Chapter Text
"You're staring at your sword again," Will said, nudging Nico's knee with his own. The campfire popped between them, casting flickering shadows across Nico's sharp features. "It's not going to bite you."
Nico flipped the Stygian iron blade in his lap, thumb tracing the edge absently. ". "I know,"," he muttered. "Just thinking."
The firelight caught Will's stupidly perfect curls as he leaned forward, his knee pressing more firmly against Nico's. "Thinking about what?" His voice was too light, like he was trying to distract a skittish animal. Nico hated that tone.
Nico exhaled through his nose, watching the shadows stretch long across the grass. "How many times I've almost died holding this thing." The words tasted bitter, but he couldn't stop them. "How many times you've had to stitch me back together afterward."
Will's fingers twitched against his own knee, the firelight making his freckles look like constellations Nico wanted to map. "Yeah, well," Will said, voice dropping into something rougher, "you're pretty good at stabbing things before they can finish the job." He said it like a joke, but his throat worked when he swallowed.
Nico snorted, turning the blade so it caught the embers' glow. "I'm serious, Solace." He hated how his voice cracked on the name. "You shouldn't—" He stopped, jaw tightening. Will's knee was warm through his jeans.
SUMMARY^1: Nico broods over his Stygian iron sword by the campfire while Will tries to coax him into talking. Their conversation turns somber as Nico reflects on his near-death experiences and Will's role in healing him, tension thickening between them despite Will's attempts at humor.
Will's hand hovered in the air between them for a moment before settling lightly on Nico's wrist, just above where his fingers gripped the sword's hilt. "You shouldn't what?" he asked softly, his thumb brushing against Nico's pulse point. The contact sent a jolt through Nico, sharp and unexpected—like stepping into sunlight after too long in the shadows.
Nico swallowed hard, staring at Will's fingers against his skin. "You shouldn't keep saving me," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire. "One of these days, it's not going to work." The words hung between them, heavy with the unspoken truth Nico had been carrying for months: he wasn't sure he deserved saving at all.
Will's grip tightened slightly, his other hand reaching up to tilt Nico's chin so their eyes met. "That's not how this works," he said, his voice steady despite the way his breath hitched. "You don't get to decide when I stop caring about you, di Angelo." The corner of his mouth twitched, a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Besides, who else is gonna keep you from turning into a complete emo disaster?"
SUMMARY^1: Will interrupts Nico's self-deprecating spiral by physically grounding him with touch, refusing to entertain the idea of stopping his care for Nico despite Nico's insistence that he's not worth saving. Their banter carries an underlying tension as Will attempts to lighten the mood while Nico grapples with his own worth.
Nico should have pulled away. He should have made some sarcastic remark and vanished into the shadows like he always did when things got too real. But Will's fingers were warm against his skin, and his eyes—god, his eyes—were bright even in the dim firelight. Before he could stop himself, Nico leaned forward, closing the space between them until their foreheads touched. "I hate you," he whispered, but there was no venom in it, just a raw honesty that scared him more than any monster ever had.
Will's breath hitched, warm against Nico's lips. "No you don't," he murmured, so quiet it might have been swallowed by the fire's crackle. His thumb traced the line of Nico's jaw—too gentle, always too gentle—like he was afraid Nico would shatter under the touch.
Nico closed his eyes, swallowing against the lump in his throat. He wanted to argue, wanted to snap something sharp enough to make Will drop his hand and leave, but the words tangled in his chest. Instead, he found himself leaning in, just slightly, until his nose brushed Will's. The contact sent a jolt through him, electric and terrifying.
Will didn't pull away. His fingers tightened on Nico's wrist, his other hand sliding into the hair at the nape of Nico's neck. "Tell me to stop," he breathed, but there was no force behind it—just a quiet plea, a last chance for Nico to run.
Nico didn't run.
SUMMARY^1: Nico hesitates but ultimately leans into Will's touch as their foreheads meet, his whispered protest lacking conviction. Will challenges Nico's self-deprecation with quiet confidence, their proximity intensifying until Nico makes the unconscious decision to close the distance between them, neither pulling away when the moment becomes charged with unspoken longing.
Will's lips were softer than Nico expected—warm and hesitant at first, pressing against his with the same careful precision Will used when stitching wounds. The kiss was barely there, just a brush of skin, but Nico felt it like a shockwave. His fingers twitched against Will's wrist, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.
Then Will exhaled shakily against his mouth, and something in Nico snapped. He tangled his free hand in Will's stupidly soft curls and kissed him back properly, all teeth and desperation, like he was trying to carve the memory into his bones before it could vanish. The sword clattered to the ground between them, forgotten. Will made a noise against his lips—half surprise, half something Nico had never heard from him before—and then his hands were everywhere, gripping Nico's hips, sliding up his back, pulling him in until there was no space left between them.
When they broke apart, Nico's breath came ragged. Will's forehead rested against his, their noses still brushing. "You—" Will started, then stopped, his thumb tracing Nico's lower lip where it felt swollen and raw.
Nico waited for the joke, the stupid quip that would ruin the moment, but Will just stared at him with those sunlit eyes, serious in a way Nico had never seen. The fire popped behind them, casting flickering light across Will's face, and Nico realized with a jolt that he was trembling—or maybe they both were.
SUMMARY^1: Their tentative first kiss quickly deepens into something desperate as Nico abandons hesitation, the sword falling forgotten between them. Will responds with equal intensity, their physical connection overwhelming until they separate breathlessly, leaving them both visibly shaken by the unexpected intimacy.
