A/N: OHAI AGAIN. Rico inspiration. Need to stop rereading Death's Dare and all of Kioko's other stories.

I know I said I wouldn't post much, but it turns out even though it's a new college I still don't have many friends! Wahoo, lame life! Quick note: this was completed about fifteen minutes before I posted this on fanfic, written in less than an hour tonight. I am far too addicted to writing Rico late at night. Warning: written hastily to remove plot bunnies.

This is between "Inappropriate Visions" and "Loser of the Rings."

Anyway, enjoy, my fellow Rico lovers.

"Don't talk to me."

"Still pining over Percy?"

"I said, don't talk to me."

"You don't even have to be here, Rachel, I'm not even sure why you are here."

"I SAID DON'T TALK TO ME."

"I guess what they say about redheads is true – fiery tempers."

Rachel turned around and ignored the hair that whipped her face. She looked furious.

I found it hilarious when she was furious.

"Nico di Angelo if you don't shut your mouth I will shut it for you and shove you into the messiest horse stall I can possibly find."

I leaned against the column of the Hades cabin with a smirk on my face. "Try me, Oracle."

I wasn't exactly sure what she was about to do, but I wasn't worried. I was twenty years old and nearly a foot taller than her. She was just a redhead with fury on her side.

The punch in the face made me really hate her and really regret my previous statement.

"Ow, mother of Zeus, Rachel, what the hell was that for?"

Rachel, wearing the most irritatingly smug grin and shaking her hand a little bit, said, "Because you didn't think I would. You think you're so damned tough, Nico, when you really just cry like a little girl when I hit you."

"I'm not the one pining over my ex-not even boyfriend who is marrying my best friend right now."

Her eyes flashed. "Oh, really?" she said, laughing, "That's why you think I'm freaking out? Really. You think that the fact that Annabeth is marrying Percy is what's got me freaking out right now."

Now I was really stumped. "Um, isn't it?"

"No, you moron!" shouted Rachel, halfway between laughing and shouting, "It's about the stupid bridesmaids dresses."

"What?"

"The damned dresses!" she shouted, turning bright red, "They are so…God, it's probably wrong and I'm probably being crazy, but seriously red? Why the hell's it got to be red?"

"What in Hades' name are you talking about, you little wackadoodle?"

She blinked up at me, the rage draining from her face. "Seriously?"

"What?"
"Wackadoodle. Of all the insults you could have used, you choose wackadoodle. I was expecting something different from you, Nico. I'm a little disappointed."

I shrugged. "I'm a goddamn enigma, Dare. Either way, what's wrong with the whole red thing?"

Immediately, she flushed red again, but instead it was embarrassment. "Um, red?" she said, running her hand through her hair like she always did when she was nervous, "No, no, I said nothing about red. Did I say red? No, I meant…Erm…Bed. I need a new bed."

I gave her a look. "Dare, you were talking about dresses. Unless you've been doing some role playing with Apollo, I'm pretty sure dresses don't have anything to do with beds." The look she gave me was priceless. She kept moving her mouth, trying to say something, but all I heard were uncomfortable squeaks and angry and indignant gasps. "Never thought you'd be one for the kinky stuff, Rach, but we all have our quirks in bed."

"I am NOT doing…THAT with APOLLO!" she shouted, taking a furious step into my cabin and slamming my door. "I don't know who the hell you think you are," she said in a low and angry voice. I was intimidated. I kept stepping backwards, and then I hit my bed and fell, sprawling onto the mattress. "But I refuse to allow you to try and degrade me like this. I am the Oracle, a perpetual virgin and that INCLUDES horny gods."

She was towering over me for the first time since I was around twelve, and for the first time I realized that she's actually kind of terrifying when she's this angry. I wasn't sure if the fire in her was all Rachel Dare or was partially the anger of the Oracle, but I was scared.

"I – I'm sorry, Rach, um…" I looked up at her, "But, I –"

Suddenly, something hit me. Red. Dresses. Rachel's combination of embarrassment and anger.

Holy Hera.

"Oh my god, the bridesmaid dresses are red. The prophecy you made."

Rachel backed away from me. "I…It's not about us," she said, rushing the words out, "It's just a coincidence. We're…Wait," she said, "You remember the prophecy?"

I blinked up at her. "You collapsed to the floor in Victoria's Secret, oozed out green mist, prophesied about how we might get together eventually – which is crap, by the way – and then woke up freaking out. How in Zeus' name could I forget that kind of event?"

"Um," said Rachel, leaning against my door, "I see your point. But it's not us," she rushed out, "It's so not us."

"But the bridesmaid dresses are red?" I asked, a little nervous. Rachel nodded.

