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2nd2ndalto · 1 month ago

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what if there were two (side by side in orbit)

Please see tags for content warnings.

Please note chapter is split into 2 parts because it's too damn long.

(chapter 9 part 1 here!)

Chapter 9 (part 2)

It’s two hours past the end of his workday when Nico finally returns to the Bureau, but when he unlocks the door to his office, it’s with a copy of Tooms’ dental records in his hand and the tiny ember of hope still warming his chest from his and Annabeth’s meeting with Dr. Dare at the Smithsonian afterwards. Nico had rather suspected that Dr. Dare had stayed past the end of her workday as well, but she’d seemed just as bright and energetic as when he and Will had spoken with her hours earlier. The comparison of the dental evidence would take time, she’d warned them, but god, at least it’s a possibility, a shred of hope to cling to.

Nico always hates feeling stalled on a case, no new leads, locked doors at every turn. The feeling is exponentially more unpleasant when it comes with the added panic of a horrible, rushing deadline, the visceral fear of losing Will –

Nico grits his teeth, tries to stop the spiralling thoughts in their path. He returned to the office tonight because this case isn’t solved yet, and the discoveries of this afternoon gave him the motivation to actually keep trying to solve it.

He digs on his desk for a moment before unearthing Erin Monte’s case file. He, Annabeth and Will have already been over it several times, but it can’t hurt to take another look. Nico forces himself to read slower this time, word by word. Tooms’ prints in her office, but that’s not incriminating. No trace of covert entry, no elongated prints on the vents in the office, but of course there wouldn’t be.

He flips to the back of the report, the crime scene photos. Cold, dead bodies on slabs – that’s always been one of the hardest parts of this job, an ever-present reminder of Bianca, broken and ghostly pale, the way his chest hollowed out. The way it stayed that way, for years. Usually, though, Nico’s able to study photos of victims with some professional distance.

The photos of Erin Monte are undeniably gory; a messy gash across her midsection, nothing careful or clinical about it. Blood pooled around her body, splattered over her chest, soaked into the carpet underneath. Nico feels the bile rising in his throat and he takes a moment to look away, blinking at the dark ceiling, breathing deeply. It’s just a body. It’s just a case. It’s his job to solve it, not feel it.

He can’t quite loosen the tension in his jaw, but he returns to the file, flipping past the photos to the autopsy report. Erin Monte usually wore a necklace – it’s visible in every photo taken of her while she was alive – a silver chain with an opal pendant. And its absence isn’t indisputable proof that Tooms took it as a trophy, but there was no sign of the pendant on Dr. Monte’s body, or anywhere in her home.

Nico flips back to the crime scene photos. No abrasions to the victim’s neck, no sign of a necklace being torn from her body. When did the necklace go missing? Because in April, with Will… A cold sweat prickles over Nico’s neck at the thought, but – no. He needs to fight through it. Nothing matters more.

In April. With Will. Tooms had taken the cufflink before committing the murder – could he have done the same in this case? Had Erin Monte noticed her necklace was missing? Is it possible Tooms entered her house covertly before he killed her?

And – what if Will had noticed his missing cufflink?

Nico takes a long breath, careful. No. Will probably wouldn’t have thought anything of it. And neither would Nico. God, even if they’d noticed, it wouldn’t have made any fucking difference.

Will made a joke about his liver this afternoon, and though Nico did his best not to show it, it was like a knife through his gut. And he gets that. He gets the gallows humor, and that everyone has their own way of coping, and god, of course he wants Will to cope. He wants to see Will smiling, joking. It’s the only thing that keeps Nico going some days.

Though there’s no blood or gore in the crime scene photos from Will’s abduction, those are the ones that Nico can’t get out of his head, whether the file is open on his desk or he’s lying awake in his own bed. The images are burned onto the inside of his eyelids – the open car door, lights still glowing on the dashboard of the abandoned car. Will’s glasses crushed in the grass. The photos they took together at the building on Exeter, Tooms’ sticky green mess of a paper maché den, dripping with bile. The visceral reaction Will had to the entire scene, and god, why didn’t Nico put more stock in that at the time? He should have known.

Nico’s eyes blur with tears, and he flips the chart closed, clumsy. Will’s fine. He’s fine. Tooms likes to find his victims alone, and Will’s got Kayla there, and an agent parked outside his building, another right outside his apartment door – god, is that enough, though?

Nico closes his eyes, willing his heart rate to slow, the terror to stop rising in his chest. It’s such a fucking fight to get himself back on track whenever this happens and he doesn’t have the time. A flash in his mind, the putrid smell of Tooms’ lair, the second Nico’s gaze caught on Will’s cufflink lying amidst the filth, the way his heart seized up in his chest –

Nico’s blood goes cold. The cufflink. God, the cufflink.

The cufflink in the little evidence bag that’s been stashed in Nico’s desk for months, ever since Reyna returned it –

He shoves his chair back, yanks his desk drawer open with shaking hands. Fuck. Where is it? It was here. Wasn’t it here? If Tooms was right here, in the office… No. No. He can’t do this again.

Nico tears through the contents of the drawer, hands shaking, heart pounding out of his chest, desperate to feel the smooth plastic of the little bag against his fingers. But it’s all just junk – receipts and Sharpies and paper clips. A sharp bite of pain in his finger and he snatches his hand back, blood already running down to his wrist, seeping into the cuff of his shirt. Fuck. A fucking unsheathed X-Acto knife.

But maybe it’s a blessing after all, because, bleeding fingertip in his mouth, Nico’s mind somehow settles just enough to register the corner of the little evidence bag under a pack of double-As, and he yanks it out.

Yes. God.

He brings the bag up to his eyes in the low light of the office, just to make absolutely sure. Yes. A silver cufflink with a stylized sun. And then he sags forward, forehead pressed to the little bag in his hand, bleeding finger still in his mouth. His face is wet with tears.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Yeah?” Nico calls, hoarse. Who could it even be, at 7:30 in the evening?

The door opens.

“Nico –” Reyna stops short at the sight of him, uncharacteristically caught off-guard. “Is – everything okay?” she asks, awkward, taking in Nico’s tear-stained face, his probably-disheveled appearance, the blood running down his finger now that he’s pulled it from his mouth. Not to mention the contents of Nico’s drawer strewn over the surface of his desk and spilling onto the floor.

“No,” Nico says, short.

Reyna’s brow creases. “What happened to your finger –”

“I cut it.” Nico reaches for a tissue, but the blood seeps through immediately. He reaches for another, a quick dab at his cheeks before wrapping that one around, too.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” Reyna asks, suddenly all business. Nico gestures vaguely to the shelf beside the door, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair, his heart rate miraculously back to normal. That’s one way he hasn’t tried stopping a panic attack before, though he’s not crazy about employing the method on a regular basis. Nico keeps his eyes closed until he hears the click of Reyna’s shoes approaching.

Reyna pulls up a chair. “Give me your hand,” she says, holding out hers.

Nico hesitates. “You’re supposed to put on gloves first,” he says. Because Will always does.

Reyna rolls her eyes, but she fishes a pair of surgical gloves from the first aid kit. Nico watches as she fumbles with alcohol wipes and bandages and then grabs his hand. It’s hard to properly clean the cut, because it won’t really stop bleeding, and Nico ends up dripping blood on both of them. Reyna’s unfazed by this. She messes up the first bandaid, though, getting the adhesive stuck to itself. She unsticks it from her glove and tosses it into the garbage. There’s blood slowly dripping onto Nico’s pants now and he sighs, reaching for another tissue.

Reyna takes Nico’s hand again, this time failing to get the bandaid in quite the right spot. With a sound of annoyance she tears that one off too.

“Ow,” Nico complains.

Reyna raises an eyebrow. “This probably needs stitches. I should make you go to the hospital.”

“I’m not going to the hospital,” Nico says immediately.

“No shit,” Reyna mutters under her breath. She digs in the first aid kit for a second. “Don’t you have any butterfly strips?”

“I – don’t know,” Nico says, tired. “Will usually – I don’t know. Reyna, why are you even here?”

“Why are any of us here?” Reyna says vaguely, brow furrowed as she clumsily manages to get the next bandaid mostly in the right spot, only sticking it to itself a little.

Nico watches with clinical interest as the blood immediately begins to seep through the fabric of the bandage.

Reyna sighs, grabbing Nico’s hand back more aggressively and adding two more bandaids in quick succession, crooked and tight enough to cut off the circulation.

Nico snorts. “Awesome, now I can’t feel it at all.”

“I’m not a doctor,” Reyna says breezily, zipping the first aid kit shut and dropping it on top of the mess on Nico’s desk. “You get what you pay for.” She pulls off her gloves and drops them into the garbage. “How’s the case going?”

Nico sighs. “It – could be worse. There are some promising leads with the body we found at the chemical plant. And we need some further forensic investigation at Erin Monte’s house. I’ll put in the requests for that first thing tomorrow.”

Reyna’s nodding. “Glad to hear it.” She regards Nico for a moment in silence, and then seems as if she can’t quite resist a glance towards the office door, though the chance that they’ll be interrupted at this time of night is vanishingly small. “Look, Nico, I’m sure I don’t have to impress upon you the importance of playing things by the book on this one.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“It’s not a question of whether you know it,” Reyna shoots back.

Nico rolls his eyes. Reyna’s right, of course, but it’s also irrelevant. That’s been clear to him ever since he heard Tooms was being released. Maybe even since the moment Will went missing in April, the moment the earth dropped out from under him. The hours afterwards, the insidiously creeping realization that there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to have Will back, to keep him safe. Zero exceptions, consequences be damned.

“Octavian wasn’t happy with the fallout after the case in April,” Reyna continues, quieter. “He was of the opinion that you and Agent Solace should have faced more serious consequences for what he considered serious errors in protocol committed over the course of the investigation.”

Nico nods slowly, eyes on his desk. In the postmortem meetings, Octavian hadn’t said it in so many words, but it was clear to Nico nonetheless. He still rather hopes it was less clear to Will, given his dazed state in those weeks. There’s no need for Will to be worrying about Octavian, or possible consequences for the X-Files.

“The only reason there weren’t more serious repercussions for your department was because the X-Files was technically only consulting on the Tooms case,” Reyna says. “Had the case been officially assigned to you….” she trails off, shaking her head.

Nico’s exhausted. Drained and now maybe suffering from blood loss now, too. But he manages to summon enough indignation to spit out, “I’m sure he wanted us both suspended, or fired. Because Will almost fucking dying wasn’t punishment enough.”

“Well,” Reyna says, a bit softer. “Unfortunately that’s not how any of this works.” She sighs. “Regardless, it’s imperative that you are aware that certain parties are watching your investigation closely. You must be prepared for your every action to be scrutinized, perhaps beyond the bounds of what either of us would consider reasonable.”

“I – okay.”

Reyna stands. “You know I’ll have your back if I’m able to, Nico. But please be careful.”

Nico nods, his throat going tight. “Yeah. I – thank you. And I’ll – I’ll do my best.”

Reyna nods. “Get some sleep.” And then she’s gone.

Nico collapses back in his chair with a sigh, half-tempted to just stay here for the night. He realizes his throbbing finger is wet with blood again and he wraps a couple more tissues around it before grabbing his bag and coat and locking up for the night.

If Will had been hoping for a second wind that evening, it doesn’t come. He sits slumped over the table after dinner, blearily listening to Kayla telling him about last night’s fundraiser gala.

“Will. Will.”

“Hmm?” Will looks up. He feels as if Kayla’s voice has pulled him back from somewhere a long way away.

“Dude, you’re literally falling asleep,” Kayla laughs. “Go to bed. I’ll tidy up.”

Will sighs, glancing at the clock. It’s early, but he has no desire to be upright or conscious any longer. “Okay. Thanks.”

Instead, though, he puts his head in his arms, still in his chair at the kitchen table, soothed by the sounds of his sister loading the dishwasher and singing to herself. The landline rings, but Will’s tired mind can’t quite make sense of it. Suddenly Kayla’s shaking him awake.

He blinks up at her, disoriented.

“Hey.” Kayla surveys him critically. “Lou Ellen just called. Her car broke down outside of Rockville. I have to go pick her up.”

“Mmm,” Will thinks he says, dropping his head back to the table.

“Will.”

“Hmm? What?”

“I asked if you were going to be okay here alone.” Kayla’s starting to sound exasperated now, and Will tries to shake himself into full consciousness.

“Yeah. Sure. S’fine.”

Kayla drops back into her chair. “Even with the crazy liver guy on the loose?”

Will groans. “Right. Him.��

“Maybe call Nico?”

“Yeah, okay,” Will sighs.

“It would make me feel better,” Kayla admits. “I’ll be gone for at least a few hours. I’ll stay over at Lou’s place if I know you’re not alone. Rather than drive all the way back here.”

Will nods. “Yeah. I hate to – Nico’s probably already home for the night. But he might actually murder me himself if he finds out I was alone in the apartment.”

Nico’s not at home after all, or at least not answering his landline. Will half-considers just going to bed – his head is aching and he’s exhausted. It’s hard to worry too much about potentially being murdered when he’s already feeling so crummy. But he knows he needs to try Nico’s cell, just to be sure.

Nico answers on the first ring.

