AN:
Not the part 2 to the last one (that's coming next update, I promise) but I got halfway through writing it before I was like fuck it and gave into the urge of writing canon era, fluffy shit.

Will is perhaps a little hopeless, though he'd never admit it to himself.

But that's because he's a very rational, logical person. He's not going to lie to himself when the facts are right there in front of his face. So inwardly he knows he's actually completely hopeless; not just partially. 

Now that the war's over and the victory's still fresh in everyone's head, there's an undoubtedly uplifted spirit teetering Camp Half-blood. There are easy smiles exchanged and relieved looks passed around with tired eyes. And although restoration efforts are in motion, the whole atmosphere is now much more noticeably relaxed. The worst of it all is finally behind them and they deserve a break.

However Will's still got his hands full. Between being responsible for several hyperactive half-siblings, mourning the death of their previous counsellor, and attending back-to-back mandatory camp council meetings, by far his most energy consuming duty is tending to the many, many wounded campers.

It's been a week and still the infirmary is absolutely swamped. Will's always willing to help out – he likes to help out – but it comes with an exhaustion that he's been expertly ignoring when his expertise are in such high demand. Not that Will isn't grateful for his siblings that run around the place and patching up all the casualties they can, but Will is the only healer among them. He can't shoot a straight arrow to save his life and his half-assed poems are nothing but epic failures, but he can perform surgeries like no other and heal in a way that just comes naturally to him.

Right now, Will thinks he can finally step back and breathe. It's long past midnight and camp is silent. He's just finished up unstocking a new batch of drafts and everyone within the infirmary is sound asleep. Things are certainly starting to look optimistic, since no one has yet woken up screaming and frazzled out of their mind and half of the night is already over.

He smiles to himself and quietly makes his final rounds just clearing away the cot-side desks before he can let himself catch up on some much-needed shuteye too.

But then he pauses beside one particular cot – a little hopeless to do otherwise – and it's occupant fast asleep but shifting restlessly.

Will Solace is hopeless, and it is all in debt to Nico di Angelo.

Truthfully, Will didn't know he liked them broody, infuriating, and constantly phasing in and out of existence, so maybe that's why he had been so instantly smitten – because there was simply no preparing himself for this. Nico is a trojan horse effortlessly piercing through the defences of his heart, since underneath all those faux layers of a damaged, frightening outcast came a hidden bundle of an unwaveringly determined, passionate and selfless hero.

(Though perhaps that analogy is a little inaccurate, because Will only had to catch a mere glimpse at the son of Hades before he was sold.)

Will never lies to himself, so there's no denying the fact that Nico looks very pretty while asleep – but he's not completely at peace. The sheets bunch around his torso as he twists within them, and his dark eyebrows are furrowed deeply. His breaths come sharp and uneven, undoubtedly on the verge of a night terror.

In no good conscience can Will just go to bed and leave him to suffer, but he's a little helpless. He's no child of Hypnos, and as far as he's aware his healing powers don't extend into the dreamscape.

But then Nico starts murmuring, and Will knows that's just the prelude to violent thrashing and bloodcurdling yells, so he has to do something.

If there's one thing he knows, it's that the last thing he should do is shake him awake. Past encounters with other slumbering demigods have taught him that lesson fairly well.

Instead his very first instinct is to soothe, so that's what he does. He reaches out a hand to gently brush away his mussed bangs from a cold, clammy forehead. Making sure his touch is featherlight and kind.

And it seems to work, because Nico's coiled fists unclench, his body visibly relaxing.

So maybe he can help out with nightmares after all. Though he thinks that it's due to something more personal than his powers.

Does that mean...?

Perhaps that's why he leans down and places a sweet, innocent kiss to the top of his head. Because he's desperately hopeless and besotted and weak and—

Shit.

Panicking, Will reels away so rapidly that it's a blessing Nico didn't wake up.

However that doesn't halt his boisterous thoughts on how stupid and sleezy he is, what the fuck, Will—

What does bring them all to a screeching halt is a soft, contented sigh through pale lips, a slight smile painted upon them. The tension bleeds out from Nico's limbs as he shifts and unconsciously draws the blankets up and around himself, tugging it tightly into his chest, curled into himself like a cat.

Will has to physically tear his gaze away from Nico; has to make a pointed effort not to coo at the sight because he's so goddamn cute it should actually be illegal.

With that thought, Will knows it's bedtime and marches out of the infirmary before his dumb crush and severe sleep deprivation gets the better of him.

And neither of them remember anything about it by morning.

