Chapter Text
Will woke up to the sun, and the unfortunate sound of screaming.
Not the "monsters are attacking the camp" kind of screaming. More like the "someone is being incredibly dramatic about a minor injury" kind. Which, unfortunately, was still his problem.
With a groan, he rolled out of bed, nearly tripping over a half-unpacked medical kit on the floor. The Apollo cabin was an organized mess—books stacked haphazardly, instruments all around the floor (the gods know who they belong to), bows and arrows littered everywhere, and a laundry pile he kept meaning to deal with. But right now, none of that mattered. Someone was screaming, and that meant he, as head healer, had to be up.
Pulling on a stray CHB shirt, Will stumbled out of his cabin, squinting against the early morning sunlight. Luckily (not) the camp was already awake—campers heading to breakfast, nymphs watering the strawberry fields, and, of course, the source of the screaming: the Ares cabin.
Will sighed. Of course. Who else has the gods damned vocal chords to wake me up.
"What now?" he muttered, jogging toward the commotion.
A small crowd had gathered outside the Ares cabin, watching as Sherman Yang clutched his foot, face twisted in exaggerated agony. Next to him, Nyssa stood with her arms crossed, looking both unimpressed and guilty.
"He stepped on one of my prototypes," she explained as Will pushed through the crowd. "I warned him not to touch it."
Sherman let out a dramatic groan. "It had spikes! I’m bleeding out! This is it for me! Tell my siblings I died bravely—"
"You have a splinter," Will deadpanned, crouching down. Sure enough, a tiny shard of celestial bronze stuck out of Sherman’s foot.
"A deadly splinter," Sherman corrected.
Will pinched the bridge of his nose. "I haven't had breakfast yet. I am not in the mood."
He grabbed a pair of tweezers from his belt (he always carried medical supplies—it was a habit at this point), plucked the splinter out in one swift movement, and gave him a small piece of ambrosia. Then the son of Ares shot up, testing his weight like nothing had happened.
"Huh. I think I’m fine."
Will gave him a flat look. "Yeah. Shocking. You didn’t die, thank the gods"
The crowd started to leave, and Will turned to Nyssa. "What was he stepping on?"
She scratched the back of her head sheepishly. "An experimental weapon. It might’ve had minor impaling properties."
Will sighed. "I don’t get paid enough for this."
"You don’t get paid at all," Nyssa pointed out.
"Exactly."
***
By the time he made it to the dining pavilion, breakfast was in full swing. Campers laughed and chattered, the smell of fresh pancakes and strawberries filling the air. Will dropped onto a bench at the Apollo table, resisting the urge to face-plant into his plate. Across from him, Kayla and Austin were deep in conversation about some new song they were working on.
"Rough morning?" Kayla asked, eyeing the dark circles under his eyes.
Will yawned. "Ares kids are allergic to common sense."
"Oh, so just a normal morning?" Austin smirked.
Will opened his mouth to reply, but then something—someone—caught his attention. A familiar figure in all black, leaning against a pillar at the edge of the pavilion, scanning the crowd like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Nico di Angelo. His grumpy little ball of darkness (cus no matter how much Nico hated that nickname, it was true).
Will’s brain did something weird, like it short-circuited for a second before restarting. Which was ridiculous. He saw Nico every day. It wasn’t like this was new. But still, the way Nico’s dark eyes flickered toward him, the way he hesitated before heading toward their table—
Will was fully awake now.
"You look terrible," Nico greeted as he sat next to him, stealing a piece of toast from Will’s plate. "Long night?"
Will huffed. "First of all, rude. Second of all—yes."
Nico quirked an eyebrow. "You should sleep more."
"You’re one to talk," Will shot back, pointing at the shadows under Nico’s own eyes. "Did you even try to sleep?"
Nico just shrugged, unbothered. "Not the point."
Will rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. This was how things worked between them—an unspoken agreement that if Will was going to worry about everyone else, Nico was going to worry about him. Even if he was terrible at taking his own advice.
"Here," Nico said, nudging his plate toward Will. "Eat more. You look like you might pass out."
Will blinked. "Are you—are you giving me food?"
"Don’t make it weird."
Will chuckled, warmth settling in his chest. Maybe mornings weren’t all bad.
Nico leaned a little closer, his voice quieter now, just enough for Will to hear him. "You should let me take care of you sometimes, you know."
Will swallowed, caught off guard. "I—yeah. I know. I’m working on it."
Nico gave him a small, knowing smirk before looking back at his plate, taking a bite from his food, like he hadn't just completely knocked the air out of Will’s lungs.
But then, just as he was starting to relax, a loud explosion echoed from the Hephaestus cabin.
Will groaned. "I just sat down!"