This wasm y Jasico Valentine Day Fic thingie over on tumblr. I edited myself but as anyone knows, I'm not the best editor. So, I apologize for any mistakes found in this and if horribly hinders anyone's reading abilities. As usual, I don't own anything.
Siren
Nico made a face.
He held his books in his arms, his bookbag, heavy, slung on his shoulders and he stood there. His ire growing by the second. He was one of the only two left in the empty university classroom. He should have shadow-traveled when he had the chance.
He stood on the threshold of the doorway, blocked from actually getting out of the classroom by one particular guy. Maximilian Diocletian Augustus Caesar to be exact, Max for short.
Max was a pretentious, persistent ass-fuck. Since day one, Nico wished he could send the useless mouth-breather to the uncharted depths of Tartarus. However, Max was his lab partner in chemistry, and unfortunately, he needed him for the year.
"What do you want?" Nico asked, clipped.
"Go out with me, darling," Max replied, leaning forward.
"I already told you, I'm in a relationship," Nico said thinly. He had told Max that about a thousand times actually, Max seemed to tune him out.
"Pft, darling, you don't have to play coy," Max said. The cocky smile on his face grew. "It's alright. I know you want me, and I you."
Nico shook his head, shifting his books in his arms. "Listen, you retarded dick waffle, I haven't felt so much as a flutter in yo—!" Nico stood there stark frozen as Max kissed him, plunging his disgusting tongue in his mouth, the revolting appendage slithering around in his orifice as if — Nico pulled back, cold fury and revulsion churning within him.
He drew back his fist, punching Max dead in the face. He didn't wait for Max's response or any shit like that. He was through being polite. He gathered his shadows and disappeared in the next moment. His shadows spit him out into his apartment. He dropped his books and bag to the ground with a satisfying thump.
Piper and Jason were at his side immediately. Worriers, they were. "Nico, what's wrong?" Jason didn't waste any time in asking. Nico turned to his left, his glare lessening significantly when he stared up into concerned electric blue eyes.
He threw his arms around Jason and pulled him into a deep kiss, trying to erase of the taste of Max in his mouth. He broke the kiss relaxing against Jason for a minute, breathing in deeply before he twisted round to face Piper, her expression, mirroring Jason's seconds before.
She was his very best friend. He leaned forward to peck her gently on the lips and then again at the corners. Her form of comfort for him was subtly different, but she helped to erase Max on him all the same.
He took another deep breath and then stepped away from them both. His lips curved up into a half-smile. "Thank you," was all he said to them before reaching down to grab the items he dropped. He headed down to the second bedroom where their study room was; he knew Jason and Piper were confused. Later, he'd explain to them what happened. For now, he had four-page essay on the history of fuckery.
"Nico…" poke. "Nico…" swat. he was going to kill her. Nico…" harder poking at his cheek. He wasn't getting up. "Niiiiiiii-coo."
Nico tried to roll over to block the noise to no avail. The originator of such annoyance straddled his hips. "P'per, what do you want?" Nico muttered, refusing to open his eyes.
"I need you to get up."
"I have no classes today, it's my day to sleep in," Nico responded. And it was true. This was his holy day to sleep in and decompress from a week full of energy drinks, instant ramen, and death-inducing stress.
"I know. But we agreed this would also be Jason's special day. To thank him for all his hard work as Ambassador between the camps, remember? You said you'd get his favorite brownies from Caligula's, and I'd get the house ready?"
Nico nodded slowly, eyes still closed, "I did say that and we will do that but we can take care of that in a few hours."
"Nico get up now," Piper said, her voice flat. He popped a dark eye open, spotting the deep frown on her pretty face. His eye slid back close. He breathed in and he breathed out.
Forgive him, he was a selfish fuck early in the morning.
"No."