SUMMARY^2: Will attempts to pull Nico out of his depressive spiral by joking with him and physically grounding him with touch, refusing to accept Nico's self-deprecation. Their foreheads meet in an intimate moment until Nico impulsively closes the distance for a desperate kiss, which Will reciprocates with equal intensity before they separate breathlessly.
The silence stretched between them, thick with something Nico couldn't name—not fear, not regret, but something trembling and alive, like the moment before lightning strikes. Will’s thumb still traced Nico’s lip, his breaths shallow, as if he were afraid to break whatever spell had settled over them. Nico could feel his own pulse hammering in his throat, a frantic rhythm that matched the wild flicker of the firelight.
"You kissed me back," Will murmured at last, his voice uneven. It wasn't an accusation, just a quiet observation, like he was trying to reconcile it with some long-held theory. His fingers curled loosely in the fabric of Nico’s shirt, not gripping, just holding, as if he needed the anchor.
Nico swallowed hard, his gaze darting away to where their knees still touched. "Yeah," he admitted, voice rough. "I did." The admission felt like stepping off a ledge. He expected Will to laugh, to crack some stupid joke about finally wearing him down, but Will just exhaled shakily, his fingers tightening minutely against Nico’s waist.
Will’s other hand lifted slowly, hesitating before brushing a loose strand of hair behind Nico’s ear. His touch was unbearably gentle, the kind of careful reserved for fragile things. Nico hated it. Hated how it made his chest ache. "You could’ve stopped me," Will said softly, his thumb grazing Nico’s cheekbone. "You didn’t."
SUMMARY^1: Will notes Nico’s reciprocation with quiet awe, neither teasing nor retreating from the revelation. Nico acknowledges his uncharacteristic response as Will continues touching him with hesitant tenderness, both aware of the unspoken shift between them yet neither willing to disrupt the fragile moment.
Nico's throat felt tight, his pulse still racing from the kiss—from the way Will was looking at him now, like Nico was something precious instead of broken. "I know," he muttered, fingers twitching against Will's wrist where they'd landed during the kiss. His skin burned where Will touched him, as if Apollo's son had left sunlight imprinted on his bones.
Will's breath hitched when Nico didn’t pull away. His fingers traced idle patterns along Nico’s jawline, tentative, like he was mapping uncharted territory. "Do you—" He stopped, chewed his lip. "Do you want me to stop?" The question hung between them, fragile. Will’s voice was barely above a whisper, but Nico heard the tremor in it, the unspoken fear that this—whatever *this* was—would shatter if he breathed wrong.
Nico should’ve said yes. Should’ve shoved him back into the safe, predictable space of camp medic and patient, of stupid jokes and exasperated eye rolls. But the words died in his throat. Instead, he found himself leaning forward again, drawn to Will’s warmth like a moth to a flame. His nose brushed Will’s cheek, and he felt the other boy’s sharp intake of breath. "No," Nico admitted, the word raw. "I don’t."
SUMMARY^1: Nico struggles internally with Will's gentle treatment, unused to being seen as something valuable rather than damaged. Will hesitantly asks if Nico wants him to stop, revealing his own vulnerability, but Nico surprises them both by admitting he doesn't, drawn inexorably to Will's warmth despite his instinct to retreat.
Will’s exhale was uneven against his skin. His hand slid from Nico’s jaw to cradle the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the dark strands there. "Good," he murmured, so close his lips brushed Nico’s when he spoke. "Because I don’t think I could’ve stopped if you’d asked." The admission was quiet, almost embarrassing, and it sent a thrill down Nico’s spine.
The campfire crackled between them, but Nico barely heard it—not with Will’s breath warm against his lips, not with his fingers tangled in Nico’s hair like he was afraid he might disappear. Nico’s pulse pounded in his ears, louder than the distant sound of waves hitting the shore. He should’ve pulled away. Should’ve summoned the shadows and vanished before this went any further. But Will’s thumb was tracing the line of his throat, and Nico couldn’t remember how to breathe, let alone how to shadow-travel.
Will hesitated, his nose brushing Nico’s. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he murmured, voice rough. It wasn’t a demand—just a quiet plea, like he needed to know this was real.
Nico swallowed. “That you’re an idiot,” he muttered, but there was no bite to it. His fingers tightened in Will’s shirt, crumpling the fabric. “That this is a terrible idea.”
Will huffed a laugh, his lips curving against Nico’s. “Yeah, well.” His hand slid down to Nico’s waist, pulling him closer until their chests pressed together. “I’ve had worse.”
SUMMARY^1: Will admits his own inability to stop, his hands anchoring Nico as they hover on the brink of another kiss. Nico, overwhelmed by the proximity and Will’s touch, teeters between retreat and surrender before confessing his doubts—though his grip on Will’s shirt betrays his true desire. Will dismisses the concern with humor, pulling Nico closer despite the risks.
Will’s laugh lingered between them, soft and warm, and Nico couldn’t help but chase the sound with his lips, kissing him again before he could second-guess it. This time, there was no hesitation—just the press of Will’s mouth against his, insistent and sure, like he’d been waiting for this moment far longer than Nico had realized. Nico’s fingers curled tighter in Will’s shirt, pulling him closer until the space between them vanished entirely. The firelight danced across their tangled shadows, merging them into one.
When they broke apart, Nico’s head spun. Will’s lips were pink and slightly parted, his breath coming fast. “So,” he said, voice low and rough in a way that made Nico’s stomach flip, “does this mean I win the ‘who’s more stubborn’ bet?”
Nico rolled his eyes, but the effect was ruined by the way his thumb brushed Will’s bottom lip without thinking. “Shut up,” he muttered, but there was no heat behind it. Will grinned, catching Nico’s wrist and pressing a kiss to his palm that sent a jolt straight to Nico’s ribs.