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The year is 1890.
Nico and Will had been doing this… this thing, whatever it is, for all of eight months now. They’d been able to come to an agreement with Renya and Thalia about what to do and how to do it. They traded off visits sporadically, so nothing like that first time would happen again. So Nico and Reyna, in their proper gentlemen and ladyness, wouldn’t get caught together warming beds they weren’t supposed to be in, in a part of town they were supposed to be afraid of.
But on the nights that they were able to spend together, when they met up, Will and his brash mouth would call him sweetheart and darlin’, with a wide grin and no pretense of shame. Nico would mostly respond by calling him a moron, and biting bruises into his throat. But, in the din of the morning, through heavy lidded eyes and with molasses-slow fingers, he would brush errant blond curls off of Will’s forehead and call him love. Then Will would smile soft at him, an easy pink thing that Nico knew that nobody in the world got to see but him.
And it worked for them. It worked well. Everything was fine, and no one besides his wife knew about his precious golden little secret that he kept, which worked for him, because she had one too.
That was, until, Will, Thalia, and her brother turned up at Pylos Springs in the middle of the night, with Will bleeding out through two bullet wounds in his chest.
Nico is shaken awake by Reyna, who has a wild and scared look on her face when he blinks his eyes open. Her hair is falling loosely from her nightcap - Nico’s never seen her so unnerved.
“Will’s hurt,” She whispers. “Bad. He’s in the parlor. Thalia just came in to wake me. No idea how they got in here.”
Nico’s up like a shot at that, out of bed. “ Fuck.” He runs out of their room, not bothering with his robe or anything, the hem of his nightshirt whipping loosely around his knees. Reyna is close behind him as they scurry down the long hallways of the hotel, into the stairwell and descend into the parlor. No guest comes out of their room to complain about the beating of their running footsteps - thank God for the off season, Nico thinks a little hysterically.
When they finally make it into the room, there are three figures that Nico is able to make out. Thalia, pacing back and forth, Will, bleeding out on a leather canapé, and a man that Nico’s never seen before using one of the very nice towels they keep on hand for guests to stop the blood flow.
“Oh, God.” Nico chokes out as he runs over to the leather couch and kneels by Will’s side, the cold of the hardwood biting into his bare legs. “Oh God. What the fuck did you do?”
Will is sweating something fierce, so pale he’s almost gray under his tan, but he’s still conscious. He reaches his hand out, wincing hard in pain, and cups Nico’s face. “Nice to see you too, sweetheart,” He drawls. He’s trying to sound like his normal self, Nico can tell, but his voice is thin. It makes his heart crawl up into his throat.
Nico turns to face Reyna. “Go wake up Frank.” He says. His voice is breathy, shaking in fear.
“Your brother-in-law?” Says the unknown man. “Is he a doctor?”
Nico studies his face. He’s got a shock of white-blonde hair, and a scar on his upper lip, but the way his nose arches, the curves of his cheek bones, the shape of his brows, and the electric blue of his eyes are familiar. This must be Jason Grace, then, he thinks. “Frank’s a veterinarian.”
Jason looks at Thalia, and then back at Will, when he snorts and then winces. “I’m not actually a dog, no matter what you say, darlin’.” His blue eyes have gone glassy.
“Oh, hush,” Nico responds, squeezing his hand. He looks back at Thalia and Reyna. “It's our best shot, and you know it.”
“It is,” Reyna responds, stern faced. She squares her shoulders in decision. “I’ll go get him.”
The year is 1890.
Will has been unconscious for two full days, and then some, when Nico feels his hand twitch.
Hazel and Frank had taken his and Reyna’s lavender marriage in stride.
(“I mean, we knew something was up,” Hazel had said, once Frank had finished pulling bullets from Will’s torso, wrapping it in gauze, and moving his unconscious form onto Nico’s side of his and Reyna’s bed. “I got pregnant with Mary two months after Frank and I were married. And your saddle in the barn is really worn, but you never ride here. You’re not as discrete as you think you are.” Nico had gaped at her, and Hazel had laughed softly in response. “I think we’re more worried that you two both managed to get involved with, like, notorious outlaws. How did that happen?”
Nico had rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous tick at that. “I don’t know about Reyna, but Will was the one who kidnapped me a few years ago.” He responded sheepishly.
“Fucking what?” Hazel had yowled in response.)
Will’s hand twitches, where Nico, who has kept a constant vigil for the past two days by his bedside, has been holding it. Nico squeezes softly in response, and Will’s thumb rubs over his fingers one by one until it comes to rest on the small callus Nico has from holding a pen on his middle finger.
(“Only spot you’ll ever have on those pretty little hands, I bet.” Will had said, some months ago. Nico had rolled his eyes and kissed the words out of his mouth.)
