#nicoandhazel

[1-2-4sudoku]

Hazel: Nico, I need help with boy problems.

Nico: Do you mean ‘you like him ‘problems or ‘his dead body won’t fit in the trunk of your car’ problems?

Hazel: I like him.

Nico: That’s too bad. I could have helped you with the other one.

[1-2-4sudoku]

Nico in HoO series

Nico: No one cares about me and I don’t care about anyone. 

*Hazel falls and skins her knee*

Nico: Oh, are you okay? Do you need some nectar? I’ll go get you some nectar right now!

[1-2-4sudoku]

Midnight Visits

Based on my head canon.

Nico di Angelo drifted down the hallways in the Argo 2. He hadn’t been able to sleep well since Tartarus. Nightmares plagued him wherever he turned, and the weight of snug blankets felt constraining. He didn’t like snug. How could he, after what he’d experienced?

So, instead of sleeping, Nico wandered through the ship, haunting the corridors. Usually, he ended up in one place- Hazel’s room.

He felt compelled to check on her, like a newborn baby, which Hazel wasn’t. She was a teenager, like him. But still, he had to see if she was alright.

Hazel slept with her hair tied back, away from her face, and curled up comfortably. Nico could feel a strong aura of life from her, but still he worried. She was so still. Was she too still?

He held his hand under her nose and felt warm air. Relief flooded him and he let out a breath of his own.

Nico couldn’t stop thinking that as soon as he turned his back, something would happen to Hazel. She was strong, intelligent, but so was Bianca. Bianca was dead. He wasn’t about to lose another sister.

He’d always been more attentive to his younger sister. When he took her to Camp Jupiter, he didn’t want to leave her. Even though he just met her, he didn’t ever want her to feel abandoned. He watched her spar carefully, ready to drop everything and run to her if she needed him.

Now, it was worse. Every scrape and bruise sped up Nico’s heart. When Hazel went anywhere, he was terrified that she would never return.

If someone grabbed him a year ago and told him: “Nico, pretty soon you’re going to become an overprotective big brother!” he would never believe them. He tried not to be overprotective, anyway.

No matter what happened, he held frantic words at bay. He didn’t sprint to her, keep her too close to him, or let his tone change, for her sake. If he worried, she would worry more.

This was war. He couldn’t puppyguard her when she was in a prophecy. He had to watch from the sidelines and try to control his breathing while his baby sister did anything even remotely dangerous. 

Nico couldn’t close his eyes at night until he’d checked her pulse. He couldn’t watch twist in her sleep without a soft Italian lullaby slipping out from between his lips. He couldn’t think of sleep without rushing to check on her in the dead of night, so he didn’t.