Nico only kind of, vaguely, remembers the athletic blond guy from high school.
Okay, that's a lie. He totally remembers him. Who could forget Jason Grace? He's smart, he's pretty, and my god, he's even nice. At least, from the ten minutes Nico's actually spent with Jason, he's nice enough. In ten minutes, Nico had reluctantly responded to the "roommate wanted" posters Jason had put up in the library on campus, because no matter how much Nico hates being around people, especially strangers, he had to find a place to live somewhere.
See, dorms aren't his thing. And that stupid job at the diner on the edge of the university campus pays next to nothing, so he can't even afford his own apartment. Enter Jason Grace and his ridiculous made-on-Microsoft-Paint flyer, advertising a whole bedroom and bathroom, for almost half what it would have cost Nico to live on his own.
The best part, though? Nico hasn't even seen Jason, not once, since the interview that Nico guesses was probably just a formality, judging from the lack of phone-number tabs torn off of Jason's poster. Jason works day shifts at that movie theatre downtown, Jupiter Cinema, or whatever it's called. Nico works nights, both dinner shift and occasionally graveyard, at the Argo II Diner. Two low-paying, boring-as-hell summer jobs. It all works out perfectly.
They even have a whiteboard in the living room that they write on, if they communicate at all. Sometimes one of them will write "need milk" or "please wash dishes" or "landlord's inspecting tomorrow, I just cleaned the kitchen, don't fuck it up". Once Jason was out of detergent, so he borrowed some of Nico's and left an IOU in the form of a Post-It note. That's pretty much it, though. It's been a whole school year, and it's almost like Nico's living at home again.
Really, he should be used to the lonely days by now. His dad was always working, so it's nothing new, always coming home to an empty house. When he wakes up screaming from the same nightmares he's had since he was ten and his sister died, it's a blessing that he's alone.
When Nico comes home at four a.m. after a particularly dry shift at the Argo II, he almost collapses from exhaustion right there in the doorway. Fortunately, he manages to drag himself to the sofa, and is contemplating whether it's worth it to get up and grab that Kit Kat from the fridge when he notices the writing on the whiteboard. It's only one word—hi—and it's written in tall, nauseating neon blue dry erase marker letters, but it's the most personal thing that's ever been on there. Why?
Damn it, Jason, this isn't how it works. Nico and Jason aren't supposed to acknowledge one another. They're supposed to pretend they each live alone and for some reason only pay half the rent. They don't talk, they've only actually met each other once, and for God's sake, they don't say hi.
Should he write back? Right now, getting up for that Kit Kat is more tempting than replying to his pseudo-roommate. But yet, when Nico stands, he finds himself reaching for a marker instead of heading for the kitchen.
He writes "hello" in black marker and then heads to bed. Jason probably won't even write back. Maybe he put it there as a joke. Maybe Nico should erase it.
Against his better judgment, he falls asleep without erasing the reply.
His alarm goes off at four p.m. for dinner shift. Nico thinks about smashing his alarm clock against the wall, but that would require moving, and energy, which he currently does not have. If he doesn't get up now, though, he's going to be late, so he rolls out of bed and tries to find some clothes that aren't too dirty. Hey, there's that shirt he's only worn for three days, so it's still clean, right? Probably not, but if his clothes stink, then at least it will keep people away from him. Did he leave his jacket on the sofa last night?
He heads to the living room to collect it, and when picks it up off the floor, the whiteboard catches his eye.
A red marker response. Since we're roommates and all, I thought we should actually acknowledge each other's presence. Know any good icebreakers?
Nico rolls his eyes and in grey writes What's your major? Not exactly an icebreaker, but significantly less awkward than it could've been.
He turns around to leave and promptly stubs his toe on the coffee table. Damn Jason Grace and his distracting whiteboard.
When he returns, it's well past enough, the first thing he does is check the whiteboard. It's stupid, really. Isn't there a rule about not replying right away? Aren't you supposed to wait an hour or something? Or is that only for text messages?
I'm a Philosophy major, Jason's written in blue. What about you? Nico snorts. Of course he is. A typical, boring major for a typical guy. Jason's a walking cliche, for God's sake. He still wears his high school letterman jacket like a security blanket. If Nico remembers correctly, he used to date Piper McLean in high school—a cheerleader who certainly wasn't mean but wasn't particularly friends with Nico either, and who Nico now works with at the diner. Even his name is generic. Jason Grace. There are a lot of puns to be made of that last name, yet Nico doesn't remember a single person from high school ever seizing that opportunity.
This time, Nico writes in black. Classics major. What brought on the sudden friendliness, Grace?
