AN: I'm curious to see if any of the people who were subscribed to me back in the day are still on here? This will probably get deleted soon because it's already posted on Ao3 and tumblr, and I don't really use this site anymore.
Nico is waiting for Percy when he gets home, and Percy should really tell his mom to stop letting Nico in, seriously. He gets that they've stricken up some sort of friendship recently, and Percy swears his mom is basing a character in her novel on sweet, sad Nico di Angelo, but Percy has no interest in talking to Nico, not now. Especially not when Nico is reclined on the bed, his shirt riding up to show a hint of hipbones and his scuffedshoes carelessly tossed on Percy's white sheets. But then again, Nico has always had a habit of dirtying every aspect of Percy's life—of flitting in and out in a flurry of teen angst and distorted emotions without a care for the destruction he leaves in his wake.
"What are you doing here?" Resolutely ignoring Nico takes effort, and Percy shuffles his way over to his closet. He violently shoves through the mass of clothes until he finds what he's looking for, Nico's gaze boring into his back with every movement. The other boy hasn't dropped by since Annabeth had gotten back, has barely spoken to Percy unless he has no other choice.
In lieu of replying, Nico just snatches the blazer and freshly ironed shirt out of Percy's hands. "You're taking Rachel to a dance, and you can't even be bothered to wear a tux," Nico deadpans.
"What would you know about dressing up?"
"My father's the god of wealth, Percy. Sometimes, I dress the part." Nico rolls his eyes. "Do you even know how to tie a tie?"
Without waiting for a reply, Nico herds Percy into the bathroom with the swift command to put on his clothes as quickly as possible. He doesn't have time to protest, not much anyway, he's never been able to deny Nico what he wants. That's what had landed them both into this mess into the first place, hadn't it?
Nico makes a frustrated noise when Percy reveals himself. He must look ridiculous. Cheap blazer coupled with button-down shirt and dress pants that are faded in color. It's not like Percy has ever had the need to purchase legitimate dress-up clothes, and besides, Rachel had given him free reign to wear whatever. Something about rebelling against the Man.
"You're hopeless," Nico says, but he scrabbles at the messy knot around Percy's neck, slipping the tie in and out of various loops. Percy's eyes can't keep up with the motion. His hands linger at Percy's neck, an inch from his the hollow of his throat, and Percy can make out the callouses, the scar at the base of his right pinkie, the knuckles that stick out like knobs on his skinny fingers. Nico swallows, and Percy follows the movement of his throat. He'd kissed it thousands of times before, but now that he can only see but not touch, Nico is all the more enticing.
"So, you're here," Percy says.
There's a beat as Nico finishes his last loop. Appraising his work through narrowed eyes, he fixes the tie so that it lies straight. "I'm really fucking angry at you."
"No, you've been avoiding me for the past three weeks because I'm your favorite person in the world and you totally love me right now,"Percy says, and Nico isn't allowed to look at him like that. He doesn't have a monopoly on badly-timed sarcasm.
Nico gives the tie a tug, and when the knot doesn't loosen in his grip, he's finally satisfied. "The sad part is, you're not even wrong."
The problem with Nico fucking di Angelo is the guilt that comes with every intimate moment they share, the frustration that rises up in his throat when Nico tells him he's never loved anyone else since he was ten years old, has never considered anyone but Percy Jackson. Percy's looked through Nico's stash of porn on one of his perverse quests for answers. The kid is telling the truth. Nico has a definite type, and it's black-haired, green-eyed son of Poseidon. But Percy has never been the most reliable person in the world, just ask anyone, and this can only end in brokenness and heartache.
The unspoken tension always colors the air between them, hangs like sharp arrows poised to strike their mark. Nico doesn't love him. He's just a kid, and it's hero worship, that's what it is. Percy can pretend all he wants, but at the end of the day, Nico is sixteen years old, and eventually, he's going to find someone he can love healthily. As for Percy, well. He'll find someone.
Percy's still composing an eloquent reply in his head—something that's going to end with "but I can't"—when the landline rings. He curses underneath his breath. "It's Annabeth, sorry, I have to take this."
Nico's eyes flash at his words, body tensing where he stands and his back ramrod straight. When Percy reaches out for him, he flinches back, hissing. There's pure anger in his eyes, and shit. Everyone's scared of Nico, aren't they? Frank had been wary of him when they first met. Still is. Even Jason, blond Superman extraordinaire, isn't altogether comfortable around Nico. Percy had known him Before, and sometimes, he forgets After is all anyone else can see.
"Annabeth, it's always Annabeth, isn't it?"
"Di immortales, Nico—"
"I don't even know what I was expecting. I mean, why would I even consider it? Me being able to break up Camp Half-Blood's power couple." He laughs mirthlessly, and the sound rattles around the room. "What a dream."
