Goth! Nico/ Surfer! Percy AU Part 8!
Hi, sorry for the wait!! I was a little in doubt about if making this chapter in Percy's or Nico's POV, tbh, but in the end I decided that we're back to Percy! I always enjoy writing him being all smitten and in love <33
Enjoy~
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
You can also read it on AO3!!
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Percy had been looking at his phone for what felt like hours, staring at the empty message box and the name written on top, trying to find something, anything, to write that wouldn't sound extremely lame.
He knew his friends were looking at him, probably thinking he was the most ridiculous lovesick fool they had ever seen - which was fair, honestly, because Percy did feel like he was one second away from screaming into the void and starting to roll around on the cafe’s floor.
So, yes, he was a lovesick fool - but a lovesick fool with his crush's number now safely saved into his phone.
Crush.
It had been two days since his meeting with Nico at the beach, and for the whole time Percy had felt like the word wasn't right, wasn't nearly heavy enough to embrace the way he felt. When he had told Annabeth, she had looked at him and smiled.
“I can see that, Percy, but you do realize you barely know him, don't you?”
It was true, of course it was - yet it didn't matter.
Percy could still feel the warmth of Nico's hand in his like it was engraved on his skin. The need to hold it again was almost overwhelming, Percy could feel himself going crazy for it.
They had held hands, and it had felt like Nico hadn't wanted to let go either, that he had wanted to make the contact last as long as possible just like Percy had.
Percy wanted to text him. But what do you even write to the guy who's been haunting your mind for the past few months and who you aren't exactly friends with but at the same time it feels like you're so much more?
“Hi, it's Percy, how are you?”
Yeah, no, that was lame.
“Hey, would you like to go on a date with me?”
Too forward, definitely not.
Percy groaned, frustrated.
“I swear to god, Jackson, if you don't stop staring at that phone right now, I'm gonna kick you out of this place”.
Thalia's voice pulled him violently out of his thoughts.
“This is a public space, Thalia, you can't kick me out”, he replied without even looking at her.
“Oh yeah, watch me”.
Percy only looked up at her when a kick did actually hit his legs under the table.
“Ehi!”
Thalia smirked down at him. “Told ya”, she said. “I can't believe I only come here like two times a year - and when I do, you're too busy to look at your phone to actually talk to me? That's low, Jackson”.
Percy rolled his eyes, but the pull in his guts let him know that he did feel guilty. He sighed and finally put his phone down, straightening himself and going back to sip his coffee. Not that he would apologize to Thalia, but he could admit to himself that she was right; and after all, if he put aside for a moment his current concern, he really was happy to see her. It had been months since the last time they had the chance to hang out together like this.
“Don't mind him, Thalia”, Annabeth jumped in. “He just got his dream boy's number! And now he's trying to figure out what to write to him”.
She said it like it was ridiculous, but Percy remembered how happy she had been for him when he had told her about the events of two days ago, so he didn't take it to heart.
“His what!?”, Thalia almost screamed, accompanying every word with a painful slap on Percy's shoulder. “Why don't I know anything about this! How could you guys not tell me, come on!”
He swatted her hand away. “Ouch, ow, ow, okay, alright!”
“I can't believe this! I can't even remember the last time you had a crush”.
“Yeah, well”, Percy said, and lowered his eyes. “Doesn't really feel like a crush, anymore”.
“Oh woah, then it must be serious”, she said. “Come on, tell me everything”.
And so he told her - told her about the first time he saw the pretty goth boy working at the beach kiosk, about how long he had spent just looking at him. Trying to leave out the most embarrassing parts was no use because of course Annabeth had to jump in to point out how ridiculous he had been the whole time and how much he had panicked to just go and talk to him to buy something, and obviously she couldn't leave out his plan to impress Nico with his fantastic surfing moves.
“Annabeth, stop making me look like a loser!”
“I'm not making you look like a loser, Seaweed brain, I’m just telling the truth!”.
Percy kept talking, and he kept thinking about Nico, and he knew that he had the most enamored smile painted on his lips as he spoke. He talked and he couldn't stop because, god, he did love to talk about him.
They had only seen each other the previous day and Percy missed him already. He definitely needed to find the courage to text him - perhaps he didn't need to think too much about it, maybe a simple hey how are you would do, after all.
