Solangelo

Nico di Angelo: cold, reserved, sarcastic, independent, secretive, loyal, protective, brave, emotionally guarded, thoughtful.

Will Solace: warm, cheerful, caring, patient, optimistic, responsible, supportive, friendly, confident, compassionate.

The Hades cabin is quieter than the rest of camp.

Not silent—never truly silent—but the kind of quiet that settles into your bones, that softens everything until even breathing feels like it should be done carefully. Shadows stretch along the walls, curling into corners, lingering longer than they should. The air is cool, steady, untouched by the chaos that usually hums through Camp Half-Blood.

It’s late.

Or maybe it’s early.

Time feels blurred in here, softened by the low light and the slow rhythm of three people who don’t quite want the night to end.

You’re sitting on Nico’s bed, back propped comfortably against the headboard, a blanket loosely draped over your legs. The faint glow of a small lamp casts dim light across the room, just enough to see by, just enough to keep the shadows from swallowing everything entirely.

But you don’t mind the shadows.

Not tonight.

Because you’re not alone in them.

Will is stretched out beside you, his head resting in your lap, golden hair catching what little light there is, making it glow faintly even here. One of his arms is thrown lazily across his stomach, the other resting loosely against your leg, like he had reached out at some point without thinking and just… left it there.

On your other side, Nico is pressed close, his head resting against your chest, one arm wrapped securely around your waist. His grip isn’t tight, not restrictive, but it’s firm enough to say something without words. Like he doesn’t want to drift too far, even in sleep.

The three of you had spent the entire day together.

Training, wandering, talking—filling every moment you could before summer slipped away and everything shifted again. There had been laughter, arguments, quiet stretches where no one felt the need to speak. The kind of day that felt easy. Natural.

And now, here, in the quiet aftermath of it all, none of you seem ready to let it end.

Even if your bodies are starting to give in.

Will stirs slightly in your lap, shifting just enough to get comfortable again, though his movements are slower now, heavier with exhaustion. His eyes are half-lidded, blinking lazily up at you like he’s trying to stay present, trying not to let sleep win just yet.

Nico isn’t much different.

You can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing against you, slow and even, his body warm despite the coolness of the cabin. Every now and then, his grip around your waist tightens just slightly, like a subconscious reminder that you’re still there.

They’re both fighting it.

Sleep.

And maybe something else, too.

“Y’know…” Nico’s voice is quiet, roughened slightly by exhaustion, words slurring just a little at the edges. “…I’ve always wondered what it’d be like…”

You glance down at him, your hand instinctively coming to rest lightly against his shoulder, grounding, steady.

“What?” you ask softly.

Nico shifts slightly, his head tilting just enough to look up at you, though his eyes don’t fully open. There’s something vulnerable in the way he hesitates, like the thought itself is heavier than he expected.

Before he can finish—

“What it’d be like to kiss you.”

Will’s voice cuts in, just as soft, just as tired, but far more direct.

Your gaze flicks down to him.

He hasn’t moved much, still curled comfortably against your lap, but there’s a faint flush across his face now, barely visible in the dim light. His eyes are still half-closed, like he’s too tired to fully process what he just said—or maybe too tired to stop himself from saying it.

For a moment, the room feels even quieter.

If that’s possible.

Nico groans softly, the sound muffled slightly against you. “Will,” Nico mutters, voice low and laced with embarrassment, “shut up…”

There’s no real bite to it.

Just… something flustered, something unguarded that rarely slips through.

“You shut up,” Will mumbles back almost immediately, shifting slightly under your hand, burrowing deeper into the blanket. “You started it…”

“I didn’t—” Nico cuts himself off with a quiet huff, clearly too tired to argue properly. “…whatever.”

Neither of them moves away.

If anything, they settle closer.

Will shifts slightly, his hand curling just a little against your leg, like he’s anchoring himself there. Nico’s grip around your waist loosens only slightly, enough to adjust, not enough to let go.

And suddenly, the weight of their words lingers.

Not loud.

Not overwhelming.

But there.

Present.

You don’t say anything right away.

You don’t have to.

Because this—this moment—is fragile in a way that doesn’t need to be disturbed.

The three of you have always been close.

Best friends.

That’s what you call it.

What you’ve always called it.

But moments like this—quiet, unguarded, softened by exhaustion and something deeper—make it harder to define. Harder to pretend it’s just that.

Will lets out a quiet sigh, his breathing evening out slightly, like he’s slipping closer to sleep despite himself. “I mean it,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper now, almost lost in the quiet of the room. “I think about it sometimes…”

Nico goes still.

Not tense.

Just… still.

Like he’s listening, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

“…yeah,” Nico admits after a moment, just as quiet, just as soft. “Me too.”

The confession hangs there, suspended in the dim light, in the quiet space between breaths.

Neither of them elaborates.

Neither of them pulls away.

They’re too tired for overthinking. Too tired for walls, for deflection, for hiding behind anything but the truth that slipped out before they could stop it.

And you—

You’re caught in the middle of it.

Literally.

Will in your lap.

Nico against your chest.

Both of them close in a way that feels natural, familiar… and suddenly something more.

You could respond.

You could laugh it off, brush it aside, pretend it was just exhaustion talking.

You could say something honest.

You could say nothing at all.

The choice is yours.

The moment stretches, quiet and waiting, like the world itself has paused just long enough to let you decide what comes next.

But before anything can break it—

Will exhales slowly, his body going heavier against you, sleep finally claiming him. His grip loosens, his breathing deepens, the tension leaving him all at once.

Nico follows not long after.

His hold around your waist softens, his head settling more fully against you as his breathing evens out, sleep pulling him under just as easily.

And just like that—

They’re both asleep.

Leaving you there in the quiet, in the dim glow of the cabin, with their words still lingering in the air, unfinished, unanswered.

The night hasn’t ended yet.

Not really.

But something has shifted.

And when morning comes—

Nothing is going to feel quite the same.