Chapter Text
The infirmary smelled like nectar, antiseptic, and sunlight.
Which was honestly offensive.
Nico di Angelo lay curled on one of the beds with his hood pulled over his face, trying very hard to disappear into the mattress. Every joint in his body ached. His head pounded. His stomach rolled unpleasantly every time he breathed too deep.
Shadow-traveling three campers, two pegasi, and several celestial bronze weapons across half the country had seemed like a good idea at the time.
Now he was pretty sure his organs were trying to unionize.
Across the room, cabinets slammed.
“You are the worst patient I’ve ever had,” Will Solace announced.
Nico groaned into his pillow. “Go away.”
“No.”
“Cruel.”
“I’m a healer. It’s literally my job description.”
Will appeared beside the bed so suddenly Nico almost jumped. Sunlight spilled around him from the windows, golden curls glowing like they had their own personal spotlight. Nico hated that he still noticed that while actively dying.
Will planted his hands on his hips. “You disappeared for eighteen hours.”
“I came back.”
“You came back gray.”
“Black is more my color anyway.”
“You almost passed out in the woods.”
Nico peeked out from under the hood. “Technically I DID pass out in the woods.”
Will pointed at him. “That is not better.”
Nico tried to sit up.
The room tilted violently.
“Absolutely not.” Will shoved him back down with surprising strength. “See? This is why I can’t leave you alone for five minutes.”
“I survived Tartarus.”
“And yet,” Will said dryly, fluffing Nico’s pillow with aggressive precision, “the thing that finally kills you will probably be your own stubbornness.”
Nico closed his eyes. His skin felt too hot and too cold at the same time. Every shadow in the room tugged at him uncomfortably, like they wanted him to sink into them and stop moving forever.
He hated being sick.
He hated feeling weak.
Mostly, he hated being watched while weak.
“I’m fine,” he muttered.
Will made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh.
“Nico,” he said patiently, “you threw up black smoke.”
“…Was it at least dramatic-looking?”
“It was horrifying.”
“Close enough.”
Will pressed the back of his hand against Nico’s forehead. Nico tried very hard not to lean into it.
“You’re burning up,” Will murmured.
“I’m a son of Hades. Maybe this is normal.”
“It is not normal for your body temperature to rival lava.”
“Have you met Leo?”
Will ignored that. “How many times did you shadow-travel?”
Nico hesitated.
Will narrowed his eyes. “Nico.”
“…A few.”
“Nico.”
“…Seven?”
Will stared.
Nico winced. “In my defense-”
“There is no defense!”
“We were in Wyoming.”
“That does not explain anything!”
“The pegasi were panicking.”
“You shadow-traveled PEGASI?”
“They were very motivated.”
Will dragged both hands down his face.
For a long moment, the only sound was the distant noise of campers outside and the soft clink of medicine bottles.
Then Will pointed toward the bathroom.
“Bucket.”
“I’m not throwing up again.”
“You are absolutely throwing up again.”
“I hate your prophetic powers.”
“They’re called medical training.”
Will handed him the bucket anyway.
Nico glared at it.
The bucket glared back.
Three seconds later, Nico lurched forward violently.
Will caught his shoulders before he could fall out of bed.
Everything hurt.
By the time it passed, Nico was shaking hard enough that his teeth chattered.
Humiliating.
He kept his eyes fixed on the blanket because if he looked at Will right now, he might actually die.
Instead of teasing him, though, Will just held a cup of water to his mouth.
“Small sips,” he said quietly.
Nico obeyed before realizing he’d obeyed.
Traitor instincts.
“There you go,” Will said.
“I hate this.”
“I know.”
“I had plans today.”
“You’re feverish enough to hallucinate.”
“I always hallucinate. It’s part of my aesthetic.”
Will snorted.
Nico risked a glance upward.
Will looked tired.
Not annoyed-tired. Worried-tired.
That familiar tightness twisted unpleasantly in Nico’s chest.
“You don’t have to babysit me,” he muttered.
Will blinked. “What?”
“I said-”
“I heard you.” Will set the cup aside. “Why do you think taking care of you counts as babysitting?”
Nico shrugged one shoulder weakly. “Because I’m making your life difficult.”
“You fight monsters on purpose,” Will said. “Your definition of difficult is broken.”
Nico looked away.
The fever made everything fuzzy around the edges. Shadows crawled sluggishly along the floor. Normally they felt comforting. Right now they just felt heavy.
Will sat carefully on the edge of the bed.
“You know,” he said lightly, “most people react to nearly dying by resting afterward.”
“Resting is boring.”
“You know what’s also boring? Organ failure.”
“That sounds fake.”
Will gave him a flat look. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or delirious.”
“Little bit of both.”
“Fantastic.”
Despite himself, Nico smiled faintly.
Will noticed immediately, expression softening around the edges.
“There he is,” he said.
Nico’s face warmed for reasons unrelated to fever.
“Don’t make it weird.”
“You make everything weird.”
“True.”
Will adjusted the blanket around him, tucking it closer. The gesture should’ve felt ridiculous. Nico was perfectly capable of using blankets himself.
Instead, exhaustion settled over him like a landslide.
“You need sleep,” Will said.
Nico grimaced. “Nightmares.”
Will’s hands paused.
Then, gentler: “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”
“That’s unnecessary.”
“Probably.”
“You have healer stuff to do.”
“I delegated.”
“You hate delegating.”
“I do,” Will admitted. “Which means you should appreciate how serious this is.”
Nico rolled his eyes weakly.
But some awful, traitorous part of him unclenched.
Will leaned back in the chair beside the bed, crossing his arms. “And if you try to shadow-travel out the window, I’m tying you to the mattress.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I know several Apollo kids with rope.”
Nico considered it.
“…Fair.”
Silence settled comfortably after that.
Outside, Camp Half-Blood buzzed with distant afternoon noise: swords clashing, campers yelling, somebody probably exploding something near the forge.
Inside the infirmary, sunlight pooled warmly across the sheets.
Nico drifted somewhere between awake and asleep, fever pulling at him like deep water.
Right before he slipped under completely, he felt fingers brush dark hair out of his face.
Then Will’s voice, quiet and exasperated and fond all at once:
“You are such an idiot, di Angelo.”