Will Solace And Nico’s Kiss

Will looked up at him. The sun caught in Nico’s hair, softening the sharp edges of his face. For one reckless second, Will forgot the watching campers. Forgot the swords. Forgot every reason this was a terrible idea.

He wanted to pull Nico down.

Instead, he said, “You’re enjoying this.”

Nico’s expression changed. The almost-smile disappeared, replaced by something guarded. “Don’t make it weird.”

“You’re the one standing over me.”

“I won.”

“You cheated.”

“I used your mistake.”

“That’s what cheating is when you’re pretty.”

The words escaped before Will could stop them.

Nico went still.

A shout rose near the archery range. Someone laughed. A sword clattered against a shield. The camp carried on, but Will felt as if the entire meadow had turned toward them.

Nico lowered his blade. “You should watch what you say.”

“Why?”

“Because people listen.”

Will pushed himself upright. “People already listen. They just pretend they don’t.”

Nico glanced toward the Big House. Chiron stood on the porch speaking with one of the senior campers. Mr. D’s voice drifted faintly from inside, complaining about something no one could hear. Beyond the porch, the boundary of the grounds shimmered in the heat, more felt than seen - a pressure beneath the skin, a reminder that Camp Half-Blood was never as private as it looked.

Nico sheathed his sword. “Training’s over.”

“Not for me.”

“You’re a healer. You can’t be injured by losing once.”

“I’m not injured.”

“Your pride is.”

Will rose, brushing grass from his jeans. “Wait by the tool shed after dinner.”

Nico’s gaze snapped back to him. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you said it like you were asking me to meet you in a dark alley.”

“I’m asking you to meet me somewhere people won’t stare.”

“That place doesn’t exist here.”

“Then give me five minutes somewhere people stare less.”

Nico’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

Will did know. That was the problem.

He had spent weeks pretending the warmth between them was just exhaustion after patrols, just the strange intimacy of tending Nico’s cuts, just the way Nico sometimes lingered in the infirmary doorway after everyone else left. Pretending had become easier than admitting that every time Nico looked at him, Will wanted something he couldn’t name without making it real.

Now Nico was looking at him like Will had already made it real.

“Five minutes,” Will said. “That’s all.”

Nico’s eyes dropped to Will’s mouth.

The answer was there, brief and unmistakable.

Then Nico turned away. “After dinner.”

Will’s relief lasted three seconds.

A dry cough sounded from the edge of the meadow.

Will glanced over. A satyr stood beside the Big House garden, half-hidden behind a stand of strawberry plants. He looked young, though that meant little with satyrs, and he was staring at them with open curiosity. When Will met his eyes, the satyr immediately bent over a patch of weeds.

Too late.

Nico had seen him too.

“Five minutes,” Nico repeated, quieter now. “And if anyone follows us, I’m leaving.”

“Deal.”

Nico walked toward the cabins without looking back.

Will watched him go until the whistle for dinner broke the spell.

• * *

They met behind the Big House after sunset, where the meadow sloped toward the trees. The air smelled of crushed clover and woodsmoke from the dining pavilion. Lantern light glowed through the porch windows, and voices carried across the grounds in fragments.

Five minutes, Will reminded himself.

Nico appeared between two oak trees, dressed in black as usual, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He looked like he had been carved out of the darkness and then dropped into the meadow by mistake.

“You came,” Will said.

“You sound surprised.”

“I’m trying not to sound desperate.”

“You’re failing.”

Will smiled despite himself. “You noticed.”

“I notice everything.”

They stood several feet apart. It felt farther than the arena had.

Will had imagined this moment all through dinner: Nico arriving, Nico stepping close, Nico finally saying something honest. In his imagination, Will had been charming. Calm. Maybe even mysterious.

In reality, he had no idea what to do with his hands.

Nico looked past him toward the porch. “This is a bad place.”

“I know.”

“Chiron can see most of the grounds from there.”

“I know.”

“The naiads gossip.”

“I know.”

“And there’s a satyr watching us.”

Will froze. “What?”

Nico nodded toward the trees.

The same satyr stood near the garden path, pretending to inspect a flower. His ears twitched at every word.

Will exhaled. “That is deeply unfair.”

“Welcome to my life.”

“Do you want to go?”

Nico’s eyes returned to him. “Do you?”

The question landed harder than any sword strike.

Will stepped closer. “No.”

Nico’s fingers flexed inside his pockets. “Why?”

“Because I asked you to come.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is when I’m trying to be brave.”

Something flickered across Nico’s face - fear, maybe, or recognition. “Bravery gets people killed.”

“So does avoiding everything until there’s nothing left.”

Nico flinched.

Will regretted the words instantly. “I didn’t mean - ”

“Yes, you did.”

“I meant I don’t want to keep pretending.”

Nico laughed once, without humor. “Pretending is safer.”

“For who?”

“For you.”

