AN:
This one is based off a small tumblr prompt SB sent me. 

It's crack, unsurprisingly.

Sometimes, Nico comes to blame his mother whenever he finds himself stuck in life. She is, after all, the one that birthed him, and therefore the one that brought him into this mess of a world tackily held together with stress and money, slapped with a label of society upon it. But then again, going by that logic, he could then justify that perhaps it was actually his grandmother's fault for bringing him into the world, or maybe his great grandmother's and the many more before her time until he ends up dating back to the very beginning of the universe.

So, realistically, he knows that whenever he does get stuck in life, it's a consequence of his own mistakes. It's not his fault he's a walking disaster, but he knows he can't legitimately blame anyone else for all the disasters he ends up walking into.

Which is what brings him here, to this present early morning hour, slouched across his desk with a pen scribing scruffy words held in the grip of his cramped, right hand. The words in the textbook blur together into a syllabary smear of literature analogies despite his glasses, and his rundown copy of Mrs Dalloway sits doggy-eared upon a forgotten corner of his desk. Both written and unwritten flashcards are sprawled all over the carpet, and Nico would probably spare a moment of his time to pick them up if he actually had a moment to spare.

Never has he ever regretted college more in his life, because this whole thirty-hours-before-the-exam study binge is going to be the absolute end of him.

By the time 4am hits, he thinks he's reached his limit, but then the risen birds beyond his window chirp out vulgar motivations, screeching in their songful tunes telling him to get his ass back to work. Absentmindedly, Nico wonders if this is how the protagonist in his assigned reading had felt in his hallucinations – and although Nico is no military man, he is fairly certain that all this stress he's drowning in right now could potentially lead to PTSD.

Resigned, Nico pushes himself off the chair for his third cup of coffee of the night. He brushes back the stupid stray strands slipping from his sloppy ponytail, wiping down his glasses with the sleeves of his oversized sweater as he trudges out of his room and into the kitchen.

Then, a few steps out, he freezes.

There is no other way to describe the hazy blob strikingly out of place in his small student kitchen. Nico squints, breathing ceased and stoic still, trying to make any sense of the shape – no thanks to the darkness, sleep deprivation and his slightly shitty eyesight.

Cautiously, he slips his glasses back on, and out of all gut instincts and adrenaline fuelled reactions to finding a complete stranger in your vacant home, Nico just flips the light switch on. Very, very confused.

There's a man in his kitchen. There's a man in his kitchen, perched on top of the counter with a rather nasty cut struck across his forehead. A man, in his kitchen, with a head wound and one of Nico's teaspoons buried deep inside a jar of Nutella at 4am.

The intruder is a deer in headlights, bright blue eyes wide and still.

"I can explain," the man says, and Nico waits, unmoving.

Then, the intruder sighs. "Okay, maybe I can't."

Sparing a few more seconds to take in the bizarre scene before him, Nico swears. He can't believe this is happening to him, but he wants this all to just disappear, so he merely switches off the light switch and pads back into his room, steadily shutting the door behind him before leaning up against it and staring up at his shabbily painted ceiling.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters to himself, yanking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes hard. Out of all people, Nico is well aware of how sleep deprived he is, but he never knew that missing two nights of sleep in a row warranted in fucking hallucinations. What he does know is that he can't afford to waste his god-damn time because he's a professional procrastinator that leaves all his work to last minute, and all that content isn't going to study itself so he needs to get over his mind conjuring up hot blond, bleeding guys with sweet tooth's in his home.

Though, through his haze of disorientated agitation, he comes to think that the imagination is an incredible thing, because that guy had looked deceptively real.

And as if on cue, Nico jumps as there's a loud knock against his bedroom door. He would've not doubted it being another sign of madness if he could not feel its vibrations on his back.

The voice that comes from behind it is slightly muffled. "Um, hey man, look... if you're in there calling the police or something, please don't. I'll be on my way out and we can just pretend this never happened."

"What the hell are you even doing here?" Nico hisses through the door.

"I swear to God, I broke in by mistake."

Nico cautions himself before he throws open the door, because in spite of his fatigue, the adrenaline has finally caught up to him and he thinks he can definitely take whoever is out there. He's been in enough fights; knows how to defend himself and could probably land a few well-aimed punches to knock the guy out.

But when he does fling the door open and the intruder stumbles over his feet from where he was leaning against it instead of attacking, Nico thinks any physicality in the moment seems too excessive... at least for now.