He heard the minute harrumph from Piper and felt as she eased off him. He thought he won the battle. He inherited his father's iron will. It never failed him. He started to relax, on the brink of blessed slumberland when Piper's rang out, steel and razor-sharp. "Nico di Angelo, you will get up this instant, dress in your most ridiculous clothes, go the Caligula's, buy a dozen of Jason's favorite brownies and me a new surfboard."
Nico didn't have a choice. His eyelids snapped open on their own accord and he threw off his covers with a flourish. He raced to get out of his bed and to his closet. He sent his nastiest glare to Piper, one that made Gods quiver and monsters screech in utter terror. Piper, however, returned his glare with a pleasant smile, she even dared to toddle. Toddle! She sashayed, her hips swaying sassily, out of the room, leaving him to his tasks.
Nico ended up in a fluorescent rainbow gay pride shirt, jeans, and high-kicks getup (a gag gift from Percy and Leo for coming out). He felt ridiculous and looked ridiculous. When Piper saw him, she stifled her laughter and kissed him on the cheek. She also smacked him on the bottom, pushing him out the door. "Go on and remember to get the items I told you to buy," she said merrily. She slammed the door shut.
Nico gave the door a middle finger, to which, Piper opened the door once more and gave him two middle fingers before shooing him along like a repentant child. "Bye Nico."
And thus, Nico deprived of precious sleep and under the insidious influence of charmspeak stomped down the streets of the New Rome. He dampened the freshened spirits of the crisp morning: the birds stopped singing, Apollo's sun dimmed, and dark clouds seemed to be on the horizon.
Nico kept his stare glued to the cobbled street, periodically looking up to make sure he was heading in the right direction. He was exuding an aura of 'Fuck-with-me-and-you-die.' He knew with every step he took the ground quaked. The age-old skeletons groaned underneath the dirt, itching to tear from their earthen coffins and wreak havoc on all that lived.
People regularly swerved out of the way when he neared them, and he thought no one would bother him on his trip. However, a stupidly brave soul approached him right at the entrance of Caligula's. Said soul, leaned against the glass door of the bakery shop. He was a year or two older than Nico's seventeen. His spring green eyes coolly locked on his.
Nico assessed him. His dark hair was shaved near the bottom (an undersomething), the long pieces were striped green and his clothes were filled with cuts and tears. His ears, nose, and lips adorned with silver piercings. He admitted that he liked his style, he, however, did not like the fact that he didn't bother to move even though he was right in front of him, clearly, waiting to go in.
He narrowed his eyes. His stance deceptively relaxed. "You're in my way," Nico articulated.
The teen shrugged. "So I am."
"Do you need me or are you purposely being a nuisance?" Nico said. He crossed his arms.
The teen cracked a small grin. He tilted his head, studying him. "Are you Nico di Angelo?"
Nico's raised his eyebrow. "Who wants to know?"
The teen shrugged. His smile shimmied down to a flat line. "Maximilian," he said, sweeping hair out of his face.
Nico's relaxed stance turned rigid. His fists curled at the remembrance of the kiss just days ago. "So, what are you; a singing telegram, confessing the shit's strange obsession with me? I caution you, if I don't like your message, I will not hesitate to shoot you."
The teen laughed, a dark, throaty sound. He grinned at him, catlike. "Oh?" he said, his voice low. "I can see why he likes you."
Nico took a small step back. The teenager did the opposite. "So what, what are you to the asshole, and what do you want with me?" he questioned. His fingers slithered to his hip only to remember the moronic no weapons rule inside New Rome. It kept him from carrying his Stygian sword everywhere.
The teenager shrugged. He again swept hair from his face and gave Nico an appraising look. "I would take you as my own, but Maximilian paid me a heady price for you."
"What has the fuck… err…" Nico abruptly stumbled back. His internal senses rang warning bells (a bit too late in his opinion). His external being was suddenly sluggish and slow. Was it him or was it getting blurry and black in certain places? "W-wh… d… you… do?" he spluttered out, attempting to keep the dark away.
