Percy Jackson One-shots

There is No Such Thing as a Gentle Wind (Jasico)

Jason tossed and turned in his bunk. The night was hot and the sticky sweet smell of the incense the cleaning harpies burned in his cabin was so thick it coated his throat. He'd found the bed in the big house basement and Percy had helped him set it up, but no matter where he dragged it in cabin One, he felt like the eyes of the giant hippy Zeus statue were on him, judging him. 

Despite Nico's reassurance that he'd chosen to stay at camp, Jason wondered how long it would last. He wondered too how much of himself wanting Nico to stay was in Nico's best interest or his own, more selfish wishes. Try as he might to squash the thoughts that crept through his brain, like tendrils of ivy, they thrived in his grey matter and were impossible to kill. 

Nico. Gay. The memory of Favonius chiding him. Yes, Jason Grace. I fell in love with a dude. Does that shock you? The way the god of the West Wind had said that, sarcastic, like he was reading the truth in Jason's soul and calling him on it. But Nico had admitted to having feelings for Percy, not for him. 

He buried his face under his pillow, cursing himself for even going there. Nico didn't need Jason making a mess of things and playing with his emotions. The whole thing was a mess. 

He stopped. Breathed deeply. The sensation of eyes on him made his body hair stand on end. His heart stopped in his throat, adrenaline kicking in. He closed his hand around the gold coin that was his sword, ready to flip it and sat up, flinging the pillow before him, eyes blind in the darkness. "Who's there?"

A shape stepped toward him from the giant statue of Zeus, short, dark, silent. Nico.

"Having trouble sleeping, Grace?" Nico asked as Jason raked his hand back through his hair, his heart racing now that the fear of attack had passed. 

"Er – yeah. I guess. What are you doing here?"

Nico came closer, stopping short beside where Jason sat on the edge of the bed. "Can I sit?"

"Yeah … sure," Jason said, mentally chastising himself for being reduced to short responses by Nico's presence. 

Nico sat beside him, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, his hands in his lap. "I had a visitor. In a dream. He said there was some unfinished business I should discuss with you."

Jason shifted, suddenly all too aware of the fact he was only wearing his boxers. He furrowed his brow and met Nico's dark eyes. They were huge in his pale face. They'd probably look even larger if he had his glasses on and could see them clearly. He swallowed, his throat going dry. "Yeah? Who uh … who was the visitor?"

"Favonius," Nico said and Jason's heart stuttered again, more of Nico's past phrases ringing in his ears. How much do you trust me? 

Oh gods. He was going to have to face it. He knew for sure and certain, Wind gods – all of them – sucked.