“Is everything okay?” Nico sounds anxious, breathless, and Will feels a stab of guilt for whatever part he’s currently playing in that scenario. He aches to have his Nico back again – sarcastic, smug. Sweet. Not this Nico who’s wound tight, stretched thin. Who keeps looking at Will like he might evaporate any second.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Where are you? Wait, cancel that, that’s none of my business,” Will half-laughs, dropping onto the couch.

Nico snorts. “Shut up. Of course it’s your business. I actually um – I went back to the office. After we finished at the sanitarium and the Smithsonian. I wanted to check a few things. But I’m just on my way out now. What’s up?”

Right, the files at the sanitarium. The potential breakthrough. Will’s been feeling so miserable he almost forgot. “Any luck with the dental records?”

“Yeah. Hold on.”

Will thinks he hears the slam of a car door, and then Nico’s voice is clearer on the line. “We got the dental records from the sanitarium – Annabeth was right, of course. We left them with Dr. Dare and she got started on the process of… whatever computer software she’s using. But the results might take a while.”

“That’s great, though,” Will says, just managing to force his brain to make sense of what Nico’s saying.

“Yeah, definitely,” Nico says. “So what’s up? Or were you just calling for an update?”

“Um,” Will presses his fingers to his aching sinuses, wishing once again that he was curled up under his quilt. “I was just calling to let you know that Kayla needs to go out for the night. You don’t have to –”

“I’ll be right there,” Nico says immediately.

“I – okay.” Will sighs, well aware there’s no point in arguing and honestly not really wanting to anyway. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

The relief on Nico’s face when Will opens the door makes him want to cry, but he restrains himself. His sinuses are in bad enough shape already.

“You’re still feeling shitty,” Nico remarks, his gaze lingering on Will’s face as he closes the door behind him. “You look all…” Nico gestures vaguely at Will’s face. “Puffy.”

Will huffs, no energy to be offended. “Yeah. I really just want to take some drugs and go to bed. Do you wanna – you’re welcome to sleep on the couch. Or we can go over to your place.”

Nico shakes his head, peeling off his coat. “No, we’ll stay here. I grabbed my overnight bag. I might just need to borrow a t-shirt to sleep in.”

“Yeah, that’s no problem.” Will’s eyes catch on a red smear across the white of Nico’s shirt. “Wait – are you bleeding?”

“Oh. Fuck,” Nico sighs, following Will’s gaze. “I already forgot. There was an open X-Acto in my desk –” Nico holds up his hand, one finger bloodied and awkwardly bandaged.

“Shit,” Will says, grabbing Nico’s wrist. He surveys the finger critically for a second, then huffs out a laugh at the numerous crookedly applied bandaids, blood seeping through regardless. “Looks like you patched yourself up in the dark. Drunk.”

Nico snorts. “That’s Reyna’s work, actually. Don’t worry about it though, you go to bed –”

Will rolls his eyes. “I’m not gonna just let you just bleed all night. Here.” He ushers Nico over to the kitchen table and grabs a couple of paper towels from the counter. “Try not to get blood all over my kitchen. I’ll go grab the first aid kit.”

Will returns a moment later, taking the seat next to Nico and unzipping the little med kit. He pulls on gloves and begins carefully peeling the bandaids off Nico’s finger. It really is a mess – crooked and lumpy and enough blood that Will can tell it’s really not a bandaid sort of an injury.

“Reyna um – she said it needed stitches,” Nico says guiltily.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you go to the hospital.”

“You’re the best,” Nico says softly, his gaze on the progress of Will’s fingers.

Will shoots him a quick smile. “Yeah, I know.” He unpeels the last bandaid, careful not to pull the wound open any further. “Jesus. Don’t ever let Reyna administer first aid again, okay?”

Nico’s lips quirk. “My options were limited.”

“Yeah.” Will drops the sticky mess of bandaids onto the paper towel on the table. “Go wash your hands at the sink. Use lots of soap and do your best to clean inside that cut. Then I’ll get you all fixed up.” He leans forward, patting Nico’s leg with the back of his hand – trying to avoid getting his partner’s clothes even bloodier.

Nico nods, suddenly looking almost tearful. Will opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again as Nico stands. It’s been a long week. A long few months. They’re both worn down, every emotion simmering at the surface. Will’s definitely had the exact same reaction to someone taking care of him when he’s in a fragile state.

After a second Will gets up too, pulling a handful of paper towels off the roll on the counter. He reaches for Nico’s injured hand once Nico’s done washing, drying it carefully for him and taking a good look at the cut under the brighter light by the sink.

“Ouch,” Will murmurs. “That’s a nice deep one. D’you mind if I use medical glue? I’m pretty sure I have some.”

“Yeah, whatever you think.”

Will grabs the kitchen timer and they return to the table. Wound edges set and glued, Will sets the timer and adjusts for a more comfortable hold on Nico’s hand. “I’ll just keep it immobilized for a few minutes so it seals properly. As long as you don’t mind me holding your hand, that is,” Will teases, trying to lighten the mood.

“I don’t mind.” Nico’s voice is quiet, his eyes on their joined hands.

Neither of them speaks for a long moment, hand in hand (sort of) at Will’s kitchen table. There’s the steady tick of the clock on the kitchen wall. A door closes softly somewhere down the apartment hallway. Will’s eyes flit over Nico’s face. There’s a furrow between his brows, darker-than-usual shadows under his eyes. Will’s struck once again by the thought that Nico looks smaller than usual. Face drawn, cheekbones sharpened. For all that Will’s still aching to climb into bed, Nico looks just as exhausted.

“You okay?” Will asks.

“Yeah. Just a long day.”

“Did Reyna come looking for you?” It’s the only explanation Will can think of, if Reyna bandaged Nico’s finger. Will can’t imagine Nico going to Reyna for help with an injury unless it was a lot more life-threatening.

Nico seems to freeze, looking caught out. His hand twitches in Will’s. It’s kind of funny, Will thinks, the way it sometimes still catches Nico off guard that Will does know how to read him.

“Yeah. She – came down to – just to make sure we were – staying on track. With the case,” Nico stammers. God, he’s cute.

Will gently squeezes the part of Nico’s hand that’s not in danger of starting to bleed again. “That’s not cryptic at all.”

Nico breathes out a laugh, shoulders sagging. “It was – you know. Upper management… stuff,” he says lamely.

Will rolls his eyes. Octavian. Of course it would be. “That idiot. He was pissed that we didn’t get disciplined after the case in April. I was wondering when he was gonna stick his nose in this time.”

Nico looks startled at this. Like maybe he thought he was keeping something from Will, somehow protecting him. Will rolls his eyes again, but only internally this time. And with appropriately accompanying fondness.

“Yeah. That’s the deal. Basically,” Nico says. “But we – we don’t need to worry about it. The case’ll get solved.”

“And we’ll deal with Octavian afterwards,” Will says firmly. “We can do our jobs just fine without that loser’s interference. We’re not going to compromise the integrity of our work worrying about what fucking Octavian thinks.” Despite Will’s utter exhaustion, he can feel the fire rising in his chest at the words. Octavian made himself out to be an enemy of Nico and the X-Files the first time Will ever met him, and he lost any sympathy Will might have had towards him in that moment.

Will glances from the setting glue on Nico’s finger up to Nico’s face. And then his stomach attempts to drop out from under him at the expression he finds there. Something over-warm. Openly affectionate. God, just open.

Nico’s voice is warm, too, when he speaks. “You’re exactly right,” he says, so sure about it that Will very nearly leans in, his eyes already tracing over Nico’s face – god, to his mouth – and of course that’s the exact second the timer goes off.

Nico jumps at the sound, leaning back in his chair.

Will turns his attention to Nico’s finger. “Looks good,” he manages. “I’ll put a bandaid over it just in case, but that should stay put.” He does just that and then zips the med kit shut. “Take off that shirt and I’ll soak it for you so it doesn’t stain.” Will adds over his shoulder.

Will thinks he hears some half-hearted protests on this subject. He ignores them.

Five minutes later Will’s filling the kitchen sink, swirling the shirt around in the cool water. He’ll worry about actually putting it in the washer in the morning.

“Hey,” Nico sounds hesitant. He comes to lean against the counter next to Will, now in just his undershirt.

Will looks over.

“You don’t –” Nico stops, seeming to steel himself before continuing. “I was thinking about your cufflink earlier.”

“Oh –”

Nico’s rubbing his thumb over the chrome at the edge of the sink, brow furrowed. “So, the cufflink that Tooms took, in April. Reyna brought it back. To – us. Um. Sometime in the summer.”

Will blinks. “Oh.”

“I didn’t mention it because –” Nico waves a hand vaguely, eyes downcast.

“Yeah, sure,” Will says softer, shutting off the water and reaching for a hand towel. “Neither of us was in the mood to talk about – cufflinks. Over the summer.”

Nico breathes out a laugh, the tension easing in his shoulders. “No. We weren’t. So that cufflink’s been living in my desk since then. And I checked on it before I left the office tonight, because I started thinking – I don’t know.”

Will nods in understanding. “That Tooms would try to get it back.” That he’d try to get meback.

“Yeah. Anyway – what I was trying to say was that – I’d like you to check on the other cufflink. If that’s okay. Just – to cover all our bases.”

“Sure, of course,” Will agrees. “I hadn’t even thought of that.” He pushes himself off the counter to walk to his room, Nico trailing behind. “Don’t serial killers usually take trophies after murders? Or like – during?”

“Yeah. Usually.”

Will opens the top drawer of his dresser, shoving aside underwear and socks until he unearths the little blue box. He pops open the lid, then holds it out to show Nico.

Nico lets out a breath. “Oh. Okay. Good.” He reaches out to touch, brushing his thumb over the sun design on the little piece of silver. “Good,” he says again.

God, he looks tired. Fragile in a way that makes Will want to grab him, hold on tight until they can finally fight their way out of this stupid case.

“All good,” Will says, trying to sound sure about it. He squeezes Nico’s arm.

Nico kind of sags against Will’s hand, and Will laughs. “Maybe you should get to bed early too. You look wiped.”

Nico sighs. “Yeah. I probably should. If you don’t mind, I’ll watch your TV for a bit first. See if I can shut my brain off for a couple hours.”

Will heads to bed soon after, standing in a steaming shower until he starts to feel dizzy, then knocking back a promising combination of Tylenol and Advil before dropping into bed. He leaves his door open, sure Nico, now curled in front of the TV, will be anxious if he can’t lay eyes on him. Besides, he’s grown accustomed to falling asleep to Nico’s presence nearby, still awake as Will drifts off. It’s comforting.

Despite his pounding head, Will falls asleep almost instantly, waking hours later with a start. He pushes himself up, heart racing, peering desperately into the dark corners of the room, trying to figure out what woke him.

“Sorry,” Nico whispers in the dark. “Everything’s fine. Go back to sleep. I’m gonna sleep on your floor.”

A dark shape that must be Nico, a blanket and pillow bunched in his arms, makes its way across the room, then disappears beside Will’s bed. Will, taking a moment to process this change in sleeping arrangements, stares into the darkness for a long second. Then, he frowns.

“Nico – what?” Will’s voice is hoarse and hyponasal. He clears his throat. “Why – why are you sleeping on the floor?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Nico mutters, repressive.

Will shuffles to the edge of the bed, peering over. There’s just enough light filtering around the blinds to make out the dark hair falling over Nico’s forehead, the shine of his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it?” Will says.

Nico gazes up from the floor. “You’re awfully chatty for someone who’s supposed to be sleeping.”

Will clears his throat again. For all the good it does. “You’re awfully… on my floor. For someone who’s supposed to be on my couch,” he retorts convolutedly. “Did something happen?”

There’s a sigh in the dark. “No, I just – couldn’t see you. From the living room. So I’m here.”

Will huffs out a laugh. It hurts. “Well you’re not sleeping on the fucking floor.”

“What –”

“Get up here.” Will reaches for Nico’s arm, tugging.

“No, I don’t want to disturb you,” Nico protests, whilst simultaneously coming along quite cooperatively, climbing into Will’s bed and pulling the covers over himself.

Will rolls his eyes, which he’s pretty sure Nico won’t notice in the dark. “You won’t disturb me if you just get the fuck over here and go the fuck to sleep,” he grumbles, scooting over to make room.

“You swear a lot when you’re sick,” Nico remarks, sounding pleased.

“Fuck you,” Will mutters, his eyes falling shut to the sound of Nico’s laugher.

The next time Will wakes, it must be morning, if the light against his eyelids is any indication. His brain takes the last vault into consciousness with the certain knowledge that he’s not alone in his bed. There’s a half-second of panic, but then he opens his eyes to Nico’s steady gaze, Nico’s sleep-rumpled hair on the pillow next to his.

“I swear I wasn’t just lying here watching you sleep like some kind of creep,” Nico says, not sounding very convincing at all, and not taking his eyes off of Will.

Will gives Nico a sleepy thumbs-up, flopping onto his stomach and shoving his face into his pillow. It’s hard to tell when he’s only just woken up, but he thinks he might be feeling marginally better. He coughs heavily, feeling it rattle in his throat. He groans into the pillow.

A soft huff of laughter, then Nico’s hand gently settling on his head, fingers scratching lightly against his scalp. Sleepy pleasure sparks down Will’s spine, in spite of his thick head and raw throat.

Nico’s voice, low: “How’re you feeling?”

“Mmph. Keep doing that,” Will mumbles, a little less inhibited than he thinks he’d be if he were properly awake, but maybe that’s not the worst thing.