"Shh," the teenager shushed him soothingly as if he were a child or a sick invalid. "Sleep love," he whispered into his ear. "When you awake all will be well."
Nico fought like he'd always done. Viciously. He tried to stave off the sleep that draped him. It was losing battle, it weighed him down like tens of iron weights. His eyelids fell, his balance was gone, and the assfuck of a teenager leaned further to him.
"Sleep, sleep, love, when you awaken all will be well."
"N —" Nico never got the whole word out. His world cloaked itself in the darkness and finally he fell to traitorous sleep. His last thoughts were on Piper and how she was going to flip her shit when he realized he didn't get Jason's brownies.
…
Nico jerked awake. His heart pounded against his chest. He gulped in a lungful of air. His oil-black eyes darted from side-to-side for any sign of potential threat. His pulse was jumping. Tremors wracked his body.
Nico squeezed his eyes shut. The feeling of lightheadedness had already started in. He was going to pass again out at this rate.
"Calm down!" he shouted to no one. He was in control of this situation. There was no reason to be getting all worked up, he had to keep his wits or else…
He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, he did this several more times. His erratic thoughts slowed down. He started to concentrate on his happy points. Happy points like beating Jason's and Frank's ass at mythomagic, playing Dance Dance Revolution with Piper, competing with Piper to make Jason come the fastest, and spending time with Hazel.
He breathed out one last time. His shoulders sagged. His pulse eased down to its regular pace. Finally.
He opened his eyes ready to face whatever head on, or so he thought. He reeled at was before him.
Hundreds of pictures were plastered to the walls. Pictures of him. He was sleeping. He was chewing on an eraser head. He was drinking water. His head was tipped back in laughter. He was smiling. He was frowning. He was crying. He was doing a thousand and one different things, all of it, captured in a fleeting moments. It surrounded him in an impenetrable cage.
And at the grand center there he stood. A full body mirror showed him, clear as day. His twin image presented him in heavy mascara that coated his eyes, black shorts, white stockings, ruby red lipstick…
"The fuck!" he screamed. He pushed down the shout of terror that was desperate to follow. His calm was wrecked. His gaze moved and moved too pictures of himself, he couldn't escape. He squeezed his eyes shut, even that betrayed him, it crowded him — suddenly, he couldn't breathe. The room was too small, much too small. He had to get away from here, get out from wherever he was.
He wrangled against invisible bonds. The familiar burn of power coursed through him but nothing came out of it. In fact, the more he tried to draw on his inner power the more tired he felt. What? He spared a glance down to his arms and legs, seeing gleaming golden chains clasped around his ankles and wrist.
"Fuck!" he screamed again, struggling even harder.
What was this! Whomever had done this was going to pay when he got out of this mess. He'd make Tartarus look like a pleasant walk in the park. His chains clanged and clacked together as he tried even harder to pull out his demigod power. He needed to call the dead, make the earth shake, shadow travel if he dared to hope, something! But it wasn't working. He only succeeded in making himself even more tired, to the point where he slumped to the ground, panting as if he had run a couple of miles nonstop.
"Fuck this shit!" He wanted out now. He tried to pull his way out his bonds, he tried to shake, he even tried to shimmy his way through. It was like a slap to the face, he had to face facts. He was stuck.
His breathing grew ragged. His pulse raced and the tremors began. No, No, this was worse. He was imagining his jar back years ago.
He could see the thick, clear glass that surrounded him, the monsters that prowled around it. The rhythmic tap, tap, tap at his glass. The large mouths that stretched wide, mocking him. How those eyes stared down at him, large and knowing. He knew he was a helpless bug, too easy to crush. No one was coming for him. He'd be stuck in the jar forevermore. Dying alone.
"Darling! You came!"
Nico gasped. He was thrust into the present. Still stuck and still enclosed by hundreds of pictures. A blond head poked out from behind the mirror, a joyous expression painted on his handsome face. "Darling, there you are!"