He doesn't go to bed yet. Instead, he sits on the sofa, staring blankly at the wall, trying to remember the last time someone tried to be friends with him (because Jason wants to be friends, right? Nico doesn't know why, can't think of a single reason, but some how Jason Grace has got through his stupid brain that he wants to be friends with Nico di Angelo.) He hasn't had a friend for a while. Not since. . .shit. Not since him.
Enter Percy Jackson, the sarcastic, goofy, troublemaker who once defended Nico from a group of guys bent on beating him to a pulp. He's funny, but he can take things seriously, too. He's good-looking, but not overly so. He's smart, but he's terrible at math.
He's goddamned Percy Jackson, always quick to have a sassy comeback or easy laugh, and just like that, Nico had a crush on him. Not even a minor one, either. No, this came complete with the wonderful additions of heart palpitations and regressing to a babbling preteen whenever he was around.
Thank God he's over that. He doesn't know how he did it, but one morning he woke up and realized he wasn't in love with Percy Jackson anymore, not even a little bit. Maybe it was the fact that Nico hasn't seen him in two years, since Percy left for college, or maybe it's because of Percy's girlfriend. Who knows?
Anyways, Nico hasn't actually had a friend since junior year of high school, if you could call Percy and him friends. Or maybe Hazel, his stepsister, but she's family, so she doesn't count. And here's Jason, actually attempting to be friends with Nico.
Why?
Is it some joke? A good laugh at pretending to befriend Nico di Angelo? Why else would Jason want to start talking to him?
Nico sleeps on the couch that night. He wants to stop and talk to Jason Grace in person. Except Jason is a sneaky bastard, and he's in and out of the apartment in five minutes flat, without even waking Nico, which is surprising. Nico wouldn't have even known Jason was there save for the new message he sees on the dry erase board after going to get his breakfast.
I'm a friendly guy.
PS- you look cute while you're sleeping
Nico chokes on his cereal.
Definitely, definitely a prank.
He decides to tactfully pretend not to notice the post script, and erases the entire board, replacing it with black marker lettering. Yeah, well, Mr Friendly Guy, we're out of Lucky Charms.
When Nico gets back from work, that little shit has left the catchphrase magically delicious. Who does he think he is?
Whatever laughs Jason gets out of being pseudo-friends with Nico di Angelo must be really good. Why does Nico do these horrible things to himself?
He's such a masochist.
Before he goes to bed, he writes, Why are you pretending to be my friend? Jason Grace is still the golden boy, high school or no, so there's got to be some elaborate set up, some pull-the-rug-out-from-under-Nico scheme going on.
Why can't Nico just play along? Jason is kind of fun to talk to, albeit lame and also slightly annoying, and it's nice having a somewhat friend. Too bad.
Nico sighs.
It wouldn't have lasted anyways. Easier to end it now.
However, that evening, right before he heads to the diner for the dinner shift, Nico checks the board:
Aren't I a little old for pretend?
"Aren't you supposed to be making a chocolate milkshake for that customer at table three?"
Nico looks up from his perch on the counter, phone in hand, oblivious. Piper is giving him the side-eye, the look that says do your damn job. Nico's been debating whether he should call the landlord and ask for Jason's number. Completely pathetic and totally desperate."Chocolate milkshakes can go to hell." Nico doesn't want to deal with this, paycheck or no.
Piper glares. "You take that back." With a glance at table three, she adds, "No, seriously, make that milkshake. If I have to do it for you, I swear to God—"
"You won't," Nico cuts her off. He sticks his phone in the pocket of his uniform smock/apron/shapeless sack. No one can quite agree on what it is. "It was stupid anyway."
He starts mixing the milkshake, and maybe he doesn't add enough chocolate syrup out of spite, but if Piper sees, she pretends not to notice.
"So, who were you so desperate to call? Was he cute?"
"Why aren't you helping me? Dude, it's dinner shift. If you haven't noticed, it's insane." That's right, change the topic, quick. Piper doesn't need to know about Jason.
Well, technically, she knows Nico lives with him. But she's Jason's ex-girlfriend, and Nico really doesn't need to make things even more awkward right now. "Come on, if you're not going to serve, at least help Reyna with the fries, you know she always burns them . . ."
At Reyna's name, Piper's eyes light up, and Nico can tell it is a bad idea to send her off into the secluded kitchen with her girlfriend.
There is definitely not going to be any cooking going on.
Nico is busting his ass now trying to do three peoples' jobs, because Piper's probably fooling around with Reyna in the back and where in the hell Percy is, Nico doesn't know. Probably off with Annabeth, he thinks, and there's just a little, tiny twinge of jealousy as he does. Whatever. That bastard is supposed to be busing tables.
He's just finished serving a particularly demanding table when apparently fate decides to be an absolute asshole.
The bell above the door dings, but Nico thinks there should be a better warning for who walks in.
Jason Grace. Of course. Like Nico's shift wasn't hellish enough.
