-Will-
When I woke up alone on my living room couch, it was well past sunrise.
Everything about that seemed wrong, but I felt so well-rested that I barely cared. I sat up and stretched, enjoying the pops in my neck and shoulders. For a few blissful seconds, I had no worries in the world. But then my brain clocked in for the day, and memories from yesterday clunked into place. Nico and I had stayed up for hours, talking about the kid who we were probably adopting - the kid who I haven't even met yet. The couch seemed to sway like a ship at sea.
Holy Hades. This is really happening.
"Morning, Sunshine."
I blinked in confusion as Nico appeared in the doorway to the kitchen - fully dressed, with an empty backpack slung over his shoulder and a key ring dangling from his finger. On a normal day, I left for work before sunrise, long before my night owl of a husband dragged himself out of bed. But Nico looked like he'd been awake for hours.
"Your hair's a mess," he added, smiling like he was amused.
"What time is it?" I demanded. On instinct, I looked out the nearest window - which was unhelpful, because it faced north, and I couldn't see the sun.
Nico tilted his head toward the fireplace. "You know we have a clock, right?"
When I caught sight of the hour hand above the mantle, I blurted, "It's past nine?"
"Barely," Nico pointed out. "What's the big deal? It's your day off, and you needed the rest." As I rubbed my face with my hands, he added, "Dante's still asleep anyway, so you didn't miss much."
That made me feel a little better. "How long have you been up?" I asked him, frowning.
He shrugged. "I napped for a while yesterday, so I wasn't that tired."
"You didn't answer the question," I realized warily. "Did you get any sleep at all last night?"
Nico gave me a look that said, Do you really want to know? I sighed, but I knew there was no point in protesting. So I let the subject drop and held up my arms invitingly. When Nico just raised an eyebrow, I frowned and flexed my fingers in an impatient gesture. As I expected, my childishness did him in. With a breathy laugh that made my heart thump, my husband dropped his bag and keys on the floor so he could lie down on the couch with me.
I closed my eyes and let out a contented sigh as he curled up against my side and rested his head on my shoulder. His hair smelled like fresh rain, and the steady rise and fall of his chest was the most relaxing thing I could imagine. As I marveled for the thousandth time at how perfectly he fit into my arms, I recalled our conversation from last night:
"Are you okay?"
"As long as I have you."
He'd said it like a promise - like he knew without a doubt that we could get through anything together.
Gods, I love him.
That happy feeling lingered when I heard his suspicious murmur: "Did you ask me to cuddle with you just so you could check my temperature?"
I allowed myself a grin - mostly because I knew he couldn't see it. "No," I said, but I held the 'o' a little too long.
Nico snorted into my neck, but he didn't make any move to get up. "You're such a dork."
"You're two degrees warmer than yesterday," I informed him in my best doctor voice. "A few more minutes of cuddle therapy and you'll be back to normal."
He propped himself up on one arm so he could give me a fake annoyed look, which might have been convincing if not for the smile in his eyes. "I can't stay that long."
"Why not?"
"I need to go out and get some things before work - unless you want Dante to sleep in our bed and wear my old clothes forever."
A dose of pride warmed me even more than the cuddles. For someone who'd been so hesitant about having kids, he seemed to be handling this development really well. "Look at you, already being a good dad," I teased, poking him in the chest.
Nico blushed. "I'm just thinking ahead."
"Mmhmm."
"Shut up."
His pout was so cute that I couldn't resist stealing a kiss. When he smiled against my lips, my heart skipped a beat, and my blood fizzled like fire. Being with Nico felt like that sometimes - like I'd had a little too much ambrosia. I pulled away before I could combust, grinning like an idiot. Then I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye.
A young boy was standing near the other end of the living room, watching us from the hallway. His thin frame was swimming in an outfit that I recognized from Nico's early teenage years: a black Ramones t-shirt and a pair of light gray sweatpants. His inky black hair was rumpled and fluffy, not unlike the stuffed raven Nico had chosen for him. But his eyes and skin were warmer toned, like sunflowers in a golden wheat field.
Nico reacted like a magnet flipped to the opposite side. He jerked away from me, whacking his leg against the coffee table in his haste to jump up from the couch. "Hey! You're awake," he began awkwardly. "Did you sleep alright?"
The boy nodded silently, and his inquisitive gaze drifted to me as I sat up and attempted to flatten my hair. Despite the strange march going on in my chest, I put on my most disarming smile and said, "Hi there."
Nico had told me everything he knew about Dante last night. "He doesn't talk much," he'd explained, "but he seems to understand everything. I think he's just not used to being around people."
