Featured song: "1991" by Azealia Banks

watch?v=0oM_9ca8hxE

Enjoy~~

It was the second day of Nico's imprisonment–sorry, hospital stay–and he was starting to get bored.

The first day wasn't too terrible. Lou Ellen, surprisingly, showed up with an armful of books and a jovial expression. She presented him with a pair of graphic novels, and Nico, moody demeanor notwithstanding, graciously accepted. The dizzying combination of Underworld-y fatigue and dyslexia made reading two Scott Pilgrim books an all-day task; indeed, he was amused all afternoon and well into the night. However, they were definitely not three-days-of-bedrest books; it was only eleven o'clock in the morning on the second day and Nico was contemplating taking a nap out of boredom. The room he sat in was strapped for entertainment: no television, no radio, not even a book. There was a laptop on the other side of the room, but Nico hadn't the faintest idea on how to use computers. Plus, he really didn't feel like meeting a bunch of bloodthirsty empousai at that particular moment. If using Hulu on the Argo II had aggravated monsters, he could only imagine how they would react to him surfing the web in a camp brimming with delectable demigods. Sure, the border was well-guarded, but nevertheless... yikes.

Nico huffed and drew his knees up to his chest. He had a stack of spaghetti western films sitting on his dresser back at the Hades cabin. He had an enormous copy of "French For Dummies" lying underneath his bed. Hell, he had a torn sweatshirt he'd been meaning to mend for ages stuffed in the back of his closet. Activities of every kind lingered just outside the infirmary door, but if Nico so much as got up to take a piss, Solace would be on him like a fly. He was as pushy as he was cute.

The son of Hades blushed in spite of himself. Will Solace… Nico was kicking himself for not paying attention to him earlier. He didn't even know he was up until last year, when they battled the Titans side-by-side in New York. Well, in a sense. Nico didn't show up until the very last minute, and even then, Will was the head healer and Nico was in battle most of the time. After their victory, they had exchanged a few remarks and even a couple laughs, but Solace never really registered on his radar. To be fair, not much did; he had spent the last twelve months with tunnel vision, eyes trained on Percy Jackson.

He was so happy that he was finally getting over him. It was so exhausting trying to deal with those emotions all the time. He felt like his sight was slowly but surely clearing up.

Which made him smile, but also cringe. Clear sight meant a) realizing how fucking stupid he was for liking that idiot, and b) realizing what a fucking asshole he had been to everyone–especially Will Solace.

This wasn't a difficult leap. Like his annoying dentist always said: "Hindsight is 20/20." Of course, he was usually talking about the absurd amount of cavities in Nico's mouth and how he would regret not brushing regularly (he flossed every morning), but the philosophy was applicable to his relationship with Will Solace.

On those rare occasions when he dropped by Camp Half-Blood for a place to sleep or news on Percy's disappearance, Will always found time to say "hi" or to ask Nico how he was doing. It didn't matter if he was balls-deep in sheet music or in the midst of repairing a broken arm; he always managed to throw a greeting his way. The most Nico could manage was a guarded "hello" or a shrug of the shoulders.

Once, Nico accidentally shadow-traveled to the middle of the dining pavilion at dinnertime and promptly passed out. Will Solace not only had him carried to the Big House, but somehow persuaded Mr. D to let him spend the night in the infirmary. It was probably the nicest thing anyone had done for him since Bianca died. But when Nico woke that morning, did he scribble out a quick note of gratitude? Did he stop him in the commons to thank him and his siblings for looking out for his sorry ass? Did he even acknowledge this kind gesture? Of course he didn't. He gave Will the barest of nods on his way out the door, then jetted off to follow a new lead on Percy's whereabouts. Stupid.

Ugh. The guilt he felt going through those memories washed over him waves. He was now considering adding "huge dickhead" to his rather short list of accomplishments. Nico didn't know much about anything, but he did know that Will Solace had every right to hate his guts.

Thing is, Will didn't. Sure, Nico's first day was full of stern glares and passive-aggressive mutters, but that was probably due to the fact that Nico was on the brink of evaporating. Besides, he couldn't stay mad; the kid was like a fucking golden retriever when it came to holding grudges (a.k.a the complete opposite of Nico). As a matter of fact, he ended up skipping the campfire just so he could hear about the documentary Nico just finished.

"When did you even have time to watch this?" Will was strapping a slightly dated blood pressure monitor to Nico's arm.

"Uh, well…" He studied Will's hands with a vague interest. They were callused, but gentle; nimble, but clinical. Kinda like their owner. "I didn't sleep too well on the Argo II, so I spent a lot of time watching late night television and documentaries. Leo insta–" His voice faltered to make room for the lump welling up in his throat. Not now. He swallowed and continued. "Uh, there was this huge television installed in Coach Hedge's room with like, Netflix and everything."

