Disclaimer: I don't own Trials of Apollo.

FlashFictionFriday #151 "Asking For Permission"

Will wasn't sure what he'd been expecting when, looking to get a little time away from the hustle and bustle of camp, he ended up wandering aimlessly into the forest – yes, a bad idea, he knew, but he wasn't going far and he really did want some actual time to himself – and his feet brought him to Zeus' Fist. It certainly hadn't been to end up there, somewhere he'd done his best to avoid ever since the battle of the Labyrinth a few years earlier.

It definitely hadn't been the young man sitting on the ground listlessly, one hand pressed to the earth while his back rested against the rocky outcrop. Golden hair looked darker, maybe because he was in the shade of the trees and rock, maybe because he'd gone for something slightly different, and fell limply about his shoulders. It was completely loose, unusual for that length, which Will was used to seeing in a more half-up, half-down style.

He was sitting on the spot where Lee had died. With his darker hair, he looked like Lee, a little. The hair was too long – Lee had always kept his cropped short – but for a brief moment, Will's heart stuttered.

Apollo didn't look up, and the thought flickered through Will's mind that his arrival hadn't been noticed. Feeling like he shouldn't be there, that if Apollo wanted company he'd have come into camp proper rather than sneaking into the surrounding forest without a word, Will turned to leave again.

A call of his name, quiet but unmistakable, stopped him.

"Stay," Apollo said, but it sounded more like a plea, the slightest uptick in inflection at the end posing it like a tentative invite. Will turned back around to see dark blue eyes peeking up at him from behind the curtain of dark gold.

He'd gone wandering because he wanted to be alone, but he couldn't resist his dad's call. Besides, it was different with Apollo; Apollo knew.

Will padded quietly over to his side, trying not to think too hard about how this had been where Lee died, that Lee's blood was saturated through the soil beneath his feet. Apollo's hand was still pressed to the dirt, palm flat against the ground, and Will decided he didn't want to know the reason.

(He knew why. He wasn't the only one that knew exactly where Lee had fallen.)

Apollo didn't acknowledge him when he tentatively lowered himself to sit next to him, the god's eyes once again focused on the ground at their feet. He looked small, less like a god and more like a mortal even though he still had the godly looks Will was familiar with, more or less. It was the way his shoulders were hunched in on themselves, a little. The curved slump of the spine. The downwards incline of his head.

He looked sad, and there was something like a little oh in Will's chest when he realised that Apollo was mourning his son, that he really, truly, did mourn them not just when they died, but in the years following. It wasn't that Will had thought he didn't, but he hadn't put much thought into it at all, really. After all, Apollo was a god and had many, many children over the millennia. Part of Will had thought that maybe he was numb to it by now, used to the routine and capable of boxing it all up and tidying it away neatly in the back of his mind.

That part of Will had just been thoroughly proven wrong.

"Can I hug you?" he asked after a moment, unsure what Apollo wanted, needed from him but seeing him upset and feeling the urge to do something to help, if he could. Apollo was usually free with hugs – often the one initiating, although Will was acutely aware that he'd been the one to start a few, especially when he'd been mortal – but something about the situation felt a little different, like asking for permission before touching the grieving god was necessary, this time.

There was the faintest nod, as though Apollo wasn't sure how to say yes, or if he should say yes, and Will decided to take the chance. He slid an arm across the back of Apollo's shoulders, pressing their sides together and tightening his grip a moment later, when Apollo didn't pull away.

For a heartbeat, there was no reaction, and then – quick as a striking snake – Will found himself wrapped up tightly in his dad's embrace, Apollo's face buried in his hair.

"You never have to ask," he heard murmured above him. The arms around him trembled slightly. "Will. You can always hug me." In answer, Will threaded his other arm out of his dad's grip and wrapped it around Apollo in turn, his arms near enough overlapping around the god's back.

He wasn't even sure which one of them the hug was for, not really. He'd wanted to help Apollo, however he could, but he'd also been wandering around because he'd thought he'd wanted to be alone – or at least to be free of responsibilities of camp, for a while.

Maybe, he'd really just needed his dad, because the warmth surrounding him flooded through him, washing away the turmoil flailing around in his chest, leaving him feeling far calmer than he had all day.

If he was honest, he didn't actually want the hug to end. Thankfully, Apollo seemed to feel the same way.

This prompt had to be Apollo&Will. It just had to be.

Thanks for reading!
Tsari