After several blissful minutes of Nico’s blunt nails scratching over his scalp, Will finally flops onto his side. Nico’s hand stills, but he leaves it where it is, a comforting weight on Will’s still-lightly-throbbing head.

Will clears his throat. “How’d you sleep?” he croaks.

Nico nods, thoughtful. “Not bad. Better than I would have on the floor. Or the couch, honestly.”

Nico’s voice is soft and sleep-rough and his hand is warm and he’s so close and Will needs a moment to collect himself before he can think of what might be an appropriate thing to say in response. The problem is, his entire brain is inconveniently fixated on the thought of rolling towards the man next to him, burying his face in Nico’s chest and breathing in all the sleepy warmth of him. Maybe sinking his teeth into one perfect bicep. Maybe tangling his legs with Nico’s and rolling him onto his back and –

“You okay?” Nico asks, a half-smile like he thinks Will might have taken leave of his senses.

I’m so fucking in love with you, Will thinks.

Will makes a sound that could possibly be interpreted as affirmative, then clears his throat again. “I think – I think I might be able to breathe through one side of my nose,” Will says with dawning elation. He takes a deep, experimental sniff.

“Gross,” Nico comments, fighting a smile.

Will grins stupidly up into Nico’s gorgeous, sweet, pillow-creased face. Because yes, they’ve got a terrifying, possibly-supernatural murderer to catch, and yes, Will’s liver and life are probably in imminent danger, but god he just wants to wake up with Nico in his bed every single morning, probably for the rest of his life, however long that might be, and fuck if he isn’t going to take a moment to enjoy it right now.

“What?” Nico’s laughing, probably at the completely dopey look on Will’s face.

Will shakes his head, careful not to dislodge Nico’s lovely hand. “Nothing. I’m just…” he feels his face warming but god he suddenly just doesn’t care anymore. Because this has been going on for so fucking long and they could both be dead tomorrow.

“I’m glad you stayed over,” Will says, soft and certain.

Nico’s smile fades. He swallows, his gaze straying to the hand still resting on Will’s head. “Well. I said I’d keep you safe.”

“You did.”

They gaze at each other for a long moment, inches apart, and Will’s just trying to figure out what he could possibly say, how he could possibly express to Nico how much this means to him, to have him here – and hopefully also how to express it in such a manner that Nico won’t immediately jump out of bed and sprint for the door… when Will feels a massive sneeze coming on.

This close to Nico, he doesn’t think it’ll do much good to simply cover his nose, so instead he throws himself facedown on the mattress as the sneeze hits. It’s a fantastic sneeze. Will’s suddenly able to breathe through both sides of his nose, and he feels the cathartic pop of several vertebrae.

He hears Nico snort above him. “Gesundheit,” Nico says as Will rolls back onto his side, wiping his eyes.

“Jesus,” Will says, emphatic. And once he’s righted himself, he’s somehow several inches closer to Nico than he was before, and when the next sneeze hits, taking him completely by surprise, he (mostly) accidentally shoves his face into Nico’s shoulder – only to avoid sneezing right into Nico’s face, of course.

Nico makes a noise that’s half laughter and half protest, shoving Will away as Will starts laughing.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry –”

“You sneezed on me,” Nico says, his voice high and indignant, and it only makes Will laugh harder.

Will, helpless with giggles, shoves his head into Nico’s chest, pretending to vigorously wipe his nose and Nico squeaks, clearly ticklish there (interesting) which only encourages Will. Nico grabs at Will’s shoulders, a weak shove, still laughing, to which Will responds by doing his best to become deadweight, his cheek against Nico’s (warm, firm, god) chest, one arm thrown heavily across Nico’s body.

And yeah, Nico’s pretty strong, but Will does have a height and weight advantage here, aided somewhat by the squishiness of his mattress, which serves to secure Nico quite effectively. Nico squirms, breathless with laughter, trying to extricate himself from under Will, who only sighs contentedly, pressing himself more firmly into his partner (Will has never been happier to have use of both nostrils – even first thing in the morning Nico smells fucking amazing) and feigning sleep (probably made much less convincing by the fact that he’s completely unable to stop giggling). Until Nico’s fingers find Will’s armpits, that is, and Will shrieks and Nico cackles, and –

There’s the sound of someone clearing their throat loudly from the doorway.

The two scramble apart, Will nearly falling over the side of the bed in the process. He blinks at Kayla, who’s been leaning against the doorframe for god only knows how long, looking amused and particularly smug, one eyebrow raised.

“Will. Nico.” Kayla nods at each of them in turn.

Will’s fairly positive his ears are on fire. “Kayla. Hi. We weren’t –” he glances at Nico, who’s at least sitting up now, but looking completely shell-shocked. His t-shirt (the one he borrowed from Will) is rumpled, too-large and falling off one shoulder, the color high in his cheeks. He certainly doesn’t look like someone who was in Will’s bed for purely platonic pursuits, Will registers with some regret.

Nico gulps. “I was. Sleeping on the couch. But then –”

“He only came in here because –” Will interrupts.

Kayla holds up a hand and they both fall silent. “I was just going to let you guys know that I was home, before I got in the shower. You know. So you wouldn’t think I was a murderer.” Kayla rolls her eyes. “Not that either of you idiots would have noticed,” she mutters, turning and pulling the door shut behind her.

There’s a very long, very loud silence. Will’s pretty sure he can hear all the blood in his body rushing to his face. Which, at least, is more convenient than where all the blood in his body had been rushing to, a few moments before.

He finally works up the nerve to look over at Nico, and they gaze at each other for a moment, wide-eyed, before Will snorts and Nico’s face breaks into a grin. He’s flushed and messy-haired and unbearably beautiful and Will seriously considers pouncing on him all over him again, no question about his intentions this time around.

Nico drops back to the bed, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I guess we should probably get up,” he says.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Yeah?” Will calls.

Kayla opens it a crack. “Hey, you guys? Is there a reason the vent cover in the bathroom is missing?”

“If di Angelo hadn’t been sleeping on the couch…” Annabeth trails off.

Will nods. “Yeah. I know.” He and Annabeth are lingering at the far end of the hallway, watching the agents crowding around the bathroom. There isn’t any room for Will in there, never mind that he’s not quite ready to be officially on the clock yet anyway. He hasn’t had a chance to put on socks or brush his teeth, and he thinks he might be willing to offer up his liver (or a portion of it, anyway) in exchange for a coffee, a handful of Advil and a couple of shots of Otrivin.

Will’s never seen Nico move as fast as he did when Kayla came to tell them about the missing vent cover, like he’d teleported instead of taking the dozen or so steps down the hall. The next thing Will knew, before he’d really even processed what was happening, Nico was on the phone with Reyna, then Octavian, then Annabeth, his face pale and set.

And only because Annabeth’s probably the fifth person in the last ten minutes who’s said something along the lines of thank god di Angelo was on the couch, Will feels compelled to finally mutter, “he wasn’t actually sleeping on the couch.”

He feels his face warming. And god, waking to Nico in his bed feels so long ago already. Feeling safe, warm. Heart-singing-in-his-chest-happy.

Annabeth glances back in Will’s direction, surprise on her face.

Will shoots a glance up and down the hallway. “He um. He was in my bed. With me.”

Annabeth’s face breaks into a small smile. “Oh.”

Will immediately shakes his head. “Not – not like that. Unfortunately.” He takes a deep breath, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Oh, Will,” Annabeth laughs, soft.

“Yeah. I know.”

“Well. Thank god he was in your bed, anyway,” Annabeth says, carefully keeping her voice down.

Will breathes out a laugh. “Yeah. Maybe I can convince him to make it a regular occurrence. If it’s going to keep me from being murdered.”

Annabeth gazes down the hall to where Nico is talking intently to one of the crime scene analysts. “It’s probably none of my business, but I can’t imagine it would take a lot of convincing.”

Will laughs, quiet. “Right? I’m quite the catch,” he says, gesturing down at the pajamas he pulled on in a congested haze last night with no thought of anyone seeing them – not Nico, who was going to sleep on the couch, and certainly not an apartment full of his colleagues; the Betty Boop pajama pants that were too big for Kayla but definitely too small for Will, and the World’s Sexiest Doctor t-shirt Cecil gave him last Christmas that Will would never wear outside his own apartment.

“Of course you are. And it’s obvious that he cares a lot about you.” Annabeth sighs. “You know some men are just dense that way. You’ve met Percy, right?”

Will nods. Annabeth’s fiancé, an Olympic swimmer. He’d met him at a barbecue once.

“Percy and I were close for years before he figured it out. Nico will get there.” She pats Will on the arm. “Anyway. As far as the investigation goes, I don’t think it makes much difference what your official story is – about who was sleeping where. The three of us know, and that’s enough.”

Will nods. He and Nico had quickly agreed to the same, a rushed discussion in the kitchen as Nico hung up with Reyna and began searching for Octavian’s number.

“I want to go talk to the forensics guys,” Annabeth says. “Hopefully they’ll let you back into your bedroom soon and you can put on some real clothes,” she smiles.

Will nods, melting back against the wall as Annabeth walks away. He casts a glance towards his bedroom. It’s a hub of activity, and Will’s pretty sure there’s no chance he’s getting in there any time soon. After Nico had finished making phone calls, he’d gone straight for Will’s dresser, digging through his underwear (and ignoring Will’s protests on the matter) to pull out the little blue box again. It had looked untouched, thankfully, contents still in place, but it’s been bagged and collected by forensics. So Will’s down one cufflink once again. It’s fine. There are bigger things to worry about.

Nico approaches a moment later, looking completely exhausted by the morning’s events. He, at least, has somehow found the time to dress – he’s in jeans and a t-shirt, leather jacket thrown over the whole ensemble. He’s even got socks on. Will’s jealous.

“So, you can’t stay here,” Nico says without preamble.

“No, of course.”

“And neither can Kayla.”

“It’s all good, she’ll stay at her girlfriend’s,” Will says.

Kayla had taken a moment to balk at the severity of the situation, then had immediately packed a bag, announced she’d catch a shower at work and given Will a quick hug on her way out the door with a promise to call him later.

“I really need a shower,” Nico’s saying, gazing longingly at the bathroom, now adorned in yellow crime scene tape.

“Yeah, and you need to eat something before you pass out,” Will says, reflexive, and then quickly presses a hand to his mouth, remembering Nico’s annoyance when he reminded him to eat yesterday.

Nico frowns, tugging Will’s hand away from his face. “Don’t – you’re right. We’ll pick something up for breakfast and then stop at my place to wash up before we head to work.”

Will sighs. It doesn’t feel as if he’s been away from work for at least a month.

“Wait, though,” Nico pauses, dark eyes suddenly intent on Will’s face. “You’re not even – you’re sick. You can take a sick day, you know. You don’t have to –”

Will shakes his head, tired. “No, I do. I think we’ve already ascertained that the safest place for me to be is wherever you are.”

Nico feels as if he’s coaxing along a particularly tired toddler as he waits for Will to climb the stairs to his apartment and get himself cleaned up and ready. Will finally emerges from Nico’s bathroom in a cloud of steam and menthol, and Nico wrinkles his nose.

“Sorry,” Will says. “I’m not sure if the VapoRub is actually working, but it’s helping me stay awake.” He yawns hugely, rubbing at his eyes.

“It’s fine. If I lose you in a crowd, I’ll be able to hunt you down by smell.”

Will grins, warm and easy, and Nico feels a shot of heat through his middle, accompanied by the inconvenient reminder of… whatever happened in Will’s bed this morning. The worst part is, he thinks, as they get into his car and then pull out of the parking garage into the autumn sunlight, is that he doesn’t think he would have – stopped. Whatever they were tumbling towards. If Kayla hadn’t arrived. And he’s pretty sure Will wouldn’t have, either.

An image flashes before his eyes – the two of them, warm and tangled in Will’s bed. Nico’s fingers sunk in soft curls, his borrowed shirt shoved up, Will’s mouth on his skin –

No. No.

Will is his partner. His friend. There are many very, very good reasons for keeping things exactly as they are. It’s just that Nico couldn’t remember a single one this morning, and he can’t remember any of them now, either. But none of that matters anyway, because god, Will was almost murdered last night. Again.

Nico does his best to shove all of that to the side in favor of scraping the depths of his gray matter, trying desperately to think of any avenues of investigation they haven’t yet exhausted in this fucking exhausting investigation.

Annabeth’s already in the office by the time they arrive, seated at Will’s desk and scribbling intently. She glances up as the door opens. “Good morning. Again.”

Will coughs out a laugh and then just coughs, face buried in his elbow. “Sorry,” he croaks.

Annabeth watches the two of them hang their coats and situate themselves at Nico’s desk. Will folds his long legs to the side. There’s really not enough room for both of them to sit here. But this will all be over soon. Nico’s repeating it to himself like a mantra.

“I just spoke to Dr. Dare,” Annabeth says, her eyes bright. “The dental records match.”

“What, really?” A tiny fraction of the weight on Nico’s shoulders eases. “Wait – which dental records?”

Annabeth is beaming. “All of them. Tooms’ x-rays match the bites on the skeleton. And Geraldine’s dental records confirm that the body at the Smithsonian is hers.”

“That’s incredible,” Will says, eyes wide. “So we – we can –”

“So we can get an arrest warrant,” Annabeth says.

Nico swallows. “Can we? I mean, we know it’s him, but – Geraldine Hansing was murdered sixty years ago.”

