Shelter (Solangelo)

Chapter 3

Will shivers in his sleep and Nico rolls his eyes. Idiot can drag an armchair into the room, but doesn't have the brains to fetch a blanket. Nico's ready to get up anyway; he likes the early morning hours best. It's quiet and everything is still. The air is crisp and new, and it gives him time to clear his head. He swings his legs off the side of the hospital bed, cursing at his lack of a shirt, but not willing to put the yellow monstrosity of a gown back on again. He carefully drapes his blanket over Will, not bothering to stop himself smiling when nobody can see. Will snuggles under the blanket, automatically pulling it up under his chin and breathing deeply.

Nico pads on bare feet to the infirmary bathroom, thankful the other two beds are now empty. Will must have been busy yesterday. Nico uses the toilet and heads back out when he catches his reflection in the mirror from the corner of his eye. He stops to assess the damage.

He peels his bandages back, takes a long look at the crooked stitches holding his skin together and grimaces. It could be worse; the swelling has improved considerably and he can lift his arms with only the slightest tenderness, but now he looks even more like a freak.

"What the … Where … Nico?" Will calls from the next room. Nico forces himself not to blush.

It was only a dream. Keep it together, di Angelo.

"Yeah," he calls back. "Be out in a sec."

Nico turns off the light and walks back into the infirmary.

Will grins crookedly and pulls his legs off Nico's bed, then wraps the blanket around his shoulders. "Hey, feeling better?" he asks. He stands up, screws up his face, and shifts from one foot to the other nearly falling over.

"What are you doing?"

Will seems to recover himself, shuffles his feet, and walks around the foot of the bed toward Nico. "The floor is cold, couldn't find my flip flops, and my legs fell asleep." He screws up his face, then relaxes. "I promise I'm really not an idiot. Only in the mornings."

Nico snorts, then takes a step back when Will reaches out for him.

"Hey, I won't hurt you." Will looks almost like he's trying to coax a frightened rabbit out of hiding. "Can I look at your wounds?" His hands are up, palms facing Nico as if to show he's not going to pull a fast one and stick him with a needle.

Nico relaxes a fraction. It's stupid, but he can't get the image of Will's come-streaked face – his eyes bright with awe and laughter – out of his head. "Yeah, alright."

He looks out the window when Will's hands touch his left bicep. Will peels back the hastily refastened bandage. "Would you look at that?" Will moves to look at the other arm. Nico doesn't want to look at his scars, or at Will. He's afraid he won't be able to look away if he does. "It's nearly healed. I should have you up and running in another day or two, but I gotta level with you, man –"

Nico finally looks at him from under his too-long bangs. He waits.

"You need to lay off the shadow-travel. It's not doing your health any favors. Even after you rest few weeks, another jump or two could kill you."

Nico glances down again. Will's holding his wrist. He turns it, trying to free himself, but Will holds fast.

"Easy there. I'm only taking your pulse."

Nico's heart jumps; he silently curses.

"It's really fast now. You wanna sit down?"

Unable to come up with a suitable retort, Nico pulls his hand free the second Will lets up on the pressure and returns to his bed. He sits on it and looks around. "I need to find a shirt to wear. I'm not sure what happened to the one I had on."

Will's cheeks redden and he suddenly looks as though he's not used to being in his body, like his legs are too long for his brain to control. Nico stifles a laugh at the thought.

"Uh, yeah. The tropical number? You want to put it back on? It's still a bit bloody."

"No. I'm told I smell like death enough as it is without walking around in bloodstained clothes." He pulls his legs back up and stretches out on the bed, resting against his pile of pillows. Except for the elephant in the room – the one he's desperately trying to avoid thinking about, but that seems to be having an effect on Will all the same – Nico's pretty comfortable here. Until Will brightens as if he's had a brainwave and pulls his Camp Half-Blood T-shirt off. Nico's mouth goes dry as he takes in Will's casually ripped and tanned torso. It's exactly the same as in his dream.

"Wear this," he says, and tosses the shirt to Nico. "I've got another in my cabin, and I can just wear a doctor's smock while I'm here."

He doesn't put on a doctor's smock right away. Instead he looks out the window, fingers clenching and unclenching. It's like he's working up the nerve to say something.

Nico doesn't have time for worrying about what Will might or might not say. Or – he supposes he does have the time, doctor's orders and all – but he's uncomfortable enough as it is without having to witness Will being an idiot. He pulls the shirt on, sniffing quickly as he does. It smells like Will, of coconut tanning oil, and the lingering scent underneath – the smell of the muscles, of sweat, of man – has Nico breathing faster.

Will looks back at Nico, and then folds his blanket. Nico realizes he's trying to keep his hands occupied so he doesn't fidget.

What's the matter with you?" Nico asks straight out. "You seem jumpy."

The question seems to knock Will even more off-balance. He shakes his head like he's trying to clear water from his ears, his reddened cheeks going redder.

Nico narrows his eyes.

"Erm … that is to say … " Will starts, then throws up his hands like he's done pretending. He moves closer until he and Nico are looking at each other, only a couple of feet apart. "Did you dream last night?" Will sounds nervous, resigned, and the truth – in all it's humiliating glory – hits Nico like a slap to the face. He dream-traveled, and … oh Hades.

No fucking way.

He slips out of bed and is on his feet in a second, his heart loud in his ears, barely aware of Will rushing to join him. Nico can't help it. The tiles under his feet blacken, shadows growing and stretching towards him, extending like the fingers of Achlys, moving ever closer, boxing him in. His heart drops in his stomach at the sight of fear and disgust he sees in Will's eyes.

"Nico, stop," Will says. He looks aghast, like he's finally seeing Nico in his true form – a dark taint on the world. "I can explain …"

"No!" Nico shouts. He's shaking all over, his legs growing weak. He's got to get out of here. He's done enough damage as it is. "I get it. I'm leaving."

"Don't you dare," Will says, grabbing his arm, but it's too late. Nico dissolves into the shadows, slipping away like the last breath of a dying child.