That warning hadn't fazed me. I've worked with all kinds of kids at the hospital, including ones who'd run away from dysfunctional homes or who'd been involved in traumatic incidents. I've been told I have a genuine, calming presence - one that makes even the most guarded people feel comfortable around me. And Nico was a prime example. Back when we'd first become friends, he was closed off to pretty much everyone - until he'd woken up from a particularly nasty nightmare and cried into my shoulder. We'd stayed up talking for hours that night, until he'd fallen asleep in my arms.
In short, this wasn't my first rodeo. So I didn't understand why my heart rate was nearing panic attack levels. Don't screw it up, Celia's voice whispered in the back of my head, making my stomach lurch. It took a conscious effort to maintain my steady breathing. That's when the realization hit me: I do have a crisis mode, and I was currently in it - because I really didn't want this kid to react to me like he'd reacted to Percy.
"Dante, this is Will," Nico introduced us. As I smiled and waved, the seven-year-old just watched. He seemed more curious than guarded, but I had the eerie feeling that he was staring through me rather than at me. I wondered how much he'd seen and heard before Nico and I noticed him. It felt like he was silently appraising me, trying to figure out what Nico saw in me.
When his golden-eyed gaze drifted to the bag and keys on the floor, he stiffened and gave Nico an alarmed look. Frowning, Nico approached him and got on one knee. "I'm going out to get you some clothes that actually fit you," he told him calmly. "Is it okay if I leave you here with Will for an hour or two?" When the young boy hesitated, my husband vouched for me: "I trust him more than anyone in the world. You'll be safe with him."
I held my breath as Dante gave me an uneasy look. I fully expected him to cling to Nico and beg him not to leave, so a mix of surprise and relief washed over me when he nodded again. Then Nico fished a small reflective gemstone and a few drachmas out of his pocket, and he asked him, "Have you ever used an Iris message?" Dante shook his head, and Nico explained the process to him. When he was finished, he handed over the coins and the gemstone with a solemn vow: "If you ever need me for anything, just call me, and I'll be there like that."
He snapped with his fingers. That made Dante smirk, which in turn made Nico's eyes light up. It was like the two of them were sharing a little secret. "Okay," Dante whispered, and Nico's smile grew.
Watching their interaction made my heart ache. I've felt something similar whenever Nico made Chloe laugh, but the usual warm fuzziness was tainted by an unwelcome twinge of jealousy. I couldn't shake the fear that I wasn't going to be able to connect with Dante as easily as Nico already had. If his theory about kids being wary of him was at all accurate, then I figured the reverse would be true too. Dante had flipped the script; he trusted Nico more because of his powers. And while I was wholeheartedly happy for my husband, I wasn't sure if I was prepared to be on the opposite end of that spectrum.
Before I knew it, a couple more minutes had passed, and Nico was about to walk out the door. "I'll be back soon," he assured, loud enough for Dante to hear.
"We'll be fine," I told him, mustering a confident smile.
Nico's eyebrows twitched a little, and I knew he was reading me like a book. He glanced past me at Dante, who was sitting on a barstool in the kitchen, swinging his legs as he surveyed the apartment. Then he directed a small smile at me. "I know," he agreed. When he leaned in to give me a peck on the cheek, he advised quietly, "Don't overthink it."
I didn't bother asking where that came from. I just murmured coyly, "Who? Me?"
Nico rolled his eyes a little. "I love you," he said pointedly, in a tone that said, And he will too.
"Mmhmm. Love you too, Ghost King."
After giving me another precious not-actually-annoyed look, he left. Which meant that I was alone with the near-mute seven-year-old I just met, who was most likely going to be a permanent addition to our future.
Don't screw it up, the voice whispered again.
Shut up, I told it.
I took a deep breath and turned to see Dante staring at me again. That expectant look in those unwavering gold eyes made me feel like there were ants crawling under my skin. Don't overthink it, I coached myself, clinging to Nico's words of encouragement. He's just a kid. Do what you'd do with anyone else.
I noticed he'd stopped swinging his legs, but he was still sitting at the bar. I wondered if that was where he and Nico had eaten last night. Then something clicked in my brain, and I asked, "Do you want breakfast?"
The nod he gave me was more eager than before. I thought he might even be smiling.
Okay. I can handle breakfast.
Already feeling better about this, I headed into the kitchen to open the fridge. "Do you like eggs?" I asked over my shoulder, and he nodded again. "Scrambled or dippy?" I checked, and he shrugged. "Well, I'm pretty terrible at making dippy eggs, but I make a mean scramble. Is that cool with you?" He nodded again. Then he craned his neck to peer into the fridge, and I followed his eyes. "You like cheese?" I inferred. That got another excited nod out of him. I couldn't help but smile. "Perfect. That's how I like my eggs too."
This time I was positive he was smiling back at me.
It was definitely a start.
