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‘What is this?’ Nico asked, from his seat on an overturned bucket in the corner of Leo’s Bunker.
‘Terror Squad.’
‘It's terrible.’
Leo sighed, cocking his hip and twirling his wrench with oil-slick fingers. ’No one's forcing you to listen, death-breath. Why don't you go sulk somewhere else? I'm busy.’
‘Well, since you are always 'sulking' in here, I wanted to see what was so great about it.’
Leo pursed his lips. The wrench stopped twirling
Nico shrugged. ’It's below average.’
‘What did I do...’ Leo started, leaning back into his work, tongue between his teeth, ‘to make you think—’ he paused to hammer ear-shatteringly on a strip of gleaming golden metal, ‘- I wanted to know what you think, huh?’
Nico ignored him, and when Leo shifted to put him in his peripheral, he started inspecting the black polish on his nails, one eyebrow smugly raised.
‘I don't sulk, also,’ Leo said loudly, putting his back to Nico and his stupid goth nails. ‘I'm joyful.’
’Okay.’
The Bunker was silent, then, save Leo's radio and the heavy clinking and scraping of tools. Nico was hard to talk to. Leo had never thought he'd care, but since everyone else had splintered off to make out under lakes and at the feet of giant statues of their parents, or whatever, Nico had started seeking him out. It was sort of weird. He'd always thought Nico liked being alone - it was the one thing he'd thought they had in common, actually, since Leo always seemed to say or do something stupid in front of other people, and they were always saying things like 'Leo!' and 'Can you stop?' and 'Now is not the time' and making him feel like maybe should just build himself some automaton friends and let everyone else... well, no, he liked his friends. He had to believe they liked him, too, even if he was annoying.
But Nico seemed lonely. Yeah. He must have been desperate for a little companionship if he was willing to hang around with loud-mouth-Hip-Hop-bopping Leo.
’What did they listen to in 1800s Italy, anyway?’ Leo asked, just to say something.
’You wouldn't appreciate it, so I'm not going to tell you.’
’Oh, so now I don't deserve your ancient old people music?’
’Exactly.’
Leo snorted. ’You're impossible, you know that?’
’I've been told.’ A beat, while Leo's saw hovered as he struggled for something to say, and then Nico coughed. ‘What are you working on?’
’A concept from Daedelus' laptop for Annabeth. Economical, mechanical drawers for holding scrolls and battle plans and hair ties and stuff. I'm giving them built-in heat seeking arrows that trigger if the locks are tampered with.’
‘... Cool.’
Leo let out a short breath, wavering as he pressed the saw's teeth to a block of amber-clear enchanted wood. ‘I hope so. The plans are complicated, so...’
‘It's you. You'll manage.’
Leo grinned, turning to face Nico, who was looking bored and tired with his legs crossed. ‘Obviously,’ he agreed. ‘I'm Leo Valdez! There's nothing I can't build!’
Nico rolled his eyes.
***
Leo was a bit pathetic, Nico thought, watching him from the trees. He was making some sort of emphatic motions with his hands, standing just off from Jason-and-Piper, Percy-and-Annabeth, and Frank-and-Hazel outside the Poseidon cabin, laughing. Nico wasn't sure what to make of him, these days, and he couldn't quite put his finger on what he thought was wrong, but it looked to him like Leo was putting on a stupid performance for an audience that hadn't really wanted to buy tickets.
He couldn't relate. He avoided embarrassing himself, as a rule.
So, yeah, Leo was a bit pathetic.
***
Thunder boomed. Rain pounded so loudly on the sidewalks, sounds behind the storm were drowned out completely. Leo's hair was pasted to his cheeks, wrapping around his jaw, dripping down the nape of his neck. Nico stepped closer, so their shoulders were pressed together, extended his arm behind Leo's back so he could share the Aviator jacket Nico was holding over his head. For all the good it would do. Nico's jeans were so wet, they'd become a second skin, and Leo was starting to shiver.
‘Man, did we ever pick a bad day for this.’ Of course, Leo was still smiling. Nico watched a raindrop trail into his cupid's bow.
’Don't be so pessimistic.’
’Me?’ Leo turned to look wide-eyed at Nico, his smile widening and opening like a zipper. ’That's ironic.’
Is it? Nico thought. He wasn't sure. Leo confused him. And he didn't think Leo understood who he was, either. It should have pissed him off, that they misunderstood each other so completely, but he'd volunteered to accompany a stir-crazy Leo into the city when everyone else had passed, so obviously it didn't. He'd even shadow-travelled them into Orlando, assuming it would be hot and interesting, just Leo's style. He had not checked the weather.
When they materialised in a Florida downpour, he'd taken off his jacket for an umbrella and suggested they duck in somewhere dry, instead of taking them home. He wasn't sure why. Leo's white cotton shirt was drenched. It hung off his shoulders like a heavy sheet. Nico kept looking at the point of his ears sticking out of his wet mop of hair.