~*~

Camp is not as chaotic as it used to be.

A few months with the Gods not wreaking havoc upon each other for every itsy-bitsy, petty feud would do that to the world.

As a result, there are not many campers around: only the few all-rounders dotting the place during this spring. There's not really all that much of reason for them to stay, not when they no longer fear their lives whenever they turn a corner on a street – no more than a demigod already has to, at least.

Usually, Will would be back home too. Besides all this godly shit, he's got a semi-normal life as well. He goes to a half-decent high school, he's got friends to roam the malls with, the privacy of his own room with a warm bed, and a mother who has an even warmer smile.

But now that it's term break, Will's got no other place to spend his time, so why not camp? He's valuable here after all, and he doesn't think he could trust Austin to not somehow light the infirmary on fire for a whole year.

Besides, he likes it here. It's bizarrely peaceful and something just draws him in.

"Solace!" Nico di Angelo yells out, the serenity of the strawberry fields dissipated at the shout. Will looks over his shoulder, still chewing on a ripe strawberry as Nico jogs towards him, cradling his arm to his chest.

"I think I might need your help with something," he says when he's standing before him. There's a bashful sort of look on his face, and when Nico notices Will looking so intently, he ducks his head and tries to hide behind the dark hair that spills out of his hair tie. It only makes him that extra bit endearing though.

Stop, he chastises himself.

Will smiles fondly. "What'cha need?"

He looks up at Will through dark eyelashes and a curtain of hair before clearing his throat and standing up straight. "I might have accidentally nicked myself."

"It's not that big of a deal, though." Nico adds before he unfurls his arm from his chest and shows something that is the absolute furthest thing from a 'big deal'.

"Nico!" Will hisses at the sight of the gory slash struck across the centre of his palm. On autopilot, he yanks out the bandage roll he always finds himself fiddling with from the depths of his pocket, swiftly wrapping it up. "Gods you're an actual idiot... You surely see how bad this looks, right?"

"At least I came to you!" he defends, but goes easily when Will drags him towards the infirmary by his uninjured arm.

Will huffs. "You say it as though not coming to me was a viable option."

"It really isn't that bad..." he protests weakly, and gods Will would really like to shut him up. Preferably with his mouth. Against Nico's. That'd be nice.

Instead the blond tuts, but inwardly he can't help but be at least a little proud.

Had this been months ago, Nico wouldn't of even bat an eyelash in his direction, even if it were for some sort of injury as serious as... well, Lycaon scratches etched into his bare arms. But they've gotten considerably closer since then. They're somehow really good friends, hell maybe even best friends. Not that it's helped his crush in the slightest, only feeding the fire from what began as flickering embers emerged into a roaring flame.

Will has Nico take a seat upon one of the cots while he goes to fetch some supplies. These past few weeks, the infirmary's been blissfully empty and today is no different, leaving Will to keep himself busy with catching up on some long overdue paperwork and renovations.

Once done, Will comes back to stand in front of the son of Hades as he gently unwraps the bandage, it's pristine whiteness already soaked in red.

"You're gonna have to need stitches," he says upon a closer inspection, wiping away the excess blood with several antiseptic wipes. He places a gauze firmly onto the palm, lifting Nico's other hand on top of it. "Hold this down."

"Yessir," Nico drawls lazily and Will snorts as he threads the needle.

"Shut up," he replies but with no real heat. "I'm still mad at you."

The son of Hades grins. "No you're not."

And well he's got Will there, but instead of admitting it and handing over his satisfaction on a silver platter, he merely smears on a numbing agent before he starts getting to work – stitching up the wound bit by bit.

It's a clean job. Will's done this so many times that it's become effortless to the point he could do this in his sleep.

When done, he snips off the extra thread and starts wrapping the palm back up with a fresh bandage.

"I'm just saying," Nico begins after a few moments of comfortable silence. "All this doctor-y stuff just seems excessive."

This is the boy I love, Will reminds himself. "What exactly did you expect from coming here then?"

Shrugging, he says: "I don't know. A band aid? Maybe a lollipop?"

Will chuckles despite himself, tying off the bandage. "What? Think this is just a graze? Like I could just kiss it better and magically make it all disappear?"

"You are a healer, aren't you?" Nico teases with a laugh.

Narrowing his eyes down at the all too smug demigod, Will doesn't think as he lifts up Nico's hand, uncurling his long fingers before pressing his lips upon the freshly bandaged wound. Leaving upon it a lingering kiss before pulling away to claim his victory.

