#GOD HES SO EXCITED | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mediumgayitalian · 1 month ago

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"Could you be. Any rougher."

"I could be," says Reyna casually, only the ice in her tone is unmistakable and, also, she is exhausted. This is evident, because she is limping.

Reyna does not limp.

Once when she was very little, young enough memory's edges blur, she was up late. Wanting. The kind old woman who lived next door made pastelitos -- Reyna's favorite. Best when fresh. But her father had scowled as soon as he closed the front door, muttering to himself as he placed the pastries delicately on a little cake stand, as Reyna and her sister watched. Salivated, jaws clenched shut. Nodded when he snarled at them about keeping their grubby hands to themselves. Not for them, he made clear. For the people who earned his charming smile when they rang the doorbell, waltzing through the beautiful, dustless house.

She only wanted to have one -- one. She was sure he hadn't counted them. And she was a good climber.

She made it all the way up to the handle of the top cupboard before she ran out of footboards. There was a car horn, in the distance, when she fell; her first thought was relief because it had muffled the sound of her crashing to the floor. And then, when she tried to stand, her fist in her mouth muffled her shout of pain.

She walked on her shattered foot until she could not fit it into her shoe any more. Even then, her sister only knew when she broke and told her.

"Sorry," mutters Nico. He winces as she jostles him, tripping over a rock. He feels another lazy ounce of blood ooze from the tear in his side, and manages to avoid crying out only because he is worried about how slow it has become.

The palm he has pressed to the wound has lost all feeling.

"You sure we're close?"

Reyna's voice is gruff, and her face is ashen. The trail of dragged, bloody footprints behind them stretches several desert miles. Anyone -- anything -- tracking them wouldn't have to bother trying.

It is not empty desert. There are valleys, and small mountains. Shrubs. Rocks, on rocks. Nico trips on one, this time, and the jerk of his leg pulls on his side, tearing the hole in the fleshy part of his side even wider. He cries out, and stumbles, and is in too much blinding pain to stop himself from falling; Reyna's head swims at the movement, vision blurring, stomach swooping, and she goes down, too.

"Get up," Nico croaks, eventually. "We are not dying here."

Reyna does not respond.

"Get up!" Nico shouts. With great effort he wiggles an arm free and decks her, hard, in the shoulder, or as hard as he can manage as weak as he is. "You are not leaving me! Get the fuck up!"

"Quiet," she begs, and it is worse because he can hear the tears in her voice. His own throat wobbles. Reyna doesn't cry much, either. "Please, Nico, don't --"

"Okay," he says, hands shaking. "Okay, I'll be quiet. But you gotta get up, Reyna. Please." The terror bubbles up in his chest and he can't hold it down anymore. His eyes water, cleaning a trail down his cheek. "C'mon, luna. We've got -- half a mile left. I can't leave you behind."

She nods, eventually. Her eyes are still closed. But she gets up on shakey feet, and when the last of their meager breakfast has been expelled from her stomach, offers Nico a hand. He is warm, when he grabs it, too warm, and it scares her, but he is at least conscious enough to smile at her. Even if the blood in his teeth makes him look frightening.

"We don't have fucking insurance," Reyna mumbles, a few dozen agonizing feet later. "They won't -- take us."

Nico takes a moment to answer. His breathing has gotten worse. More ragged.

"They will," he manages, finally. The words are slurred, so it's closer to they'll. "They have to. I think." He huffs a dark laugh. "That or we bleed out in their emergency room, so."

Reyna does not laugh. She does not beg her mother -- she will not -- but she searches for strength within her anyway, for the tiniest burst of steel that will take them the last stretch to the hospital. They can see it, now; a pale, squat building that would be assumed a warehouse were it not for the giant blue H painted on its side, as if reassuring passers-by that it is, indeed, a place of medicine, even though it is smaller than some barns.

By some miracle -- or Fate, although the thought makes both their expressions sour -- they make it to the front doors. There is no further signage, but there are no other doors, either. They take a moment to catch breath, panting in syncopated dissonance, before shuffling inside.

"Take a number," drawls a voice. The person attached to the voice continues to work on a sudoku puzzle and does not look up when Nico and Reyna stare, not answering. "Today, please. Wait times are only getting worse."

Nico rips a number out of the plastic little holder. It falls to the ground. They step over it, struggling onto a plastic set of seats.

"I hope I don't actually die in an emergency room waiting area," Reyna mumbles, slouching into Nico's side. Her eyes close, and Nico's heart pounds, tapping frantically at her cheeks every time he loses sight of her black eyes. "I don't want to die in this outfit."

Nico glances down at the ripped, dirtied, bloodied mass of fabric covering her and laughs out loud. It hurts, and the tiny crowd of people huddled as far away from them as possible in the opposite end of the room jump. One even whimpers. He doesn't notice, or care.

"Not very you," he agrees, motioning to the t-shirt they picked up on their last stop, which is four sizes too big and reads, under the grime: ANNUAL TURKEY DOG GUZZLER CHAMPION 1994. Her shirt had been destroyed by Hydra acid in Arizona, and it was the first shirt they managed to grab from a Salvation Army before they'd been chased out by an angry woman with a broom. "You prefer beef dogs, if I remember correctly."

