The Wants of a Young Demigod Heart (Nico di Angelo, Leo Valdez x OC)

Nightmares and Questions

Merrily POV

Co-Author for this chapter is MerrilyE

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Okay, seriously? I was having a wonderful dream and I had to go and get hit in the head with a wrench. I rub my head, with my arm, barely noticing that it's stopped hurting.

"I'm so sorry!" I see Leo's worried face hovering over me. "I was trying to hit the tree, but there was this wind, and uh..."

"What are you doing up?" I demand, cutting him off.

"I couldn't sleep," Leo replies.

"Liar," I smirk. "You don't look as though you've slept in a few days."

"I have too slept!" Leo insists. I shake my head. Leo has dark circles under his eyes, and is a little paler than usual.

"I know you haven't closed your eyes since I made you back in what.... Missouri maybe?" I ask. "What's really wrong?"

"I just get nightmares is all," Leo scowls. "Only every so often, not like every night..."

"You're a terrible liar, you know that right?" I tell him. Leo's telltale sign for when he's outright lying is, his nose twitches. It's adorable, honestly, especially since he's sixteen. "You have insomnia."

"I do not!" Nose twitch.

"Liar."

"Ugh!" Leo throws his hands up in the air. "What keeps giving it away?"

"Not telling," I cross my arms, and give him my best superior look. Leo looks so defeated and runs his fingers through his curly, tangled hair. I sigh. "Do you want to talk?"

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Leo explains. "I'm fine on my own."

"Well, you woke me up, so you're stuck," I frown. "Now, what do you want to talk about? You know a lot about me, but I know practically nothing about you."

"So tacos...." I sigh. If this is how he wants to cope, then I'll let him. But after Leo repeated himself for the sixtieth time about the correct consistency of taco meat, I hold up my hand. "Now I get to ask questions."

"Huh?" Leo looks confused. "What do you mean?"

"I want to learn more about you," I insist. "Not tacos."

"Okay," Leo agreed. "Now, about enchiladas—"

Here, I cut him off. "What's your favorite color?"

"Huh?"

"You heard me," I say. "Now what's your favorite color?"

I fully expected him to say red, but instead... "Green."

"Excuse me?"

"You expected me to say red, huh?" Leo grins. But it's slightly pained.

"No!" I gasp. "Green's so your color!"

"It's not," Leo admits. "But I like the color anyway. What's your favorite color?"

"I'm not the one being interrogated right now," I frown. "Now, what color is your toothbrush?" I always like to ask this question, mostly because it's a good ice breaker and it's an interesting fact to know about someone.

"Red," Leo replied, if not a little confusedly.

"Wait, if your favorite color is--"

"Piper got it for me," came the short reply.

"Piper doesn't know your favorite color?" I ask in disbelief.

"No," Leo says blankly. "She thought I'd like the color, but every time I brush my teeth, it makes me hate the color more." I wince on his behalf. I flail around for another question.