Chapter Two
Percy never believed he'd have to give CPR to a drowning victim so he hadn't learned how, but the instructions appeared in his head, the way that he could see coordinates on the sea, and how he could hear horses chatter. Nevertheless, he never felt so useless and mundane as when he was compressing Nico's chest over and over, praying to his father.
Don't let him drown. Do you hear me, dad? Please...
An animalistic growl escaped his lips. "Come on, Nico."
Nico sputtered back to the living world, the sea water flooding out of his lungs. Percy rolled him over and banged furiously on his back until Nico looked up at him through the parts in his hair, their eyes meeting for one second, a second that was seared into Percy's brain. He wasn't sure why. Something was there, the way Nico looked at him, past the fright, a moment of weakness. Then, Nico slumped to the ground, his eyes closed, his chest rising and descending softly.
Thank Gods, thank Gods, thank Gods...
He promised to burn his dad a big steak with sauce. The good sauce.
Percy lifted him in his arms. It was like lifting a sack of wet potatoes, considerably light and the water staining his clothes. They must have been a sight but all the way to Sally's apartment no one questioned him. He wasn't sure if it was New Yorkers or the Mist, but he was grateful. For all he knew they thought he really was carrying a sack of potatoes.
Outside of the door Percy shifted Nico over his shoulder to unlock the latch. Business must have been good, because Sally decorated the living room in deep blues and flowers. His room, though, was left untouched. It was simple, a bed, a dresser, photos of him and other demigods most of them containing Annabeth, Grover and Tyson. There were plenty of weapons around, most were hidden under the bed.
He laid Nico on the mattress, wrapping the blanket around him, his hand hovering over his cheek, debating before touching. Quickly, he pushed the curls off his forehead, his fingertips lingering by his temple, resting this thumb on the arch of his brow. It was as close as he dared get and it was already becoming hard to breathe. He felt like he was drowning, his own chest tightening.
Percy stared at him in the way he wanted to for so long. In the past, every time that he had looked to Nico, Nico was looking back at him, and it set him on edge. No one could argue that Nico was not creepy - after all, he was the son of Hades... But there was something more...
Percy had a shaky alliance with him for a long time, all beginning when Percy failed to protect his sister. Then, when Hera had taken Percy's memory and he had met Nico for seemingly the first time, his life shifted to something he couldn't define. He was still himself, still the son of Poseidon, but his feelings for Nico were different. Maybe he was different. Maybe memories were all that made a person.
When his memory returned and he fully remembered Annabeth, he assured himself that he made it up. It wasn't real. It was make-believe. He wasn't a Roman, he didn't have feelings for Nico. He had another life and another version of himself.
Life continued on. Nico was taken, almost died, and something inside of that young boy broke. His once cold eyes had snapped and darkened like broken glass from a bulb. He was harsher and more withdrawn. Percy was set at the start once more with a different Nico. The walls had grown taller and Percy didn't know how to get back in. He was farther away and he didn't want it to hurt as much as it did.
He didn't know how to tell Nico that his kidnapping was one of the worst times in his life. He didn't know how to express the horror he felt, how he would have done nearly anything to get him back. He almost did, when Nico left with Reyna. The words died inside of him.
Things changed once more when Nico came back after saving the camp, when he rescued Annabeth and it all unraveled. Secrets were poured out like a noxious gas and it poisoned everyone. Annabeth was hurt, Percy was exposed, and Nico disappeared as if nothing had happened.
There they were, Nico lying soaked and unconscious in his bed. Percy drunk him in, how peaceful he appeared at that moment. The personal darkness of his lifted, but what he was that was woven into his blood was still there. To Percy, it wasn't so bad. It was like the scent of home. It brought comfort. It was okay if Nico was a little broken. So was Percy.
Nico shifted, his face contorted in pain, and then he relaxed. Percy smiled. He was beautiful. Percy never said it out loud, but it was true. He was the most beautiful man he had ever met.
He forced himself to leave. He went to the kitchen and brought out a thick and nicely marbled steak and a can of noodle soup, one for the god of the sea and one for when Nico woke.
Time and boredom found him on the couch, the coffee table covered with with tiny jigsaw puzzle pieces he was putting together. His ADHD wouldn't have him doing something such as a puzzle, but his tiredness won over, but he was anxious enough that he needed to keep busy. In the passing hours each part gave itself to the landscape of the sea, of the various shades of blue and green as his knee bounced and his fingers drummed the table.
A movement out of his peripheral vision caught Nico slinking in like a cat on a hunt. If Percy hadn't been waiting for him, he wouldn't have noticed that he was there. He pretended that he hadn't, though, hoping that he hadn't somehow knew that Percy had been staring at him while he slept. It was weird enough as it was.