"Didn't he get mad at you?"

"No; he didn't seem to mind. As long as I kept it down." Solace was now pumping air into his medical arm floaty. Nico glanced down and watched it fill up. "What's this thing called?"

Will smirked and met his eyes, blue to black. "To you plebians, it's called a 'blood pressure thingy', but the actual, medical name for it is 'sphygmomanometer'."

"Huh?"

"'Sphygmomanometer'."

"Bless you."

"Shut up. What was the documentary about?"

"Orcas." Just mentioning the name washed him in a sense of awe and beauty–and pain, terrible pain. Despite all the hardships he had endured and all the wars he fought, Nico felt as though he could never even begin to comprehend the struggles the whales faced just by existing. They reminded him of demigods in that way.

"Like… killer whales?"

"No. Orcas."

Will jabbed a couple buttons on the monitor's controller. "I thought they were the same thing."

"They aren't." Orcas were majestic, emotionally intelligent ocean creatures. Killer whales were the poor demented creatures humans swam with at SeaWorld.

"Oh. Well, what about orcas?"

And with that gentle bit of coaxing, Nico flew forth into the tragedy that was the life of Tilikum, a psychologically disturbed orca forced to perform every week for thousands. As he ranted on about the horrific conditions the whales were given, he couldn't help but notice how attentive Will was. Even as the monitor began to beep ominously, he shut it off and pressed Nico for more. Eventually, he eased the armband off and sat back in his chair, listening to his patient recount the stories of trainer deaths and whale psychology. The summary of the film soon turned into a heated discussion of all the things wrong with the way people treated animals. Nico found that Will was especially passionate about protecting animals in the food industry. They swapped stories of big corporations shooting livestock with hormones and the importance of eating organic. They probably would have continued past lights-out if it weren't for Will's half-brother dropping in to remind him that his shift was over. Will bid him a good night by scribbling something on the inside cover of Lou Ellen's book.

"'Food, Inc.'?"

Will stood up and stretched. "It's a really great documentary on the food industry. You should check it out." With that, he smiled sleepily and walked out.

Nico spied the book on his nightstand and picked it up. He flipped to the page with the title of the documentary. Will Solace, head healer, had doctor handwriting. He slapped the book shut and laid it back on the nightstand. Eleven-fifteen a.m.

He spent the next four hours teetering on the edge of existence and trying to keep himself busy. He fell asleep and woke up several times. He pulled a long string of yarn off of his woven blanket and practiced making square knots while humming Green Day songs. Using a pencil, he wrote really shitty poems on the inside of Scott Pilgrim's Precious Little Life. Then he erased them because they made his head throb. He muttered conversations with himself about the price of bread and different kinds of animals in mediocre Italian. He launched into daydreams about being a swashbuckling pirate.

At four-eleven p.m, Nico's ass ached from sitting. He couldn't feel his legs. By then, he was more fearful of another minute in Infirmary Purgatory than the wrath of Will. He tossed the blankets off of him and willed his legs to drop onto the floor. The contact with the floor somehow made him feel seasick, which was not a fun feeling. He stumbled over to the doorway and peeked into the hallway. The coast appeared to be clear, but he had no idea where to go from there.

He looked left, then right, then left, then right–then shrugged and went left...

… and was almost immediately jumped by Will. Well, in the loosest sense of the word "jumped". What happened was that he shuffled about five feet down the hall before hearing footsteps. Will turned the corner with half a sandwich in his mouth and a stethoscope draped across his shoulders. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Nico, with a bedhead and a pair of wrinkled pajama pants, standing like a deer caught in headlights.

"Shit," Nico muttered.

"What are you doing out here?" Will said, somehow managing to scowl, chew, and look adorable all at the same time. Nico reddened.

"I was going to the bathroom."

He swallowed his mouthful. "There's a bathroom in the infirmary."

"I wanted to take a shower."

"There's a shower in the infirmary."

"Um… there was no shampoo."

"I put some on your dresser last night."

"Really?"

"Yup."

"Then there was no conditioner."

"It was a 2-in-1, stupid." Damn.

Nico scratched his head sheepishly. "Um. I heard a really loud noise outside and wanted to see what was going on?"

Will grinned. "Any other excuses?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, back to bed."

"Oh, come one! I haven't been outside in forever!"

Nurse Will made his reappearance. "Well, that's because you went Hades-crazy and shadow-traveled too much!" He shepherded a furious and diminutive Nico back into his room.