Leo pushed open the doors of a bargain grocery store and heaved a dramatic, pleased sigh, stepping in front of Nico and spreading his arms like a conductor. Nico couldn't say it was comfortable, having Leo's soggy shirt sleeve stamped into his own, but for several sad seconds, his skin felt colder where Leo's arm had been.
Of all people, how did he end up with a crush on Leo Valdez?
He couldn't explain it, even to himself. They'd lived on the same ship for weeks, and the most Nico had thought about Leo was that he was obnoxious, over-the-top, and maybe even a little bit mean-spirited. He was always darting about with dirt under his fingernails and grease streaks on his cheeks, his dark eyes full of mad fire, and they barely spoke to one another, and Nico hadn't particularly cared about any of that. He'd assumed they'd part ways completely after the journey was done, since Leo didn't seem to give him much thought, either, beyond the occasional distrustful look or comment about his depressing clothes and 'weird vibe.'
Actually, he may have even disliked Leo. Just a little, maybe. His hindsight felt muggy with new feelings - the irritating way Leo burst into conversations that didn't need to involve him and the way he bobbed impatiently on his toes in his work boots like a buoy at sea when he had to wait in lines gave Nico butterflies. He wanted to hold Leo's filthy hands until his palms were sooty. Compared to the intensity of the present, negative past impressions seemed stupid and far away.
‘Oh, man, you ever try these?’ Leo was asking, pulling a bag of chips off the store shelves and waving them at Nico, so he couldn't quite make out what they were.
‘No.’
Leo let his mouth hang open for a moment before tucking the bag under his arm. ‘You're deprived, man. I swear; you've never had anything good.’
Nico swallowed a lump in his throat. ’Guess not,’ he muttered.
Meanwhile, Leo was still talking. ’What did they feed you in the 1920s, anyway?’
’40s,’ corrected Nico.
’Was fun even invented yet?’
’It was World War II,’ said Nico.
Leo's eyebrows pinched together under his shaggy bangs. ’Depressing, dude. Tone it down.’
Nico couldn't help it - he laughed. Leo was ridiculous, and Nico's stomach was tight with a pleasant hurt.
***
Except for Nico and Leo, Cabin 9 was empty. Leo had stretched out on his front and tucked his nose into his arms, snoring loudly and fakely. Nico sat with his back to the wall, fingers resting near the built-in radio.
‘It's not that bad,’ Nico said, when Leo lifted his head to yawn dramatically.
‘No, no! It's perfect... for napping.’ Leo flopped onto his back, hands on his stomach. ’What's it called?’
‘It's Freddy Martin,’ Nico told him, ‘It was really popular when I was a kid.’
’Things must have been pretty different, then, if kids liked piano concerts.’
’They were.’
’Do you miss it?’
Nico shrugged. ’There's no point missing it. It's over.’
Leo closed his eyes again, face going slack. Nico liked the neutral slant to Leo's lips, the boneless relaxation in his shoulders. He was always so wound up around his friends - Nico liked to think Leo saved this quiet, private self for him alone.
’You wanna play something?’ Leo asked, after a minute of dreamy silence. ‘I got Mario Cart, Mario Party, Super Smash Bros. Brawl, Mario Wii...’
Nico's eyes skittered across the electronics surrounding Leo's bunk as he listed titles, down at the sheets under Leo's knees, at Leo's busy fingers tap-tapping on the Camp Half-Blood logo of his orange t-shirt. ’I used to play this game,’ he said, cutting Leo off. ’It was stupid.’
’Hey, lots of games are stupid. What was it?’
Nico smiled. ‘Do you like card games?’
***
‘I don't think I'd have survived 100 years ago.’ Leo laid a Harpy face up in front of one of Nico's face-down cards. ’Seems like there was a lot of sitting still.’
’There's a lot of sitting still in every era.’ Nico shook his head, flipping his defense card to reveal Hermes. ’Your Harpy goes to Tartarus.’
They'd shifted to face each other on Leo's bed, Nico's Mythomagic deck between them. As much as he wanted to be, Nico couldn't feel embarrassed about having kept the cards into adulthood. They still gave him a muted happy feeling, something like nostalgia. It bothered him a little that Leo didn't seem to like any of his favourite things, because he wanted him to.
Still, Leo was grinning at him over his hand. ‘Just wait for this awesome move!’ he bragged.
‘Aphrodite?’ Nico smirked. ‘And Cupid. That could have been an excellent move... those cards are pretty good together, in the hands of an expert... unfortunately for you...’ He flipped three of his cards, swapped a monster for Hades. ‘You're not one.’
Leo slapped his cards down on his comforter. ’I lost?’
’Yup.’