As the blond regains his balance, Nico does a quick one over and realises that he isn't wearing any inconspicuous clothing. Actually, he's wearing one of their college hoodies. Still, he folds his arms against his chest, sceptical.

(Also, admittedly, because he registers that he himself looks like a clown with his huge sweater, coffee-strained basketball shorts and his tied back, birds nest hair. He had been seeking comfort, not decency, and he hates how he actually feels self-conscious in this – rather attractive – intruder's presence.)

The man pouts when he meets his eyes. "Hey, where did the glasses go?"

"They're for reading...." he replies hesitantly, his monkey brain is a pile of sludge at this early hour.

"Shame," he says. "You look cute in them."

"I— " Nico starts, blushing slightly before shaking his head and attempting to get a grip that's slipping right through his fingers. "Forget it, answer the question. What the hell are you doing here?"

The intruder chuckles nervously, and Nico refuses to let his boyish charm get the better of his priorities. He lifts a hand as if he were about to brush it through soft looking golden locks, but then a small hiss of pain escapes his teeth as his palm hits the cut across his forehead.

Frowning, he mutters, more to himself, "I forgot that was there..."

Nico narrows his eyes. "Stop avoiding the question."

"No, no I didn't— I wasn't avoiding the question, I genuinely forgot that it was there—" he pauses when he notices Nico's unimpressed stare on him, then sighs. "Look, I'm a transfer, I moved into this building a couple of days ago and my roommate is an asshole. He locked me out from the inside, so I tried to get in through the window."

Nico doesn't believe it for a second.

"Which, by the way, means that we share the same building," he states before beaming at him, a dimpled grin that makes Nico's breath stutter as the blond extends his hand out invitingly. "Hello, I'm Will Solace, I'll probably be seeing you around here quite a bit, I wish we could've met on better circumstances."

Incredulously, his gaze flickers from the extended palm to Will's million-dollar smile and Nico is stumped. He groans frustratedly. "God, I need coffee before dealing with this shit," he claims before stepping around him instead of shaking his hand, beelining straight towards the kitchen and turns on the pot.

Besides it though, Nico's sight snags on the opened jar of Nutella.

He doesn't even like Nutella, so it most definitely isn't his.

On cue, Will Solace trails in. His tone is disapproving, "You know, you really shouldn't be drinking that at this time."

"Shut up," he grumbles as he pours out the bitter liquid into a chipped mug. "I need this."

He turns but then Will Solace is right there in front of him and all of Nico's joints lock up, leaving him frozen under the man's knowing gaze. He blames his wearied bones; the way Nico can't even find it in him to flinch away when Will's thumb gently brushes the skin under his eyes.

"When did you last sleep?"

"What are you doing in my dorm?"

Stepping back, Will's brows furrows, as if he has any right to be confused. "I thought I already explained?"

"You really didn't," Nico snaps, snatching up the Nutella jar from the counter and shaking it at the intruder accusingly, sparing no thought for how insane he may seem in the moment. "Why were you eating this in my kitchen?!"

"I get my cravings," he frowns.

Left eye twitching, he attempts to suck in a calming breath, though he promptly follows it up with a scalding gulp of coffee. He savours the way it warms his stomach, right now the only grip on normalcy Nico has.

"No— I mean, why are you—?" jaw working, a growl of frustration escapes his throat. "God, you can't be real."

What has to be an apparition before him blinks blankly before a wave of concern washes over his stupidly handsome features. "Wha—? Seriously, how many hours did you sleep?"

It's not real, Nico decides finally. It's too bizarre to be real, and at this point Nico sets aside his mug defeatedly, eyelids drooping as he comes to terms with his new company. If he embraces him rather than being hostile, he figures he could be more comfortable with its presence. The sooner he's used to it, the sooner he can get back to his work in peace and the sooner he can fall into a deep, deep sleep. Nico can only hope that this figment of his imagination is gone by the time he wakes.

"Six," he answers, because there isn't really a use to lying, rubbing his temples tiredly.

"Oh?" Will says, mildly surprised. "Six hours per night isn't actually that bad—"

"Six hours this past week," he corrects with a sigh.

A glint of what is unmistakably determination lights up his pretty eyes. "That is... wow, that is not okay, you're going to bed immediately," Will announces, and Nico doesn't fight it as he grabs his hand and leads him to his bedroom door.

Will pauses there before glimpsing down at Nico, but all he can see is an unfocused bokeh of freckles dusting lightly tanned skin. The freckles are very pretty, he thinks, and he also thinks that this hallucination can read his thoughts due to the way he blushes ever so slightly. Nico makes a valiant attempt to prod a finger against his cheek but misses in his sleeplessness. Pity.