However he looks back only to be met with the sight of an extremely flustered Nico. His cheeks flaming crimson and lips parted slightly in blatant shock.

And, oh damn. He fucked up.

"That work for you, deathboy?" Will taunts because he needs to play it cool.

"I— uh, what?" Nico stammers before coming to himself. Then he promptly turns his head to the side, so rapidly that Will doesn't doubt that it could've snapped his neck. He seems to take an extreme interest in the dusty vase sitting upon a windowsill at the far corner of the infirmary – if his laser focus is anything to go off of.

"Yeah..." Nico manages to grit out, still stubbornly not meeting his eyes. "It was, uh... It helped. Thanks. Thank you."

And Will Solace may be hopeless and a bit head over heels, but he's not blind.

It's a bit difficult to read into, but there have been signs. Small things, like the occasional cute stuttering or swiftly averting gazes that tips him off. Then there had been that time when Will had just casually thrown his arm over his shoulder and Nico literally melted into his side before tensing up and pushing him into the lake, followed by feverish apologies. It's pretty evident he's still got walls up, and that's why it makes this so difficult. Because, sure, Nico may be a little blushy in his presence, but then on those rare occasions he can get quite defensive too, so up to this point Will's just had his hands tied.

But surely – surely – this confirms something. Whether he's hopelessly pining or not, he knows that sort of reaction from jokingly kissing someone's hand isn't exactly stemming from the pits of strictly platonic sentiments.

So (with a quick, silent prayer to Aphrodite) Will takes his chances.

"Nico," Will says with a surge of determination, bringing up a hand to cup his cheek and tries not to smile too sappily at the way Nico leans into the touch. "Will you look at me?"

"No." Nico grumbles.

"Please?" he pleads softly and then he's met with those beautiful deep brown irises brimmed with vulnerability. "Can I..." he starts, but then forgets, faltering on his words at the way Nico's looking up at him as if he hung all the stars in the sky – making his heart beat out of his fucking chest.

"Can I maybe do something?" he manages eventually, his gaze flickering down to Nico's mouth to make his intentions clear.

"I... uh..." Nico swallows. "Yes," he then breathes.

He hears Nico's breath hitch the moment before Will bridges that electrifying gap between their lips, keenly pressing them together until he sees dark eyes fluttering shut contentedly.

The kiss is a delicate thing, but into it Will pours all the affection and attentiveness Nico deserves and more.

They pull apart with Nico's shuddering sigh against his lips, and Will is helpless to do anything else but smile, taking Nico's hands in his own from where he fingers were digging into the mattress of the cot.

Gods, his heart is still a jackhammer to his ribs but he feels as light as a feather. Stroking his thumb across a still rosy cheek, he whispers. "Was that okay?"

It's almost as though Nico has gone haywire and Will worries that he may have broken the poor boy. His circuits malfunctioning as he doesn't move an inch, doesn't even blink. Eyes wide and stupefied as he just stares at him.

And very quickly the elatedness filling Will's chest very quickly becomes lead in the bottom of his stomach.

"Uh... Nico—?"

Nico kisses him.

Or at least tries to, because he surges up all too urgently and knocks their foreheads together with a painful thud. Will tears away on reflex, rubbing on the already forming bump as something rings in his ears.

"Oh my gods, Will I am so sorry!" Nico squeaks, jumping off the cot to hold him steady.

"It's okay, it's okay!" Will finds himself laughing, trying to get the room to slow down on its spinning until he can settle his hands upon Nico's shoulders in a vain attempt to calm him down. "I swear I'm alright."

He's so sheepish. "That was... an accident."

The blond grins. "A+ for effort, though."

It's cheap, so what? Sue him. He's hopeless anyways. And he knows it isn't exactly the right thing to say because Nico's face does a funny, pinched sort of thing before he pushes him away and bolts right out the door.

Will only makes it to the exit, too disorientated right now to play a game of cat and mouse. Though e's not all too bothered about it, for in all this time he's gotten to know that gods forsaken son of Hades, he considers himself an expert in know when Nico di Angelo actually mad.

And if he were actually mad, he wouldn't just be running off. No, he would've shadow travelled away to silently brood in his cabin for days on end because he knows it would piss Will off. To anyone but the blond himself, it's a wonder why Will is so besotted by him.

But that doesn't stop Nico from shouting out in the wind, "I hate you, Solace!" Already sprinting beyond the canoe lake in an admittedly rather impressive display of speed and stamina.

Only shaking his head fondly at his antics – a smile curling on the edges of his lips – Will yells back. "I have a concussion that proves otherwise, di Angelo!"