto Nico’s bed, arms wide. “Then let’s do something else. Stargazing? Cards? A duet?”
“I’m not singing.”
“Shadow-travel tag?”
“That’s cheating. You always win.”
Will tilted his head. “Okay, then… how about just lying here and doing nothing?”
“That I can handle.”
They lay side by side, the glow of an enchanted nightlight flickering softly in the corner. Nico traced idle patterns on Will’s arm with one finger, slow and absentminded. Will hummed a tune under his breath, something low and wordless, like sunlight through leaves.
“Sometimes,” Will said after a while, “I forget how quiet everything is now.”
Nico turned his head. “Quiet good or quiet bad?”
“Quiet… strange. Like I spent so long waiting for the next emergency that peace feels suspicious.”
Nico nodded. “I get that.”
Will rolled onto his side, facing him. “But it’s not bad. Especially not with you.”
Nico’s cheeks flushed, and he was grateful for the low light. “You’re really laying it on today.”
“I’m in a good mood. And you’re extra grumpy in the mornings, which makes me extra affectionate to balance it out.”
“That’s not how that works.”
“Isn’t it?”
There was a pause. Then Nico said, “I like that it’s quiet, too.”
Will smiled.
“Because now we can just… be.”
Will reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind Nico’s ear. “Exactly.”
The room settle into stillness, the kind that felt safe. Like this little corner of the world was carved out just for them.
Somewhere around midnight, Nico woke up. The room was dark except for the faint moonlight spilling through the window. Will was asleep beside him, mouth slightly open, hair a golden mess against the pillow.
Nico stared at him for a long moment.
He didn’t look like a warrior, or a healer, or a demigod.
He just looked like Will.
Breathing, dreaming, alive.
Nico reached out and gently took his hand. Their fingers laced without resistance, even in sleep.
He thought about the dream again—the endless doors, the feeling of being lost.
But here, with Will, Nico wasn’t lost. He was found. He was whole.
A shadow of a smile played on his lips.
“Sunshine,” he whispered.
Will mumbled something incomprehensible and rolled closer.
Nico didn’t mind. He closed his eyes again, letting the peace of the moment settle deep into his bones.