"Annabeth had them delivered today to the Big House so Thalia, Piper, and I could try on the dresses all together. And…I'm really worried that I'm going to spout out another stupid prophecy that has nothing to do with us. Or me. Or you."

"Have you seen it yet?"

"No," she admitted, "We're getting fitted in the Big House by Katie Gardner – she's got quite the talent. And we're just figuring out everything and I'm just worried."

"Well," I said, finally realizing my position on my bed might be seen as awkward and standing up, "Why don't you just go look at the red dresses and get this over with? That way you'll know that it isn't you and m –" I stuttered over the last word as a thought appeared in my mind. Rachel standing in a low cut, glamorous red dress that looked stunning on her, walking down the aisle next to me, where she was the maid of honor and I would be the best man. I never wanted to admit it, but Rachel always looked good. In my head and in that dress, she looked even better.

I swallowed hard and uncomfortably, "You and me," I finished, "It's about someone else."

Rachel nodded and straightened her shoulders. "Right. Let's go see it now."

"Let's?" I stammered, "L-like both of us? Seeing it?"
She nodded. "Yeah, I mean, we might as well go see it together. That way I won't have to talk to you again after this," she said with a smile. As I followed her out the door, I realized I had no idea if she was joking or not.

Also, I had no idea if I wanted to see her after this or not.

We walked up to the Big House where Annabeth, surprise, surprise, was storming around angrily, and screaming at Percy.

What else is new?

"GET. OUT. PERSEUS JACKSON YOU KNEW DAMNED WELL THAT MY WEDDING DRESS IS IN HERE."

"Annabeth, I –"

"NO EXCUSES, JACKSON," said Annabeth. Shouted, really, and Percy's expression of terror gave me the hint that this had been going on for a while now, "Get OUT. You are NOT allowed to see me in my wedding dress until the day I walk down the GOD DAMNED AISLE."

"I wasn't…That wasn't…I needed to talk to Chiron!"

"Oh," said Annabeth, her face melting into a pleasant smile, "Sorry, honey, go ahead. You're just not allowed in Rachel's room today, okay?" She stepped over to Percy and the two of them kissed for a sickeningly long time, and I exchanged a disgusted look with Rachel. If that was what being a cute couple was, I was glad all I went for was one night hookups. Relationships seemed too complicated – especially with a demigod spitfire like Annabeth.

"Okay," said Rachel, her hands shaking, "Um, I'll go try on the dress, okay?"

"You go in on your own, I have to go call the dress maker," said Annabeth, resuming a frustrated tone, "I have to ask if they can add beading at the bottom of the lace – I feel like it's almost too plain, you know?"

Before we could answer, Annabeth had stepped out the door with her cell phone and began chattering away rapidly to some poor, unnamed secretary on the other line.

"I'll be back soon," said Rachel, stepping into the room.

I leaned against the wall, and after a few moments I felt something flow through me – searing flame, crazy desire and an inexplicable and nearly overwhelming need to run into the room where Rachel was changing and rip that dress off of her.

Where the hell did THAT come from? Sure, she was gorgeous, but this was different than my usual random, offhand, "oh, she should wear tight shirts more often" thoughts I get every once in a while.

"di Angelo?" I heard Rachel call, "I can't get this zipped up – can you help me out here?"

Forcing down the crazy impulse, I swallow again and open the door, "Sure, Rach, I –"

She was facing the opposite wall, her face turned away from me. The dress was a little bit too big on her, and the back of her dress was half zipped. Somehow, the dark, deep red of the dress went well with her bright hair and pale, creamy skin. I had to swallow a third time and ignore the tightening in my jeans that made me want to kill Annabeth for coming up with red.

"Oh, gods," I muttered.

"I can't wait here all day," said Rachel, taking one hand and gathering her long hair up, and with the other holding the dress to herself, "Zip me up, will you?"

I held the smooth fabric of the dress and zipped it up the rest of the way, my breath hitching as I did so. I had a crazy impulse to run my hand along her side, and I forced the idea out of my head.

"So," said Rachel, "What do you think?" She spun around and out of nowhere, the dress dropped, and she was standing in front of me without even a bra on.

I couldn't do anything but gape at her. "Holy shit…" I said, unable to rip my gaze away. "Um…"

"NICO DI ANGELO, YOU PERV," shouted Rachel, "GET OUT."

"I'm sorry, I –"

"OUT!"

Damned prophecies. I ran out of the room and slammed the door behind me, leant against it, breathing hard. Gods, she was more gorgeous than any other women I'd ever seen.

And she was the only woman in the world I couldn't have.

Damned red dresses. Damned red hair.

Damned Rachel Dare.