Solangelo Oneshots

39 (s)

By i_write_shakespeare_not_disney

Trigger warnings: death and smut

April 11, 1912

If he didn't think about it, Nico could imagine himself sitting in a normal restaurant dining room. The chairs and tables were in perfect order, the afternoon sky allowed a gentle glow from the windows. And as usual, he was surrounded by important people.

Mr. Aster, handsome man that he was, was glowing with pride as he looked around the room. Beside him sat Benjamin Guggenheim, a man almost as rich as Nico from New York. Then there was Mr. Ismay, a pathetically ignorant man that Nico quite enjoyed to hear talk out of sheer entertainment. Eventually, Nico preoccupied himself with watching his moustache bob with his words.

"Would you like to see the plans, Mr. D'Angelo?" Mr. Aster offered. "My wife chides me on never being able to leave the room without the plans."

Nico smiled and nodded, not really caring, but knowing he had to pretend for his father's sake. His father had been the business man of the family for the last several decades, and when Nico turned twenty, he passed on the responsibility to him. And his first order of business was aboard the RMS Titanic after boarding from Southampton the day before.

Mr. Andrews spread out his papers along the table, allowing Nico to see intricate plans for each deck of the ship. "Magnifico," he said under his breath. And it was. Every small detail was planned, and it was real. He was on it now. "This is wonderful, Mr. Andrews. I'm certain my father would agree to sponsor the Titanic's future voyages. Given that this one goes smoothly."

"I can assure you it will," he promised.

"The Titanic's supremacy will never be challenged. Size means, stability, luxury, and above all strength," Mr. Ismay said. "God himself could not sink this ship, my friend!" he exclaimed.

Nico raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't test Him," he mumbled.

"I must agree with Mr. D'Angelo," the ship's designer said. "No ship is unsinkable. Rest assured, my good man, this voyage will be the best you've been on."

Mr. Ismay and Mr. Andrews began another conversation with Mr. Guggenheim about the mine industry he was to inherit, and Nico again began to wonder at the design of the dining room.

"More champagne, sir?" a waiter offered. Nico waved him away without peeling his eyes from the delicate carvings of the pillars. "More champagne, sir?" he heard the waiter ask one of the businessmen around him. Then again.

"Mr. D'Angelo, what on earth are you looking at?" one of his companions asked.

Nico allowed his gaze to return to the people around him, but he stopped dead at the sight of the waiter. Eyes as blue as the ocean in the morning sunlight looked at him curiously as he was called out by his table, only to dart away and finish serving the man's drink.

He cleared his throat and shook his head. "Nothing. Just admiring the detail put into every part of the ship."

Mr. Andrews beamed with pride again. Nico allowed his eyes to wander to the blond haired waiter, a strand of hair falling in his face as he leaned over to pour the champagne. He forced his eyes away in fear of someone noticing.

Throughout the next hour of mindless business chatter, Nico found his eyes returning to the waiter. Every now and then he would find the waiter looking back at him, but he would blush and look away. The interaction made Nico nervous. It could all be in his head. In all his twenty years, he had only come across less than a handful of other men who thought the way he did.

It was always hard to tell. The only way Nico had known of the others was because of some drunk afternoons and because he'd walked into the wrong room one day. It was dangerous. Besides, he was just a waiter....