"You're going to get kicked out."
"Why would I get kicked out?"
"Because you're skulking around and acting creepy." He threw a look over his shoulder and the corners of his lips showed the tiniest rise. "That and your age is slightly questionable."
Eyes hard as charcoal met his own. "I'm not skulking, I'm just hanging back. And no one is going to question how old I am. Not with this." Lifting his hand, Nico waved vaguely in the direction of his face. Even with his dark waves obscuring a large portion of the left side of his face was visibly marred. Percy tried not to pay any mind to it as the sight no longer surprised him. After all, he hadn't faired so much better.
"I guess they wouldn't. It does add to the distinguished air about you." The son of Poseidon found it was better to joke— it kept the Ghost King from slipping into infirmity. "There's something very Indiana Jones about it."
A snicker echoed over his shoulder— it still creaked and groaned but it came more naturally to the other now. It was an improvement in the first place that Nico had any idea what he was talking about; pop culture was difficult when you'd spent uncountable years of your life unaware that time was passing you by.
Whatever self confidence issues he had had before, Nico's apprehension had multiplied tenfold and the 'older' demigod (because really, a seventy some odd year old in a sixteen year old's body was a bit of a unique circumstance) didn't want to lose the son of Hades into the shadows of the underworld for another two months without a word.
It was edging to three months since the battle with Gaea. Percy was stood still but with his weight off centre— not unusual for demigods at the moment while they healed. Like many others fortunate enough to survive, he had broken a limb and as it were, his left leg compensated for his right while it continued to mend.
Flipping through frame after frame of art on the wall, the droning of the shop was assuaging— if only because it provided a steady background to placate his mind. That and the quiet reminded him of Tartarus…
Shaking his head, he closed his eyes and attempted to steady his breathing. It had picked up without him realising it and his heart was trouncing against his ribcage trying to fight its way out. It wasn't the first time for the feeling as he pitched forward, his forehead resting against the glass of the case. Since the battle there had been more instances than he could keep track of— his lungs worked on reflex but Percy Jackson was drowning in air none of it soaking in and pumping to his brain.
The droning continued and Percy scrabbled to hold onto the present but the edges of his mind were going black.
"Hey," drifted into the haze. The sound came an inch from his ear and Percy anchored himself to the smell of sulfur and shadows and damp sand. A hand weighed on his shoulder and Percy fought the tides of his mind from tugging him further out. The squeeze that followed radiated warmth through his core, sending waves throughout his body lapping at even the furthers corners.
It was edging on three months since the battle with Gaea and those blessed enough to survive never truly left the battlefield.
"I'm here." The words tickled his ear but the sea prince nodded feeling some of the strength return to his limbs. Leaning into the touch, he rest his head momentarily on the other man's shoulder drawing strength until he was able to stand on his own. "I've got you."
"I'm okay," Percy promised as he turned towards the younger man— because somewhere along the way Nico di Angelo had stopped being a boy. Emerald eyes grasped at ones the colour of ink and held them until his lungs were steady and the vertigo subsided. Focusing on one another helped because the Ghost King had kind eyes but they were hardened and haunted in a way that few others could understand. They mirrored Percy's and he could not stand the coddling of others just the honesty they found in one another so he held onto Nico's eyes.
A crater was born diagonally across the other's face now, stretching from somewhere above his left temple and traveling down across his eye and towards the left corner of his mouth. A smile off Nico was seldom in the first place but the scarring pulled down noticeably at the corner of his lips in a permanent frown.
Clearing his throat, the halfblood turned his attention back to the wall and held out his hand. "I've decided what I want."
"If you don't chicken out," Nico countered but the tone was playful. They stayed shoulder to shoulder until a woman came out from the back, two silver hoops through her nose.
"So what will it be?"
Two hours later Nico emerged from the back room. Percy had already finished and was sat back out front flipping through a magazine and gawking. "You have to see this! Look at his ears! It's like dumbo!" Nico hazarded a glance but, per usual, just shook his head. Few things surprised him and the sea prince had to wonder when Nico became more worldly than he did.
Tossing the magazine aside, he stood up. The bell over the door chimed as they disappeared into the crows of people on the busy section of a New York street.
"So what did you get in the end?" Nico wondered.
Hoisting up the sleeve of his hoodie, he tugged at the tape and the gauze covering up the sore flesh. An owl perched on his wrist with a lightning bolt behind. The sight pricked salt water at his eyes but he smiled fondly all the same.
Without a word, Nico uncovered the scarred flesh of his own wrist and without the gauze, Percy saw the same commemoration: an Owl and a lightning bolt.
"I thought it was only right to remember them."
Percy nodded and, without a word, they both tossed the gauze in the nearest trash preferring not to cover up their tributes to fallen friends. One son of the Big Three's hand slipped into the other's and lacing figures together squeezed.
They were lost in the crowd but not to each other.