"Can I go in?" he asks.

Nico rolls his eyes. "You didn't ask for permission before..." though under blond's no-nonsense scrutiny, he shrinks. "Yes, you can go in."

If Nico were actually able to see straight, he might've been able to spare a thought of alarm, but there is something within him that is weirdly trusting about this whatever-it-is, so he complies easily. As soon as he flops onto his bed though, he's suddenly reminded about why he set the mattress strictly off-limits and he scrambles against the bedsheets weakly. Will queries upon what he's attempting to do, for he must look like a mole trying to burrow their way underground, but Nico merely points towards the heaps of notebooks and pens upon his desk and the blond seems to understand immediately.

"Ah, last minute study cram? Well let me tell you this, you're really not going to be doing yourself a favour trying to work in the state you're in now, buddy."

"I need to," Nico slurs, suddenly so extremely tired. "Need a good grade, please bring my stuff..."

Instead, Will brings him a blanket lying upon the shelves and drapes it over his body. It's an instantaneous reaction, the way he huddles it close to his chest and snuggles underneath it, the hum of contentment that slips past his lips betraying his soft scorn of, "Hate you, I'm failing... s'your fault."

"I'll tell you what," Will starts as he draws the curtains to shield away the rising sun. "I'll help you study in the morning if you let me crash on your couch."

Nico brings the blanket over himself tighter, "S'not like you're even real..."

The last thing he sees is Will Solace's fond smile before he closes his tired eyes, barely hearing his murmur of "Goodnight, sunshine... I sure as hell hope you don't hate me in the morning" before he drifts off into a dreamless sleep.

~*~

Nico stirs awake nine hours later to the distinct smell of burning.

Ignoring the sleep that has not yet drained from his limbs and a wave of dizziness as he throws himself upright too quickly, he yanks the covers from himself and marches straight into the kitchen following the scent of smoke, distinct enough to notice, but not thick enough – thank god – to trigger the built in fire alarms.

The thing is: Nico had been so out of it yesterday it probably wouldn't even be that far of a stretch to have potentially caused a fire in his own dorm. He's no arsonist, but he certainly has had these sorts of moments before, for he recalls that one drunken night he and his friends had gathered around a bonfire and had happily tossed Percy's shirt into the flames when he dove in for a swim in the creek – not that anyone (including Percy himself) had something to complain about.

Though burning an article of clothing just to see some guy shirtless seems to dim against lighting your own kitchen ablaze. So, he is still quite concerned, nonetheless.

However the smoke... it smells somewhat appealing, faintly like slabs of charred meats on a barbeque. When that analogy enters his mind he's instantly struck with what it is, and though he'd love to wake up to cooked bacon that his less-able self had whipped up, he'd also prefer it not burnt to a crisp and risk a grease fire.

"Shit. Shit. Fuck," he hears from the kitchen and suddenly he's launching himself forward with an entirely new sense of urgency and—

"No..." Nico breathes, yet there's no mistaking the man with wide, blue eyes standing before, shooting him a nervous smile as he jumps to (pathetically) attempt to hide the sparking flames and sizzling pan with his ramrod straight back and broad shoulders.

However one of the flames lip up high enough that it comes close to singeing off a lock of blond hair, so the man yelps as he urgently reaches for the lid and slams it onto the pan, finally quelling the hazard. Nico stares at his back, still draped in the rather new looking college hoodie, and watches as the man sucks in a few deep breaths with his knuckles gripping the counter bone white, before he turns around with a shaky grin.

"Breakfast?" Will Solace asks, right as something dings and two pieces of toast pop out of the toaster.

Dumbfoundedly, he watches him pluck out the two pieces of bread and does nothing as Will spreads them both with a healthy coat of Nutella. The hazed memories of last night come crashing down upon Nico like a tsunami.

Then the blond holds out one of the pieces to him. "It's the only thing that didn't burn..."

Nico just stares with furrowed brows.

"And, ah, I'm sorry about... all this," Will adds, referring to all this with vague twirl of his hand. "I just wanted to thank you and make breakfast but I... yeah, there's no excuse, I'm so damn sorry."

Usually, Nico would be livid (but then he considers that this whole scenario isn't exactly a usual occurrence, so, hypothetically speaking, he assumes he would be really fucking mad) but the anger in his system seeps out of him with a single glimpse at those soft, pleading, puppy eyes because Nico is apparently weak.

"Sorry..." he begins slowly. "But I really don't like Nutella."