Reyna's eyes slide shut again, but she smiles. Nico finds her hand and squeezes it.

The wait takes hours. It is better, slightly, outside of the relentless sun, but there is no air conditioning, and it becomes clear quickly that both of them reek. And Nico is bleeding, still. And Reyna keeps dipping in and out of consciousness. And they are seasoned warriors, at this point. They have been questing for years, in and out of their respective camps, chasing monsters within the country and outside of it, for more than most demigods can claim. They can handle themselves and have been able to since they were teens. They're professionals, now.

But sometimes the gods like to remind them they're not infallible. Or, at least, this is Nico's theory, and Reyna says nothing when he mentions it, bitter over an open fire; but as much as her and her kin are no antagonists to the gods, not like the Greek are, she secretly agrees. Nothing makes sense, when you are a demigod, but stepping into a random abandoned warehouse in rural New Mexico, where a list of monsters in alphabetical order lay in genuine wait for them to appear -- they have enemies, yes.

But none were claimed, when they were attacked. The monsters were only smug, and they barely lived. They had been on a quiet quest, unadvertised, sanctioned only by Olympus.

"--heading out," calls a warm voice, muffled in distance from the stuffy waiting room. Nico is relieved to see Reyna blink, to adjust herself to mostly-upright against his shoulder. "See y'all tomorrow!"

A man follows this bright voice -- he is tall, and as warm as his drawling voice, despite the bags under his eyes. He stands with a looseness to his posture and his white coat makes his bronzed skin look darker, makes the thick blond curled frizzing around his head appear golden, even under the awful fluorescent lights. It is hard to look good in mint-green scrubs, but he manages; fills out the shirt nicely and is on just the right side of gangly, soft jaw making his squinted blue eyes look gentle. Smile-heavy. The worn white coat shifts as he lifts a hand to wave at whomever he was speaking to, and turns to the emergency room, smile still small and genuine on his face.

"Is that --" Reyna whispers.

"No way that is --" Nico says at the same time, because it's not, and it can't be; the sun is down, for one, and Apollo spends his nights either in clubs or in someone's bed and most certainly not working, even if he has come to help. And he is more angular, anyway, never having quite dropped the Spartan look to his features, and his hair is not quite so messy. He is not covered with a spattering of freckles, either, and his eyes are blue, yes, but not quite so dark; this man's are almost navy.

"Uncanny," Reyna mumbles. Nico huffs in agreement.

The handsome doctor waves at a young boy who picks at the peeling paint on the wall. The boy grins back, mangled arm pressed to his chest.

"You pinky swore to stay out of trees for a solid month, Alberto," the doctor chides. "I have your mama as witness and everything."

The woman next to the boy sighs. The boy grins, showing several missing teeth.

"I did!" he insists. "This time I fell off a playground! You shoulda seen the landing, Doctor Will. If I managed to stick it I woulda been recruited for the Avengers!"

The doctor laughs. It is low and snorting and -- ridiculous, honestly, the man covers his mouth only the voice cracks and snickers break through anyway. Nico's heart pounds. Reyna, close enough to hear it, snickers.

"Bet you wish you were in a better outfit too," she mumbles, snickering louder when Nico flushes, knowing he can't hit back.

"Shut up," he hisses, instead. "Go be concussed somewhere else."

But he keeps a firm hand on her elbow. And she doesn't go anywhere.

"Alright," finishes the doctor, ruffling the boy's hair. "I'm heading out, kiddo, Nurse Gianna will help you out. I hope I don't see you in here for a hot minute."

"Me and my bank account hope this also," mumbles the boy's mother. "And, yet."

The doctor snorts and sympathy and turns with a wave. His gaze sweep the waiting room and pause when they land on Nico and Reyna, tucked into each other in the far corner, having managed, for the most part, to keep the blood off the floor. Considerate of them, Nico thinks, honestly.

Those dark eyes widen, and his whole face erupts in a myriad of easily trackable emotions: shock, and then a little bit more shock, concern, fear, determination. And, chief among them, making Nico and Reyna straighten, look at each other warily: recognition.

"Mark," he hisses, warmth dropped from his tone. He whirls to face the impassive receptionist, who startles. "There's a fuc -- why didn't you call me? Immediately?"

Mark-the-receptionist glances for the first time over at the pair of them. His expression floods with guilt. "I didn't -- notice!"

"Dude!" says the doctor emphatically. "I'm gonna --" He stops and breathes deeply. He drags a hand down his face. Nico notices they are quite large hands and then forces himself not to notice. Reyna also notices, and laughs and laughs.

The doctor sighs, heavy, and takes his stethoscope back out of his pocket. He hangs it back over his neck, turns to Nico and Reyna, expressive face gone serious. The two of them sober immediately. "Clock me out, still," says the doctor wearily. "Don't tell Gianna and I won't tell on you, you fu -- freaking idiot."

The receptionist nods weakly. The doctor sighs again, and walks back through the doors at the other end of the room. After a moment, he appears again, brows furrowed.

"Well?" he says, looking directly at the pair. "C'mon, you two. Can you walk?"