“I’m working on it,” Annabeth says, somewhat mysteriously. She looks pleased though, so Nico allows himself the tiniest bit of hope.

“Okay. Okay,” Nico breathes, and a glance at Will assures him that the same wave of relief has just washed over them both.

“I’m gonna request those forensics from Erin Monte’s house, and then I think I’m going to go talk to the folks at Animal Control,” Nico says, hit with a blessed surge of motivation.

“Want company?” Will asks.

Nico’s just about to agree when Will’s phone rings.

“One second,” Will says, pushing his chair over to his own desk. Nico opens a drawer, searching for a phonebook.

Will sighs as he places the phone back in the receiver. “I take that back, I’ve got paperwork to take care of upstairs, apparently,” he says with an apologetic glance to Nico.

“I can wait –”

“Nah, you go ahead. It sounded like it might take a while.”

Nico watches Will get ready to leave the office, conflicted, but then Annabeth says, “I’ll come along to Animal Control.” and that’s that.

Unfortunately, no one at Animal Control seems to have any particular insights into Tooms’ behavior or possible whereabouts. His direct supervisor describes him as punctual and diligent and seems baffled that he’s suspected of being anything else. Tooms doesn’t seem to have had any friends at work – not really surprising, Nico thinks, considering he worked there less than two months in total, with a sizable break to be institutionalized in the middle of that period.

The only possibly useful bit of information Tooms’ supervisor offers is that a colleague Tooms may have had lunch with at some point will be arriving for work soon. As unlikely as this lead seems, Nico and Annabeth settle in a depressing gray-ish reception area to wait for this supposed lunch companion.

The reception is clean enough, pleasant in a public service kind of way. It’s slowly filling with people though – several sticky children and one guy in black skinny jeans who won’t stop jiggling his leg, and Nico’s starting to feel sweaty and uncomfortable. He shifts in his seat. He can hear the echo of dogs barking down a hallway. He thinks of Frank, and Hazel. Of a litter of puppies and an evening with Will that doesn’t involve any murderers. A world where no one’s actively trying to kill his partner.

Tooms was in the apartment. He was right there. He probably came into the bedroom while Nico and Will slept side by side. And if Nico hadn’t been there –

Nico takes in a sharp breath, leaning forward onto his knees.

“You okay?” Annabeth’s voice sounds far away.

Nico shakes his head, trying to clear it. “Yeah. Fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“It’s just… everything,” Nico says, hoarse. He’s clammy, dizzy. He wants Annabeth to stop talking to him, stop looking at him so he can catch his breath. God, is this room getting smaller?

“Come on,” Annabeth says. She pulls Nico up and leads him neatly through the crowded waiting room, down a fluorescent-lit hallway, and out into weak sunlight. The air is cooler, thinner outside. There’s a small grassy area between this building and the next, and Annabeth guides Nico to a wooden bench under several poplars – chipped paint, a half-full metal trash can.

Nico drops to the bench, head in his hands, trying to remember how to breathe. This is a bad one. His heart is racing, far too fast, pins and needles in his fingers and toes, vision fuzzy at the edges. He doesn’t have the bandwidth to feel embarrassed, but he’s sure that’ll come once he can fucking breathe again.

“Is there anything I can do?” Annabeth asks, her voice low.

Nico shakes his head.

“Okay if I stay?”

He nods, and he’s half-aware of Annabeth beside him, leaning back against the bench with a sigh.

Nico’s doing his damndest to count his breath, but it just keeps getting away from him. After what seems like an interminable amount of time, he can feel himself begin to relax by degrees, not through any of his own doing. Just exhaustion, like his body doesn’t have the energy to panic any longer.

Finally he leans back, sweaty and weak. “Fuck,” he breathes.

“Better?” Annabeth asks.

“I don’t know. No.”

“We’re making progress, Nico,” Annabeth says gently.

“Are we, though?” Nico’s voice comes out sharper than he means. “We have no fucking clue how to find this guy. He was in Will’s apartment.” Nico’s heart starts to pick up speed again and he wants to tear his hair out in frustration. “Everything we’re doing – it’s not helping, is it?” He turns to Annabeth, desperate. “There’s a cop sitting outside Will’s apartment all night. He didn’t hear a thing. I was there all night. Twenty-four-seven, I’m trying to figure out what this guy’s going to do next, and he was fucking inches away from killing Will anyway. I don’t know what the fuck to do. I can’t see the end of this. I don’t know how to get through this.”

Nico realizes his face is wet with tears and he scrubs them away. He’d scream at the futility of it all, if he had the energy.

Annabeth watches him for a long moment. “We’re doing all the right things, Nico. We’re doing everything we can.”

“What if it’s not enough?”

“It will be.”

Nico closes his eyes.

“Nico, you’re really good at this,” Annabeth says, sure. “So am I, and so is Will. We’re the right ones for the job, and I have no doubt we can get it done. We’ve all solved cases like this before, successfully and safely.”

Nico nods, jaw tight. God, he wants to believe her.

“And you –” Annabeth hesitates. “Not to overstep, but – you know it’s normal to have a harder time with a case when it’s so – personal.”

“Personal,” Nico says uncertainly.

“Tooms has threatened Will’s life twice now. The two of you are obviously close,” Annabeth says. “It’s normal to have – warm feelings. For your partner.”

Nico laughs weakly, turning his eyes to the trees above them. “Am I really that obvious?”

“Maybe I’m just really that perceptive.”

Nico’s gaze darts to the traffic passing at the end of the park. Annabeth’s right, of course, about all of it. And maybe that doesn’t get them any closer to solving the case. But it’s a good reminder. He does know how to do this. Of course he wants to solve the case, stop Tooms from murdering anyone else, but there’s no denying that he’s worked similar cases without ever coming close to falling to pieces the way he has been this week.

Nico takes in a long breath. “How am I supposed to keep him safe if I’m a complete basket case?” he says softly.

“You’re not a complete basket case.”

Nico huffs. “No offense, but I think I just proved you wrong.”

“No one proves me wrong,” Annabeth says with finality, and Nico manages a laugh.

“We’re gonna put Tooms away.” Annabeth pats his leg. “And in the meantime, we’ll keep Will safe together, okay? We’ll all keep each other safe. You guys stay at my place tonight. Percy’ll be home too, and he’s got this massive dog who sleeps with one eye open. Nothing gets past her.”

“I don’t want to bother –”

“It’s no bother,” Annabeth interrupts. “It’ll be safer for all of us. This is a team effort.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” It’s a scenario wherein Nico can actually imagine sleeping tonight, so.

“So that’s one problem solved,” Annabeth says. She glances at her watch. “We should go see if Tooms’ buddy is on shift yet.”

:: Nico and Annabeth return to the basement not long after Will does, and they provide him with what little updates they've got: no additional leads from Animal Services, nothing new on the APB.

Will knows they’re doing everything they can. He's trying to stay hopeful, but as the day wears on, it feels as if it's taking more effort than it should. Just before lunch, they get word that Reyna's approved the arrest warrant. Will can't imagine what hoops she's had to jump through for that, but it’s a welcome moment of relief.

The three of them order in lunch, eating at their desks. Nico picks half-heartedly at a sandwich as Will dials the two remaining members of Geraldine’s family that Frank managed to track down, a second cousin and a nephew. It’s nothing but more dead ends, and by mid-afternoon Will's pretty sure his brain has shut down for the day. From the stretching silence in the office and the way Nico’s leaning more and more heavily on the hand propped on his desk, he suspects he's not the only one.

“I want to grab a file from upstairs,” Annabeth says, the first time anyone's spoken in half an hour.

Will gazes unseeingly at the papers in front of him, listening to the click of Annabeth’s heels on the floor, then the door latching shut. God, he’s glad he doesn’t have to wear heels to work. All of this would be twice as hard in heels, he’s pretty sure.

Will’s eyes catch on his partner across the desk. Nico looks as if he’s aged five years in the last week, and Will’s chest aches with sympathy. He’s hit by a ridiculous urge to pull Nico into his lap, press his face into Nico’s neck.

Instead, he pokes Nico in the arm. “Hey,” Will croaks, then clears his throat.

Nico gives him a tired half-smile. “Hey. How’re you doing?”

Will shrugs. “Hanging in there.”

Nico nods, silent for a moment. Then, “I – I know this is looking…”

“Bleak?” Will tries.

Nico sighs. “Maybe. And – maybe I don’t need to tell you this, but sometimes it feels like you hit a wall, in cases like this. What I’ve found works best is to just – keep going. Keep looking.”

“Keep beating your head against that wall?” Will suggests.

Nico cracks a smile, almost a real one. “Yeah. Something like that. We’re gonna get there, okay? I know we’re all tired and frustrated. But we’re not giving up. You said we could put this guy away, and you were right.”

Will nods. He keeps his eyes on Nico even when Nico returns to the file he’s been reading and re-reading. Nico’s intent, focused and sure.

And Will loves him.

Will swallows. “Nico,” he begins. He can feel it burning in his chest, and it needs to be said.

Nico looks up again.

“I just wanted to – remember when we – that day in the spring with the missing kid and his dog, and the escaped convict?” It’s as clear in Will’s mind as if it happened yesterday.

Nico’s watching him, maybe a little wary now.

“Do you remember what we talked about?” Will’s throat is tight and he’s sure Nico can hear it. “That if anything ever happened to either of us, because of this job, that we wouldn’t want the other to… blame themselves?” Will can’t bear to state it more plainly than that. What if this is just his time? What if these are all the years he gets, in this lifetime? He doesn't even believe that life works that way, really. But he needs Nico to understand.

“Nothing's going to happen to you,” Nico says, almost threateningly.

Will’s fingers twitch to reach across the desk, but the look on Nico’s face stops him.

“I know. But just in case –”

“Will, don’t,” Nico says, sharp.

Will opens his mouth to speak again.

“Please,” Nico says. His voice hoarse and verging on panic, and the broken syllable hits Will in the gut. “I can’t – please don’t. Okay? You’re going to be fine.”

Will blinks against tears, but he nods.

Nico gives him a nod in response, quick and firm. For a moment he falters, like he’s going to say something more. But then he turns back to his work with a shaky breath, and Will turns back to his.

Then there’s silence in the office except for the occasional sigh or the flip of a page. Will’s not coughing as much this afternoon, though he’s starting to run low on cough drops, he notices regretfully.

Nico abruptly stands. “Be right back,” he mutters. And then he’s out the door.

Will blinks at the closed door for a moment. Then an idea comes to him, fully-formed, and he scrambles for a blank sheet of looseleaf. He figures he has a few minutes at best, no real time to consider everything he wants to say. He scribbles a few lines down quickly, heart pounding, and then folds the paper in two. Where to put it? Somewhere it won’t be found today, but will be found eventually, if it needs to be. His eyes alight on Nico’s in-tray, stacked messily with receipts and as-yet-unsigned papers, and Will crosses the room quickly, neatly inserting the folded note near the bottom of the stack.

Relief.

He takes a moment to breathe, then turns, returning to his seat just as Nico re-enters the office.

Will's pretty sure none of them wants to be the first to leave at the end of the day, but Annabeth breaks first.

"I’d better get home," she sighs, standing and beginning to gather her things. "Percy'll have dinner ready. You two will come along when you're done, right? You've got my address?"

They both nod.

"Okay. I'll make up the spare room for you. Don't stay up too late," Annabeth gives Will a small smile as she leaves the office.

Nico glances at Will, and opens his mouth to speak – but then his phone rings and he shakes his head, reaching for it. Will lets out a breath, pushing his chair back and leaning forward to rest his tired head on his arms. He and Nico are used to each other catching the odd catnap in the office, especially during particularly grueling cases, but it had felt rude to do it while Annabeth was here.

Will's positive that whatever modicum of productivity he might have possessed today is long gone. He wonders how much longer Nico will want to stay. He doesn't love the prospect of camping out at Annabeth's, honestly – it's bound to include the expectation of small talk and manners for another few hours when all he really wants to do is be unconscious. But it does seem like the wisest course of action, and it was very kind of her to offer.

The next thing Will knows, Nico's gently shaking his shoulder.

"Mmm?" Will turns his head, cracking open one eye.

"Sorry to wake you," Nico says, and he really does sound it. "I want to go to the house on Greene Road."

"Oh." Will pushes himself up, rubbing at his eyes. "Um. Which one is that again?"

"The place where Tooms was living. The halfway house."

"Oh. Okay," Will nods, still processing. He stands, looking around for his bag. He must have only been asleep for a few minutes – it probably would have been better if he'd just stayed awake, because now he's feeling horribly disoriented, weirdly dazed and distanced from everything around him.

"Sorry," Nico says again as Will stumbles over his own feet. "I would have just let you sleep, but I didn't want to leave you here by yourself."

"No, of course," Will says vaguely. "Because of the murderer."

"Yeah," Nico says softly.

They make it out the door, Nico locking up behind them. Will yawns widely, ears popping.

Nico’s eyes fix on Will’s face in the dim fluorescent light of the basement hallway, his gaze critical and sympathetic. "I could just drop you off at Annabeth's," he says. "I can go check out the halfway house on my own."

Will shakes his head immediately. "No, I'll come with you. Besides, I don't wanna have to like, make conversation." He yawns again.

Nico huffs, leading them down the hall and up the stairs. "You're not planning on talking to me, then?"