He ducks into the kitchen, making sure to make lots of noise so that Reyna and Piper know he's coming (he's already seen some things he's pretty sure he can never unsee).
"Piper, I need a huge favour."
Piper sighs. "If you want me to spit in someone's coffee again, I already told you, Mr. D's going to fire me if catches me doing that one more time—"
"No, no, nothing like that," he says quickly. "Can you cover my shift? Just until dinner rush ends. I'm exhausted." Not a complete lie. He could totally sleep on the floor right now.
"Okay, fine," Piper agrees after a pause. She reties her apron and fixes her hair so it's slightly less of the I-was-just-making-out variety, and then peeks out the staff door. Shit. She's seen him. Nico can tell. "Is that. . .?"
"Um, who?"
Reyna and Piper look at him suspiciously, but then Piper must see something in Nico's face, shame, or guilt, or confusion, and her gaze softens. She lets it slide. "Just this once, di Angelo. Or next time I'm spitting in your coffee."
This is starting to be a problem.
Jason, that is. Why he keeps coming into the diner, Nico doesn't have a clue, but everyday, Nico sees him in the exact same booth right by the door at exactly seven p.m., and everyday, Nico ducks into the kitchen and prays that Piper has generously decided Jason is in her section today. Mostly, he is. Either Piper has taken pity on Nico, never mind why he keeps avoiding Jason, or she hates doing any actual work. Nico's section is full of families and old couples, non-stop ordering. Piper? She has Jason, who always orders the same thing, a chocolate milkshake (Nico knows because he's the only one who knows how to operate the milkshake machine, so he always has to make it), and the occasional straggler.
The point is, Jason really needs to stop coming here. Serving is not Piper's strong suit; usually, Reyna has her doing the dishes or cooking fries or something, and Nico serves the whole diner. Besides, he really needs the tips.
Nine days after Jason started coming into the diner, Nico still hasn't written back on the whiteboard. Until he comes home from another shift of dodging Jason and finds Are you avoiding me? in tall blue letters. Crap.
He really doesn't want to have this conversation, not after how Jason answered his last accusation.
Desperate to change the topic, he uncaps a black marker and writes the only thing he can think of: Have you ever heard of Mythomagic?
Which, Nico realizes after he leaves for the diner the next night and it's too late to erase it, is totally and completely lame. He's such an idiot. Out of all the things he could've written. . .he had to bring up that damn game. Nico's been playing for ages, but lately, his binder of cards has been getting dusty. He hasn't really had the time nor motivation to play.
Jason Grace, star athlete and popular guy, would never have played anyways.
Today is just a shitty day, Nico decides.
When he arrives at the Argo II at seven p.m., he finds out Piper has called in sick. Wow, way to abandon him in his time of need. And, as luck would have it, there's Jason, with his stupid good looks and a goofy, dorky smile, waiting patiently for a menu that Nico reluctantly hands to him. Fucking great.
"What can I get you?" Nico doesn't make eye contact. He glares down at his notepad.
"Can we talk?" Jason says. Don't look up, don't look up, Nico reminds himself.
"What can I get you?" Nico repeats flatly.
Jason sighs. "Why would you think that I'm pretending to be your friend?"
"Why would you want to be friends?" Nico replies.
"You seem cool. I thought it would be nice to, you know, actually hold a conversation with my roommate."
"I'm not cool," Nico insists. "You so don't want to be friends with me."
"I so do," Jason answers. "I'll have a chocolate milkshake."
After that, Nico is a lot more comfortable writing notes to Jason, who hasn't come into the diner at all. For two weeks, they write back and forth to each other. Nico feels a stupid rush of excitement every time he comes home and goes to check the whiteboard. It turns out, Jason's not only heard of Mythomagic, he used to play. From that point on, it's like they both realize they actually have something in common.
They aren't totally identical, though. Their conversations usually revolve around:
-Discussing how much Jason loves The Odyssey, and how much Nico doesn't
-Arguing about the best ice cream flavor (Nico roots for rocky road)
-Really bad puns that Nico always pretends to hate but secretly enjoys
-video games
-Jason's favourite movie, the Disney version of Hercules, and how Nico's never seen it
It's only when Nico starts thinking about writing his number on the board that he realizes something's different.
"He doesn't like you," he murmurs under his breath while staring at the blank whiteboard, wondering what to write. "Not the way you want him to."
The you look cute while you're sleeping note? A joke. A friendly joke.
Nothing more.
Nico tells himself to get over it and goes to bed.
"Who is it?" Piper demands. She loads a tray of burgers and root beer for table five and hands it to Nico.
Nico plays dumb. "Who's who?"
"You know who."
"Voldemort?"
"Don't fuck with me." Piper frowns. "I know you like someone."
Shit. "That's not true."