And just like that it wasn't fear that controlled Nico. It was blinding wrath that held him. He'd never had this bubbling, dangerous urge to destroy someone. To obliterate this shit stain from the face of the Earth, from the spectrum of the Universe.
Maximilian Diocletian Augustus Caesar side-stepped from the mirror. He was smiling like everything was fucking peachy keen in his world. "Let me go," Nico said pleasantly as possible. "Let me go or so help my father."
"Ah darling, you know, I love the sound of your begging." Max shuddered, emitting a soft groan.
"Sick bastard." Nico gritted his teeth, he strained against the chains. "I swear that when I get out of these you'd wish you were never born."
"Must you always exaggerate, darling? It is unbecoming," Max said. He walked forward. His golden eyes glazed over in desire.
"Demented motherfucker," spit Nico.
Max continued to move forward, that stupidly happy expression never slipped up. He kept walking and walking the length of the room (which wasn't that big), each step felt like an eternity to Nico until he was actually there. In front of him. Mere inches separating them.
Max reached a pale, spindly hand to touch him. Nico flinched back, glaring. "Don't you dare, fucker."
Max apparently didn't have any preservation skills because he didn't listen. He reached out and touched Nico anyway, his ice-cold fingers ran trails down and across Nico's face. He touched him like he was mapping out his face, and he handled him like he was some prized china doll. He was caressing Nico as if he were a lover.
And if Nico were being perfectly honest, it was reminiscent to way Jason sometimes just stopped and touched him. Max even got the same dopey smile that Jason wore when he did thi— wait, what was he thinking? Nico jerked back more violently, he had minimum space between him and whatever he was chained to, but it was enough to step out Max's touch.
"The hell do you think you're doing?" Nico said. "Don't fucking touch me."
"Darling—"
"I'm not your darling," Nico said. He couldn't take any more of this bullshit. "Ha-ha, this was a funny joke, now, let me go right now. I might go easy on you."
For a moment, Max pinned him a curious stare — almost mocking in nature before his eyebrows knotted together. Max adopted a confused face. He licked his lips. "Darling, perhaps, singing a song will help you feel better."
Nico should argue. "Stop," his lips form the word yet no sound escaped. His voice failed. Max sung. It wasn't a song with words just a lulling lilt, a tune that made all Nico's fears and worries vanish into thin air.
He supposed it was a bit worrying how much the tune carried over to him. How it brought a smile to his face and made his heart relax — how the alarm bells within him were suddenly silenced.
Where was it, he briefly wondered. Where did that "Stop!" go? The threat was there seconds ago. His mind argued. If it really was that important he would've kept onto it and he agreed. So, he settled down his worries, listening to Max's voice.
Eventually he fell asleep, and when he went to sleep, he dreamed about nothing.
...
"Darling, I've brought you your favorite foods," crowed Max as he entered the room. The windows were open; streaming in the sunlight and the smell of the salty sea air.
The familiar surge of anger and desperation threatened to surface, but Nico patted it down with a practiced smile. He bobbed his head at Max. "That's fuc— wonderful," he stumbled.
Max didn't even notice. He glowed as if Nico had given him the highest honor. The golden-haired teen ran forth and settled beside Nico on the plush carpet. He held a plate of grilled salmon and French fries in his hands.
"Would you like me to change you first or would you prefer to eat, darling?" Max asked.
Nico shrugged. His answer never changed. "Eat first," he said. Max nodded happily. He cut his salmon up, humming that tune he sung every night just before Nico fell asleep. It was times like these Nico had time for his inner thoughts to grow, for his feelings to fluctuate freely.
"Max," he uttered.
Max's golden eyes darted to his, lips curving up into an easy smile. "Yes, darling?"
"Why am I in chains?" he asked bluntly. He raised his arms for emphasis, wincing as they clattered together. It wasn't the first time he wondered about this particular fact.