"Nope." Will crashes into Nico at the top of the stairwell when he fails to register that Nico's stopped walking. Nico grabs his arm to keep him from falling backwards.

"Oops," Will mutters, righting himself and following Nico through the door. "Hey, d'you think if I ended up in the ICU, Tooms could get to me there?"

Nico shoots him a glance, pained. "Like, if you fell down a flight of stairs?"

"Yeah," Will says thoughtfully, trailing a step behind.

"Let's call that plan B," Nico says. He holds the elevator door behind him and Will punches the button for the parking garage. They're silent as the car moves downwards, Will leaning back against the wall.

The parkade is almost empty this late in the day, and they cross the lot on the diagonal, a beeline to Nico's car in the echoey garage.

Will settles into the passenger seat, wondering how long the drive is, and whether he'll be in better or worse shape if he passes out on the way there. He can't breathe through his nose at all now, and it's making him even sleepier, his whole head feeling heavy and over-large. If he does fall asleep, open-mouthed, he'll probably drool. Upon further reflection, he doesn't think he cares.

"Maybe I should become an alcoholic," Will muses as Nico pulls out onto the street.

Nico’s brow furrows. "You – you should?"

"Because of my liver. Obviously." Will yawns again. "You know. Anything to make it less appealing." When he glances over, Nico's jaw is tight, his hands a firm grip on the wheel.

"No liver jokes?" Will says. He's exhausted and a little punch-drunk and he’s probably forgotten to read the room.

"Maybe save them until after the case is over."

"Okay. Sorry."

"Although," Nico says after a moment, "it would be cost effective, at least."

"Hmm?" Will's already lost track of whatever conversation they might have been having.

"Because you're a cheap drunk," Nico says, glancing over, just the hint of a sparkle to his eyes. "Alcoholism can be expensive. You gotta take that into account." And he still looks tense, and tired, but he almost smiles at this, and Will beams.

I love you, he thinks at Nico. He's so tired that he's not entirely sure he hasn't said it out loud, but Nico doesn't react, so it's probably okay.

Will does fall asleep on the way to Greene Road, the decision taken entirely from his hands by Nico's silence and careful driving. He thinks he sleeps for a good twenty minutes, though, and he's feeling nearly human by the time they arrive.

The young man who leads them to Tooms’ former room is pretty in a 19-year-old kind of way – ripped jeans and big, earnest eyes. Long and skinny in a way that Will was too, a decade ago.

"Pretty sure they cleared out all of his belongings when the cops were here last time," the young man says apologetically as they reach the second floor. Will thinks the kid said his name was Chris. Colin? "But you're welcome to look around."

"Thanks, Carlos," Nico says.

Sure. Carlos. That sounds good too.

There's not much to see. It's a small room, neat and clean, a large window overlooking a treed yard, yellowed vinyl flooring in a pebbly print that reminds Will of his grandmother’s kitchen. Someone down the hall is playing music quietly, and two men nod in greeting as they pass the open door, continuing their conversation as they make their way up to the third floor of the house.

Nico’s flat on his stomach, flashlight aimed under the bed. After a cursory look around, Will’s hit by an abrupt wave of bonelessness, and he drops to the floor, leaning back against the wall, definitely not watching Nico’s ass as Nico wriggles further under the bed. Nico emerges a moment later, dusty, pushing himself to his knees and glancing around for a second, confused, before spotting Will behind him.

"Oh. Hi."

"Hi," Will grins.

Nico shuffles over to sit next to Will, both of them propped against the wall and gazing over the empty room. Will scootches over pointedly, nudging his shoulder against Nico's. Nico shoots him a swift smile.

"It's not such a bad place," Will says, thoughtful. He glances over at Nico, who’s brushing dust from his jacket. His pants aren’t in much better shape, and Will leans over, brushing off his partner’s knees and shins.

Nico hums. "The halfway house?"

"Yeah." Will shrugs. "The staff seem pleasant. It’s nice there’s some privacy. I don't know. I guess I was expecting something more... institutional."

"Yeah, it's nice enough," Nico agrees. He tilts his head back against the wall. "I stayed in a place like this. Very briefly."

Will looks over in surprise. "Really? Do you have a criminal past you haven't told me about?"

Nico huffs out a laugh. "No. It was – you know. Not long after my dad kicked me out."

"Oh. Right.” Will’s beginning to get a knot in his stomach every time Nico mentions his father. A desire to pull Nico into his arms, or punch his dad in the face. Maybe both.

Nico shrugs against Will's shoulder. "And you're right. It wasn't so bad."

"But you didn't stay?"

"No." Nico makes a face. "But mostly only because I was young and stupid and... I don't know. I thought that I didn't need anybody."

Will leans a little harder against Nico's shoulder. "That's hard to believe," he says, pulling his best faux-innocent face.

Nico rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of a smile there. He rocks back against Will. "Fuck off."

Will grins, then slides a little lower, so he can nestle his head into Nico's shoulder. Nico huffs out a laugh. But after a long moment he lets out a breath, tipping his head against Will's. Will's pretty sure Nico's hair smells amazing. It's such a shame he can't fucking smell anything. He'll just have to use his imagination.

"They made me do crafts," Nico says, pained.

Will giggles. "Who did? The people at the halfway house?"

"Yeah.” Will can feel Nico's jaw moving against his head with every word.

"I bet you were amazing at crafts," Will drawls, sleepier the longer he rests his head. Nico’s shoulder is honestly a bit bony, but it has the undeniable advantage of being attached to Nico.

"Oh yeah. Absolutely. I'm knitting you an afghan for your birthday."

“You better.”

Nico snorts.

God, Will thinks he could sleep right here. Who knew vinyl flooring could be so comfortable. Though it’s probably his partner’s nearness that’s doing most of the heavy lifting. Will yawns. "So what now?" he asks.

"Well." Nico lifts his head. "Did you hear any of my conversation with Dr. Dare? On the phone before we left the office?"

Will does not lift his head. In fact, he snuggles in further. "No. I must have passed out as soon as you picked up the phone."

"Hmm. Well, she's almost completely finished the exhumation. She's still hopeful she'll find something else useful for us. We should know more tomorrow morning,"

“Fingers crossed.”

“Yeah.”

Nico bumps his head against Will’s once more. “Come on, sleepy. Let’s get you out of here.”

Nico pushes himself up first, offering a hand to Will. Will casts one more look at the little room before turning off the light and closing the door. He follows Nico down the wide wooden staircase to the first floor, where voices are coming from a room off the kitchen.

“We should let Carlos know we’re leaving,” Nico murmurs.

Carlos. Right. Carlos. Carlos. Will doesn’t know why he’s trying to remember, considering he’ll probably never see the dude ever again in his life. He follows Nico through the kitchen.

Carlos and two young men are seated at a table. A thin, dark-haired man is hunched over a sketchbook, Carlos and the other man in discussion over something involving yarn and beads.

Nico raises an eyebrow at Will. “See? Crafts.” he says quietly.

“Hey, guys.” Carlos looks up, registering their presence. “Did you get everything you needed?”

Nico shakes his head. “No. You were right, there wasn’t much to see. Thanks for your help, though.”

Carlos nods, making to stand.

“It’s okay, we can see ourselves out,” Nico says, turning to leave.

But Will pauses, taking in the room before him. Shelves and cabinets crammed with art supplies, neatly labelled bins and overflowing baskets. Large, mullioned windows on the opposite side of the room, curtains open to the night sky outside. Under the windows, a long shelving unit stuffed with completed projects.

And then, a tiny ember of possibility.

“Hey, Carlos,” Will says, taking a step further into the room. “Did Eugene Tooms do any… crafts? While he was here?”

Carlos blinks, then stands. “Actually, yeah. I don’t think the cops asked about that last time.”

And it’s probably nothing – but Will feels his heart pick up speed as he and Nico follow Carlos across the room.

“Hang on a second,” Carlos says, carefully rearranging watercolor paintings, pushing aside half-completed beadwork and charcoal sketches. “Oh. Here.”

And there it is, an item right at the end of the shelf – strips of newspaper molded together into something quasi-quadrilinear, not quite a box, not quite a balloon pinata, all of it sitting hideously on a paper plate. Glued together not with a flour paste, but with something greenish and sticky-looking, congealing now. And for the first time all day, Will is very glad he can’t smell anything.

Carlos makes a face, taking a step back. “Honestly not sure what he was making, but…” he shrugs, “obviously we want to encourage the guys to express themselves artistically. It can be really beneficial in their recovery. D’you think we could throw it out now that he’s gone? I don’t have a clue what kind of glue he was using, but it kind of reeks.”

Will turns to Nico, whose face is registering some combination of stunned and revolted. But there’s something else, too, a sharpness to his posture, a glint in his eyes.

“Um. No,” Nico says. “We’ll take this as evidence. Get it out of your hair.”

Carlos retreats to the craft table as Nico unzips his bag, searching for a large enough evidence bag. Both men pull on gloves, Will helping to load the item into the bag as Nico holds it open. Nico grimaces, suppressing a gag that almost has Will gagging in sympathy. Nico gives the bag a disgusted look as they pull off their gloves, shoving them into a trash can on the way out. Nico raises a hand to Carlos as they leave the room.

“He’s building his nest,” Nico hisses as soon as they’re out the front door. It’s the most sure he’s been of anything all week, and he’s going to ride this high of certainty as long as he can. God, it’s such a relief not to feel so fucking paralyzed for a moment.

“Are you sure? Where? Here?” Will sounds hoarse and stuffy, but Nico can hear it in his voice too, that anticipation of forward motion. They pause on the front walk. Nico’s mind is spinning.

“No. I don’t think so. It’s the first place anyone would look, right?”

“Where, then?”

Nico gazes at Will for a long moment. It’s fully dark out now, and the light from the streetlights catches on Will’s soft curls, the shadows under his eyes more pronounced in the dim light.

“Exeter. The building on Exeter,” Nico says with dawning realization.

“But – it was torn down –”

“But that’s where he’s always hibernated before, right?” Nico grabs Will’s arm, desperate to make him understand as fully as Nico has. It’s suddenly clear in his mind, undeniable. “What if – there must be a – a basement? Or at least a crawl space? Under the new construction?”

“Oh. You think –”

“Yeah, I do. Come on.” And then Nico’s leading them down the walk, across the street to his parked car, Will jogging to keep up

“What if he’s drawn to that location for some reason? And he’s building his nest in the same approximate site as the previous one?” Nico’s saying as they hurriedly buckle in. “Can you call Annabeth? See if she’ll meet us there?” Nico pulls away from the curb, mentally calculating times and distances.

“Yeah, of course,” Will agrees. He flinches as Nico coasts through a four-way stop.

“Sorry,” Nico mutters. “I did check for traffic.”

Will doesn’t respond, phone pressed to his ear. There’s a long pause, Annabeth’s line seemingly going unanswered. “Hey, Annabeth, it’s Will. We’re following up on a lead or –” he glances over at Nico, “ – or a hunch. Or both. Um. We’re heading to the new shopping center on Exeter, the same address where the building was torn down. Um. Give me a call when you get this.”

Will grimaces, pressing the button to end the call. “God, I hate leaving messages,” he mutters. Then he begins pressing more buttons on his phone. It continues for a while, far more buttons than he’d need to press to dial a phone number. Nico merges onto the freeway, shooting Will a frown when he continues to poke at his phone.

“What are you doing?”

Will looks up. “Texting Frank.”

“You’re… doing what? To Frank?”

“I’m texting him.”

There’s silence as Nico changes lanes. He’s pretty sure he sees a big open stretch ahead, and if there was ever a time to push the speed limit, this seems to qualify. “I… don’t know what that means,” he admits.

“Oh! Frank showed me how, last time we were over at their place,” Will explains. “I’m sending him a text message, to tell him where we’re going. I talked to him earlier today and I told him I’d let him know if we made any progress.”

Nico doesn’t really want to be this confused when he’s driving this many miles above the posted speed limit. “A text message. Is – is that like an email?”

“Sort of. I guess it’s like a mini email. I type the message into my phone, and it appears instantly on Frank’s phone.”

“How do you – your phone doesn’t have a keyboard, though.”

“You just use the number keys,” Will says. “You know how they have little letters at the bottom? So if you wanted to type ‘Nico’, you’d punch the six button twice, for N, the four button three times, for I, and so on.”

Nico glances at Will, back to the freeway, then back to Will, confused. “That sounds really time-consuming, though. Why wouldn’t you just call him?”

“Hazel said you wouldn’t understand,” Will says.

“What – Hazel said what?”

“Exit, Nico.” Will points out the windshield.

“Jesus. Thanks.” Nico zips over into the exit lane, just a little faster than he’d usually be comfortable with. Will tenses next to him.

Nico drops down to city speed as he exits the ramp. “She said I wouldn’t understand? Why wouldn’t I understand?” Nico’s a little hurt, frankly, and completely distracted now. He’s momentarily grateful for a red light while Will explains to him just exactly what he wouldn’t understand. “I know computer stuff,” Nico says, defensive. He waves a hand at Will’s phone. “I email. I use my cellphone. I can even code a little bit.”

Will laughs – laughs at him. Okay, maybe it’s not exactly at him. But still.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Will says, apologetic. “It’s just – you know. You can be a little old-fashioned. About technology.”

“I’m not old-fashioned about technology!” Nico says, his voice about an octave higher than it normally would be.