The words choke up in Percy's throat, the frustration eating at his nerves. Percy is so far gone that he'll take Nico with all of his flaws, but right then, Percy wishes he'd been born with the ability to actually listen. Nico shakes his head emphatically before he shoulders past Percy walks out the door.
Attraction goes a little something like this: Nico is attractive, Percy is attractive, and they're both horny teenagers, so what can you do?
That's how Percy chooses to remember it, at least, something simple and unplanned. He doesn't want to admit to the weeks of tension, the faint electricity crackling in the air between them—Zeus is getting his kicks from this, Percy swears. There may have been some daughters of Aphrodite involved, and some blue cake, and Annabeth's "you shouldn't wait for me" ringing in his ears as she's trekking across another continent. Either way, it ends with Percy and Nico entwined on Percy's bed, getting each other off with not enough lube, too much friction, and the messy sounds of muffled moans.
The first time is an accident, the second time is a coincidence, and the times after that are pure insanity. They'd been floating in a bubble of Percy's own creation, but the inevitable pop had come in the form of a returning daughter of Athena.
It'd been nice to pretend that Nico hadn't gotten under his skin somehow, but Annabeth has always been able to see past Percy's bullshit. It's how they work. Annabeth reigns in his pure Percyness, and he keeps her on her toes.
He hadn't been surprised when she questioned him, and to be honest, he'd anticipated this from the first moment she'd stepped off that plane at JFK. Even a seven-hour-long flight hadn't managed to dampen the glow she'd gotten from a successful year backpacking around Europe, and when she started babbling about the Arc de Triomphe and Neoclassicism, he could feel himself slipping back, oh gods, he could do this—
Nico had been waiting at the entrance to the airport, leaning against the wall with forced nonchalance. His eyes turned flinty as soon as he saw Percy's arm wrapped around Annabeth's waist, and with a heel spin worthy of any primetime soap opera, he'd left Percy holding on to a ghost of a relationship.
He'd tried, and Annabeth had tried, but in the end, it hadn't been worth the effort. Too much had changed in a year, and let's face it, Percy has never been able had the ability to look past what he wants in the short term, to plan wisely like Annabeth can. The first time with Nico had been an impulse, and the last time with Annabeth had been the same.
The thing is, attraction may be fickle and flighty, but love goes a little something like this: Nico is attractive, Percy is attractive, and not even the child of a god can lie to himself forever.
Percy's tombstone is probably going to read something like "the kid who died drowning in his own pathetic," because, yeah, he's pretty goddamn pathetic. It only takes him five seconds to start chasing after Nico, limbs flying in every direction, and the fact that nothing good can come out of this only pulses faintly at the back of his mind.
He catches up to Nico near the end of his block. Well, it's probably more accurate to say that he slams into Nico and knocks him over onto concrete, but Percy has never been well-versed in the ways of romance. He can't be held at fault. Blame Aphrodite.
"I'm not—dude, I broke up with Annabeth. Today. That's what I was trying to tell you before you ran away," Percy wheezes, clutching his knees. Every breath he sucks down burns.
"You, I, what?" When Nico shakes his head in disbelief, the motion travels to the rest of his body. Percy wants to feel the muscles moving under his shirt as he rolls those shoulders, catch those swinging hands to hold and never let go.
"You're an idiot, why the hell do I love you." Percy doesn't give Nico a chance to make a snarky response. The lack of oxygen is addling his brain. Caught up in the moment, he surges up to insistently press his lips against Nico's.
Their teeth clack against each other, and they come together so awkwardly they almost topple over, but it's a start. Vaguely, Percy wonders if Hades is going to reserve a special place in the Fields of Punishment for Percy Jackson, Corrupter of Cute Demigod Boys, but he can't bring himself to care. He's heady with the kiss, and his head spins when Nico's arms come up to bracket his body. For an Underworld kid, Nico's pretty warm.
"I really shouldn't be doing this." But Percy's not letting go. "One day, you're going to realize that you're wrong about me, that I'm not the hero you think I am, and when that happens…"
He's surprised to realize that it would hurt. Percy may jump into relationships without considering the consequences, but this will always hang over him. He'll always be waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Nico flashes him a lopsided grin. "Hate to break it to you, but you're not as perfect as you think I think you are."
Percy's not entirely convinced—without his guard up, Nico's eyes shine with too much adoration for Percy to handle—but Nico sucks Percy's bottom lip into his mouth again, and Percy can almost believe him. Besides, he's fairly sure the look in Nico's eyes is reflected in his own.
"I'm not leaving," Nico insists.
They don't talk much after that, and Percy can't decide whether he's grateful for it. There will be time later. For now, it's enough that Nico's arms snake around Percy's waist, and the shorter boy lays his head against Percy's chest. Nico has gotten taller recently. He's sixteen years old and gangly as hell, all sharp angles against Percy's flesh. It fits, somehow. They fit.