Nico muses over his newfound lack of loneliness. Pre-Solangelo/Post Blood of Olympus/Drabble
Disclaimer; don't own it. That's that.
Smile
Nico was fine sitting by himself during whatever meals he decided to attend. But he didn't really complain when the seven began making a habit of sitting at his table; there was only some grouchy comments directed to Will who seemed to have started the movement.
Will.
Nico could grouch about the not-quite-doctor as much as he liked, as far as he was concerned. Will...hovered. And lectured. And nagged. Like, a lot. Mostly to him, about him, and concerning his health.
Nico was perfectly healthy...well, healthy enough. He didn't need the blonde telling him McDonalds was bad for him, or that he was bound to roast with the amount of black he wore, or that skipping meals was unacceptable! Nico could do whatever he wanted and he would. Except, it seemed like he didn't want to.
He'd fight the blonde every step of the way, but he'd ultimately to whatever the hell Will wanted him to do. Nico wouldn't tell you why, in fact he'd ignore you altogether, but he had figured that it must've been his smile. That stupid, honest, glee-filled one that made him turn into a puddle, where he just looked so damn happy that Nico had listened to him and was actually doing something that counted towards looking after his health; like he was just happy that Nico was healthy.
It did weird things to his insides, that smile. Nico didn't think there was much he wouldn't agree to for that smile but he'd complain and bitch so no one would figure.
Fin.