Will presses his lips together, clearly trying not to laugh. “Okay. Sorry.” Then he pats Nico’s leg, patronizing. “Light’s green,” he says, just as an annoyed honk sounds behind them.

“Fuck,” Nico mutters.

And Nico’s just not going to worry about that any more right now, because they have a fucking murderer to catch. They don’t speak again until they pull up in front of City Center Mall. Will continues to intermittently poke at his phone. Nico completes the messiest parallel park of his life, but he’ll find the time to be ashamed of that later. Will’s half a step behind him as they hurry towards the large glass entry doors.

The doors are locked.

“Fuck,” Nico says with feeling, trying each one in turn and peering into the empty mall.

“Is the mall even open yet?” Will asks. “Looks like most of the storefronts are still empty.”

He’s right. There are a few stores that look as if they might be open if it were earlier in the day, but many of the shop spaces are characterized by half-finished drywall and not-yet-connected electrical fixtures.

“There must be someone we can call,” Nico mutters, scanning the signs on the doors. “There. There’s an emergency number for the construction company.” He pulls his phone from his pocket, dialing quickly.

Someone answers, thank god. A representative from the construction company will be here to let them in shortly, Nico’s told. He does his best to impress the urgency of the situation on the woman who’s answered the phone. And then there’s nothing to do but wait.

Will’s got his own phone out, poking at the buttons again.

Nico frowns. “Are you texting Frank?”

Nico’s phone buzzes in his pocket, but just once, and he scrambles to pull it out. He frowns, blinking at the bright screen. “What’s this?”

“I texted you!” Will says, far too pleased about it.

“I’m right here, though,” Nico says, disbelieving. He squints at the screen. hiiii nico :). “Hi?” he says, blinking up at Will.

Will beams. “Hi. Aren’t you gonna text me back?”

Maybe Nico is too old for this. “You’re… you’re right in front of me.”

Will rolls his eyes.

“How do I get rid of that?” Nico stares at the screen. Will he still be able to receive calls, if his phone is busy showing him inane messages from his partner who – and Nico cannot stress this enough – is standing right there.

Will sighs, grabbing Nico’s phone from him and punching a few buttons. Nico takes the phone back, eyeing it suspiciously before flipping it closed and returning it to his pocket.

Will watches Nico for a long moment, then surreptitiously takes his own phone out again, as if there’s any way Nico wouldn’t notice. Nico sighs.

Will presses a few more buttons, then drops his phone back into his coat pocket. Nico’s pretty sure he’s trying to look innocent. If so, he’s failing miserably.

“Are you telling Hazel how old-fashioned I am?” Nico asks, tired.

His phone does that weird single buzz thing again and Nico huffs, exasperated. He pulls the phone out. Again. He frowns at the screen, now even more confused.

<3 <3 <3

“What’s – it’s… less than three? Three times?” Nico says slowly.

Will giggles. “You have to turn it sideways. No, the other sideways.”

Okay, Nico is definitely too old for this. “I still don’t get it,” he admits, more embarrassed than annoyed, truth be told.

“I sent you hearts,” Will grins.

Nico stares at the little screen for a long moment before looking back at his grinning partner. “Really?” he says weakly. “We’re in the midst of searching for the guy who tried to fucking kill you and you’re – you’re flirting?”

Wait.

Oops.

Nico feels himself slowly going red. Because, okay, yes, maybe they both know that’s exactly what they’ve been doing, but up until now he’d assumed they had an unspoken understanding that neither of them was actually going to fucking say it out loud.

But Will’s smile doesn’t waver. “I’m not flirting. I’m showing you how good I am at texting.”

By flirting Nico thinks, but doesn’t say. Luckily, just then a truck pulls up with the logo of the construction company painted on the side and a scruffy-looking man in blue coveralls steps out. As he approaches, Nico registers a sweet, skunky smell, strong enough to make his eyes water.

The young man – Eddie – seems rather confused about why they’re all there. “How long are you gonna be inside?” he asks as he unlocks the doors.

“Not sure,” Nico tells him. “Listen, is there any kind of a basement under this building?”

Eddie blinks slowly. “Not really, man. Like, what’re you looking for?”

“Any kind of sign that someone’s been in here who shouldn’t be,” Will interjects. “For instance, have you seen any evidence of anyone squatting, or entering the building after hours?”

The young man slowly turns his gaze from Nico to Will. There’s a pause before he responds. “I dunno, man. I don’t know anything about that.”

Nico shares a glance with Will. That sense of urgency is back, now that he’s not distracted by all the texting and flirting, and he's positive that he and Will can figure this out quicker without Eddie's assistance.

“Thanks,” Nico says. “We’re just going to take a look around, okay?”

He and Will have already turned, are already several steps away before they hear, “sure, man. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

Bright fluorescents illuminate the area around the main doors, but further inside there aren’t any lights turned on, and Nico fumbles for his flashlight, flicking it on just a second before Will does the same. There’s already a creeping feeling at the back of his neck, warning him to watch his back, and especially Will’s.

“I think Tooms would seek out the same approximate location,” Nico says. “If we can just figure out where that is…” He hesitates just a few yards past a Spencer’s Gifts, locked up for the night, his gaze flicking around the space – ornamental pillars, the balconies of the floor above, accented in some kind of horrible plaster frieze. Always, always hyper-aware of Will’s position in his periphery. The mall is almost silent and Nico can hear the sharp rhythm of his own breath as they scan their surroundings.

“Not here,” Nico murmurs. This case has sunk itself so deeply into his psyche that he’s half-positive he’ll be able to feel it when they get close enough. That he’ll be able to feel Tooms, sense his life force.

“His apartment overlooked Exeter Street, right?” Will’s voice is soft, a little breathless.

“Yeah.” Nico wrenches his mind back to April, the two of them climbing out of his car on a sunny street. The last moments before Will’s life was in jeopardy, though neither of them knew it at the time.

“The corner of Exeter and 18th,” Will says.

The words jog a memory. Spring sunshine on pavement, the breeze ruffling Nico’s hair. Derelict buildings on either side. And –

“There was a church…” Nico begins, the edges of the memory just within reach.

Will’s eyes go wide. “Right across the street,” he says. “I remember I could see the steeple from the living room window when we were in the apartment.”

Nico casts his gaze around, leading them further inside. He can’t see anything through the windows except the dark shapes of square-ish buildings, glowing streetlights.

Then – “here. It’s here.” Nico stops suddenly at the foot of a motionless escalator.

“Here?” Will asks.

Nico looks around, heart pounding, suddenly sure of it, like he can feel the ghost of his past self standing in this exact spot five months prior.

“You’re right,” Will says. “Nico, look.”

Nico’s eyes dart to where Will’s pointing. Sure enough, there’s the church steeple, just within view between buildings, duskily illuminated by street lamps. Nico pivots on the spot, aims his flashlight up to the darkened second floor at the top of the escalator.

“You think he’s up there?” Will says.

“I don’t know.”

Nico casts the light from his flashlight around. Tooms is here. The feeling sinks right into his bones, nerves short-circuiting, every sense elevated.

The mall is silent. They're too far into the building to hear noise from the traffic outside. Eddie had been whistling to himself, but that's stopped too. Slowly turning on the spot, Nico bumps into Will.

"Sorry," he mutters as Will's hand shoots out, steadying himself on Nico’s shoulder. Will takes a clumsy step to the left, the sole of his shoe causing a weird, resonant sound, almost like a pick over guitar strings. Nico's gaze shoots downwards.

"Fuck. There," he breathes, flashlight beam trained on the grille at the bottom of the escalator. He drops to the tile floor, tilting his head and flashlight, desperately trying to get a look at what might be underneath. He suddenly recoils, throat closing up. "Fuck, I can smell it."

Will's watching, wide-eyed and anxious. He crouches, then lowers his head to the floor, blond curls brushing the metal grille. He leans back, grimacing. "I'm so congested I can't smell anything.”

"Count your blessings.” Nico casts his gaze over the access panel. "He’s down there. I’m sure of it. We’ve got to find a way in.” He turns to Will. “I guess you don't have a screwdriver on you?"

"I left my toolbox in my other pants. Hold on.” Will stands, jogging back towards the mall entrance. “Hey, Eddie!” he calls. "Do you have tools? A screwdriver?"

A painfully long pause, and Nico knows deep in his heart that it won't do any good to strangle Eddie. That's just a whole lot of paperwork he's not interested in dealing with.

Finally: "Yeah, I got a toolbox in my truck. You want me to go get it?"

"Yes, please," Will calls back as Nico grits his teeth.

Will waits by the doors for Eddie to return while Nico makes a hurried sweep of the area, just in case there’s some easier way to access whatever’s below the escalator. The access panel seems to be the only option, though, and Nico's not willing to wait any longer anyway.

"Still no word from Annabeth," Will says as he returns with the toolbox, breathless. "I just called again, still no answer."

"Fuck."

Will suddenly stills, eyes widening. "You don't think she –"

"No," Nico says, immediate. "I – no, she's fine. She's got to be."

Will nods. Nico can't think about that right now anyway. One crisis at a time, that's his preferred way of dealing with whatever life throws at him.

Will, on the other hand, has no problem with multitasking. "You don't have a number for her fiancé, do you? Or her landline?" he asks.

Nico blinks. "No."

"Oh wait, I'll try Magnus." And Will's back on his phone – actually using it the way it's meant to be used this time. He drops to the floor beside Nico a moment later, just as Nico's managed to find what's probably the appropriate screwdriver. He squints at it in the dim light. The head might actually be more of a hex than a square. Maybe it'll still work.

"Magnus is calling Annabeth. And he'll call for backup." Will says.

Right, backup. The screwdriver slips in Nico's grip and he manages to scrape it hard down the side of his thumb, drawing blood. He curses under his breath, shaking out his hand and then immediately fumbling the screwdriver again.

Will's face is pale, but his hands are steadier than Nico's at the moment, and he wordlessly takes the screwdriver from Nico’s grasp, quickly and methodically loosening the screws. Nico takes a shaky breath, leaning back on his heels.

"My hands are sweaty," he mutters.

"I'm actually decent with tools." Will shoots him a half-smile. "It's okay to be surprised. My mom taught me."

Nico huffs out a laugh. There are way too many fucking screws on the panel, but Will finishes the job quickly. Will’s fingers skate around the edges of the grille, searching for a latch. After just a second, there’s a metal clicking sound, and the grille shifts. Will heaves it to the side.

They both aim their flashlight beams into the dark space below, assessing the possibilities. It looks... mechanical. Lots of probably-moving parts that aren't moving at the moment, and below that, some kind of passageway, presumably for maintenance. Nico’s flashlight lights about six feet of what’s below before the rest is lost in darkness.

"Nico, look." Will's voice is a whisper. His fingers close around Nico's arm and Nico follows the beam of his partner's flashlight. A streak of something green and wet-looking.

They share a long look in the dim light.

Will’s grasp is still tight on Nico’s arm. His face looks ghostly in the dim light. "I don't like this," he breathes.

Nico nods, short. "Well that's okay, because you're not going down there."

"I'm not?"

"There's only room for one, Will. Besides, I'm smaller."

“Magnus called for backup. We could wait –”

“It can’t wait. We have to finish this.” Nico stands, pulling off his coat and then his blazer, tossing them onto a bench beside the escalator. The last thing he needs is to get tangled up on something down there. He unbuttons his sleeves, rolling them to his elbows.

Will glances back to the crawl space, then takes a step closer to Nico, his hand going to Nico's elbow like he doesn’t feel any better about them being separated than Nico does. But Nico’s positive he doesn’t want Will down there with him, and he’s just as positive this can’t wait any longer.

"I could follow behind you,” Will says. “I don't know if –"

Nico shakes his head. "No," he says, firm. "It's safer to have you up here if I run into trouble. And we need to have someone above ground when the cavalry comes." He jerks his head towards the front doors.

"Okay." Will swallows, eyes darting between Nico’s face and the chasm below.

"Watch your back," Nico says, serious. "Keep your weapon drawn. And keep an eye on Eddie, too. Eddie, keep an eye on him!" he yells, pointing at Will.

Eddie turns, looking confused.

"You're leaving me with Eddie?" Will says under his breath.

Nico manages a smile. "You'll be fine. We'll all be fine."

"Nico, Please be careful," Will's voice is soft and unsteady. His hand is still on Nico’s elbow, gaze somewhere near Nico’s chest.

"Hey." Nico wraps his fingers around Will's chin, forcing Will to look at him. Will blinks hard, but he meets Nico's eyes, steady.

“You remember telling me you were tougher than you seemed?” Nico asks. “That wasn't news to me, Solace. I've known that since the first day I met you."

The words are supposed to be light, easy. A quick reassurance. But somehow they come out much weightier than Nico meant them to, and Will's brow furrows. He sniffs as a tear spills down his cheek.

"We got this. Okay?"

"Okay," Will whispers. Then – "wait." And suddenly Will's hands are at Nico's collar, nimble fingers loosening the knot of his tie so quickly that Nico's brain doesn't have time to make sense of it. He's already tense, nerves strung tight, mind veering off in six different directions and now suddenly in addition to all that, he feels his face heating fast, that pleasant flutter in his stomach that only Will is ever responsible for, these days. Nico's eyes go wide a split second before he understands, and Will gives him a half-smile as he pulls the loosened tie over Nico's head.

"Don't want you getting strangled on your tie," Will murmurs.