Nico looks at Reyna, and she scowls, shoving him. "Of course I can walk," she mutters, to herself more than anything, and gets -- creakily -- to her feet. She veers as she stands, face going green, and Nico is quick to slip himself under her arm, under the guise of needing her support. She is not stupid, but looks at him gratefully. He sags into her touch.

There is not very far to follow the doctor. He leads them down a short hallway, checking on them every three seconds -- Reyna tries very hard not to chafe -- and into the first room on the right.

"I'm going to close the door," he says gently, "because people walking in here or overhearing could be very bad. But it doesn't lock, and I'll try and stay on the far side of the room."

It's an odd disclaimer at first, and Reyna isn't exactly sure why he says it -- but then she notices Nico let out a breath, notices his tiny nod. She realizes the own tension in her jaw, and the doctor's small, sympathetic smile. She watches as it shifts to something a little more teasing.

"Whatever keeps that sword from pointing at my throat," he says drily.

Both Nico and Reyna startle.

"What sword," Nico says carefully. But the doctor only raises his eyebrows and looks pointedly at the giant spike of Stygian Iron at Nico's hip, and the several knives tucked on Reyna's person, as well as her spear.

Nico and Reyna share a weighted look.

"You can see through the Mist, then," pokes Reyna, as the doctor preps something on the counter. They have met a couple mortals like this, in their travels -- most notably the Oracle that lives in the Greek camp, but here and there they've been in trouble as some teenager sees their weapons and screams at the top of their lungs.

"No clue what that is," says the doctor cheerfully. "But you two are not the first…warriors? That's I've had in here."

He turns back to face them. He has ditched his lab coat, and Nico is so distracted by the numerous tattoos obvious on his now-bare arms that he misses whatever he has clenched in his long fingers until the instruments are set gently on a sterile tray, the doctor gesturing to a bench.

"One at a time, okay? I can see blood coming from at least one of you and I want to treat that first, unless one of you is hiding a spine or head injury."

"She has a concussion," Nico says immediately, setting his jaw as Reyna scowls at him. "Her first."

"He is bleeding actively and has been for hours," she hisses, "him first."

"Her first," Nico insists. "Doctor's orders, head injuries take precedent."

"Yeah, cracked skulls. You and your thick head might not realize, but losing blood kills you pretty quick --"

"-- as if brain damage doesn't --"

"-- I'm fine! I can stand! I can see! I can --"

She steps closer, balled fists, or tries to. She falters and gags, nausea turning his stomach to churning lava, and would have thrown up on the scuffed floor if there was anything else for her to lose. Instead, she sways, and Nico tries to catch her, but the sudden movement of his arm makes him cry out.

"Freeze!" barks the doctor. "Both of you, cut it out."

There is no warmth in his tone -- only command. On reflex, or maybe because there is no strength left in their bodies, they stop moving, breathing heavy, hands shaking.

"Okay," says the doctor, gently as he can. "It doesn't help to get tense, yeah? You're stressed enough. I'll treat you both. You gotta trust me." He guides them both, hands light and gentle on either of their shoulders, up on the paper-covered bench. When they are settled he smiles softly, giving them a step of space. "I'm Will, and I'll be your doctor. I can feel that neither of you is at risk of severe brain damage or bleeding out or any kind of spinal injury paralysis, okay? You're hurt, but not desperately. All can be fixed."

Reyna ducks her head, meeting Nico's gaze out of the corner of her own eyes.

Feel?

"On the left," Will says, gesturing to Nico. "I gotta get you closed up before it worsens. The concussion is nasty --" he nods at Reyna -- "but that's a more long-term problem. Hang in there for a little bit, okay?"

She nods, and doesn't smirk smugly at Nico for two reasons. One, because if she moves too hard she'll pass out, and two, because Nico is gray and ashen, and reaches, in the space between them, for her hand. She curls their fingers together and squeezes lightly and does not promise she will be okay, but swears to herself that she will be anyway.

No more lost sisters, she mouths at him.

He hesitates, then nods.

Doctor Will -- he hadn't given them a last name, nor had the child in the waiting room addressed him by it -- is quick working and methodical. He cuts Nico's ruined shirt away from his torso, announcing every time he is about to touch bare skin. Gentle, too, but firm; he makes quick work of wiping the blood off Nico's skin so he can see what he's working with, and manages not to gag at the sight of the torn, inflamed skin, the oozing blood, the corrugated muscle and flecks of dirt and fabric. Reyna is not quite so skilled, and Will hands her a paper bag without looking.

"Damn," Will mumbles to himself, steadying his forceps against the edge of the wound, "somebody got your ass good."

It is probably not meant for Nico to hear.

Reyna laughs, but makes the mistake of looking again, and it turns quickly into a groan.

"You are not the one being operated on," Nico snaps, but it's more incredulous than anything. "Why are you whining."

"You should keep your insides to yourself," she mutters, still a little green. "That shit is disgusting."