The lanterns on the porch trembled in the wind. Somewhere near the cabins, a conch shell sounded, followed by shouts and footsteps. Campers crossed the meadow in groups, close enough that Will could make out familiar faces. Every passing glance felt like a match held near dry grass.

Nico lowered his voice. “You think this is some harmless thing because you’re used to people wanting you around.”

Will stared at him. “You think I want you because I’m bored?”

“I think you don’t understand what happens when people decide I’m something they can use.”

The anger in his voice was controlled, but barely. Will knew that tone. He had heard it when Nico came to the infirmary with injuries he refused to explain. He had seen it when someone asked too many questions about the Underworld.

Will reached for him, then stopped before touching him. “I’m not asking you to trust me because I’m a son of Apollo.”

“Good.”

“I’m asking because it’s me.”

Nico looked at Will’s waiting hand. His expression shifted, the sharpness giving way to something tired.

“You say that like it makes things easier.”

“It should.”

“It makes them worse.”

Will let his hand fall. “Why?”

Nico swallowed. “Because I do trust you.”

The words seemed to strip the air from the meadow.

Nico looked away, toward the dark line of trees. “That’s the part I can’t control. I trust you with my injuries. With things I don’t tell anyone else. I trust you not to look at me like I’m already halfway gone.” His voice thinned. “And if this is only a game to you, I don’t know what I’ll do when you get tired of it.”

Will’s chest tightened.

He had wanted proof of attraction. A stolen touch. A kiss he could carry back to his bunk and examine until morning.

Instead, Nico had handed him something far more fragile.

Will crossed the distance between them slowly. “Look at me.”

Nico did.

“I’m not tired,” Will said. “I’m scared.”

Nico’s brow furrowed. “Of me?”

“Of wanting something I can’t fix with ambrosia or a good night’s sleep.”

That earned the smallest breath of laughter. It vanished quickly, but Will caught it.

“Will,” Nico warned.

“Tell me to stop.”

Nico’s gaze dropped to his mouth again. “I should.”

“You should.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Then don’t.”

Nico reached for the front of Will’s shirt and pulled him in.

The kiss was not gentle at first. It was too long delayed, too full of all the words they had swallowed. Nico’s mouth pressed against his with a fierce uncertainty, as if he expected Will to disappear the moment he leaned in. Will answered by cupping Nico’s face, feeling the coolness of his skin beneath his palm.

Nico shivered.

Will kissed him again, slower this time. He tasted mint and the bitter edge of coffee, felt Nico’s fingers tighten in his shirt. The meadow blurred around them - the lanterns, the porch, the voices of campers returning from dinner. There was only Nico’s breath catching when Will brushed his thumb along his cheek, only the way Nico leaned closer despite every instinct telling him to run.

When they broke apart, Nico stayed close enough that their foreheads touched.

“That was more than five minutes,” he whispered.

“Then we should stop.”

Nico’s hand slid from Will’s shirt to his waist. “I didn’t say that.”

Will smiled against his mouth. “You’re very bossy for someone who just lost a sparring match.”

Nico kissed him again, quick and sharp. Then again, softer. By the third kiss, Will had backed him against the old oak, the rough bark pressing through Nico’s jacket while Nico’s hands curled at Will’s shoulders.

A branch cracked nearby.

Nico went rigid.

Will turned.

The satyr stood at the edge of the meadow, eyes wide. He had dropped a bundle of flowers. White petals scattered over the grass.

For one suspended second, nobody moved.

Then the satyr bolted toward the Big House.

Nico shoved away from the tree. “Damn it.”

Will caught his wrist. “Wait.”

“Let go.”

“I can fix this.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

Nico yanked free and stepped backward. The warmth between them vanished, replaced by distance and cold air.

Will’s stomach dropped. “Nico - ”

“You wanted a private moment.” Nico’s voice shook with anger. “You got one. Congratulations.”

“I didn’t know he was there.”

“You knew this place wasn’t private.”

“I thought you were worth the risk.”

Nico stared at him.

The words had sounded romantic in Will’s head. Here, beneath the Big House lights, they sounded like a threat.

Nico’s face closed. “Don’t say things like that unless you mean all of them.”

“I do.”

But Nico was already moving toward the trees.

Behind them, the satyr’s voice rose near the porch, urgent and breathless.

“I saw them,” he was saying. “I saw Will Solace and Nico di Angelo kissing in the meadow.”

A door opened.

Will couldn’t see who stepped outside. He only saw Nico stop at the edge of the shadows.

Nico looked back once.

The question in his eyes was worse than anger: Was Will going to follow him, or stand there and let the camp decide what they were?

Will took one step forward.

From the porch, a familiar voice called his name.

Nico disappeared into the trees.

Will remained beneath the oak, Nico’s warmth still lingering on his mouth, while the Big House watched him choose.

End of chapter one. 4 more chapters in the full book.