Max's eyes narrowed and his face pinched in an instant. If Nico blinked he would've missed, and in fact, when Nico did blink Max's happy face was back to normal if only a bit drooped. "Darling," he started off with great sadness. "Believe me when I say I don't want to put you in chains, it's just that, it's for your own safety."
It was pure confusion that halted the immediate yell of liar within. "My own safety?" he parroted back, skeptical.
"Yes indeed, darling, you've been terribly afflicted," said Max.
"With what?"
"A regretful mix of Dissociative Identity Disorder and Bipolar-ism," he said it as if it were some great burden to him instead of Nico. "Darling, the fact of the matter is that I keep you in here for your safety!"
Nico nodded. He thought that Max embellished the truth a bit, sure, but that wasn't any reason to not trust him. "Max, one more thing," he pressed. "Why the pictures?"
Max paused. Face blank. His golden eyes were far off. The air between them grew heavy and tense. He shifted uncomfortably waiting for Max to respond. However, he sat there for five minutes and said nothing. He continued to shift awkwardly around until he got tired of it. "Max!" he called sharply.
The blond grinned at him, apologetic. "Sorry darling, let's eat shall we, hmm." He picked up the plate and jabbed a piece of salmon onto the fork. "Say ah," he moved the fork closer.
Nico saw no choice but to comply. He'd bring up the pictures again later.
...
Nico found it odd that he didn't have dreams. He had hallucinations of the hearing and visual sort. When Max was gone, they'd come.
Nico would sit there in his room surrounded by all those pictures of himself and then he'd hear it.
Beautiful snorting laughter. Brilliant eyes that gleamed a thousand different colors, and her teasing voice. "How wonderfully cliché, Jack Skellington fell for the coveted Prince Charming!"
"It's not so cliché," he'd mumbled to the imaginary being. "We have you and without you, it would fucking fall apart. We'd be nothing, we're like the three Musketeers or some shit like that."
Another bout of snorting laughter. "You've got that right, Death Breath. My boys would be lost without me." She sent a significant look to him and the blond god beside him.
And then, the voices would fade and he'd see. His eyes would be closed but he'd see it all the same. He would be lying on his back and there would be this tanned, short-haired blond god riding him. And it would be so damn good. His hands would be placed on his hips, and he'd just sit there watching in a blissed daze as he fucked himself on his cock, low moans spilling from his lips. Begging him to move, meet his thrust… or at least touch him.
He was a fucking sadistic bastard. He wouldn't say anything, he wouldn't do anything. He'd just sit there until this blond god was on the edge and then, he'd flip them around, pulling out. The god on spread out of the bed, his hole pink and twitching and he, god he, would plunge right back in the blond. No warnings, just the sharp squelch. His thrusts would be hard and fast as he hit that pleasure point spot within the muscular blond that made him tip his head back and make sobbing pleas, nevertostoppleasedon'tsogood — "God, Nico!"
And fuck, if that didn't spur him to be harder, his hands tightening on blond's hips as he slammed into the bigger blond drawing out more sobbing pleas and moans. The blond kept up with him, taking him deeper — it was madness how the effortlessly they fell in synch with each other.
shitfucksoperfectsohot, Nico was aware how erratic he was getting, how the bed wheezed underneath them, how fast he was going — how he approached his nirvana — as he canted and panted, he took in the sight of his delicious plunder eyes drawn closed (though he wordlessly knew them to be blue), tanned skin slick with sweat, and thin, pink lips parting, his name the only thing seemingly coherent enough to say.
He kissed him in that moment, tasting himself and a spark of electricity— "Jas—"
And Nico blinked. It was always just before his name was called were these hallucinations cut off. And no matter hard he tried they played on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't call forth the names or the memories. It was a like beautiful fading dream. It left him in tears, wishing more than anything he'd remember.
...
Nico couldn't recall how he ended up in the room exactly. Pathetic as that was. He couldn't recall the hallucinations that continued to plague him. Nico couldn't recall when he stopped being so resentful of Max. He couldn't recall a lot of events, but he can recall the day Max started to kiss him.