Right. Yes. Of course. Focus, di Angelo.

Nico feels as if he's about to jump off a very high diving board. But there’s no time for second-guessing. He crouches, and then he's lowering himself into the crawl space. Will aims his flashlight into the opening in the floor, providing what light he can.

Feet firmly on the concrete floor below, Nico casts his flashlight around. It looks as though there was meant to be an access ladder installed on the wall, but right now it’s in pieces on the floor. Nico’s not entirely sure how he’s going to get back out of the crawl space, but that’s a problem for later.

Ahead, there’s machinery, a cramped, industrial looking passage, not high enough to stand in. Another streak of slimy green gunk along the top of the passage. The smell is stronger down here, sharp and sour, a horrible reminder of the basement in the old building on Exeter.

Nico glances up to Will’s face in the opening above. “I’ll be right back,” he tells him. And then Nico starts crawling, flashlight in one hand, gun in the other. It’s a really tight fit, and Nico has to shove down a swell of panic as he wonders if this space is actually meant for human passage at all. But he keeps going. Suddenly, there’s a sharp stab of pain in his shoulder.

“Fuck,” Nico gasps, whipping around as best he can in the small space. It’s just the fucking gears overhead, though, and when he aims a shaky flashlight beam over his shoulder, he can see they’re now adorned with a shredded piece of his shirt.

“Nico?” Will’s voice sounds just this side of panic.

“It’s okay. I’m fine.” Nico gingerly reaches over his shoulder. His fingers come away wet, but it doesn’t feel like a deep cut. More annoying than anything. He’d pull the whole shirt off and continue this subterranean journey in his undershirt if he had enough room to maneuver. He wipes his bloody hand on his pants, moving on.

Suddenly, the passage widens a bit, and Nico can feel his lungs expand properly. He pauses to take in his surroundings, shoving his hair back with a forearm. There are more streaks of green gunk on the wall here, shining wetly in the beam from his flashlight. A large vent cover blocks the path ahead.

Nico aims his flashlight around the tunnel. As far as he can tell, the only way forward is through. Approaching the vent, he tries feeling around the cover like Will did with the escalator grille, setting the flashlight down beside him. There’s a surge of relief as he finds a latch and loosens it easily.

The stench nearly knocks him over the second the vent cover is moved out of the way, a wave of sour and rot and wrong. And even worse than the smell is the stomach-twisting, heart-wrenching fear that comes with it, the sickening reminder of last time – but this is no time to panic.

Nico fumbles his flashlight back into his hand, every nerve on edge. There’s about two clear feet of space inside the vent, and then it’s completely blocked by a jumble of newspaper strips and green slime, sealed top to bottom. Fuck.

Nico holds completely still, ears straining for any sign of life, heart hammering in his chest. He inches closer, eyes scanning over the sticky surface in front of him. Cautiously, he reaches out –

And a hand shoots out from the center of the slimy mass, inhumanly fast. Nico scrambles backwards, his head colliding hard with the frame of the vent cover. He gasps in pain.

“FBI, stop where you are!” Nico’s voice is over-loud in his own ears, echoing back at him in the cramped space.

Tooms doesn’t react in the least, beginning to drag himself out of his nest, the structure flexing and squelching with his movements. His eyes flash yellowish in the dark, fixed unwaveringly on Nico.

“Nico?” Will's voice, far away now, too far.

“All good,” Nico manages, blinking stars out of his vision as he retreats as fast as the tight space will allow, the beam of his flashlight bouncing wildly. It’s enough to illuminate Tooms in sickly flashes as he emerges from his horrible arts and crafts project, naked and covered in green slime.

“Don’t move,” Nico yells at Tooms. It doesn’t do any good. He fumbles for his gun, but he must have dropped it in the confusion. And Tooms is gaining ground.

Fuck. Fuck.

There’s no time for care or caution now, and Nico proceeds to bash and scrape himself on all the protruding bits of machinery he avoided on the way in. The second he thinks he might be making some headway, he manages to turn himself around in the narrow passageway, wrenching about a dozen different muscles in the process and scraping his back on the gears above. His eyes are streaming and he’s pretty sure he’s lost a shoe, but now he can make out the beam of Will’s flashlight ahead, illuminating the way out. Thank god.

Stupidly, Nico wastes a precious second glancing over his shoulder. Tooms is almost within grabbing distance. Nico’s heart jolts and he crawls faster than he ever has in his life, his entire being focused on the square opening ahead, the silhouette of Will’s messy curls just visible.

“Here,” Will gasps, stretching out an arm and leaning in further. For a heart-stopping moment, Nico’s sure Will’s going to fall right in here with him.

He grabs Will’s hand, Will’s answering grasp painfully tight. Nico struggles to get some traction against the floor or the wall, anything to give him a little more leverage, but his hands are slippery with sweat and god knows what else. He throws his flashlight behind him, hard, hearing it make contact with something – hopefully someone – and he grabs onto Will’s forearm with his other hand. Will hauls Nico halfway out of the opening, eyes wide with panic.

Just as Nico’s about to get purchase on the floor above, there’s a vicious tug on his ankle and he goes sliding backwards. He’s sure it’s all over this time. But Will hauls on his arm, and the next thing Nico knows he’s splayed out on the tile floor. He scrambles to his feet, looking for anything he could use as a weapon.

There’s a sudden silence from below, in no way reassuring.

“Fuck. Fuck,” Will gasps, peering towards the dark space in the floor and backing away at the same time. “He was right there. Where the fuck did he go?”

They take careful steps towards the shaft again, eyes scanning the darkness, breathless.

Nico’s just about to ask Will what the fuck happened to his flashlight when Tooms lunges out of the hole, snarling and making a mad grab for Nico’s foot, inhumanly strong and quick. Nico spares a tiny part of his brain to be very, very impressed as he’s being dragged back under the floor again.

But Will moves just as fast, an iron grip around Nico’s chest, and Nico kicks Tooms in the face with one flailing foot – the one with the shoe, even – just as Will hauls him backwards on the tile floor, using the momentum of their fall to lunge for a red button at the foot of the escalator, punching it.

With a mechanical whir, the escalator starts moving in a slow slide upward. There’s a piercing scream as Toom is dragged under the floor, into the grinding machinery. A second scream cuts off in a wet gurgling sound, and a wide streak of red appears on the escalator, spreading with each step rising out of the floor.

“Is that – is he – dead?” Will gasps. They’re sprawled at the foot of the escalator, panting. Will’s holding onto Nico so tightly that Nico can barely draw air into his lungs.

“He must be,” Nico manages. He shifts, trying to push himself up, and Will makes a soft sound of surprise, like he didn’t even realize he was still holding on.

Nico’s sweaty and nauseous, trembling uncontrollably. Will looks just as shaky as he pushes himself up, never taking his eyes off Nico, like he’s still not convinced Nico’s actually here in front of him.

“Oh, Nico, you’re –” Will’s brow creases and he reaches out, gentle fingers beginning to assess Nico’s many and varied injuries.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. It’s – I’m okay. It’s –” Nico’s mind is reaching for other words, but suddenly nothing much makes sense. He thinks he might be in shock. How does that work again? If you're in shock do you know you're in shock? He'd ask Will if he could string together a question.

The escalator’s covered in blood now, red on metal disappearing up into the gloom of the second floor, splatters it around the base and over the red power button.

Nico can't stop shaking. He can’t tell if he’s breathing. He thinks maybe he should stand up, but he doesn’t know if he can. Tooms must be dead. Right? It feels like too much. Too good to be true. Unwilling to move a single inch closer to the opening in the floor, he cranes his neck, like maybe he’ll be able to see into the dark underneath.

“You’re not going back down there,” Will says. He sounds seconds from bursting into tears.

Nico nods, throat too tight for speech.

Will leans in, or maybe he just folds, collapses. His warm fingers settle at the back of Nico’s neck, pulling Nico’s head against his shoulder. Nico clutches at Will’s arm like a lifeline.

It starts to sink in then, as the adrenaline begins to ebb: it’s over. It’s really over. And god Will is safe and alive and Nico’s spent every second of the last week terrified that Will was going to blink out of existence no matter how tight Nico held on. He can't quite bring himself to believe this isn’t all a dream. But he reeks and he aches and he’s pretty sure Will is crying and Nico’s hit by a wave of relief so violent that it would push him to the floor if he wasn't here already. The feeling builds in his throat and behind his eyes and god, if he starts crying right now he’s not going to be able to stop. He can feel it pulling at him, a culmination of all the pain and fear of the last five months, telling him to fist his hands in Will’s shirt, sob into Will’s shoulder until his eyes run dry. But as much as he wants that right now, he can’t.

Nico pulls away while he still can.

“Where the fuck is Eddie?” he manages. His voice comes out thin and strained.

“Um. He went for a smoke.” Will’s face is tear-streaked, hair a mess, green goo on his sleeves and smeared across the front of his shirt. “Nico –” Will’s knuckles brush Nico’s cheek and Nico feels a sob in his chest threaten to break free. He stands as quickly as he’s able to, the motion jerky and awkward. Will follows, eyes wide.

The distant sound of sirens, then car doors slamming shut, and both of them glance towards the mall entrance. What a time for the backup to arrive.

“Listen,” Nico manages, throat so tight he can barely get the words out. “Can you –” he swallows, then continues in a hoarse whisper. “Can you deal with them –”

“Nico –”

“I just need a minute.”

Will looks worried, but he nods. “Of course.”

Will’s hand finds his and squeezes. That’s nearly enough to break the dam and Nico can’t do this in front of everyone. He pulls away as gently as he can, hoping Will will understand.

“Don’t go too far,” Will murmurs, and Nico nods and turns, propelled deeper into the dark of the mall.

He doesn’t see Will close-up again until almost an hour later. Nico’s seated on the side of an empty fountain now, within spitting distance of the bloody escalator, the spot the paramedics have chosen to set up shop. He’s shirtless and still one-shoed, but at least his pants are mostly wearable – streaks of grease and dust and blood, but blessedly very little of the gross green stuff.

“Hey,” Will smiles as he approaches. He’s divested himself of his shirt and jacket, now just in his undershirt. He looks tired, but much calmer now. He takes a seat next to Nico, gaze drifting over Nico’s bandaged arm and shoulder. Will leans back, careful fingers brushing over Nico’s hair. Nico leans forward so Will can inspect the repair work on the back of his head.

The touch of Will’s fingers, clinical and gentle, there and gone. “They did a good job,” Will says, satisfied.

“I’ll let them know you approve.”

Will glances to the paramedics standing a few feet away, in discussion with Reyna. “Please don’t,” he laughs, quiet. Nico follows Will’s gaze. Reyna’s poker face rivals even Nico’s, but Nico’s sure he can traces of exhaustion and relief in her dark eyes.

The aftermath of this case is going to involve so much fucking paperwork, but god, it’s actually over. Nico watched them begin extracting bits of Eugene Tooms from beneath the escalator as the paramedics were bandaging his shoulder.

Every light in the mall is blazing now, and it’s unquestionably the most bizarre shopping center experience Nico has ever had. There's a weird rush of unreality as his gaze drifts over the empty storefronts, the gore trailing up the escalator.

Will takes a deep breath and Nico turns back to him. A smear of blood below Will’s collar catches Nico's eye, and his stomach lurches.

"Are you bleeding?"

Will glances down, surprised. "Oh. No, I think that's yours."

Something in Nico relaxes. "Oh. Right."

Will smiles. "I think I pulled a few muscles hauling you out of the crawl space, but other than that I'm in pretty good shape."

"Thank god."

"Good thing you're light as a feather."

Nico rolls his eyes, halfway to thinking of a good retort when Will says, “Oh! They found your shoe.” And he produces it, holding it up for Nico’s inspection, miraculously clean and undamaged. Nico’s never been so happy to see a piece of footwear in his life. He peels off his disgusting left sock and tosses it towards a nearby trash can, making the shot easily. Will raises his eyebrows, impressed.

“They found your gun too, but they’re processing it as evidence.”

Nico nods. That’ll result in some questions, but it’s fine. Right this second, exhausted and bloody and aching all over, he feels safer than he has in months.

“I brought you this, too,” Will says, leaning over to the side. When he straightens, he’s holding the yellow hoodie that’s recently taken up residence in Nico’s car.

“Oh, my hoodie!” Nico exclaims, more delighted than he intended, pulling the garment from Will’s arms.

Will laughs. “Your hoodie?”

“Yeah.” Nico feels his face warming, but frankly he’s too tired to care. Too relieved and too fucking happy and besides, he's already decided that Will isn't getting this hoodie back. “This is my stakeout hoodie." He quirks an eyebrow at Will before pulling it on, careful to avoid the fresh head wounds. God, it feels amazing against his bare skin. Soft and warm and roomy. He shivers happily, burrowing deeper inside it, and Will snorts. The hoodie unfortunately smells like Nico’s car now, instead of Will. But it’ll do.

There’s still at least another full hour of reporting and processing, but finally, Annabeth approaches them both where they sit on a bench near the mall entrance, Will finishing up paperwork that Nico probably shouldn’t leave for tomorrow.

“Reyna says we’re all free to go,” Annabeth says. In all the excitement, Nico had completely forgotten their brief worries about Annabeth’s well-being, but he suddenly remembers that he’s very grateful that she's safe.