He wondered if Nico was doing the same, looking at his phone and trying to find something to write to him, or maybe waiting and hoping for a text to arrive.
He was so focused on recounting everything that he didn't notice the way Thalia's expression went from curious to surprised, then to confused, and finally to pensive.
“Wait, what did you say this guy's name is?”
Percy stopped in his rambling. “Nico, his name’s Nico”, he said, and finally noticed how Thalia seemed to be deep in thought. “What’s that face?”
It took a moment for her to reply. “Nico as in… Nico Di Angelo?”
Percy stopped and looked at her like she had grown a second head. “What?”
Next to him, he heard Annabeth’s voice echoing the same sentiment.
“What are you talking about?”
“Goth boy, shortie, long hair and lots of piercings, doesn’t seem like he own anything but black clothes, looks like he doesn’t know how to smile-”
“Hey, I’ll let you know that he has the prettiest smile you could ever imagine!”
Thalia waved him off at the same time that Annabeth said “Yes that does sound exactly like him”.
“And he works at the beach kiosk with a blond guy?”
A long moment of silence passed during which Percy kept staring at Thalia as her words kept swarming around in his head, blinking at her trying to process what she had just said.
It couldn’t be, could it?
“You know him!?”
Percy could feel his heart run around in his chest, pumping blood loudly in his ears.
That felt so much like fate.
“Huh, kind of?”, Thalia said. “I saw him a couple of times when I went to visit my brother”.
“Your brother?”, Annabeth asked.
Thalia nodded, smiling. “The blond guy working at the kiosk. That’s my brother, Jason”.
Another moment of silence passed before Percy finally came to his senses. “What the hell, why didn’t you tell us!”
This time, it was his turn to swat Thalia’s arm over and over. She hit back with just as much strength.
“Ow, why would I tell you! I didn’t even know you guys went to that beach - see, your fault you don’t tell me anything!”
Percy could feel Annabeth rolling her eyes at their antics.
But he had more pressing things to think about. He couldn’t believe it- really?
It was so stupid, feeling giddy for something like this, but Percy couldn’t help the smile that rose to his lips. They were connected.
You’re so ridiculous, Percy Jackson, so ridiculous, he told himself, as his heart danced in his chest.
“Nico Di Angelo”, he murmured to himself.
He knew his friends were looking at him ready to laugh at him. He looked at Annabeth. “See? I told you he must be an angel!”
They did laugh at him at that, and Percy felt so light he joined them.
“You really are so ridiculous, Seaweed Brain”.
“Hey, can’t a man be a little in love?”
They stopped in their laughter to stare at him, and it took Percy a moment to realize what he had said. He felt himself blush - he hadn’t even admitted it to himself yet, yet the words had felt way too natural on his tongue, leaving his lips without him even thinking about it.
“Percy….”
“I know”, he cut her off, looking away. For some reason, his hand felt warm. “I know, I don’t know him all that well and it’s too soon. But… that’s why I said a little”.
“So you like him for real, huh?”. Thalia asked. The look in her eyes was earnest in a way that Percy wasn’t very used to. He and Thalia had been friends for a long time now, but it wasn’t often that they ended up talking seriously to each other.
Percy nodded. He really didn’t think he had ever liked anyone like he liked Nico before.
“Now, I don’t know him too well”, Thalia said. “But Jason told me once that it took him a pretty long time to get close to him ‘cause Nico isn’t an easy person - so, from what I know and from what you told me, I can say that you are an exception to this rule”.
Percy’s heart was running miles.
He thought about Nico so easily talking to him, smiling at him, thought of him asking about him out of worry, of him taking his hand and getting in the ocean with him despite his fear of it.
“I can ask Jason about him, if you want. But”, Thalia continued, pointing a finger at him. “You better text him - today”.
~~
When he went home that evening, the phone felt heavy in his head.
He would see Nico tomorrow anyway, he didn’t have to text him, he could easily wait until he could talk to him face to face. Or he could simply wait until tomorro’s evening and see if Nico would be at the beach after his shift again. He could.
It didn’t feel like the right thing to do. It felt like the coward way out, the one that wouldn’t lead to anything more.
And so, before he could think too much about it, he pressed send.
Me: Ehi, Nico! You have the afternoon shift tomorrow, right? Let’s hang out at the beach again after it?
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all the pain will change into a memory of when we were amazing (mario & luigi-centric post-movie fic, part 2!)