It wasn't anything big or overly special like he was expecting. It was after breakfast when Max leaned in to say goodbye. He pecked Nico on lips and then pulled back, striding out of the room.
Nico touched his lips at best he could with his hands. He swiped his lips over them with his tongue, tasting the salty sea and iron of blood. It was a fairly unpleasant taste.
He'd always been a realistic sort of guy. It was a taste he'd have to get used too. He was never getting out of the room. That was a truth he knew.
So, Max kissed him every single day. His kisses twisted from pecks to presses to open-mouthed, to tonguing. Max's unique taste never went away, the taste of the salty sea and iron of blood became one with his, and when that happened, Max knew, Max started to kiss other places.
He peppered kisses alongside jaw. He trailed fire-hot lips down his neck and down his smooth skin, and Nico grew accustomed to such ministrations. He waited for Max each and every day to come and shower him in kisses. It was the highlight of his day when Max left him breathless and boneless.
Desperate, really.
Nico was not a shy guy. He made his desperation known. Max, however, did nothing more than kisses, no matter how he begged. Max would simply smile. "Patience, darling," he'd say. "I'll know when you're ready, when you're absolutely mine."
That drove Nico mad. Wasn't he already Max's? Here he was chained up in this room, depending on him for his for food, for clothes, for communication. Did Max not own his body and — dare, he say it? Soul?
He wanted to say yes, of course, but he knew no. There was still some lingering doubt and broiling anger that slithered in the depths of his being.
It had come out the other day when Max caressed him, humming the nameless tune like he had done every night. It was like couldn't control his mouth or his actions. He had jerked away from Max, eyes wide, and body buzzing. "Don't touch me, fucking asslicker! Don't ever fucking touch me!" he said, meaning and not meaning every word.
He didn't know where that had come from. Perhaps, it was the DID Max told him about. Either way, Nico knew that to be the reason why Max didn't give way to his demands.
...
Nico noticed that Max left more often and at longer intervals. He supposed he should've felt a stab of something at that, but it was cool indifference. He was left more with his thoughts, left with the hallucinations that only ever bothered him when Max left.
In these hallucinations he saw small girls with chocolate and olive skin. Girls he undoubtedly loved very, very much. They spoke to him like a mother would a child and sometimes, they whispered strange things to him, calling him brother and family. He always felt their phantom kisses and warm hugs. He liked the girls a lot.
Sometimes, there would be boys. A flamboyant one that jabbered a mile minute, a gentle one that had the strength of hundred men, but he had a connection with a teddy bear, and there was one with luminous sea-green orbs that gave him a crooked smile that spelled trouble.
And then, there was the blond god that had electric blue eyes and tasted like lightning. And he never forgot the beautiful girl with a thousand different eye colors and her snorting laughter that filled Nico's empty room and empty head. He imagined them more than imagined the girls with olive and chocolate skin. They were his key to comfort, the ones that offered him images of his snarky mouth and how he fell into place with them — how he fit.
With them, he wasn't some complacent doll left chained in a room. He was just plain 'ol Nico, son of H—
"Do you accept this Iris message?" a cheery voice filled the room. Startled, looked every which way for the source of the voice, finding none, he nodded accepting this as part of hallucinations.
"I, uh, accept this Iris message."
He waited a moment and a frantic voice assaulted his ear drums. He found himself staring a shimmering image of tallish girl with choppy medium brown hair, a raven's feather, twisted in her locks. "Nico!"
"Hi?"
She looked familiar but he did not know her.
"Hi! Is that all you can say after— for Zeus' sake, Jason get your ass in here. It finally work, it finally went through— Nico, where are you?!" she was talking too fast for him to understand. She was too much at once and really all he could do was nod blankly, hoping she'd slow down at one point.
"Where are you!" she started with startling clarity.