Will regards him as though he had grown two heads. "There's always something," he mutters quickly.

"Huh?"

"Nothing," he claims before taking a large bite of the offered toast himself.

It's strange to feel awkward and out of place in your own home, almost as though Will is the one living here and not Nico, for he reclines casually against one of the chairs, humming as he enjoys his breakfast and Nico's just got his hands shoved into the pockets of the too-big shorts he wore to sleep.

He's certain he's missed something, because Nico is currently fully aware of what exactly is going on here and yet he still hasn't kicked him out.

Eyeing the semi-scabbed over graze on the blond's forehead with a piqued curiosity, he asks once again.

"What are you actually doing here?" he demands, folding his arms across his chest and levelling the blond with a no-nonsense look. "And actually give me a legitimate answer otherwise I'll personally kick your ass out of my dorm myself."

Will looks him up and down, something that makes Nico's stomach flip like a pancake. "I have no doubt about that."

Nico takes a purposeful step forward and the intruder shoots his arms up in surrender. "Okay, okay!" he relents. "Look, I really did not mean to break in here at all. What I told you yesterday – if you even remember – was the truth."

"All you said was that your roommate's a dick and that's how you ended up in here."

"Because that's why!" Will exclaims. "I'm pretty sure he had a date over last night and the asshole locked the door on me. And it's not like it was an accident or anything, it was literally 4am and I just went out to pick up something from that 24-hour corner store, so that means he physically got up to lock the door from the inside so I couldn't get in."

He takes another bite of his toast only to realise he's already finished it and pouts. Regardless, he continues on. "Obviously I still needed to get in, and I only recently got transferred so there's no way I could've just rung up one of the barely-friends I've made and ask if I could crash at their place. But, then I remembered that I left one of the windows open, and this is just the second floor so I could just get in easy-peasy."

Intrigued and only mildly weirded-out, Nico cocks an eyebrow as Will points accusingly at this wide-open kitchen window. "Of course though, it was 4am and I was tired so I crawled into the wrong dorm," he huffs. "I even fell like three times, but still I ended up in the wrong place."

"That's how you got that?" Nico asks, gesturing to the graze on his forehead.

"Yeah," Will confirms before letting out a harsh laugh. "God, I'm such an idiot. And I swear I didn't mean to take advantage of your, err— sleepiness, but I really needed a place to stay."

Blinking, twice, Nico starts blankly. "So what you're trying to tell me is that you went to the store at 4am for a jar of Nutella and when you realised you were locked out you tried to scale the side of the building like a maniac. Fell, more than once, and managed to break into the wrong window?" Quizzically, he then asks: "Were you drunk?"

"God no," Will answers but then winces. "...I can't tell whether that's better or worse."

"It's worse."

The blond bows his head defeatedly. "I'm so sorry... but it's technically still my roommates fault."

"Wait..." Nico starts, shaking his head with a sudden realisation. "You live next-door?"

"Yeah, one to the left," he confirms.

And it's at that moment that the situation becomes infinitely times more believable. "So Octavian's your roommate?"

When Will nods, Nico gives him a much deserving pitying look. "I should be the one apologising then, I fucking hate that guy."

"I know right!" agrees the blond with a lot more enthusiasm he had expected. His shoulders slump with relief, as if he's been retaining his innate hatred ever since birth. "I've only known him for a couple days but man he's an ass. And what's with the toga?!"

"Toga?"

"Yes, toga!" he hisses. "He has a fucking toga and he's wearing it 99.9% of the time I've seen him in the dorm. And, oh god, the teddy bears..."

Nico can't help but chuckle. "Teddy bears?"

The look that Will gives him is one of absolute devastation. "Those poor teddy bears did nothing wrong."

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, never feeling more sympathetic for anyone in his life. "Honestly, I just know him as That Asshole On Campus, I had no idea what it was like on the inside."

Will's eyes flicker to the far wall that connects the two dorms together. "And he has a date over, who in their right mind would want a piece of that?"

When he had woken up to the smell of burning only to find the very intruder he has passed off an illusion only a few hours ago, the last thing he would've expected to happen was to stand here in his kitchen sniggering like a kid because of said intruder's not-so-farfetched yet hilarious remarks.

A smile to his lips, Nico laughs back his reply. "He's made a pass at me a couple of times."

He was perhaps expecting a soft chuckle as a response but – as he's very quickly beginning to realise – expectations are nothing but disguised lies dressed in hope.