Nico huffs -- "Stop that," Will commands, free hand on Nico's chest -- Nico stops breathing -- "Stop that too, preferably, I can't hear your heart right." -- hand still on chest -- Nico prays for death and then takes it back quickly when the first suture makes his vision swim -- and they fall into silence. His side hurts, his body hurts; Reyna's head pounds so hard she can't even feel the swelling bruise of her knee. They haven't slept in a couple days, at least, well before the attack in the warehouse. Nico is weak from his failed shadow-jump. Reyna is weaker from the strength she lent him.

It's a little easier to relax in this office, at least.

It must be Will's -- it's different in every conceivable way from the waiting area. From the hallway, even. The lights are too-bright still but they are offset by walls painted a deep green, not reflecting so harshly. Shades are pulled over the windows and its dark outside anyway, but the mere presence of windows makes it easier to feel like they are not going to die in a timeless prison. Drawn pictures and thank-you cards and grinning photographs are pinned all over the walls, and Doctor Will is hand-painted on a sign on the door in careful child's handwriting. This is not a place of despair, or even fear; the chair next to the bed for supportive family or friends is comfortable and not hospital issue, and there is music playing, almost imperceptively softly. The room -- or Will, Nico guesses -- smells slightly of lavender. This is a room where someone has worked very hard to make comfort a priority.

"Okay," Will says softly, pulling away. There are bones tattooed on his hands, Nico notices. They are covered in blood. Reyna notices that Nico is now breathing out of his dropped mouth and rolls her eyes. "I'm going to dress it now. Did Mark --" he scowls at the name -- "give you guys an intake form?"

Reyna and Nico shake their heads.

Will cusses.

Reyna and Nico try very hard not to laugh, except it's not that hard because it hurts to breathe.

"'Course he didn't," mutters Will darkly, "because he is a blight on this Earth."

Nico bites his lip hard.

"Okay, well, I'm gonna go grab a couple, okay? I need to know about allergies and history and stuff before I treat you. I have an, um --" he falters -- "modified version for folks like yourself, it'll take me a minute to get them from the storage room. Hold tight."

He slips out of the room, closing the door behind him. Reyna waits until she can hear his footsteps fade before turning to face her best friend. He is looking, already.

"So," she says.

"So indeed," Nico agrees. "They're not usually so…competent."

"I'm sure more of them --" Mist-aware mortals, she means -- "are doctors than we would have guessed. When was the last time you went to a mortal hospital?"

"Uh." Nico ponders that for a moment. "I was born in one?"

"A century ago," she snorts. He scowls and flicks her. "That doesn't even count."

"Well, whatever. You most certainly haven't."

"I wasn't even born in one."

"So I have a leg up on you then!"

"You're arguing with me about nothing."

"You started it!"

She grins, and he grins back. There are still no returning footsteps, so she says: "We can't stay here."

"Obviously."

"What are the chances he's gonna give us some nectar and send us on our way?"

"Bad, probably," Nico guesses. His gaze slides over to the swollen goose egg on the back of her skull, and he brushes gentle fingers around the base of it. "Nectar can't fix everything, anyway," he says softly. "I think we're stuck, Rey." His face falls, guilt clouding his dark eyes. "I'm sorry."

She doesn't punch him out of it, but only because she isn't entirely sure if he hurt his shoulder taking that hit for her, when she first went down, so instead she reaches calmly for his wrist, flips it over, and pinches him as hard as she can in the dead center of his palm.

"Fucking ow!" he shouts, dramatically loudly in her opinion. "What the fuck?!"

"Get all sentimental and sad on me like that again and I'll throw up in your hair," she promises. "You were gushing blood and losing ground, you fucking idiot. And canyons always fuck up your jumps. Stop apologizing."

He still looks guilty, but at least he nods. It helps that he keeps rubbing his palm and glaring at her.

"Fine," he concedes. "Whatever, she-demon. Let's just -- fix up, and then we'll figure it out."

"We can't stay in here," she reminds him. "You're a homing beacon and they hate me personally. I won't be bringing a horde of demons to a hospital."

He nods. Just then, the footsteps return -- hurried, Nico's lips quirk up -- and there is a rapping at the door, and it opens a crack.

"All good?" inquires Will, slipping in. "I got the files, moved as fast as I --" his leg brushes Nico's knee as he hustles past, and he pauses. He turns to face them both, eyes narrowed, hands on his hips. Nico freezes and has the sudden and long-buried feeling that he's in a principal's office. "Were you two roughhousing?"

Reyna's jaw drops.

"You are critically injured. In a hospital." Will shakes his head, face creased. "And you were roughhousing." He scoffs. "I have six year old patients who are less inclined to that nonsense, y'all, c'mon. Do I need to treat you separately?"

"No!" they blurt at the same time, meeting each other's eyes to mouth: how did he know??

"No, please, we'll be good," Nico promises, ignoring the flush that burns immediately across his cheekbones. "She just pinched me but I'm fine."

"Snitch," Reyna hisses.

"Enough," Will orders. His lips twitch, but they stop squabbling like schoolchildren. "Jesus. Y'all known each other a long time, huh?"

Reyna nods hesitantly. Will meets her eyes and smiles. "I could tell. Friends'a mine are the same way, been dating since middle school and you can tell. Sweet."

"Oh we're not --" Reyna begins.