Will keeps his eyes closed, thumbing over the spot for a second more. Then, with a voice crackly and dry from disuse, he says, “Don’t tell me I took you with me when I died, pretty boy.”
Nico lets out a warbling, wet little laugh. “Why do you think you’re dead?”
Will’s eyes are still closed. His tongue darts out of his mouth to wet his chapped lips. “Well, for starters, last thing I remember, I was fallin’ off my horse after gettin’ shot at. For seconds, this is the most comfortable bed I’ve ever had the pleasure of layin’ in. And third, you’re here.”
Nico brings his hand to his mouth, pressing a small kiss to the rough, recently healed split skin of Will’s knuckles. “You’re in my bed,” he whispers softly. “Of course I’m here.”
That’s what makes Will’s eyes open, small slivers of cornflower blue peaking through gummy, stuck together pale lashes. He hisses minutely at the intrusion of the light before opening them wider, heavy lids begging to close again, but staring at Nico unabashedly. “Oh now I know I’m dead. You’re bein’ way too nice to me.”
“Oh, shut up,” Nico nips out.
Pink lips curl up into a pleased little bow. “There you are.” Will tries to reach his hand up to cup Nico’s face, and groans in pain.
“Don’t move!” Nico exclaims. “You’ll pull at your stitches. Here, let me…” He trails off, and gets up from the chair that he’d used to keep constant watch over Will for the past few days, and walks around to Reyna’s side of the bed. “Don’t move.”
He feels Will watching him with amused eyes as he crawls under the covers, situating himself on his side as close to Will as possible without jostling his body or his bandages. The pillow smells like Reyna’s bandoline, and while it wasn’t a bad smell, it just wasn't what Nico wants right now. He slides closer to Will, slowly and carefully, until his body is flush with Will’s side, and his nose is tucked against the perfect curve of Will’s jaw. He feels Will lean his head into his face, ever so slightly.
“Happy there, pretty boy?” Will says, the rumble of his throat shaking against Nico’s cheek.
“I was so scared, Will,” Nico breathes out. “Frank was pulling bullets out of you and the couch downstairs was covered in so much blood, and then you passed out, but your eyes were still open, and I thought-” His throat feels tight as he cuts himself off. He hasn’t allowed himself to cry these past two days, but right now, running on fumes and fear, he feels big, hot drops of salt run down the side of his face and onto Will’s neck.
Will nuzzles his cheek against Nico’s forehead, and worms his hand out from where it had been trapped between their bodies. He lays it gently on Nico’s thigh, running it back and forth in tiny little movements so he doesn’t hurt himself further. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay. I’m okay.”
“I screamed my throat bloody. I was kneeling there barefooted, in my nightshirt, in the middle of the parlor, in front of God and everybody, and I screamed so loud I woke up baby Mary, five floors up, because I thought you had died.” Nico pauses, letting a few more tears fall, letting himself feel Will’s big, alive hand running over his thigh. “It took Jason literally grabbing my hand and holding it around your neck to feel that you still had a pulse to get me to stop.”
“Jason’s good people,” Will murmurs.
Nico laughs wetly. “He is. He’s been taking care of me recently.”
Will hums in response. “What do you mean?”
“Well, Hazel and Frank still have a resort to run, even if it's the off season. Thalia and Reyna have been helping out but, you know, they have their own thing to do. So Jason’s been making sure I like, eat and change clothes. I’d still be in that bloodied up nightshirt if it wasn’t for him.”
“You need help eating, darlin’? Been spending too much time with baby Mary?”
Nico flicks Will gently on the hip. “I’m sorry, the love of my life was shot twice and almost bled out, so I’ve been in a state of panic while in a constant vigil at his bedside. Excuse me if I forget to have a bowl of consommé brunoise every now and then.”
“I don’t even know what that is.”
“Soup, idiot.”
Nico feels Will pinch his thigh softly. “Sit up for me, will you?”
“Oh shit,” Nico huffs, as he sits up quickly, giving Will a quick once over. “Was I hurting you?”
“No, I just wanted to see your face.” Nico glares at him, but there’s no heat behind it. “The love of your life?” Will says, sotto voce.
A brilliant vermilion color starts at the bridge of Nico’s nose, and makes its way across his face in a fast, heated path. Will’s staring at him softly, expectantly. “I mean,” Nico says, matching Will’s timbre. “I don’t run around in my nightshirt and screech myself raw for just anybody.” The smile that Will gives him is that same easy pink thing he usually only sees in the dim morning light. Nico leans over, ever so slowly, cognizant of the stitches he needs to not disturb, puts his hands on Will’s cheeks, and kisses the smile off his face.
They’ve kissed a lot. This isn’t like any kiss that they’ve shared before. It’s not heated, or biting, or full of charged promise, but it’s so heady that Nico almost swoons. You’re everything to me, it says. I’ll come back to you. Will’s lips move against his. Always. I promise. Will sucks on his tongue, for just a moment. I love you, it whispers. When Nico pulls back, huffing for air softly, Will looks up at him with wide eyes, pupils so blown there’s only a thin ring of visible blue.
