#percy: OK BUT nico is reciting poetry in his mind like no tomorrow

[taesnix]

BACK from the void to present to you: Nico, who wears the most absolutely ridiculous socks ever because no one can see them.

Gods, he has so many.

Most of them are thick and warm for maximum comfort, and they go up to just under his knees with the stupidest little things and patterns on them. For summer, he has an equally impressive collection of crew socks that are still thick enough to not get easily worn out, but don't make him sweat buckets trudging under the sun.

Nico knows that he'll forever be a collector at heart but it's not like he wanted to choose socks of all things as his next prized possessions. He didn't wake up one day and decide "man, these things are pretty great, let's go amass an army's worth of SOCKS!" It just happened. He had no control over that. They just feel nice, okay. And perhaps the colour combos and sheer variety of everything makes him happy.

Is it kind of embarrassing? Yeah. Would he cease to exist if anyone found out? Holy shit, maybe. But it's not like anyone has been able to tell underneath his daily go-to of heavy jeans and combat boots, so he's been in the clear so far.

Until he gets distracted for a split second while sparring with Percy and riptide cuts a huge slash across his leg.

Nico's fast, so he's able to jump back just enough so that the sword barely catches any flesh, but his jeans unfortunately don't come out unscathed.

"Keep your head in the game, Neeks!" Percy teases with a grin. He's got an annoying glint in his eye to match and Nico just knows he's about to say something worse. "No matter who walks in."

And—shit. Nico feels his face flush scarlet despite him screaming internally at his body to not react. He pointedly does not look at the new blob of neon scrubs sitting next to Kayla in the stands. "Shut up, Jackson. Like you're any better when Annabeth so much as blinks at you."

Percy shrugs. "Hey man, at least I acknowledge it."

And—fine, he does. Nico will give him that. Jackson was peak levels of embarrassing about his girlfriend on a good day.

"I think you should go get that patched up," Percy smirks. He then makes a big show of squinting at the stands, pulling a similar face that Jason makes trying to read highway signs without his glasses. Basically, he looks really fucking stupid. "Impeccable timing, too! Whaddya know? There seems to be a free medic right there."

One day, Nico will kill him. It'll fix almost all of his problems, and gods know he'll always have too many at any given point in time. But he'll do it. Maybe Annabeth will even take pity and give him a pass.

Before Nico can even open his mouth and retort with something snarky, Percy raises his hands and hollers. "Hey, Will! The King here is in need of some dire medical attention!"

"No, I'm not!" Nico shouts when Will's eyes grow wider. "Nothing happened, I'm fine."

Percy snorts and claps him on the shoulder. "As if that's worked before. Good luck, little man. Same time tomorrow?"

And he doesn't wait for a response, just gives a one-handed salute and begins to make his way to the stands. Percy says something to Will as they pass by each other and Will's brows furrow.

One day.

"What happened?" Will asks as he jogs over. His blond curls rise and fall with every step and if you zeroed in on only them, the loose coils look like they're in zero gravity. Bouncing with an impossible grace as they get closer and closer.

Not that Nico was looking. Or that he'd even noticed at all. Man, is it getting hotter here? He should definitely drink some water soon.

"Nico?" Will waves a slow hand in front of his face. "You alright? Percy said his sword mostly caught your jeans, but you never know."

"Huh?" Nico chokes. Right, this is the dire medical attention part.

Will gives him a wobbly smile, like he's trying not to laugh but failing miserably. "Okaaay then. Can I check your leg?"

"Um, sure."

He's still so out of it that he doesn't hear his subconscious screaming at him why Will kneeling down to lift the denim is a terrible, horrible idea.

Nico feels the lithe fingers carefully cut down the fabric with scissors that have seemingly appeared from nowhere. He feels them gently peel back his jeans with a confident precision, minimizing the disturbance to the wound. He hears the faintest of gasps and he feels the other boy go completely still.

He tilts his head down to see what the issue is—surely Percy hadn't slashed him that bad—and then, like a statue, he freezes in place too.

In the most obnoxious shade of yellow possible, rows of mischievous rubber ducks beam back at both of them. He says mischievous because they've got annoying smirks and eyebrows strong enough to rival the Stoll brothers on the first of April. Which is quite a concerning amount. The smallest flecks of red from his cut take the whole "sinister menaces" thing to an unholy level.

Neither of them breathe for the next 30 seconds. Or maybe it's 30 years. Hell, if Nico knows now, his damn heart stopped working properly ages ago.

Then, either his saving grace or the final nail in his coffin, Will sucks in another shaky mouthful of air and clears his throat.

"You know," he starts, scarily neutral. Not a single waver in his voice. "I'm beginning to think Kayla's got a point."

Kayla talks a lot, running through an average 5 conversation topics in a record of 7 minutes with Nico himself, so that narrows it down by exactly nothing. "Uh, about what?"

Will doesn't reply, simply carrying on with cleaning and dressing his injury like he hadn't said anything. It drives Nico crazy, but he knows Will's priorities, so he holds his tongue. Will had drilled them into Nico's brain during his first infirmary stay; treat first, talk second.

So he waits. He lets Will dab the tiniest bit of nectar across the cut and wipe away blood. After a minute or two, his leg is wrapped neatly with a bandage, and suddenly, there's no more treating to be done.

"We're matching," Will finally says.

Nico blinks. Because—what.

"I mean, it's a slightly different shade, but eh, close enough to count."

Nico breaks out of his stupor when Will traces one of the ducks with his nail. Soft but accurate, light but impossible to ignore, like everything else he does.

"Yellow?" Nico whispers. He can't seem to muster up his voice to be louder than that.

Will looks up at him with a particular glint in his eye, and Nico's heart stops a second time.

"Mhm," he grins, dusting his knees as he stands up. He winks and it has no right to kickstart the thumping in Nico's chest. "Same wavelength."

"You're ridiculous," Nico lightly shoves at Will's shoulder and prays that his face isn't burning red.

Will just laughs and catches his hand, holding it in place. "Sure, but I'm also right."

"Are not."

"Are too."

"Are n—"

"Okay," Will interrupts, "I hate to break it to you, Neeks, but we're both wearing obnoxious shades of yellow. You've got the added bonus of sly rubber duckies, and my scrubs glow in the dark. Ergo, we're both ridiculous and both on the same wavelength."

Gods, who the hell says, "ergo". Why is Nico so enamoured with such an idiot.

"And how, exactly, does Kayla have a point here?" Nico sighs, ignoring that his hand is still on Will's shoulder and that Will is still holding it there. He'll take his silent wins as they come.

Now, Will's cheeks become a rosy red. It makes Nico want to trace a finger around his freckles to check if his skin has become warmer, too.

"Well..." He trails off. He glances down to Nico's leg again, where some of the damn ducks are peeking out behind his jeans.

With a grounding deep breath, Will shuts his eyes for a moment. When they open, he meets Nico's gaze head on, calm yet confident once more.

He's beautiful like this, like he always is.

Against his own will, Nico smiles. Will shines underneath the sun and his stupid blond curls are golden.

"She said we're soulmates. And I think she's right about that."

And Nico thinks she's right about that, too.