Work Text:
protective /prəˈtektiv/ (adj.) - “having or showing a strong wish to keep someone or something safe from harm.”
–
A scream echoed through the forest.
The game of Capture the Flag had been coming to a close. Will elected to sit this one out; it was early summer, which meant new campers with little-to-no experience, which meant more injuries. So, he was neutral alongside Chiron, running around and patching campers up. He had seen the blue team running towards the boundary line with the red team’s flag, so he foolishly assumed it safe to begin heading towards the infirmary.
The scream was of pure, intense pain. Running towards the sound, Will heard more yelling as people tried to get help. A lot of shouts for a medic, as well as his name, were heard, so he sprinted, hoping it wasn’t too bad.
Arriving on the scene, Will pushed through the crowd uncaringly, roughly. One hand had already flipped his medic’s bag open, prepared for the sight.
He wasn’t prepared to see Nico with his guts falling out.
It was foolish, but Will stopped for a second. He began to pale at the sight of his boyfriend, the love of his life, bleeding out and desperately attempting to keep organs inside of his body. It’s likely he would have kept standing and panicking if Clarisse didn’t wack him over the head. “I know, Solace, but he’s gonna die if you don’t get off your ass and fix him.”
Scrambling forward, he immediately began to softly shush Nico. Will vaguely registered Kayla and Austin kneeling next to him to provide moral support while his other siblings were held back by Clarisse; all his focus was on gently shifting intestines back inside his love’s body and quickly, yet neatly, stitching the wound closed.
Kayla held a bottle of nectar ready to pour over the wound as soon as he finished, while Austin cushioned Nico’s head and kept muttering words of encouragement, his deep voice grounding. Will’s hands were, miraculously, steady, and he managed to complete the stitches in record time. Nectar was slowly dripped over the sutures, and once the flask was empty he immediately dove into a healing hymn.
His siblings joined in, strengthening the song, and his hands glowed as he prayed and prayed and prayed that Nico survive. He kept singing, and would have continued to sing until he was hoarse (and would have continued to sing until his throat was bloody), but Kayla stopped him. “Will, there’s nothing left, and you’re beginning to blister.”
Frantically, he checked Nico’s vitals; on the lower side, but steady considering everything he went through in the last twenty minutes. Letting out a violent sob, Will pressed his forehead to the younger boy’s chest, muttering repeated thanks to his father and Hades. Sitting up, he was reluctant to let his boyfriend go, but he turned towards Clarisse, a silent question in his eyes.
She made a show of rolling her eyes, but complied immediately. Nico was gently cradled to her chest, and then she stood and slowly started toward the Big House. Glancing around, Will saw relief flitting across everyone’s faces; everyone except one’s.
Jack Gomar. Son of Ares, a bigger guy who thought himself better than everyone else. He wasn’t particularly rude to most people, simply holding himself with a holier-than-thou attitude. Most campers didn’t want to argue with the guy, so they left him alone.
Nico wasn’t most campers; he never took the attitude, and had wiped the floor with him on multiple occasions in the arena. So, Jack made it his mission to harass the son of Hades as much as possible, slinging harsh words, slurs, and downright vile comments towards the other.
And Jack was currently holding a bloody sword, splatters covering his chest and thighs.
Will shakily stood, face blank and vision red. “Jack.”
The boy in question schooled his expression quickly before meeting Will’s gaze; a futile attempt, there was still a clear smirk on the bastard’s face. Jack cocked an eyebrow, apparently deeming no response necessary.
“Get over here.”
Will’s voice was sharp and cutting. The crowd around him was silent, shocked at the tone. Few had seen this side of him. He preferred to keep a sunny demeanor around camp, and was more stern than anything in the infirmary. But, just like how the gentle light from the sun warms the skin, it also burns; Phoebus Apollo never left, simply taking a backseat to the relaxed face the god now wore.
Jack scoffed. “What?”
Gritting his teeth, Will bit out, “Get o’er here,” accent thickening with rage.
Green eyes rolled, before Jack slowly began to meander over to where Will stood. The cocky son-of-a-bitch looked amused and slightly put-out, like acknowledging the blond was below him, and that Will should be grateful.