(Part one can be found here!)
(Thanks again to everyone who read the first part and was so sweet about it! Here's the continuation. This is a shorter interlude with Mario and Luigi's family before we get to the main "meat" of the story AKA Mario and Luigi talking on their own in the third part, coming soon. I hope you enjoy, and I appreciate any thoughts/feedback. I will get this uploaded on AO3 as soon as I can as well, if you'd prefer to read over there.)
+
“Hey-o!”
Things had been so quiet on their long, long, long trek back home that the sudden noise made Mario stiffen as they shuffled through the door, every nerve on high alert for a breathless few seconds. Luigi, who had practically sleepwalked the last block with his head leaned against Mario’s head, using his brother's hat as a makeshift pillow, started too, mumbling a greeting that barely resembled the English language, waving at the front door before realizing he was turned around and swaying around to face the warm light of the dining room instead. It looked like dinner was already over, dishes and silverware being cleared away.
“Look who finally decided to show up! Brooklyn’s brand-new heroes!” Uncle Arthur raised a nearly empty glass of what looked like wine in laughing celebration. “What, you save the city from a bunch of weird turtle goons one time and you’re too good to share a meal with us regular bums?”
“They were helping with the cleanup,” Aunt Marie hissed, swatting him hard enough to elicit a yelp. “Where were you out there, huh?” She smiled warmly at Mario and Luigi on her way to the kitchen. “Sorry we couldn’t wait any longer. Gramps and Mia needed to get to bed. But don’t worry, we saved plenty!”
“Probably too busy signing autographs for all the bella signore,” Uncle Tony guffawed. “Hard to blame ‘em! Better enjoy it before they figure out you’re plumbers with no money!”
“Heh, yeah. Caught us fair and square,” Mario said, managing a weak laugh. Luigi let loose a tiny, snorting chuckle too, although whether that was because he was backing Mario up or just blindly mimicking what he heard, too lost in his own sleepy little world, Mario wasn’t sure. They were still holding onto one another, which they’d maintained the entire walk back except in places where it was impossible to proceed in that way (ladders and the like). That way, a repeat of the stairs incident couldn’t happen, and Mario had known exactly when Luigi was getting shaky enough to need a break. He squeezed his brother’s hand as a way to check in. It took a few seconds, but Luigi squeezed back gently, which was a small relief.
“Is that the boys!?” Without any further warning, their mother barreled out of the kitchen like a runaway train. She grabbed them in both arms, her shaking grip tight enough that both brothers wheezed from a sudden lack of air. “Oddio, where have you been? You already vanished on us once! My old heart can’t take much more of this.”
“You’re not that old, Ma,” Luigi murmured, patting her shoulder.
“Sorry,” Mario said as clearly as he could manage with his face smothered in her hair. “Didn’t mean to make ya worry. Just, uh, lost track of time, that’s all.”
“What happened?” That was Dad, moving slower to catch up with her, his brow creased deep. “Are you all right?”
“Never been better!” Luigi insisted, overly bright. The bone-crushing hug had woken him up a little, but now he was using his I’m definitely lying but maybe if I speak at a much higher volume, no one will be able to tell voice. “We were just, y’know, real busy making sure everyone on the block could still…flush their toilets! Everyone forgets how important that is. Can ya believe it?”
“And we had to make sure our friends got home safely too,” Mario jumped in, rubbing his mom’s back with his free hand as she continued to hold on for dear life. You get temporarily swallowed by a giant, man-eating plant in front of your parents one time… “But we’re definitely not going anywhere for the rest of the night, and Aunt Marie said something about leftover food, if you can forgive us…?”
“Of course, of course.” She finally stepped back, but not before one good, firm pinch of the cheek between her fingers for each of them. “You’ve worked so hard, my brave boys. You must be about ready to turn inside out from hunger already. Sit, sit, I’ll bring it to you—”
“Actually, Ma,” Mario interjected as gingerly as possible. “It’s been a really, really long day. Could we, uh, maybe take the food in our room? I know, I know, you don’t like that, but if anything gets messy, I’ll take care of it, promise—”
“Ya can’t be serious!” Uncle Tony spoke up all of a sudden, his chair screeching against the floor as he jumped up. “You two still gotta give us the whole rundown of where ya been! Where did that angry, spikey dragon-turtle-guy even come from?”