Nico stands. “Annabeth – I really can’t thank you enough. For everything you’ve done. For – all your help.” He realizes he’s close to tears again, but it’s okay now. At the moment, he’s pretty sure he’s not about to crumble into a million emotional little pieces all over the stupid teal-and-ivory floor.

Annabeth’s face breaks into a smile, surprised. “It was my pleasure, Nico. And I’m very glad we all came out of this alive.”

“Agreed,” Nico croaks. He hasn’t really given himself any time to feel it over the last few days, but Annabeth’s been a godsend. Solid and level headed. Maybe not the only thing that’s held Nico back from actually being institutionalized himself, but a not-insignificant factor.

“Can I give you a hug?” Annabeth asks, tentative.

It’s not the natural state for either of them, Nico knows, and he nods, tight.

“Awww,” Will exclaims.

Nico releases Annabeth to drop back down beside his partner. He raises an eyebrow at Will, who’s beaming, eyes shining with tears. Will stands to hug Annabeth, too.

“We’re going to head out for celebratory drinks,” Annabeth says as Will sits back down, indicating several agents lingering near the escalators. “You two up for it?”

Nico shoots an uncertain look at Will. They’re both exhausted, and Will still has that puffy, bleary look from his swollen sinuses. And now that Nico’s body has had the opportunity to catch up with his earlier crawl through the bowels of the mall, everything really hurts. He’s not sure why he turned down the pain meds the paramedics offered him, except that it’s a reflex, to refuse help. But that’s stupid, right? He decides he’ll go ask them again.

“I’d like to go for a little while, if you’re okay with it?” Will says.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Will says, sounding more sure. “This calls for celebration, right? You told me on one of our first cases together – this is the good part.”

Nico smiles. It makes him feel stupidly warm, each time he hears Will say remember when you said. Nico can’t even remember what he said this morning. At least someone's paying attention.

The bar is dim and crowded with FBI agents as well as civilians, and Nico, sandwiched between Will and Annabeth at a high table, tries not to feel too nettled about the fact that the three of them are far more entitled to celebrate than anyone else in attendance.

“Hey, guys!” A lanky guy with a shock of artfully messy black hair and striking green eyes approaches. Nico takes a second to remember where he knows him from – not work – is as far as his mind has gotten, but then the man slings an arm around Annabeth, and she turns to kiss him. Right, the Olympic swimmer fiancé.

“I heard you had an exciting evening,” Percy grins.

Nico huffs. “That’s one way to put it, yeah.”

“Too exciting,” Annabeth agrees. “Sorry I missed all the gory bits.”

“You can catch the next mutant,” Nico tells her.

She grins. “It’s a deal.”

And then Annabeth and Percy are swept off with a friend of Annabeth’s from Violent Crimes, and Nico’s pulled into conversation with Reyna, and then Magnus and Sam arrive, and soon Nico’s hoarse from yelling over the music. He finds himself standing at the bar with Sam some time later, where it’s almost quiet enough for conversation. The place has emptied out a bit, mostly only their colleagues remaining. Nico’s been nursing a drink, very conscious of the fact that he wants to get into his own car and drive to his own apartment at the end of the night.

“Sounds like a rough case,” Sam says. She and Nico gaze through the crowd towards the dance floor; Magnus and Percy are engaged in some kind of choreography that seems to involve a lot of jumping.

“It was brutal,” Nico agrees, no hesitation. “I can’t remember the last time I was so glad to see the back end of a case.”

“I talked to Will right after Tooms was released,” Sam says. “He was pretty stressed.”

“Yeah. It’s been pretty hard on him.” Nico glances around. He hasn’t actually laid eyes on Will for maybe twenty minutes now. But for the first time all week, it doesn’t inspire an immediate panic attack. It’s a really nice fucking change. Nico shakes his head. “But anyway. How’re things with you? What’s new in Major Crimes?”

“Oh, you know. Same old.” Sam makes a face. “Octavian’s been a real pain lately. Riding everyone’s ass about closing cases.”

Nico drains the last of his beer, setting the glass on the counter behind him. “More than usual?”

Sam shrugs. “It sure feels like it. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’ve been a few high profile suspects we’ve had trouble pinning down lately. Not really the fault of anyone in our section, but Octavian seems to be getting to the end of his rope lately, and he’s taking it out on all of us.”

Nico makes a sound of sympathy. “Maybe you and Magnus should come help us out in the basement for a while. That idiot hardly ever comes down there.”

Sam grins. “Too spooky for him, probably.”

“Hey, di Angelo!” Magnus bounces over, flushed and sweaty. “Looks like your partner’s calling it a night.” He ducks so his head is right next to Nico’s, pointing toward a table in the corner.

And it must be Will – that’s where Nico last saw him, after all. But all that's visible is a mop of blond curls tucked into folded arms on the tabletop.

Nico huffs. “Thanks, Magnus.”

Nico weaves through the crowd, taking a seat next to his partner. “Hey.” He pats Will on the back. “Hey, Solace.”

Will takes a deep breath in, then raises his head to blink blearily at Nico, eyes not quite focused. Suddenly he beams in recognition. “Hi, handsome.”

Jesus Christ.

Nico shakes his head. “Pathetic. Asleep at the bar. Come on. Let’s get you home.” He stands and offers a hand to Will, who uses it to lever himself upright.

Will stumbles over his own feet as they make their way towards the exit, and Nico reaches out to rest a hand on his back, steadying him. Will sways as he turns to wave to Sam, both Chases and Reyna. Then he wobbles closer, bumping Nico’s side. “‘M not drunk,” Will says right into Nico’s ear, lips and hot breath brushing Nico's skin. Nico suppresses a shiver.

“No?”

Will shakes his head. “Only had one beer… and then I was drinking Diet Cokes with Sam.” He yawns again. “‘M just really fucking tired. It’s been a hell of a week.”

“You can say that again.” The cool air outside feels fresh and clean on Nico's skin. Nico makes sure Will is settled in the passenger seat before he rounds the car to the driver’s side.

They pull out of the parking lot and onto the quiet street. God, Nico can’t wait to shower. He’s still in his dress pants and the yellow hoodie, one sock discarded back at the crime scene, the other one uncomfortably damp. He’s not sure he wants to know with what. Every so often he catches a whiff of some remnant of the green gooey stuff that must still be clinging to him somewhere, and his throat closes up.

“Wait,” Will says suddenly, turning in his seat. “You can’t take me back to my place, right? Aren't they still processing the crime scene?”

“We’re not going to your place. I’m taking you to my place,” Nico tells him. And god, he can see his building in the distance now and he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to get there faster.

“Oh. Right.” Will leans back in his seat again. “Already forgot we were there this morning,” he says around a yawn. “Feels like this day’s been going on for a week.”

The three flights of stairs feel interminable, both of them stumbling and yawning.

“Can I take Advil and aspirin together?” Nico asks as they shamble down the hallway. Everything fucking hurts. Although he’s pretty sure he’ll be asleep once his head hits the pillow regardless.

Will shakes his head. “No. What did the paramedics give you?”

“Um. Advil,” Nico says, a vague memory of ripping open the little blue package.

Will leans heavily against the wall beside Nico’s door as Nico fishes for his key. “You can take Tylenol with that. D’you have some?”

“I think so.”

Home sweet home. It feels as if Nico’s barely been here lately. He locks the door, hanging his keys on the hook. Will’s folded in half against the wall in the entryway, clumsily attempting to untie his shoes. He manages it with a sigh of relief just as Nico’s unfolding the hide-a-bed, hinges creaking as the mattress springs itself flat.

“Oh fuck, I forgot I washed the sheets,” Nico sighs, surveying the bare mattress with acute exhaustion. “Gimme a second and I’ll put them back on.”

“Kay. I’m gonna change,” Will announces, unbuckling his belt as he brushes past on his way to Nico’s bedroom. “Don’t look,” he adds, yanking his undershirt over his head. He doesn't bother to close the door.

Nico pauses, then shakes his head, turning back to the entryway and the little alcove housing the stacked washer and dryer. Huh. Nothing in the dryer. Maybe he put the sheets away? Oh, shit. He definitely didn’t. Resignedly, Nico pulls open the washer, and he’s hit with a waft of mildew. Gross. He pulls off his stakeout hoodie and tosses that in with the still-damp sheets and towels, dumping in extra detergent and setting the water to hot.

He turns back to the living room, his gaze catching on the fish tank in the corner. His stomach twinges with guilt. He’s pretty sure he fed the fish like… sometime this week. Probably. He approaches hesitantly, not quite wanting to look – but sure enough, all four fish are accounted for. There’s a reason Nico doesn’t have a cat.

“Sorry, guys,” he mutters, shaking a generous amount of fish food into the tank.

Okay. Sheets. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have another fitted sheet for the hide-a-bed, but he can probably find a bigger, flat sheet, or something.

Or… not.

On his way to the linen closet, Nico pauses in the doorway of his room. There's Will, sprawled out across Nico's unmade bed, clearly asleep. A mess of blond curls on Nico's pillow, the steady rise and fall of Will's chest. Carefully, Nico leans into the side of the doorway, taking a second to really bask in the luxury of Will. To really realize the danger has passed. Nico thinks he could drop to his knees and thank whatever gods might be up there, if he believed there were any.

Instead, he brushes a few tears from his cheeks and heads for the shower.

There's daylight seeping into the room when Will wakes. He can see it against his closed eyelids. He's comfortable, sunk deep into the mattress like he's become part of the bed.

Wait. He was supposed to be sleeping on the hide-a-bed. Wasn't he? The hide-a-bed is not this comfortable.

There's a distant sound of coughing, then the slam of a door and the dryer starting up. Then more coughing, and someone blowing their nose loudly.

Will pushes himself up just as Nico comes through the doorway, eyes red and puffy. He gives Will a weak wave before collapsing facedown on the bed.

"You got my alien virus," Will croaks. He reaches out to lay a hand on Nico's head, then remembers the head wound. And the bandaged shoulder. He finally settles his hand on the back of Nico's neck, and Nico makes a small, pathetic sound.

"It's my alien virus now," he rasps.

"Sorry about that." Will's thumb strokes against the warm skin of Nico's neck and Nico makes that sad little noise again, half whine, half purr.

"How are you feeling?" Will asks. "You're a little warm." His eyes flit over Nico's head, though Nico’s hair is obscuring the head wounds. There's a hint of bandage sticking out from under Nico's sleeve.

"Really shitty," Nico mumbles into his pillow.

“Poor Nico.”

“Yeah,” Nico agrees sadly.

"I can go grab you some Tylenol –"

Nico shifts laboriously to his side, squinting up at Will through bleary eyes. "Already took some. Thanks, though."

“I can VapoRub you,” Will offers.

Nico scowls, then slowly turns red.

Will giggles, reaching out to smooth the hair off Nico’s forehead. "Oh. Ouch," he says softly. He brushes his fingertips over a goose-egg near Nico's hairline that wasn't visible yesterday.

Nico makes a face. "You should see the other guy."

"I did. They carried him out in pieces."

"Can't say I'm too sorry about that."

"Yeah. Me either." Will thinks it's probably still sinking in for both of them – the knowledge that is really over. It's been months of fear and unease, of feeling that he was never really properly safe anywhere, even when Tooms was in the sanitarium. And now all that is just gone, and Will can breathe. He sniffles. Well. He can mostly breathe.

Will's eyes drift to the alarm clock behind Nico's head. Oh.

"Hey, Nico? Don't panic, but it's ten after nine."

Nico huffs. "Yeah, sorry. I forgot to mention. I called us both in sick."

"You did?"

"Uh huh." Nico pulls the blankets up around his ears, snuggles deeper into his pillow. "Hope that's okay. I figured we'd earned it."

"Definitely," Will grins, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I'm gonna use your washroom and then I'm going right back to sleep."

“Oh," he says, pausing in the doorway. "I can use the hide-a-bed, though –"

Nico shakes his head, a twitch of messy dark hair on the white pillowcase. "Don't be stupid," he mutters.

Will's whole body is feeling so heavy when he crawls back into bed that it's hard to believe he's already slept for eight hours. He curls up on his side, facing away from Nico, fairly sure Nico's already fallen asleep again.

A few moments pass, Will drifting closer and closer to sleep himself. But then there’s a shifting behind him, and a second later he feels Nico's face pressed between his shoulder blades, warm breath through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. Nico sighs and seems to settle. Will falls asleep with a smile on his face.

Notes:

1. I started writing this entire case because I wanted Will to take off Nico’s tie in the escalator scene. It became so much more than that, obviously. 2. After writing the escalator scene, I checked out an escalator at an actual mall and there were NO screws holding the grate in place. What can you do. Artistic licence, or something. 3. The murder math was HARD. I have multiple hand-written sheets where I was trying to keep track of who’d discovered which murders when, etc. Hopefully I will not be writing another case with multiple murders over decades. It hurt my brain. 4. YOU GUYS OMG THEY SLEPT TOGETHER. AGAIN. GAH I love them so much. 5. People were not yet routinely texting in 1999! And I remember trying to text on a flip phone. It was not user friendly. 6. I found a role for Rachel! I should try to work her in again somewhere. 7. Jake-has-a-crush-on-Nico is a minor plot point in a WIP I started like, two years ago. So it’s my headcanon now. 8. Thank you one million times @rosyredlipstick for the first beta (almost a year ago omg) and @stressedanimal for the second beta! 9. Thank YOU for reading and commenting and being invested in this story!

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