"I gagged in my mouth just now --" Nico starts.

"We're not dating," Reyna says, at the same time Nico says, "I'm gay."

"He's an asshole, too," Reyna adds. "I'm a catch."

Will laughs loudly.

"You are!" Nico assures, voice cracking. It has been a long time since Reyna has seen his face so cherry red and she really takes the time to enjoy it. "She is, I'm just -- you know? Like --"

"Stop," Will begs, holding his stomach. "I get it, I get it, oh my God." He busies himself with grabbing a pen and sliding a couple pages on a clipboard. "I'm sorry for assuming, that's on me. You're both kind of equally jaw-dropping, so I just guessed."

Nico shuts down. There is actually a visible shutter in his eyes as his brain reboots itself. Reyna regards the doctor with an eyebrow raise.

"Is flirting very professional?"

"Not strictly," Will says with a grin, "but technically I'm off the clock."

Reyna scoffs and rolls her eyes. For her best friend's sake, she pushes forward. "Alright, Casanova. I guess I'm going first since he's still recovering."

A mask of detachment fits back onto Will's face, and he focuses on the sheet in front of him. Reyna answers his rattling questions -- full name, which he doesn't so much as twitch at, increasing her respect for him, date of birth, allergies, so on and so forth -- and pauses when he flips the page over and gets to a part she can see is hand-written and photocopied.

Not hospital standard.

"Okay," Will says, tapping his pen on the paper. "Do you know how much higher your blood count is than standard?"

Reyna pauses. "I do not."

He twists his face, jotting that down. "Damn. No one ever does, which is a shame because it's always higher in you guys but I can't get anything to a lab before Friday. Not that I would send it there unmanned. I mean I can't charm my way into the lab until Friday because that's when my ex works and he's sweet on me still. I'll just be cautious with dosage, I guess. Anyways."

Nico, who was just recovering, goes back under again. Reyna sighs, and pats him supportively on the shoulder.

"Are you more responsive to medicinal flora from Greece or Rome?" he pauses, tilting his head. "Or a secret third answer? There could be more, I guess, those're just the two I've noticed over the years."

That hikes Reyna's eyebrows up her forehead. It's an interesting enough observation that Nico sits forward, watching the doctor closely -- he is calm, totally, unbothered by their staring, or perhaps ignorant to the magnitude of his question. He knows much more than the average Mist-sensitive mortal, but not explicitly -- he did not ask who their godly parent was, or even which pantheon, even though there is no reason to be secretive about such a question. Just a startlingly accurate observation about what medicines will help them, and evidence of a search for why.

"Roman, for me," says Reyna slowly. "Greek for him."

"Okay," says Will, "excellent." He makes a couple more notes, asks a couple more questions, and then removes the paper with her info on it with a flourish and hands it to her. "Check it over, if you don't mind, while I do your friend."

Nico starts. He does a very admirable job of not reacting to Will's unfortunately casual sentence, even though Reyna's snickering disagrees with him. He also manages not to punch her which he feels should be worth some kind of award.

"Name?" Will asks, looking up through his eyelashes. They're very long, Nico notices. Very blond.

Nico swallows. "Uh, Nico. di Angelo."

"Pretty," Will says idly, jotting it down. He looks up and smiles. "'Of angels'. Suits you."

"Oh my gods," Reyna comments. Neither notices her, which she feels is upsetting because that was embarrassing for her to witness. "Is my name beautifully suiting me, too?"

"Next question," says Will quickly. He rattles off a list about family history and allergies -- "Aside from latex," he adds, although Nico does not remember mentioning that -- and gets quickly to the back of the paper. "Greek," he notes, remembering. He hums. "You look it, too. Anyway. Have you been stabbed before?"

"Few times," Nico acknowledges. "I, uh, don't respond well to healing, though. Most effective thing for me is something called unicorn draught and it's --"

Will tilts his head. "Silvery looking thing? Kind of oily in texture?"

"…exceedingly rare," Nico finishes, alarmed. "You…have it?"

"I have bandages that are treated in it," Will corrects. "Girl came by here last year with a pot of it. Healed her up nicely, and she let me dunk some of my supplies in it." He smiles sympathetically. "Whatever wack instant shit it can do -- I don't have that. But it should speed up what's normal, hopefully? I don't really understand it and I had nothing to compare it to under microscope, so I have genuinely no idea what it will do to you other than help. So."

Nico doesn't need to meet Reyna's eyes to know what she's thinking -- if the monster attack was on purpose, meeting with Will must be, too. Calling him a 'godsend' would be a little on the nose.

"Okay," Will says, collecting both their sheets and laying them on the counter. "Lemme finish examining y'all both, and I'll give you a verdict."

He's very meticulous, Doctor Will. He doesn't even need to ask where they're hurt, although he always asks for permission to touch, seemingly drawn to every wound and swollen break. In minutes he has every scratch catalogued across Nico's body, and has analyzed the severity of Reyna's concussion, prodded her fucked-up knee. They should go to mortal doctors more often, maybe. The wait sucks and Nico could do without the scent of hospital, but Will clearly knows what he's doing.