“I love you,” Will sighs out, reverent. “So much.”
“I know, cornflower.” Will’s lips twitch up at the nickname. “I know.”
Nico leans back in, and kisses him again, and again, and again, until -
“You’re going to re-injure him,” a voice says.
Nico wrenches his head back from Will’s mouth and looks up at the now open door, where Jason and Frank are standing. Jason looks amused. Frank’s face is a mix of worry and scandalization.
Will turns his head languidly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, to look at their guests. “Hey, Sparky,” he says to Jason in greeting. “Nico, you didn’t tell me your brother-in-law was a fuckin’ giant.”
“It never came up,” Nico says dryly.
“Nico?” Frank questions.
Nico looks at him before Will makes a small sound of understanding. “Ah… I forget that you’ve got a prim and proper fancy little name, pretty boy. Should I call you Niccolò when we’re in front of your family, dear?” He says the last sentence in what Nico assumes is supposed to be an imitation of his accent. Nico glares at him.
“I see you’re feeling better,” Jason snorts out.
“Somewhat,” Will agrees. “I’m thankful for the hot nurse,” he says, gesturing to Nico.
“Shut the fuck up, actually.” Nico barks out. He looks over at Frank, who’s hovering in the doorway, watching the scene with wide eyes. “I made a mistake. Don’t change the bandages. Let him die of infection.”
“I would, but then we wouldn’t have anyone to charge for replacing the couch downstairs,” Frank responds primly, as he sits Will up and begins to unwrap his torso.
“You were serious about that?” Jason exclaims at the same time Will utters “For real?”
“With what money?” Jason says, exasperatedly.
“You’re the notorious bandit,” Frank shrugs. “You tell me. It’s a solid mahogany leather and goose down antique too.”
“I don’t know if you noticed,” Jason says, deadpan, “But our last job went a little sideways. We’re not exactly liquid right now.”
Frank looks at him for a long time, then looks at Nico, and Will, and where Will is holding Nico’s hand as he winces every time the dressing change hurts him. “You could always work it off.”
“What?”
“Work it off,” Frank says. “You know, to repay the debt. Stay here. Work at the hotel.”
“I don’t know how well ah-” Will hisses. “That would work. We’ve got wanted posters all over the state of California with our faces on them. I think your guests would notice.”
“You’re giving rich people too much credit.” Frank muses. “You’re not going anywhere for the next month at least, anyway. So if we cut your hair, get Thalia to grow hers out, and I don’t know…” He stares hard at Jason for a second. “Put a pair of glasses on him, and dress the three of you like respectable members of society, no one would suspect anything.”
“It could work,” Nico murmurs, rubbing his thumb over Will’s knuckles softly.
“Are any of you good with babies?” Frank asks. Nico shoots him a look, and his stern thinking posture curls into something softer, sweeter. “Hazel’s pregnant again,” he smiles out.
“Really?” Nico asks softly.
“I am,” Will says, as Frank lays him back into the bed. Three pairs of eyes look at him sharply. “Good with babies. I’m good with babies. Not pregnant.”
“That’s a relief,” Jason says sarcastically.
“For real?” Nico questions.
Will shrugs, then winces at the movement. “I’m the oldest of five. You get good with things like that.”
“I mean, if you’re okay with being a nursemaid, I think it would definitely work.” Frank says. Will gives an acquiescing little head nod. “Reyna has been asking us to hire a stable assistant anyway. And Leo keeps asking for someone to help him with the hydroelectric stuff. Will called you Sparky,” Frank says, looking at Jason. “Do you know anything about electricity?”
“I called him Sparky because he lights the explosives we use on our jobs,” Will snorts out.
Jason points to Will lazily in agreement. “I’m sure I could learn, though.”
When the four of them finally have some semblance of a plan cooked up, of how to hide the three bandits at Pylos Springs so they can pay off the cost of the antique couch, (or at least, that's what Frank says it's for.) Frank and Jason excuse themselves to go introduce the plan to Renya, Thalia, and Hazel.
Will’s eyes are heavy and fluttering when Nico lays back down next to him, taking his hand in his once again.
“You don’t have to leave,” Nico whispers out.
“Not for a little while, at least,” Will responds, his words already slurred with sleep.
“Not ever, if you want,” Nico says even quieter, and when Will doesn’t respond, Nico draws in a breath to repeat himself, but then he hears Will’s deep, even inhales, and sees his pale lashes fanned across his speckled cheeks.
He lays back down, presses his nose to the curve of Will’s jaw, and thinks to himself, I finally have this. It took four years, $25,000, countless hookups in a seedy cantina, and two gunshot wounds, but I finally have this.