"Oh, don't even pretend, Nico!" she exclaims. Nico thinks of Jason's note: aren't I a little old for pretend?
"You wouldn't know him." He busies himself with pretending to refill the straw dispenser and tries to act like he isn't lying.
"Yeah? What's his name?"
"Uh. . . ." He hurries away under the pretense of serving, hoping Piper hasn't got it in her head to play matchmaker. God, that would be a disaster. He can see it now: Piper would attempt to play wingman (Wingwoman? Wingperson? Whatever.) and totally embarrass Nico in front of Jason.
Jason doesn't even like guys, anyway.
Probably.
Yet when he comes home to Jason's phone number written on the whiteboard, he barely suppresses a satisfied fist-pump.
Abort mission. Abort. Abort.
"Nico, have you called Jason yet?"
Telling Hazel, who's staying in the apartment for the weekend, was definitely a bad idea. His just-graduated-high-school stepsister should not be helping him with his love life. . .or lack of. They've been sitting on the couch for two hours watching SpongeBob reruns, and all Hazel's done is ask him about Jason, who she used to be lab partners with.
"I'm working on it."
Nico looks at his phone for the hundredth time this morning, and then he looks at the whiteboard, which still bears Jason's number. Grow a pair, he tells himself.
He turns off his phone. "I can't do it, Hazel. I'm such a chickenshit, but I can't."
Hazel folds her arms. "Why not? He's probably waiting for you to call, you know. Why else would he have left you his number?"
"A stupid joke?"
"So what's the punchline?" Hazel switches the TV off, forcing Nico to focus on her.
"He doesn't like me like that," Nico mutters. "He. . .we're platonic. To him."
"But not to you," Hazel says.
Nico doesn't reply.
"So how do you know that he only thinks of you as a friend?"
When Hazel excuses herself to the washroom, Nico turns on his phone.
"Jason? Hey, it's Nico. Listen, did you want to grab a coffee at the diner . . .?"
At precisely seven p.m. on Sunday night, as Nico requested, Jason shows up to the Argo II. Finally, finally, Nico gets to see the goofy smile he's been picturing, hear the voice he's been envisioning behind the writing. The place is dead, of course. The diner's closed on Sundays.
Finally, Nico can meet him and person and be alone.
"Where is everyone?" Jason asks as he slides into Nico's booth.
"I invited you after hours. Hey, want a coffee or something?" He ducks into the kitchen and pours two mugs. Maybe it will stop his heart from tap-dancing.
It doesn't.
"It's so weird, seeing you in person," Jason says. "I mean. . .I pictured you saying the words, what you wrote, but hearing it is a different story. It's like watching the movie adaption of a book, you know?" Jason flushes. "You don't know. You know what, never mind. I'll shut up now."
Nico grins. "It's okay." Against his better judgment he adds, as a reference to one of Jason's earliest comments: "You're cute when you ramble."
Jason turns bright red and immediately knocks over a salt shaker. "Shit, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry about that—"
"That was graceful," he says.
"Did you just make a pun?"
"Listen, Jason, um—okay. I'm just going to say it, okay? The reason I invited you here . . .I. . .I like you. Like, a lot."
"You—what?"
Nico's heart plummets. Fuck. Fuck, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. "I'm sorry, this was—it was a mistake. Obviously, you don't—like me. Like that."
"Like what?"
"Christ, Jason! Like Piper likes Reyna!" Nico pinches the bridge of his nose. "Never mind. I'm sorry I bothered you. Just—just pretend this never happened. Okay?"
He starts to get out of the booth. Jason grabs him by the wrist and pulls him back down.
And then his lips are on Nico's and holy fucking shit, somebody call 9-1-1, ohhhhhhhh my god—Nico is going to have an aneurysm.
Nico shoves him back. "What the hell was that?"
"A kiss? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have," Jason says. He looks so confused Nico almost feels sorry for him. "Was it too much?"
"You think it's funny? Mocking me?" Nico snarls.
"I wasn't."
"You—" He stops. "What?"
"I wasn't mocking you, Nico. Why do you think I gave you my number? I like you. I like you like I hope you like me."
He's shellshocked. "That was so John Hughes" is all he can think to say.
Jason snorts. "That's all I get? John Hughes? I think I'm more Steven Spielberg, don't you?"
"Jason."
"Nico, will you just give me a chance?" Jason frowns when Nico doesn't answer. "Come on, Nico, don't pretend not to hear me."
"Aren't I a little old for pretend?" Nico says.
"You. . . Did you just quote me?"
"Possibly."
Jason sighs. "So are you going to answer?"
That's when Nico takes another deep breath, leans across the table, and kisses Jason. Hard. Like he's wanted to for the few weeks.
"Does that answer your question?"
Jason flounders for a moment, speechless, red-faced.
Nico grins. "You're cute when you're blushing."