"The good news is that I can help you," Will says, pulling back from Reyna and tugging absentmindedly on his stethoscope. "I have a couple salves I worked up last week that'll help fix up your laceration, Nico, and Reyna -- your knee is broken pretty good but I can get the swelling down fast and I have a tonic that will encourage your bones back in place right. If you were anywhere else, you'd be stuck here for a good three months, the both of you."

"And the bad news?" Reyna asks. No use in dawdling.

"You are still stuck here," Will says apologetically. He holds up a hand at the immediate protest. "I know y'all don't like that kinda thing. Believe me, I have been yelled at enough." He meets both their eyes in turn. "For three weeks, though, you're stuck here. It takes time for medicine to work. And both of you are in pretty precarious spots, with either infection or worsened brain damage as a result of neglect."

They are silent, the both of them. Will frowns -- he must be expecting argument -- and adds:

"Don't like…escape into the night. Okay? I mean it when I say you'll die. Take it from someone who physically cannot lie, you are in danger if you go back to the wilderness. Or wherever y'all were."

Reyna and Nico turn to face each other. They can't actually communicate telepathically with each other but amuse themselves by pretending that they can -- they have been partners for almost longer than they haven't, really, and when you spend that much time on the road with someone, you get good at reading their face.

Reyna twitches her left eyebrow. Nico nods imperceptibly. Reyna clicks the nail on her third finger on her right hand. Nico blinks twice.

It's not a secret code or anything. Reyna's eyebrow is itchy and Nico is getting a little woozy. But the effect is great and they turn back to face the doctor in perfect unison, which is always funny to watch people squirm about.

"I'm not happy about the risk," Reyna admits. "But we refuse to stay here. And we don't have many other options."

"We can't even pay for this, technically," Nico says, and he probably shouldn't but -- Will clocked out to treat them. They are not the first, and Nico is not trusting, but he is not stupid, either. He can tell when someone is being genuine.

Reyna, who is not quite as attracted to Tall and Handsome, is more inclined to believe there is something trustworthy about someone so openly and generously knowledgeable. They owe him now, anyway. Their trust.

"Hm," says Will, rocking back on his heels. He blinks, seemingly realizing something, and almost jumps, beelining for the cupboards along the wall. "Oh, shit, I forgot to give you the -- goddamn medication, that's my bad --"

Reyna huffs a laugh, although strangely it took her a minute to notice, as well -- the pain in her head has already lessened, somewhat, just by Will's examination. Nico frowns thoughtfully, because part of it is his stitches, but the the stinging pain has gone down enough that he can feel the hurt in other places now, too. But that could be faded adrenaline.

Will is red-faced when he returns, glass bottle in either hand. "Sorry. I don't mean to be so scatterbrained." He pauses for a moment, considering, and upon deciding its safe adds hesitantly, "ADHD works for me usually, actually, makes me more perceptive in surgery -- and helps me focus, honestly, since it's complicated and interesting enough to keep me invested -- but I can get distracted at the smaller stuff." He huffs a laugh. "I do lose my keys every single day, though."

Nico does not need to be telepathic or even close to Reyna to know they are thinking the exact same thing -- her eyes are wide as his, and the alarm practically manifests between them in the form of a giant red exclamation point.

Nico opens his mouth, and Reyna knows what is going to come out of it -- she flicks his shoulder, shaking her head rapidly. He swallows his word back and nods reluctantly. She extends her finger, to ease his frustration, pointing at the labels on the glass bottles.

The writing is godawful, so it takes him a second, but after a moment of squinting he can puzzle it out: netel lor laurel; migraines + symptoms on the jar of bright green liquid, and honey akilea labelling the thicker paste.

Now, Will could just be a bad speller.

But Nico doesn't put much faith in coincidence.

Will doses Reyna's medicine first, and then busies himself with Nico's wound. Nico meets Reyna's eyes, relieved to find her as nervously contemplative as he is -- a lot of things are adding up very very quickly. Both of them feel leagues better than a few hours ago, but Nico can feel his own weakness, his own exhaustion. He is in no place to fight anything. He is in no position to ward off danger.

Danger always comes knocking, with the two of them.

Will complicates things even further.

"Okay," he murmurs, pulling away. "I hope y'all feel better." He shoots the both of them a small, winning smile, and even Reyna melts -- although slightly, she would like to make clear. She does feel better, anyway, and she can feel the relief pouring off Nico in waves. "Next step is rest. And food. And maybe, like, a shower? I won't ask where y'all've been --"

Both Nico and Reyna graciously refrain from commenting on the triple contraction. They do note it. Reyna bites her lip.

"-- but, and no offense meant, I've met pigs in a pen with less mud on 'em. We gotta get you cleaned up."

"Offense taken," Nico grumbles. "We're not that bad."

"Should've seen Albania," Reyna agrees. And then, at Nico's grimace: "…Sorry for bringing it up."

"…Anyways," Will says pushing through the awkward air. "It's after midnight. I know a couple'a nearby motels, but they ain't open this late."

Nico picks at a thread torn loose from his jeans. Fuck. He knows where they are -- mostly -- and knows they are nowhere near any kind of safehouse. They could break into a motel, probably, but it means one of them is on guard at all times -- Nico doesn't have the strength for that, and neither does Reyna. They need sleep and they need sleep yesterday.