Nico raised his chains awkwardly, watching the way the girl flamed up. "Jason, dammit! You're in chains!"
"Yeah," he said, not knowing how else to go about this conversation. "I've always been in chains, really it's fine…"
"It's not fine, Nico, you're supposed to angry and enraged and all the— ah!" a frustrated sound escaped her. It was a complete one-eighty change, she didn't look enraged. She was sad. She scrunched up her button nose, clears tears at the corner of her eyes "I miss you, Nico, everyone does."
"I miss you too," he said and he found that meant it.
"Nico, tell me, where are you?" she persisted.
"Anthemoessa," he told her. He didn't know where that was, but he knew it was somewhere near water. He thought an island.
"Nico—!"
The shimmery message was abruptly cut off. The reason unknown and Nico was left wondering if this was part of his realistic hallucinations or stark reality.
...
"Nico— Darling!" Max barreled into the room. Harried and nervous.
Nico blinked, he did that a lot. He recognized Max as a lot of things, but harried and nervous, he was not.
He stood up, throwing a concerned look to the tall blond. "What's wrong with you?" he asked.
Max ran over to him. He clasped his hands within his, peering at him with wild eyes. "Darling, I must know, do you love me? I feed and clothe you, I take care of you and pamper you, surely, you love me. Do you?!"
Nico tilted his head, trying to make heads or tails of this conversation. Love? What was all this talk about love? He supposed he liked Max, but to love him— "Darling, I must know your answer," Max interrupted his racing thoughts.
"I— where's my kisses," he said.
Max raised an eyebrow as if to say, Really, before he sighed and leaned it. Nico puckered his own lips, his eyes slipping close — crash! Both Max and Nico turned toward the sound, only Max stood in front of him like a human shield and Nico glanced over his shoulder, eyes widened in
astonishment.
There were one…two… five… eight… people in his room. He held onto Max to steady himself, a rush of nostalgia covered Nico.
"You see them," he breathed to Max. "Do you see them as I do? Are they real?"
They stared. He stared back, taking in the images greedily like they were due to disappear any second like a desert mirage. He yearned to be free of his chains to walk up them and to—
"They're real, darling, but dangerous. Remember that," Max said with absolute certainty.
He faltered. Dangerous? His scanned the crew that had yet to move. He snorted and laughed at Max's accusation. "They aren't dangerous," he said it like he knew the sky was blue. There was no uncertainty behind it.
"Darling — " he twisted to face Nico, his thumb outlining his jaw.
"Don't touch him!" the chocolate-skinned girl cried. The Earth moved with her words. "Release my brother!"
Nico blinked at her. Brother, the word resounded within, conjuring up images of him standing by her and kissing her cheeks, her forehead. She was related to him?
"No, he's mine," Max responded. So, he didn't deny the girl's claim.
"Max—," he began.
"You're too late, demigods," Max hissed. He wore a horrible smirk, he held himself tall, and stared at the group imperiously. "He doesn't remember anything about his past life, Nico only knows me— he only knows us!"
"This is your last warning, Siren, release Nico or else!" the girl with stormy grey eyes and sunshine blonde hair spoke up. She held an ivory sword poised to strike if Max made one wrong move.
"Make me!" Max challenged.
He leaned forward letting out a guttural scream when white-blond wings sprouted from him, covering Max (sans his face) in a feathery cocoon while also giving him wings that almost spanned the room. When Max opened his mouth, Nico saw the rows glittering white teeth, long and sharp, like daggers.
"Monster," said Nico, horrified. He shrunk back under Max's glower.
"Don't worry, darling," Max's voice reverberated throughout the room. "When I finish of these brats, you'll forget, and then we'll be together forever."
The battle broke out in the small room. For some reason, the only thing Nico could focus on in thus chaos, was himself in the full body mirror. The very image presented him made his stomach twist in disgust.
When had he lost the fight within him?
