Nico didn't like the feeling of not having a solid plan.

There were so many things that had happened in his lifetime that he would have loved to have a chance to change. The Fates worked in mysterious - and cruel - ways that mere mortals couldn't understand. But Nico was a son of the Underworld - of Death itself - and he knew all too well just how the universe worked. He'd been on the receiving end of too much shit lately.

A solid plan was a baby blanket, job security, the soothing touch of a mother. He'd made it a point to never dive into anything without every last loose end having a method tied to it. The wars had left too many scars on him, much too young.

Nico did not like the feeling of not having a solid plan at all - especially when Will Solace was factored into the equation. But it seemed like that was the way of the Fates, and there was nothing that he could do about it.

On their six month anniversary, Nico spent hours preparing what he knew would be the perfect date. He had actually gone shopping for food other than easy fixes, stocking up on items that he later used to cook spaghetti.

Well, attempt to cook spaghetti.

"I did exactly what you said!" Nico complained, balancing his cell phone on his shoulder as he scraped the burned spaghetti from the hot pot. Smoke still hovered in the air, and he scrunched up his nose in disgust as he opened his apartment window. "What in the name of Hades did I do wrong?"

"Did you add oil to the eight and a half cups of water?" Annabeth's tinny voice floated up from the precariously placed device. "Or did you forget?"

"Yes, I added the damn oil – wait, eight and a half cups of water?"

"That's what the recipe says, doesn't it?"

Nico frowned, placing the silver pot back on the stovetop before squinting down at the wrinkled recipe he'd printed from the internet hours before. "Styx! I read it as eight half – cups!"

"That would do it," Annabeth's voice shook a bit, like she was trying not to laugh at Nico's misfortune. "Try again with more water and let me know – Percy, put that down you idiot!"

The phone cut out as Annabeth ran off to stop her boyfriend from doing whatever crazy thing he'd gotten into his head to try this time. Shaking his own head, Nico carefully measured the proper amount of water into the spaghetti pot, turning the burner back on the high heat. The oil came in next, and in no time the water was boiling away.

While the pasta soaked up the hot water, Nico set out the salad he'd prepared earlier. The plates and silver came next – and by then the pasta was ready to have the meat sauce that he'd prepared earlier added to it.

He was proud that he only managed to burn himself twice while draining the water and putting the pasta-sauce combo back on the stove to simmer. Nico had expected to do a lot more damage to himself.

When the door to his apartment opened and a cheery voice called out a hello, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Letting out a stream of panicked curses under his breath, Nico hurriedly portioned out the steaming dinner and dove into his seat at the dining table.

"Nico? Where are you? I thought you said to meet you here at five?" Will's voice drifted down the hall as he shut and locked the door.

"In here!" Nico finally found his voice, a rare smile blooming across his face as he saw his boyfriend's head peek around the corner, a curious look on his face. "You're just in time for dinner."

"Holy Hera, did you make all this?" Will beamed at Nico before bouncing forward to give him a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek. The other boy protested weakly, but the blush that covered his cheeks showed how insincere they were.

"Happy six months, Will," Nico told him, gesturing for him to join him at the table. "I hope I managed to make something edible this time."

"Anything's better than burnt toast and rotten cheese."

"That was one time!"

"You know I still love you, despite your flaws."

"Shut up and eat your food."

They ate in silence, stealing sweet looks over salad and pasta. It was, indeed, better that burnt toast and rotten cheese, and both were decidedly full and satisfied when they were done.

Afterward, Will helped Nico carry the dirty dishes into the kitchen. They set to work scrubbing and drying them, forming a sort of tag team to get the job done faster.

Nico was placing the last plate down in the rack when Will stepped closer to him and pulled him forward. Startled, he lost his grip, and the plate went crashing onto the floor.

"Dammit Will, that was my favorite – mmph!" The last portion of Nico's sentence was lost as Will crushed his lips to his own, and his eyes fluttered shut.

Will ran his hands down Nico's back before slipping them ever-so-slightly into the crease of his blank jeans where they met skin. Nico responded by tugging on the bottom of Will's shirt, helping him yank it off and throw it on the counter behind them.

He pushed forward, leading Will backwards, out of the kitchen, with his pale hands pressed against Will's tanned chest. Nico wasn't sure where this bravado was coming from. The past six months had been full of shy, tender moments and stolen kisses, with a few accidental brushes here and there. But suddenly, he was moving at light speed, and Will was flat against his bedroom door, hand groping for the doorknob.

The door suddenly opened, and the two intertwined boys fell inside, clumsily stumbling over to the bed. Will's knees gave out as he hit the edge, and he landed on his back with Nico not far behind him. He quickly pulled the smaller boy on top of him, pressing open mouthed kisses to Nico's neck.

Moaning, Nico ran his hands through Will's shaggy blonde hair. It was so blissful, with Will's hands running down his body and his mouth leaving marks on his skin… and his hands finding his zipper and starting to pull it down…

Nico suddenly jerked away from Will, as if he had been struck with lightning. In an instant, reality struck, and hard. They couldn't be doing this – he wasn't ready. Nobody had ever seen him down there, seen the scars that war had littered him with. Nobody had touched him before, ran their hands down the post private part of his body.

No, no, no, no, no…

Horrible images of his past were suddenly ripping through his mind, tormenting him with visions of disgusting memories. There he stood, raw and exposed before the God of Love, revealing his darkest and most guilty secret. The horrible torture he'd sustained at the hands of the Giant's flew before his wide eyes, followed by distorted views of his dead family and the ghosts that haunted him every step of his life.

It's too much…

"Nico! Nico, hey, breathe! Breathe for me – deep breaths, Nico. Shh, shh. You're going to be okay!"

Nico suddenly became aware that he was curled up into a ball on the carpet, hands pressed to the sides of his head with his eyes squeezed shut tight. His breaths were coming in ragged, wheezing gasps.

"Nico, please! Calm down, I'm sorry!" Will's panicked voice came from in front of him, and his eyes flew open to find tearstained blue eyes trained on him.

Those eyes held the universe in them, and he found himself start to breathe easier as they held eye contact.

"That's it Nico, deep breaths," Nico stared unblinkingly at his boyfriend, his breath catching slightly. "In and out."

It took a lot of time, but eventually, the darker haired boy slumped over, his breath no longer catching with panic, but instead with sobs. Tentatively, Will wrapped an arm around Nico, pulling him into his arms fully when his boyfriend did not protest vehemently.

"I'm sorry," Nico cried, ashamedly hiding his face in Will's shoulder. "I'm so sorry – I can't!"

"Shh," Will said quietly. "We don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with, okay?"

Nico said nothing, and just pulled Will even closer to him, clutching him like he was his lifeline in a turbulent ocean. One day, he would be ready – it just wasn't going to be today.

"I love you," he murmured into the flesh of Will's neck, feeling his boyfriend hold him even closer. "I love you so much."

"I love you too."