Nico straightens, color draining from his face as he remembers: Reyna has a concussion, and a nasty one. She needs constant monitoring, or she could literally fall into a coma and die. And die, fuck, what are they going to do, they're out of money and out of drachmas and Nico can't shadow travel and they're nowhere near --

"That's a myth," Will interrupts gently. He puts a warm hand on Nico's knee, and it is then that he realizes he's hyperventilating. "Breathe, darlin'."

This does not help.

"She actually needs to sleep quite a lot right now." He nods at her. "I've checked her, she's not at great risk for a coma unless she smacks her head against something else. Or makes her way to a roller coaster." He eyes them warily. "Please don't make your way to a roller coaster."

Nico, dazed, murmurs his promise. Reyna reaches over until she has her hand on top of both of his twitching ones, and, smiling wryly, promises to avoid them as well.

"If you're lookin' for someone to keep an eye out, though," Will says. "I can help."

Reyna shakes her head. She's pleased to find she can do so and it only hurts on a level 6, rather than the extreme level ten plus some it was earlier. "Like we said -- we can't stay here, Will. It's not safe for anyone else."

Will inclines his head. "I believe you. I meant -- my apartment is a two-bedroom." He bites his lip. "It's not ideal, and, I mean, it would deeply suck for me if this was some very elaborate serial murder set-up, but I can't just leave y'all out to suffer." He grins. "My mama'd whoop my ass if she heard. Not very hospitable of me, I imagine."

Reyna opens her mouth to protest.

Nico squeezes her hand. "I don't love it," he says lowly. "But I -- I'm tired, Rey."

It takes a lot for Reyna to remember Nico is younger than her. It hasn't mattered since they were -- well, it hasn't really mattered ever. Nico is nothing if not exceptionally competent, unbelievably powerful; but he's human, too, and he watched her get her head bashed on concrete until she didn't get back up again. He's been twitchy, braver than he can afford, since then, dark eyes bloodshot and blown-wide and tracing rapidly over every new space, scanning every potential threat. He's been on for too long. For a moment he looks at her and he is scared, and she sees the face of the fourteen year old who was still trapped in that bronze jar, in his mind, and who sometimes didn't know where he was.

"Alright," she relents. She turns her gaze squarely to Will. "I've killed people," she says shortly. "Dying and maimed. It doesn't matter how concussed I am. Don't assume I've let my guard down."

Will steps ever so slightly away, but there is a smile on his face, still.

"I'd expect nothing less," he says lightly. "Let me help."

Reyna swallows, and Nico sighs. Together, hands clenched, they agree.

-- -- --

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kettlefire · 11 months ago

Text

Prepare for the unexpected. (DPxDC)

Everyone knew about the reign of Pariah Dark. Even those who did not dabble in those realms have heard the tale of the tyrant. A power-hungry man who ruled over the dead with an iron fist.

Following the rise of Pariah Dark, his realm had been effectively cut off from communication. Many mystics and magic users knew better than to open the door of nightmares that could arise if Pariah Dark's reach went further than his own realm.

Except, the universe had plans to bring the realm of the dead back into the cards.

A new opponent, one that had all of Earth's heroes scrambling for options. A being with powers of a god over weather, destruction was on the horizon. A world ending threat.

It's the only reason the Justice League was doing this. In a deep bunker, far from close civilization as a precaution, the heroes looked on with grim expressions.

The world was already being threatened. It would be destroyed regardless of what the league did. So it only made sense to make the last ditch effort. To summon someone strong enough to defeat the threat.

No one wanted to do it. No one wanted to be the one to pull the realm of the dead back to the living. The consequences were untold if this succeeded. If Pariah Dark was freed and defeated the threat, whose to say he won't want control?

That was a problem for later. For the aftermath. For now, the league could only watch on with bated breath as Constantine completely the summon ritual.

They watched on as the shadows in the room seemed to darken and grow. As the sigil sputtered to life with a glow that was growing increasingly brighter. A sudden gust of wind rushed through the room, the temperature began to drop with eaching ticking second.

And then it was all gone.

The room stood perfectly still. Just as it had been moments before. Nothing changed. No giant king standing before them, no sign that the ritual worked.

The room stood deadly still for another beat before the murmurs started. The team trying to make sense of the situation, figure out what went wrong.

Constantine swore up and down that this was the correct ritual, taking offense that they would even think the problem was on his end. It only made it better when it finally happened.

A loud sound ripped through the room, pulling everyone's attention back to the summoning circle. Just in time to see a tear appear in the space above the circle.

A thin tear that ran the length of eight feet. The fabric of the dimension seems to curl at the edges, pulling back to reveal a deep glowing swirl of greens. A dark gloved hand reached through, fingers curling around the edge of the tear, stretching it even further.

A portal. The ritual had worked, but there had been a delay. A delay that had every hero nerves on edge. Each team member tensed, weapons at the ready as they watched the being stretch the portal to the right size.