“And the tiny kid who looked like a big ole mushroom with legs!” Uncle Arthur added.
“What about that giant monkey in the tie?” Aunt Marie piped up, half-laughing in sheer disbelief as she came back into the room. “He could talk! And not just little words, no — if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was hittin’ on me.”
“Look, I get it, I get it,” Mario insisted as good-naturedly as he could manage. He started to inch towards the hallway with Luigi in tow, who he could feel becoming jittery from all the new noise. All he needed was a few good, firm excuses, a clear escape route, and they were home-free. “It was pretty crazy stuff, right? But seriously, we’re dead on our feet as it is—”
“Then sit down already and take a load off!” Uncle Tony insisted right back. “We’ll make coffee!��
“Nooooo, no coffee for me. Now!? I-I think I might shake right out of my skin if, “Luigi started to joke, only to squeak when Uncle Tony grabbed him by the shoulders and tried to steer him around anyway.
“C’moooon! A story like this can’t wait,” Uncle Arthur groaned. “This is the wildest thing that’s happened since Gramps’ teeth were eaten by that dog on the subway! Have some pity for your elders and their boring lives.”
“We’ll tell ya all about it tomorrow, I swear!” Mario said a little louder, desperately trying to sound casual even as the words scraped up his throat. It was too loud, too bright. A new wave of dizziness swam over him; everything was starting to seem more and more like a dream, his vision smearing at the edges. The only thing that still felt solid, real was his hold on Luigi. He stayed focused on it like a lifeline, even as they were jostled around. “And you’ll understand then why we need to sleep for a million years and then some, I swear, ‘cause we, we’ve really gone through the ringer here...”
“Don’t you think you’ll feel better if you just sit down for a minute?” Ma asked, smiling warmly. “Besides, I wanted to know a little more about that princess—”
“Ya gotta eat anyway!” Uncle Arthur downed what was left of his glass in one swig. “Don’t make us beg!”
“Forget the coffee. We’ll break out the Sangiovese and that’ll loosen you up real good,” Uncle Tony snickered.
Their uncle grabbed at Luigi again, pulling him along harder this time — hard enough that he panicked, his flailing hand struggling for a better grip on Mario’s before they were ripped apart. And that reminded Mario’s fuzzy, exhausted brain of something. A feeling he didn’t know how to describe in words but that cut into him like a knife between his ribs just the same, bone-deep and blindsiding and instantly overwhelming. He thought of—
(pink clouds and faint swirling light and green pipes and weird wind tunnels he could practically swim through and black shadows like soot in the air and lava glowing and Luigi shouting his name, Luigi panicking as he tried to calm him down, Luigi’s hand warm and snug against his because nothing could hurt them if they were together and nothing was going to separate them as long as Mario was strong enough, steady enough to make it that way but then there was a sound like thunder and the pressure grew and grew and grew and grew and GREW AND)
His body acted on its own. With both hands, he wrenched Luigi back towards him a few stumbling steps, out of Uncle Tony’s hands. “No!” He yelled, a hoarse, guttural sound.
Silence, save for car horns on the street outside.
Clarity came over Mario in a slow, creeping wave, quickly turning into a feeling of horror as he registered the way everyone had frozen in place around him, staring with wide, frightened eyes. Even their parents looked stricken. Luigi’s tired expression had flooded with worry too, but there was a glint of something warmer there as well — understanding. I felt it, his eyes said to Mario, as clear as day. I remembered too.
“I-I’m sorry, but we really, REALLY need to take a rain check, all right?” That was Luigi, breaking the silence, talking way more assertively than he usually ever did at home. Most of the time, the others drowned him out, but now, he had everyone’s undivided attention, insistently pointing with his one free hand that wasn’t still clinging to Mario’s. “We, me and Mario here, are a little loopy, all right? Not thinking straight in the least! It’s been a hard day — a hard couple of days! Three days, in fact! Maybe three days, or two! Heck, I don’t even know what day it is anymore! That’s how out of whack we are! Do ya get it already!?”
“Easy there, Lu,” Mario whispered. There was so much frantic gesturing going on that Luigi was starting to throw himself off-balance, swaying dangerously. He still felt ashamed, raw inside from the outburst, but Luigi jumping in had lessened it to the point that he could breathe again, at least. His amazing brother really was full of surprises today, it seemed. “But he’s right. I…it’s just been a lot."