"Well, what else was I supposed to do? I had to get the statue back here!" The son of Hades gestured in the direction that hopefully went towards the enormous Athena Parthenos sitting on the hillside.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't have." Will sat down in the office chair and began to spin. "But that's like, super draining, both physically and mentally. And that's not good for you!"

"I'm fi–" He sneezed twice in quick succession. Nurse Will arched his eyebrows.

Nico scowled and sat on his bed. "I'm bored. Can't I go get some stuff from my cabin?"

Will gave him a Look. "Nico, you can barely walk ten yards without collapsing. You need to stay here."

"I'll be fine!"

"No. If you want, I could go get–"

He had no idea what he was trying to hide, but on the list of things that made him extremely uncomfortable, people going through his things was in the top ten. "No no no, don't do that. It's okay. Just–like–don't you guys have books, or a radio or something in here?"

Will spun towards the laptop computer and flipped it open. "We have Youtube. What do you want to watch?"

"Uh..."

"Oh my gods; queen!" Will tapped a couple keys and swung his legs excitedly.

"Huh?"

"It's nothing–well, actually, no, it's something." He turned to Nico. "Have you ever heard of Azealia Banks?"

The name was completely new to him. "Uh... no."

Will's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Oh my gods, you've never heard of Azealia Banks," he muttered.

"Is she like a... politician or something?"

"Oh my gods!" Will Solace rolled over to Nico's bed, gripping the arms of his chair like he would fall off. "You've never heard of Azealia Banks!"

"I think we have established this, yeah."

"Holy Hendrix, hold on." Using the rails as a launchpad, he spun back to the desk. Will swiped the laptop lying on top of it and rolled back to Nico's bed. "I cannot believe you've never heard of her. She's the queen of the whole freaking world."

"I thought that was Hera?" he replied faintly, feeling as though he was wading through a swamp things he didn't quite understand.

Will shot him another Look. "She's a rapper, stupid! She's queen of the whole game."

"Oh." Now he knew that he was wading through things he didn't understand. He only recently heard of rap from Reyna, who listened to Beyoncé religiously, but he hadn't actually heard it. Maybe it was more of a West Coast thing? "What game?"

Will stared at him as though he had asked him how one spelled "cat". "The rap game!"

"There's a game?"

"Yes, Nico. The rapping game. Jay-Z and Kendrick Lamar like to play Monopoly every Thursday night because their shared talent of slaying verses. Just watch!"

He scooted closer to the bed and set the laptop in front of Nico. A little... box was open, and was playing a film of sorts with a sparse beat. A couple seconds in, he saw a woman with magnificent hair and sunglasses sitting in a white room. He glanced at Will, who was bopping along in time to the beat.

Then the woman (whom he decided was Azealia) began to... talk. She talked very quickly (Nico could barely understand what she was saying) and in time to the... music? It was more of a percussion track with some weird marimba noise slapped on top. The video was weird. She danced around in a pair of baggy pants and a bra. Nico felt a little embarrassed watching it.

Will, however, seemed infatuated with the... song. He mouthed along to the lyrics and bobbed his head back and forth. Nico had no idea how he figured out what the woman was saying. He turned his attention back to the video. Azealia Something actually looked a lot like Hazel. Same skin color, same eye shape; even their hands were similar. He really hoped she didn't spend her free time rapping and dancing around in a bra. That would be hard to explain to their dad.

The video ended after Azealia did some really cool dance moves and messed around with a couple spyglasses. Will immediately asked for Nico's input.

"Isn't she amazing?"

"I... guess so. Why was she wearing goggles?"

Will shrugged. "Why not?"

He supposed he had seen stranger things. And they did actually look kinda cool. "It was really weird, but I liked it."

"That's what everyone says about her! She's so different from Nicki Minaj and,"–his face soured–"Igloo Australia, and all the other rappers in the world. She's such a bae."

He was still stuck on "Igloo Australia". "She's a what?"

Will stared at him with such intensity that Nico felt like he was staring at the sun itself. His blue eyes did not blink for nearly a full minute. Then he said, "Nico, you need help."

"Thanks," he grumbled.

"You know nothing about the 21st century and most of the 20th century, don't you?"

His face turned scarlet. "Well, no, not really, but–"

"Which means you know nothing about rap?"

"I know that there's a game involved."

Now he just looked sad. "Okay. Okay." He clicked off of the page with the box and onto a new page. He typed in "Sugarhill Gang". "Let's start at the beginning."

You know those folks who worship the ground Beyoncé/Solange/Laverne Cox/Lupita Nyong'O/FKA Twigs walk upon? I feel like Will is one of those people.

Anyways, I've a whole playlist devoted to Solangelo. I'm thinking maybe I should do one songfic a week? What do y'all think?