Then, a foot stepped out with a heavy thud. A dark boot that looked otherworldly despite its similarity to mortal clothing. A deep black that seemed never-ending. A second foot quickly followed before a full body emerged from the portal.

Not many people in the room have ever seen Pariah Dark, let alone know what to expect. Based on what Constantine and Zatara had said, this wasn't Pariah Dark.

A man had stepped out of the portal, standing at almost seven feet tall, and built like a brick house. One glance at the glowing white hair, deadly red eyes, and shard teeth was enough to know this being was not to be messed with.

But there was no giant show of armor or royal garbs. There is no large crown at the top of his head or jewelry from the infinite realms laced around his neck.

Instead, the man stood before them in combat boots, worn-in ripped jeans, a graphic t-shirt, and a spiked leather jacket. Despite his almost normal clothing choice, the man's jacket seemed to be a never-ending depth of the dark night sky. If one was to look closely enough, the cosmos could almost be made out in the sea of darkness.

None of that would have prepared them for when the man spoke. His tone sounded more bored than anything as he took a step forward.

"Oh, so now you need the help of the dead." The man had spoken, running a hand through his hair. When Batman took a step forward to speak, the man raised a hand. Immediately commanding silence in the single gesture. "I'm on babysitting duty and have yet to have a cup of coffee. I'll be right back."

Just like that, both the man and portal vanished into thin air. Leaving behind a group of stunned heroes. Not only was the man not Pariah Dark, but he was also supposedly babysitting.

"Did that just-"

The Flash had been the first voice to speak up, his eyes trained on where the man had once stood. Except he had barely made it through the first few words before the man was suddenly back.

The man that now had a child hanging off his shoulders and another teen being held up by his scruff. Unlike the man, these kids looked human.

Too human for Bruce's liking. The dark black hair and bright blue eyes had every heroes eyes flickering to Batman for just the briefest moment.

"This isn't fair! I'm not even the king. Why do I have to be here!" The teenager had been complaining the moment the man had reappeared. Arms crossed tight over his chest and seemingly used to being held dangling. "Besides, who brings kids to a show down! Wait til I tell mom about this."

"Aw, come on, Danny. This is gonna be fun!!" The younger girl seemed in much better spirits than the teen, Danny. She had climbed up the large man, sitting on his shoulders and resting her arms on the mess of glowing hair. "It's like take your kids to work day! Ooo, Dan! Can we fight too!?"

Unlike the two kids, the man looked purely exhausted and annoyed. The man, Dan, dropped Danny like a sack of potatoes as he took a long drink from the travel cup in his hand.

It didn't take a genius to recognize the look of an exhausted parent in Dan's expression. A look many of the league members were well acquainted to. A look that even had Batman grimacing with sympathy.

"Can it, little shits. You two were grounded, remember." Dan had growled at the kids before shifting his focus back on the team of heroes before them. His glowing eyes set in a deadly glare. "Pariah Dark isn't coming, and he never will. He's been dethroned and banished. We're the best you've got."

A summoning that started with a group of on edge and scared heroes looking for the ghost king, ended in a way no one expected.

No one was even sure if it made any sense. They weren't sure if they should feel hopeful or in despair.

Because truly, what was a ghostly man with two seemingly human children against a godlike foe with the control over the weather?

The unspoken question of power and ability seemed to vanish following Dan downing the metal travel cup of coffee, and crushing it in his fist.

He tossed it to the side, straighting up his posture as he looked over the heroes. Dan might not be a hero, but he's been playing family for too long.

An almost feral, bloodhungry grin spread across the man's face, sharp fangs on full display. The look made the man suddenly look even less human. He looked closer to a demon from the pits of hell rather than the exhausted parent he looked just a few seconds ago.

"Point me in the direction of this bastard. It's been too long since I let loose and had some fun."

#danny phantom #danny fenton #phandom #dc x dp #batman #dcxdp #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc crossover #justice league #I've been toying with the idea of following Pariah Dark's end the zone abolished the idea of a one true king #instead setting up a counsel of the most trusted ghosts and deities with in the zone; including Pandora and Clockwork #I also like to vote for Technus to be on the counsel and Ghostwriter to be like the secretary/note taker #after Ghostwriter stopped being an asshole ofc ofc #I kinda have this list of specific details I've created for this idea and like I keep thinking up new ones #like the Phamily's backstory is somewhat canon complaint with the show but also a whole mess of complex shit #like the expanse of Danny turning into phantom and the events that occurred still did except technically they never did #it's clockwork's time mumbo jumbo type of shit #Ellie had to be deaged some to help stabilize her core so I'm roughly saying she's like 7-8 years old #but idk children so idk how a 7-8 year old actually looks or how they usually act or talk #The JL seriously don't know if they should be hopeful or not but Dan's grin and excitement makes it seem more promising #I like to imagine Bruce is just watching Dan with Ellie and Danny trying to figure out if he's actually a good father or not #people being surprised to find out that Ellie Danny and Dan are all technically orphaned siblings #while Dan is just trying to coparent his siblings with the help of a time god an earth goddess a princess and a dirtbag with a motorcycle #dan phantom #ellie phantom #I can go on and on so I'll force myself to stop now #long post

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