Some glances were shared around the table. Surprisingly, it was Uncle Tony who spoke up first.
“Y’know what? You do look like you’d be shoo-ins for a zombie movie, no makeup needed.” He clapped them lightly on the shoulders one more time and then sat back down with a backwards wave of the hand. “Don’t worry about us. Go on, get out of here.”
“Get plenty of rest,” Aunt Marie said, her smile plainly apologetic.
“Man, that just gave me deja-vu like nobody’s business,” Uncle Arthur laughed. “Remember when they were tiny, Tony? We couldn’t peel them off each other for anything in the world.”
“Oh man, do I,” Tony snorted. “Not without them scratching and screeching like stray cats! Might as well have made you two — whaddya call it again? — conjoined twins and saved a couple steps.”
“There was that one time we were babysitting at the park down the street—”
Mario didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. “Come on,” a familiar, gruff voice said near his ear, followed by two large arms herding him and Luigi away, their mother following close behind. “Get yourselves into the kitchen already.”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Mario couldn’t help but insist once they were there, heels squeaking on the faded linoleum. Several of his stern talking-to’s over the years had started out much like this in the past; speaking up right away and defending himself before the inevitable yelling happened was practically second nature. “I didn’t mean to yell, I swear, it was just—”
“Never mind that,” the older man cut him off. There was something soft in his tone, softer than Mario could remember hearing it before, and that was when he realized that he'd misread the situation entirely. His dad's eyes were dark with concern, not anger. "Now come on. Give me your gloves, and shoes too. Both of you."
Mario and Luigi glanced at each other and then down at themselves in confused unison, dimly registering that yes, they were still wearing all of that, having forgotten to take everything off at the door like they usually did. Some slow shuffling later, and it was gathered in a pile. Their dad plucked their hats off their heads as well (also missed), tucking everything in the sturdy crook of one arm. He used his free hand to ruffle their hair and pat their faces, one after the other.
"You did good out there," he said, "but what matters most is that you're all right. That's always gonna be what matters most to us. I just," he swallowed slowly, thickly, "I want to make sure you both know that."
For one very brittle moment, as his dad held his face in his big, warm palm, Mario genuinely didn't trust himself to not start either laughing or sobbing right then and there — maybe a crazy mixture of both. The feeling passed, thankfully, but he still managed a wobbly smile, a small nod.
“Now go and wash up. Ma will get the food ready.” Sure enough, their mother was already bustling around like a madwoman, plates clattering and half-empty pots simmering again on the stove. “Luigi, you first. Datti una mossa.”
“Yessir!” Luigi looked back at Mario before going, a tired, reassuring, still slightly worried look that said I’ll see you in a couple of minutes, okay? Mario reflected it back, and their dad walked Luigi out of the room, towards the hallway.
“Just promise me you’ll tell us what happened tomorrow, all right?” Mario's attention returned to his mother, who was finishing stirring some reheated sauce with a little too much shaky speed before coming over to him, smushing his cheeks in both hands. “I don’t care how old you two get. You're still my babies, and babies shouldn't keep secrets from their poor mother."
“I promise, I promise! You’re gonna pop my teeth out, Ma!” Mario half-laughed, gently tugging at her wrists so he could talk more clearly. “Definitely tomorrow, okay? Right now, I…I don’t know if I could tell ya if I tried. It’s just a crazy blur, and I really gotta process it all myself, still. We just need a little time."
“I understand.” She drew him into another hug. Mario couldn’t help but sink into the familiar warmth, clinging to her. He’d been so worried about Luigi that he’d never even considered the idea that he might never see his parents again either. The realization hit harder than he’d anticipated. “Besides, I know I have nothing to worry about when you two are together. You do such a good job of looking after your brother.”
(Or even worse, what if he’d been able to come home in the end — but alone? What if he’d had to sit his parents down and tell them that Luigi was…)
There it was again — that sudden, sour feeling of wanting to cry, such a heavy wave inside him that he had to clench his teeth to the point of pain to hold back a gasp.
Stupid, he thought bitterly, almost angrily. What did he even have to be crying about? Once again, he weathered the rush, kept the walls intact by a hair. He closed his eyes and just let himself be held.
“Of course, Ma,” he croaked. “Always.”
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