"Percy."
He looked up, turning a jigsaw piece between his fingers. "You need a shower," he stated.
Nico took stock of his clothes, damp and clinging to his skin. He picked at them, but Percy saw nothing that he had to be ashamed of. Nico had filled out nicely, his arms and shoulders toned. Belatedly he was aware that he was gawking.
Percy flung the piece on the table and went to his bedroom, getting out a pair of blue jeans and a spare Camp Half-Blood t-shirt. He handed them to Nico and pointed down the hall, "the shower is right there."
There was silence and stillness, and Percy assumed Nico was going to be annoying and refuse, but he took the clothes, obviously careful not to touch Percy. He didn't give him a sparing glance when he shuffled to the bathroom.
Percy headed to the kitchen and heated the soup. He set the bowl on the edge of the coffee table and to distract himself that Nico was in the apartment, taking a shower, he focused on the jigsaw. More often than not he found himself turning the same puzzle piece in his hand over and over staring at the painted landscape. His knee continued to bounce up and down.
This time, Percy didn't stop himself, when Nico returned he looked up. It took every bit of self-control he had not to smile. His clothes hung of Nico's small frame, the curve of his collarbones showing above the neckline of the orange shirt, and the legs of the jeans were rolled up several times.
"Want some soup," he offered.
Nico shifted from foot to foot. "Um, I don't know."
"You've never had it?"
Nico didn't answer.
He remembered when Nico showed up outside of his window and spotted a slice of blue cake his mother made for his birthday. When Percy learned that Nico never had cake - much less a birthday party, he invited him in to join him. It was the best birthday Percy had, all because he was able to spend it with him. It seemed like another lifetime when they were different people.
After the war, Nico disappeared from everyone except his sister. If it wasn't for Hazel none of them would know what became of him. It pained Percy more than he was willing to admit. He was almost angry that Nico showed up after three years and said nothing of his vanishing act.
"Where have you been?"
"Here and there," Nico answered vaguely.
Percy hated that such simple questions were impossible for the son of Hades to answer. It was as though any personal reply would be giving away a piece of himself. Then what would there be? For Nico, maybe nothing. Percy tried to keep that in mind, to not be affronted.
"You don't have to do this," Nico spoke up.
"Do what?"
He gestured toward the bowl. "Take care of me."
Percy's first thought to respond with was, "then who will?" But he didn't say that, because not only did Nico clearly didn't need to be taken care of, he already held the opinion that the world hated him.
"I don't mind," he said.
"I don't want to be in the way. Annabeth is around here somewhere, right?"
He wasn't sure where that came from. "She's in California."
"Oh. I just thought with everything that happened that..." Nico let his clumsy sentence falter, clearly uncomfortable with the line of conversation they were in. A blush crept on his cheeks, something Percy hadn't seen in so long he had thought Nico incapable of it; that somehow in his time in Tartarus made him into a corpse. Nico was still alive, still that boy he once was, and that sent a renewed vigor through Percy.
"We're not together." It seemed important to say at the time.
"Oh," Nico said mouthed. "Why?"
Percy's hand flattened on the ocean scene, feeling the inward curves against his palm. He almost didn't say it, but he hated that Nico was playing dumb. It was low. After all they had been through he deserved Nico to be straight with him.
"You know why. Annabeth told me what happened in Greece."
Whatever defense he had set, it came crashing down. Nico took a step back, shaking his head. "No. It's not what you think - it's..."
The picture of the tail of a fish was becoming bent in his fist. "Morpheus had Annabeth and you saved her. She saw your dreams. She saw everything."
He balled his hands at his sides, his eyes dangerously dark, like the pits of Tartarus. Percy tried not to flinch, to let old memories leak into the forefront of his brain, he focused on the real and current fear that the dead would be summoned. Could they be summoned on a fifth floor of an apartment building? Percy would never know the answer because none appeared. Nico had gained impressive control of his powers, or maybe he had buried his emotions so deep that little effected him. Nevertheless nothing bad happened. At least not yet.
"Morpheus can trick you -" Nico started.
Percy pitched the piece down and drew closer to him. The smell of the ocean-scented shampoo and wash hit him, and he put more distance between them. "Tell me Annabeth lied to me and I won't mention it again."
They both knew Annabeth wouldn't lie to Percy. It was more of a threat than a kind offer.
"Give me my soup, Percy."
He made the decision not to fight that day; he let Nico pass by him. He watched as he gathered the soup in his lap, his vision far away and sad. Percy sat next to him and tried to fix the poor fish's tail.
"By the way," Nico said, "I've had soup before."
Percy smiled. "Good. Soup is nice."