He studied himself with a critical eye. There he was on the carpet dressed in short-shorts, thigh-high socks and a shirt made of some expensive material. There sat on his ankles and wrists shining gold cuffs. His dark hair combed. His neck adorned with pretty jewels. He looked and acted like a damsel in distress while mayhem reigned out in front of him, judging his future, and he just sat there.
Well, no more.
"Max!" he shouted over the sounds of everyone. "Max, I choose Max!"
The battle froze. All eyes looked at him in surprise. He cleared his throat and gathered his courage. "I do not know, you apparent demigods, Max is right. I feel safe with Max. I love Max," he said.
He saw the agonized glint in the blond god's eyes. "But Nico," one of them attempted. "He's a siren! He's brainwashing you!" the chocolate-brown girl said, her voice rising in pitch. "He's a deadly—"
"I don't care!" he said stubbornly. "I love Max!"
Max for his part shrunk down to human size. He took short, skittish steps toward him. "Really darling, you mean that?"
"Of course," Nico said easily. He clambered to unsteady feet and opened his eyes wide. "Where are my kisses?" he asked like he had done before this whole mess started. Max let out a little crow of happiness running to him. Nico caught him with a laugh of his own, he hoped someone caught onto his not-so subtle plan.
He threw his arms around Max's shoulders, drawing him close, casting meaningful glances at the demigods before him, willingly them to understand how this was supposed to play out.
He kissed Max's cheek, once, twice, and leaned to his tippy toes to whisper, "Oh Max, I—" he didn't even that get that far. He heard the scream of "Octavian!" combined with his name and then he felt the blinding pain.
One only had to glance down to see the long metal pole connecting him and Max together. The blood roared in his ears in his ears, he was slumping — down to the ground with Max's weight still carried in his arms.
"W… w-why, darling," said Max, already ashen and breathing hard.
"Cuz," Nico heaved. He coughed up a river blood. "I can't live like this."
The world tilted and spun. Dark spots bespectacled his vision. "I'm… I'm… I'm…" he murmured, and then, there was nothing.
...
"So, is this a thing among the children of the Big Three?" asked Piper one sun-shiney day in their apartment bedroom. She was laying on his left. He was in the middle laying on Jason's (who was on the right) chest, his legs twining with her's.
"What is?"
"Losing your memories~," said Piper, eyebrow raised.
Nico groaned. "You're never gonna let that go, are you?" He hated being reminded about his time with Max and the island. Ugh, he still had fucking nightmares of the creepy avian fuck.
"No, I'm not. Annabeth sent Percy out for Christmas gifts, he lost his memories. Reyna sent Sparky on a simple border duty, and he ended up half-way across the US, and I send you for brownies and you end being nabbed. All of those events result in you guys losing your memories."
Nico sighed. He shared an exasperated look with Jason. "What do you expect us to do?"
Piper rolled her eyes. "Nothing. I'm just saying that you guys are so easy to kidnap. It's probably because you're oblivious as newborn babies and it takes you guys forever to notice any details. Oh, my mother knows how long it took for you guys take actually do the frick-frack—"
"Piper!" Nico groaned. "My bandages are off, I'm cleared for strenuous activities, and this is how we're celebrating. Talking about how we boys are fucking idiots?"
"I'm sorry," Piper teased, batting her eyelashes. "Want to fuck Sparky together?"
"Please."
"Do I get a choice in this?" Jason inquired.
This time it was Piper and Nico that shared looks between them. Nico wore a Cheshire smile, shrugging, "Anything you have to say speak it now or forever hold your peace."
"My safe word is corn."
"Fuck you, staples."
He was hard pressed to control his laughter that bubbled inside, but he burst just as Piper and Jason did. The mood of sex ruined.
They eventually had sex and it was amazing and hot, and he made sure to never ever forget Pipes and Jason. Afterwards, they got brownies and Piper's new surfboard, all of which Nico was compelled to pay for.
The End.