‘Rematch!’ Leo cried. ’You won't best me again, di Angelo! You haven't seen all of Leo's moves yet.’ He wiggled his eyebrows goofily, the edges of his smile twitching, and Nico smiled.
’Give me your cards - I'll shuffle our decks.’
After another quickly lost game, Leo started cheating. Nico struggled not to be mad, at first. He took Mythomagic seriously despite himself, and Leo's flippant disregard for the rules twanged some nerdy, rule-abiding string in his heart. But then it was just funny.
’My crops are really good this year so my warriors' stamina is so awesome, I get another move, so I can attack you this turn.’ Leo slapped his Army of Men on top of Nico's.
‘You can't do that.’
’Watch me, ghost boy!’ Leo's shoulders were shrugged up to his pointed ears. He'd never outgrown his soft jaw and thick lashes, so he always looked mischievous and fey, like he was up to no good. Nico pictured Leo at the Academy he and Bianca had attended as children, tugging at his tie and getting slapped on the wrist for 'poor character' by his pinch-lipped old Grammar teacher, and laughed out loud.
’Okay, then my Council card... holds a meeting, and decides that the rest of my deck goes to war against yours.’
‘Ooh... interesting!’ Leo laid out all of his cards. ’My Pegasus cavalry moves against your skeleton army!’
’The skeletons can't die. They keep reforming every time your pegasi attack.’
’That's not fair.’
’You're not fair.’
Leo reached over to punch Nico lightly on the arm. ’It's a draw.’
’Are you surrendering?’
’No! Leo never surrenders! I'm... conceeding. To a draw.’
’If you say so.’
On Nico’s radio, Lorenz Hart was a whimpering child again, bewitched, bothered, and bewildered; in love.
***
Nico was opening a gash in the side of a training dummy, gripping his harsh Stygian with both hands. Black curls stuck to his forehead in a neat line, like a row of dark teeth. He fought in his t-shirt and skinny jeans, jumping to slash open the belly of a stuffed cyclops and dropping onto Converse soles. Most demigods preffered armour. Nico just had the silver bar he'd pierced into the cartilege of his right ear last month, catching the sun with flares and bursts when he whirled on another dummy. He hadn't even taken his ring off.
He looked fierce. Dangerous.
Leo got a sick swooping feeling in his gut whenever he saw Nico di Angelo. He used to think it was a serious case of the hibbie jeebies, but he got the same feeling at the top of roller coasters, and when he clung anxiously to the reins of the Cabin 9 chariot as it bounced on it's metal wheels around a tight turn. It was like talking to a beautiful girl, but stronger and worse.
Even though he was barely an inch (or two, but barely) taller than Leo, who was basically as puny as they came, Nico's legs looked long and thin, like a spider. Elegant. Leo wasn't sure when he'd stopped thinking that was weird and started thinking he liked the way Nico walked.
The last dummy fell to the dirt with a thump, and Nico brushed his hand along his scalp. He'd started tying most of his hair up in an elastic about a week ago, since his hair was starting to brush the collar of his t-shirt. Leo liked a good ponytail. Always had. He liked when some of the shorter strands came loose, curling around Nico's ears. Anyone's ears. It was a good hairstyle. Not for Leo, but for other people. He could appreciate it. Aesthetically.
‘Woop! Nico di Angelo, Champion Dummy three days running!’ Leo called, when Nico slipped his sword back into its scabbard at his hip.
Nico rolled his eyes. He looked hot. Like, warm. The sun was really high. It was almost noon. And it was hot outside.
‘Want to get some ice cream?’ Leo asked, when Nico had scaled the arena wall and stalked up to meet him. ’And - oof - you need a shower, man.’
’Thanks.’
’Happy to help. Just call me Leo Valdez: Advice Giver Extraordinaire.’
‘I don't think I will.’
Leo had a long history of liking people who were way out of his league. Not that he liked Nico like that, necessarily, but the point was: as they walked up the dirt track from the arena change-rooms (Nico's hair freshly washed and smelling like shampoo) into the shadows of the woods, and Nico threaded his fingers between Leo's to shadowtravel them to a gelato shop in San Fransisco, Leo felt comfortable and warm - like he'd finally found something that fit.
***
Nico went to great, creepy lengths to be alone with Leo.
The first time he'd seen him slipping away from dinner, hands buried in the pockets of his tool-belt, jingling screws with a tinkling like wind chimes, he'd jumped through the shadows after him without a second thought (his first thought being: where in the Underworld is this idiot going?). Weird that Nico spent all his extensive alone-time wishing he had friends, and Leo had them in abundance, but it was Leo who ditched get-togethers to meander alone in the woods.
He'd locked the huge door of Bunker 9 behind him, when he arrived, but Nico had never really minded locks.
