-Nico-

I'd expected the second night with Dante to be less of a rollercoaster than the first one, but I guess life had some more curveballs left.

It started just after dinner.

While the three of us ate, I told Will and Dante about the Iris message I'd gotten from Frank on my way home from work. Evidently, Hazel had told him all about our situation. Along with offering to help us look after Dante, the son of Mars had practically twisted my arm into taking some time off until things settled down. He'd insisted that he'd teach the campers for as long as I needed, providing I took over again by the time Hazel had the next baby. I'd assured him it would only be a week or two at most - definitely not four months. I'd also thanked him profusely, because the time off would give me a chance to figure out all this childcare stuff.

Dante seemed pleased by the news. He also seemed less guarded around Will now - probably because it's hard not to like someone who can literally make your troubles disappear. I was impressed by how much the seven-year-old was progressing in such a short time. Over the course of dinner, he said eleven words, including two complete sentences. That meant he'd spoken more in that one hour than he had collectively in the past twenty-four. He even volunteered to help with the dishes, so Will assigned him drying duty.

As I cleaned the table, I got distracted watching the other two. Will handed Dante a dish towel like he was delivering a letter to royalty - with a flourish and a bow. That got a smile out of Dante, so Will kept it going. By the fourth towel, Dante's bemusement had morphed into laughter. "No," he lamented, piling all the extras on the counter and pushing them back toward Will.

"Oh, you don't need that many? Are you sure? I'm a very enthusiastic washer..."

Just when I was thinking I could get used to this, the peaceful moment was gone. Annabeth's face appeared in the kitchen, shimmering like mist on a hot summer day. Her expression wiped away my dopey smile. To this day, I can't remember what she said. I only remember seeing Will's demeanor change from loveable goofball to unflappable healer. I'd seen that transition enough times to know what was about to happen.

The next thirty seconds went by in a whirlwind. As soon as Annabeth's Iris message disappeared, Will abandoned the dishes and ran to the bedroom. Alarmed, Dante looked to me for an answer. "Our friend's having a baby - two of them, actually," I explained, before realizing that he was too young to know anything about that.

When Will reappeared in scrubs, I had just enough time to think, So much for that day off. Then he was planting a kiss on my cheek. He took a moment to place a hand on Dante's arm and reassure him, "It's okay. I'll be back later." Then he set off for the door, calling over his shoulder, "Love you!"

"Flip flops?" I blurted, just noticing his choice in footwear.

Will cursed under his breath - and not in Italian. As he hastily swapped the offending shoes with a pair of sneakers, he chided me, "That's still not the right answer."

"Love you too, dear."

My husband smirked at my sarcastic tone. Then the door snapped shut, and he was gone.

In sync, Dante and I turned to each other with blank looks. I guessed neither of us knew how to spend the rest of the evening. If Dante had developed any interests or hobbies during his time on his own or with the wolf pack, he hadn't mentioned them yet. I couldn't blame him. Back when I'd finally settled down at Camp Half-Blood, I'd usually gone along with whatever Will and his siblings wanted to do for fun. So I decided to wing it.

"Wanna watch a movie?"

Three hours and two animated flicks later, Dante had fallen asleep on the couch. Moving stealthily so I wouldn't wake him, I turned off the TV and took our empty bowls of popcorn to the kitchen. Then I allowed myself a few seconds to appreciate the scene. It felt like Will and I had been given a strange and wonderful gift. I knew there was a deeper reason for it, and if the augury was any indication, this journey wasn't going to be all sunshine and rainbows. But I also believed that the three of us could handle whatever life threw at us - as a family. And I wouldn't have changed a damn thing about it.

My puddle-of-a-heart wanted to carry Dante to his bed, but my common sense vetoed that idea. Runaway demigods tend to be light sleepers; that gesture would probably startle him. So, a little reluctantly, I tapped him on the arm. As his eyelids fluttered, he looked groggy and disoriented, almost like a normal kid. Then he drew a sharp breath and sat up straight, and his hand darted to his side like he was reaching for a nonexistent weapon. "It's just me," I assured, and the panic seeped out of him. "Bedtime?" I suggested. He rubbed his eyes and nodded. As I walked with Dante to his room, he paused to frown at the front door.

"Will...?"

My heart leaped as the name left his lips. I tried to match his seriousness, but I was already picturing the way Will's face would light up when I told him about this later. Then I remembered what he was probably doing right now. That sobered me up. "He's still at the hospital taking care of our friend. He probably won't be back until tomorrow."

Dante's frown lingered, but he nodded and let me lead him to his bedroom. As he settled into bed, my thoughts tumbled out: "Sorry about all the books and stuff lying around. We can move that out of here tomorrow, so it'll feel more like an actual bedroom."

Dante smiled at me as he pulled the covers up to his chin and nestled into the pillows. I got the feeling that he couldn't care less about the clutter. I smiled back at him.

"Well...good night."

Dante sighed and closed his eyes. I started to shut the door, but I paused when I heard the tiniest mumble: "Nico?"

Once again, my heart almost jumped into my throat. "Yeah?"

The seven-year-old stared at me for a few seconds, like he was trying to find the right phrasing. But that look in his eyes was worth a thousand words. At last, he said shyly, "Good night."

It really was a good night.

The only downside was that Will wasn't there when I crawled into my own bed. At this point, I should've been used to falling asleep without him, with how many double shifts he'd been picking up recently. But the sheets were freezing, and my chest ached like something was missing. That reminded me of how Dante had been searching for Will - and how sad he'd looked when he couldn't find him. Then I remembered the emotion shining in those gold eyes when he'd called for me, and I felt a little warmer.

For now, first names would do just fine.