[AO3 Crosspost] How to choose you doctor: a Will Solace piece of advice

[terresdebrume]

✗ TECHNICAL DETAILS

FANDOM: Percy Jackson
SERIES: -
RATING: General Audiences
WORDCOUNT: 1 137
PAIRING(S): Solangelo
CHARACTER(S): Nico Di Angelo, Will Solace, Jules-Albert
GENRE: Fluff
TRIGGER WARNING(S): None
SUMMARY: Nico can handle Venice just fine, but that doesn’t mean Will has to like it.
DEDICATION(S): For bailci , obviously ;)
NOTE(S): Written for the prompt ‘things you said on the phone’ and kindly betaed by talysalankil :)


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“Nicooooooooooooooooooooo,” Will whines as soon as he gets on the phone, “The sun’s not even up yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet!”

Nico snorts through the stabbing pain in his left side as he tries to picture Will’s exact expression at that instant.

It’s fairly easy to imagine, really—deep dark circles in the sandy brown of Will’s face, dark blond hair sticking out every which way as he yawns and tries to rub pillow-creases out of his face while his forehead rests against the brand new pay phone at the side of the Great House…the very idea is enough to bring a smile to Nico’s lips.

“Hey,” he says, the word dragging into a hiss when Jule-Albert applies alcohol to one of the bigger cuts on Nico’s ribs, “Morning to you too.”

“You're” —a long yawn, followed by the sound of fingernails scratching at beard— “Banged up again, aren’t you?”

Nico looks down at his chest, the deep blue bruises turning green in the morning light, and the occasional, bloody but—thankfully—shallow cuts marring the mess with vivid crimson, and he sighs.

‘Banged up’ does seem to describe the situation rather neatly.

“Just a little,” Nico admits, trying—and failing—to keep the pout out of his voice, “Nothing Jules-Albert can’t take care of.”

“I’m still insulted you picked him of all people to be your doctor, by the way,” Will says. “He’s dead. What does he know about healing people?”

The sun must be coming up in Long Island, Nico guesses, because Will sounds a lot more awake and functional than he did a few minutes ago, and while he’s perfectly capable of forcing through it when the situation demands it, Nico knows nothing short of an emergency usually gets Will out of bed before sunrise. Well. That, or Nico’s phone calls.

(Nico tries not to think about that too hard. It makes him feel like he’s caught a stomach bug.)

“That’s why I take him along,” Nico admits after careful deliberation. “You can’t kill what’s already dead.”

“Which you are not,” Will replies, “In case you’ve forgotten.”

“Believe me,” Nico grits out while Jules-Albert starts sewing him up, “I haven’t.”

There was a time when he almost wished he was…in the Underworld, after all, nobody gets left out, so that was good, right?

Nico didn’t realize until later that most demigods ended up in the Elysian fields, which meant he would either be an exception and not go there, or end up with Percy and the others and feel like a third wheel for the rest of time…In the end, Nico decided he might as well stay with the living for a while longer.

Of course, that means accepting the pain that goes with it, from time to time, but it’s not quite as bad as it used to be.

“Serves you right for not taking me along,” Will insists, the line hissing when his beard rubs against the phone, “If you enjoy pain—”

“No, I mostly enjoy you alive,” Nico replies.

An awkward pause wedges itself in the conversation, presses against Nico’s stomach and ribcage and squeezes at his throat until he feels like he’s going to choke—he never meant to let that out, figured it was obvious enough, right? It’s not like it needed airing or anything and—

Will grunts.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” he sighs, but he doesn’t really sound surprised.

“…Sorry?” Nico tries, but it only serves to make Will sigh and mutter a ‘typical’ he probably thinks Nico can’t hear.

“You know, I hope one day you’ll tell me stuff like that face to face rather than over the phone.”

“Last time I did that,” Nico protests, pulling his shirt back over his sewed-up wounds, “You slapped me over the head.”

To be fair, his timing did leave something to be desired, if only because asking your then-best-friend-now-boyfriend out in the middle of a battle sounds way too much like an action movie cliché. And, okay, yes, it’s also the sort of thing that can easily get you killed.

Still, Nico would have appreciated getting a real answer before Will called him the dumbest dumbass to ever walk the earth.

“You deserved it,” Will deadpans, “And you barely felt it.”

“Whatever,” Nico mutters, the warmth in his cheeks completely unrelated to the Venetian heat, “I just don’t want you hurt.”

“Neither do I want myself hurt,” Will retorts without missing a beat, “But I’d still rather be with you when you decide to take a vacation in the middle of Monsterland. Oddly enough—and I know you have trouble believing this but it’s still true—I care about you and your wellbeing too.”

Nico decides keeping silent is better than letting out some form of incoherent gurgle or, you know, sobbing.

It’s not that Nico thinks Will’s lying when he says there’s no shame in being touched by what others say, it’s just…well, beyond the fact that Nico has yet to fully shake out the idea that ‘it’s not what boys do’, it’s also disconcerting and slightly panic-inducing to reveal that kind of deep-seated vulnerability, especially to someone you care so much about.

“You’re trying not to cry, aren’t you?”

“Oh shut up,” Nico replies with a slight sniffle.

“Okay,” Will says with a smile in his voice. “But I’m serious, you know. Even if you don’t want me hurt—and trust me when I say I do my best to avoid that, too—I don’t want you hurt either. And I hate having to wait here to see if you’ll call or if Jules-Albert is going to pop up one day and give me your ring with a letter or something.”

“…You might have thought about this a bit too much,” Nico remarks, but Will snorts.

“Oh please, as if you wouldn’t do this.”

Nico’s entire face turns hotter than the Phlegethon as he stops himself from reaching for the paper in his breast pocket—so maybe he’s a bit of a sentimental idiot, so what? It’s not like it’s a crime, right?

“It’s just a postcard,” Nico mumbles after a while, drawing a surprised laugh out of Will, “And it’s not like it can’t come in handy one day.”

“I know,” Will sighs. “That’s my point. I get why Venice is an important place for you and I won’t try to prevent you from staying there—”

“Anymore.”

“Right,” Will admits, “not anymore. I’m still worried though. So next time, I’m going with you, alright?”

It takes Nico a moment before he can do anything but smile and feel like he’s going to burst with joy, but eventually, he says yes.

“Besides,” he adds, “You’re a much better cook than Jules-Albert.”

When Nico comes back to Camp Half-Blood, Will punches his shoulder before he even says hi.