Will doesn't chuckle. Instead he chokes. He's not even eating anything; he just bursts out into what looks like a rather painful coughing fit that has his eyes watering and his hands clawing at his abdomen for a gasp of air.

"What?" he splutters with wide, teary eyes. "He— you? You are way out of his league."

"I'd sure hope so..." he answers cautiously, slightly concerned.

"No I just mean like... you and him... like that's just— wow," Will blurts out, still looking frazzled out of his mind. "God, I can't even imagine it. He's like... barely passable at best if you ignore all his weird shit, and you're just insanely hot to the point I can barely even think, Jesus."

Nico stares at him, mouth agape, extremely unsure with how he's supposed to process this information. However Will hasn't seemed to have caught on.

"Are you... okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," he assures, but then he pushes himself up to sit on the counter only to ducks his head into his hands, as if he's conflicted over his very existence and certainly displays the furthest thing from 'fine'. "It's just, what made him think he even stood a chance? I admire bravery – I really do – but there's a fine line between bravery and stupidity, isn't there? And Octavian had really leaped miles and miles beyond that line."

With a final, frantic rub of his eyes, Will swiftly looks up and nails him with a scrutiny that pins Nico on the spot.

"I mean just...hah-- no one is that delusional," he rambles, using his whole arm to gesture towards the length of his stature. "You're literally out of everyone's league, even in those shorts! Basketball shorts have no right to look good on you, and oh my god don't even get me started on those glasses—"

Stunned into silence for far too long now, Nico finally breaks out of his stupor at a more leering glance of Will's wild eyes because, yeah, he's definitely having some sort of breakdown right now.

Stepping forward, he firmly clasps his hands onto Will's shoulder. "Just breathe, Will."

The glint to his cerulean eyes quite evidently reflect his not yet simmered, bordering chaotic confliction. "But... Octavian... and you—"

"What the fuck is even happening," Nico mutters lowly. He can wholeheartedly say that he's never quite been in such a fucking bizarre predicament before.

However, Nico looks over Will's shoulder from where he's perched upon his half-cracked counter and his gaze catches on it.

Aggravatedly, he reaches for it. When he sees the incriminating evidence Nico is honestly flabbergasted.

"What the fuck, Will..." he breathes. "What the fuck..."

The Nutella jar Nico holds within his grasp is family-sized and also three-quarters empty.

He already knows the answer, but a moment of weakness has him asking anyways.

"Did you... did you seriously eat all of this since you got here?!"

When Will notices exactly what Nico's referring to – his eyes so intensely fixed upon the jar that Nico almost worries that it'll shatter in his palm – he calms instantaneously.

"Right... the Nutella," he says, more to himself than anyone else and in a tone that actually level and sane. "It's okay, because you don't even like Nutella."

"You're having a sugar rush." Nico states.

Will nods grudgingly. "I am having a sugar rush."

It seems only fitting that Nico guides Will through some of the breathing exercises Hazel had taught him. Partly in order to calm the hyperactive blond down, but mostly so Nico can have some time to just register what's even happening right now.

Although now that he definitely knows that this rather strange intruder is not an overly elaborate hallucination, it still doesn't seem to be all that much of a stretch from the actual reality of what's been happening since 4am.

And, for fucks sake, why is he glad that this has happened?

When Will has noticeably calmed (his knees are still jittery though it's calm enough in Nico's books)  he sighs. Resigned.

"I'm so sorry," he apologises. "Jesus, I've really overstayed my welcome here, haven't I?"

Nico stays dubiously silent. Contemplating things and numbly processing these last few hours as Will slides off his counter and heads for the door.

However then his brain does at least three cartwheels at the sight and there's a metaphoric hook in his chest suddenly yanking him forward.

"Wait." Nico calls out, just as the blond's  fingers graze against the doorknob. 

When Will turns to face him, there's a fractured smile open his lips. "Yeah?"

"Don't think you're getting out of your side of the deal," Nico begins matter-of-factly. "You still have to help me study, don't you?"

The quickly blossoming smile that stretched across Will's lips has his heart doing backflips in his chest,

And if Nico's intentions towards studying are less towards actually skimming through texts and reciting notes, and more like making out desperately on his beat up coach, well... that's not his problem.

"And by the way," Nico adds with a smirk, very much looking forward to these next few hours. "My name is Nico, I just thought you ought to know that."

AN:
I actually started this one over a month ago but only wrote like 500 words for it. And ofc my post-midnight spontaneous burst of energy had me suddenly finishing it up in one sitting with 4000 more words so... yeah.

Man, consistency is not my forte.