He wasn’t grateful.
Once Jack was right in front of Will, he crossed his arms and leaned until their faces were inches apart. “What, Solace?”
Quick as a flash, Will took the scalpel he snagged from his bag and stabbed Jack in the junction between his neck and shoulder. He roared in pain, stumbling back while pawing at the tool. The others yelled in shock while the blond clicked his tongue in fake disappointment
“Now, now, Jack. I was very careful and made sure to avoid any nerves, major arteries, or veins. It would be a shame if you messed it up and needed someone with more than basic first aid trainin' to patch it up, yeah?”
Jack sputtered, one hand shakily clasped around the scalpel while the other pointed accusingly at him. “What the fuck, you bitch!”
Will snorted, face stoic and eyes cold. “Go on, keep it up. Keep insultin’ the head medic while you ‘ave a sharp object dangling out o’ you.”
Stumbling forward, the son of Ares threw a punch he easily dodged. “You’re the fucker who put it in me!”
“An’ you’re the fucker who slashed my boyfriend.”
The outraged noises the other campers had been making stopped, the sharp tone cutting through the racket with ease. Jack stood still, muscles stiff at the call-out. Laughing weakly, he turned and faced the crowd. “I don’t know what he’s talking abo—”
Will flew forward and punched his jaw so hard he felt bone crack beneath his fist. Hands began holding him back as he kept trying to jump Jack, who was now cradling his bloody face. “You ‘ave been harassin’ Nico for months solely because ‘e’s a better fighter and refuses to take your shit! Your shirt is covered in his blood, an’ yer sword was drippin’!”
He lunged once more, almost breaking free, but more hands joined the mix last second, pulling him back. Will spat at Jack, the glob of spit landing on his cheek and slowly sliding down, mixing with the blood on his face in a gruesome painting. Grinning viciously, he gleefully said, “‘ave fun healin’ withou’ me, ‘cause you’re permanently banned from th’ infirmary!”
Jack’s jaw dropped as much as physically possible. “You can’t do that, that’s illegal! Isn’t there some oath or something?” He stuttered over his words, a slight lisp accompanying them; it was music to his ears.
Will cackled wildly. “I ain’t taken any oath, bitch. I’m a seventeen-year-old wi' a scalpel who’s successfully, and willin’ly, sewn limbs back on. Th’ only laws I follow are my own moral code.”
“Enough!”
Chiron’s voice rang through the small clearing, a stern glare on his face. Will stopped his struggling, standing tall with his chin raised high. He got a disappointed look from the centaur, but he didn’t give two shits; Jack’s look was furious, however, which made him giggle.
“Mr. Solace, Mr. Gomar, you both will follow me back to the Big House right this instant.”
Shrugging out of the restraining hold he was in—a glance told him Cecil, Lou Ellen, and Drew, surprisingly, while Austin was holding back a snarling Kayla—Will shot a shit-eating grin towards Jack. “Watch the scalpel, make sure to keep it clear o’ infections.”
–
“What do you mean three months of stable-duty?”
Nico’s outraged voice rang through the infirmary, but Will didn’t care about any sidelong glances they received. He was too busy gazing at his very-much-alive boyfriend. Half-heartedly shrugging, he looked back at the clipboard of Nico’s vitals, noting down the oxygen level.
“It ain’t that bad, darlin’,” the ‘intimidating, ruthless, vicious’ son of Hades blushed at the pet name, causing Will to smirk. “It’s only ‘cause I made a violent scene in front of most of camp.”
Rolling his eyes, Nico huffed, cheeks still that pretty pink shade. “What about Jack?”
The name made Will involuntarily snarl. “He’s sleepin’ in the Bi’ House, has 24-hour supervision, and intensive therapy wi’ Mr. D e’ery day fo’ two months minimum.”
Will watched his boyfriend grab at one of his hands so as to entangle pale fingers with tan, humming an absent tune all the while. Beautiful brown eyes looked up and met his, amusement doing a gorgeous dance in them, and a small smile gracing pink lips.
“Good.”