‘Holy - what are you doing in here?’ Leo had jumped a foot in the air, pulling a slinky out of his tool-belt in alarm, when Nico materialised beside the blueprints for the Argo II - which where a permanent staple of the workshop decor. Leo loved that freaking boat.
Nico had shrugged.
Even as it was happening, he wasn't sure how it was happening. He'd just kept coming back to the Bunker, and Leo just kept being there. He'd say something about how Fetty Wap's voice sounded like a chorus of hungry cats, Leo would tell him to leave him alone (alone? Leo, alone? Leo liked being alone?), and Nico would ignore him, settling into the weird silver chair behind Leo and watching his back as he worked. He was stubborn like that.
Sometimes Leo danced. Just a little, like he was in a trance, his body moving through honey and his hands working a mile a minute. Nico felt his collar warm when Leo's hips shifted - he'd picked an interesting view. Well, anyway. He hadn’t done it on purpose. And it was too suspicious to move now.
So, he was sitting in his usual chair, chatting to Leo over the vocal stylings of Usher.
‘You must really like Roxanne,’ Leo said, casual, leaning with his elbows on his worktable, ankles crossed. He'd been heating bronze with his bare hands, flames leaping up his forearms, and there was still molten metal on his fingertips, gleaming under the overhanging lights.
Nico's brow furrowed. ’Roxanne?’
’The chair.’ Leo nodded. ‘I mean, she is pretty great—‘
’Let me guess: rocket propelled. Hidden ninja stars?’
’Steam powered. And she shoots tennis balls. All her legs revolve, shooting - pew, pew - like a tennis crazed octopus. She also makes perfect toast.’
Nico smiled fondly, shaking his head. ‘Naturally.’
’You've been sitting there every day since, what, like... uh, four months ago? And you never even asked her name! You've got a lot to learn about the ladies, di Angelo.’
’Uh. Huh.’
Leo yawned. ’What time is it, anyway?’
‘2 in the morning.’
’Woah! Yeah... you must really like Roxanne if you're skipping sleep over her.’ Leo's voice hitched awkwardly over 'Roxanne', and his vibrant eyes crackled like sparks in a bonfire.
’I'm not big on tennis.’
’No? So, uh, why. I mean. Why are you always, like, sitting there?’
Nico sighed. ’There's, uh…’ He grimaced. Leo was so jumpy and obviously unsure, and filthy; he was covered with flakes of gold and sparkling-rust, like he was half-machine himself, and Nico knew - he had learnt, after all these months - that he was awkward. He couldn't make himself lie to him. ’Someone other than Roxanne I like.’
‘Buford?’ suggested Leo squeakily and stupidly.
’No.’ Nico looked up, staring straight at Leo. ‘Someone else.’
Leo straightened up, grinning shiftily, putting his hands in his tool-belt and rattling so loudly and anxiously, Nico almost couldn't hear him say, ’wow. No one's ever been into me before.’
Nico was silent. His eyes were intense in a way only a super-powerful necromancer's could be - wild, ancient, scary.
’Um.’ Leo wiped his palms on his stained white shirt, streaking grease across his hip bones. ’Yeah.’
’Um yeah?’ Nico grumbled, in his suave deep voice. ’Um yeah?’ He huffed out a breath.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Leo. ‘You wanna make out?’
Nico blinked, his face suddenly comically incredulous. ’Are you saying... that you, uh, feel the same? Gods, no; that sounds stupid. But are you?’
‘I can't believe the King of Ghosts is about to be my first kiss,’ Leo said, instead of answering. His chest felt tight. He was getting a bad case of the jitters. He wanted something to happen - he was desperate to move, to do something. And he wasn't good at feelings, it turned out, for all the times he'd professed deep crushes on random girls. He'd never gotten this far. And never with someone he... cared about. Oh, shit. He had no idea what he was doing! Did he like like Nico? Did he? Maybe! Was he okay with that? He wasn't not okay with it. He just felt like a live wire; a frayed electrical cord.
Nico didn't look happy. He looked like he'd reached into a bag of skittles, thinking they were smarties. Sort of confused. But he didn't look unhappy either, like... skittles were good, too, just unexpected. Leo liked skittles a lot, actually.
Leo reached into the vat of false self confidence he kept in his twisting gut, muttered 'Team Leo... phew' and stepped across the cement floor to kiss the hard line of Nico's stupid mouth. Softly. He actually missed, but he got the corner and the part of cheek where his dimples appeared when he smiled, so... point Leo Valdez.
And then Nico's hands were wrapping around his forearms, and Nico was kissing him, eyes closed, shoulders stiff as a corpse.
’Do you want to go out with me, Nico di Angelo?’ Leo asked, when Nico pulled his mouth away.
’I asked you first.’
‘I asked you second. So? What do you say?’
Nico smirked. ‘Um… yeah.’