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vivitalks · 3 months

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you are a wildflower garden growing in my head

not to be insane about my own fanfiction that i wrote but i am a little insane about this one. so like come be insane with me. join me. dont be afraid. i dont bite (lying) nico deserves hobbies especially when they enable his own self-actualization. anyway. this was written for the bingo prompt "jason remembers nico" i'm normal normal normal about it (still lying) title from the witching hour by the ready set. nico di angelo ass song read it here on ao3

Jason finds Nico among the strawberry plants, staining his hands and knees with dirt.

It's not…like, he's not embarrassed. Plenty of people like to garden. Nico is entitled to his hobbies. Even secret ones. And it’s only a secret because he doubts the Demeter and Dionysus kids would be particularly receptive to Nico tampering with their beloved source of income.

Despite this, he can't help his instinct to be defensive when Jason walks up, the early evening sun haloing him in light.

“Whatcha doin’?”

Nico gestures. “Weeding.”

“Cool,” Jason says, because he’s Jason. “Mind if I join you?”

“To keep me company, or to help?”

“Whichever.”

Nico points to a few rogue sprouts. “If you're here anyway, you might as well get your hands dirty.”

“Done,” Jason says, immediately tearing out the weed with ruthless force. Nico cringes.

“Try to be gentler,” he says, and demonstrates on his own. “Like this. And make sure to get the roots out, otherwise it’ll just grow back.”

“What's the difference?” Jason asks. “We're killing it either way.”

“Yeah, but…” Nico squirms. “Just because we're killing it, doesn't mean we have to make it suffer. Wouldn't you rather die in your sleep than bleed out with all your limbs torn off?”

Graphic, but it gets the point across.

“Fair enough.” Jason looks a little faint, but he tugs out the next weed with a lot more precision, careful to unearth its roots and all.

“I know it takes a little longer,” Nico says, “but mercy is a worthwhile use of time. In my opinion.”

Jason has this look. It lands on Nico. “You never cease to amaze me,” he says. Almost reverently.

Nico turns the color of strawberries. “Shut up. Keep weeding.”

“Aye aye.” Jason salutes and returns to his assigned task. Every so often he'll stop to check with Nico if something is a weed or not, but he's always gentle pulling them out.

After a few minutes, Nico says, “How did you find me?”

Because realistically, anyone looking for Nico would probably never consider checking the strawberry fields. In fact, most people would discourage him from being there at all.

“I don't know,” Jason says, which causes Nico to look up in surprise. A thoughtful look crosses Jason's face. “Lucky guess, I suppose.”

“Hell of a guess,” Nico says, reaching for another green shoot. It comes out of the earth so easily, barely old enough to have burrowed down, and some part of Nico feels a sting at that. Plants uprooted before ever having a chance to grow. Nico knows what that's like.

He also knows that weeds don't mean to be bad. They don't mean to be anything; they're harmful only when rooted near bigger, better flora. It's not their fault they hog the nutrients and land. Like any living thing, all they want is to survive. Their only crime is trying to grow with something prettier flourishing close by.

Nico knows that feeling, too.

He really hates weeding. But he's long since learned it's a necessary part of gardening, and of life. Not everyone can live. Not everyone can grow. Some plants — some people — are poison. Sometimes the only thing to do is to whisper apologies and dig out the roots, and hope that whatever this dead plant becomes next has better luck than what it was first.

“Did you need something?”

“Do I have to need something?”

“No, but…” Nico shrugs. “I don’t know. I assume you hunted me down for something. And you didn’t have to stay here and help me weed.”

“I did not hunt you down,” Jason says indignantly. “I was looking for you because I wanted to hang out with you. You’re doing this, so I’m doing it too.”

“I'm not trying to say you shouldn't. And I always—” Nico falters. Stupid. This is his boyfriend. If he wanted to continue being an unknowable enigma with emotions under lock, key, and unbreakable steel trapdoor, he wouldn't have gotten himself involved with Jason ‘Heart On His Heroic Sleeve’ Grace. “I always want to hang out with you. I just meant, you didn’t have to help. You could have sat and done nothing.”

“Look, if I'm that bad at weeding, you can just say—”

Nico throws a handful of weeds at Jason and he dodges, laughing. “Shut up. I hate you. I wish I could pull you up by the roots.”

Smiling, Jason says, “You kind of did.”

Nico's brain gives him an error message.

“What does that mean?”

“I mean…you literally uprooted me.” Once again, he has that pensive expression, like Nico is an abstract painting that Jason is admiring while also trying to interpret. It's not the worst way to be looked at. “My whole life before you was Camp Jupiter. The legion. Being Roman. Being Jupiter's kid.”

“I didn't change all of that,” Nico points out. “You did.”

He can feel the chill of the cold ground through his jeans. Every inch of his palms is smudged with dirt. Jason's hands are starting to look the same. There's a dark streak by his hairline, and one on his jaw, and the setting sun keeps glinting off his glasses. It is, on the whole, unfairly attractive of him.

Jason hums like maybe, maybe not. “It still feels like you were the catalyst to all that change. The good change, not the…manipulated-by-Juno change.”

“I appreciate what you're doing,” Nico says, “but you understand that's ridiculous, right? We didn't know each other until after the prophecy and the quest and everything. I can't have had any impact on you before then.”

“But you were at Camp Jupiter. You arrived just before I disappeared.”

“I know that,” — People suspected me, Nico doesn't add — “but we barely spoke.”

“Yeah, but you…” Jason falls silent, his eyebrows drawn together. If Nico was art before, he's a riddle now, and Jason is struggling to solve it. “I just…feel like it was important. The timing.”

Nico buries his fingers in the ground, relishing the way the dirt crumbles and closes around his touch.

“The timing was important,” he says. “My dad knew Hera was planning something, so he sent me to Camp Jupiter like…an advance team. But it had nothing to do with you.” He pauses. “No offense.”

“No, none taken.” Jason’s laugh is a little off. “I don't know. Maybe I'm going crazy.”

“If you're crazy, I belong in an asylum,” Nico says, digging and digging until he can feel the roots of the closest weed. He pinches it between his thumb and forefinger, and watches as it turns brown, then shrivels into a dead, drooping dandelion.

He winces. That's his least favorite weeding strategy. He didn't even mean to do it just now. It's like his own body is saying, You're damn right you should be locked up. See what you can do?

I'm helping plants grow, he retorts.

His brain says, Only you would inflict death and call it ‘helping’.

Nico growls under his breath and stops listening to his brain.

“Anyway, you're not crazy,” he adds belatedly. “A goddess literally played with your memory and identity like Play-Doh, so cut yourself some slack.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Nico figures Jason is deep in thought, but when he glances up, he sees a different look on Jason’s face — like he’s just solved the riddle.

“I’ve seen you do that before.”

It’s quiet and distant, Jason’s voice, and weighted with a revelation. Of something, though Nico’s not sure what. Nico doesn’t mean to, but he recoils a little — at the thought of Jason, some previous Jason, watching him ruthlessly murder an innocent plant, maybe even without meaning to.

“At Camp Jupiter,” Jason murmurs.

Those words don’t make sense. They smack into Nico’s memory like birds into a glass window pane, seeking a target and failing miserably.

“What?”

“At camp,” Jason says slowly, his hands resting limply in the loam. Behind the frames of his glasses, his eyes are unfocused. “One of your…first days there. I saw. You killed a hyacinth.”

An icy hand reaches into Nico’s chest, past his ribs, and closes around his heart.

“You saw that?”

Jason nods, still lost in the memory. “You were coming up to the principia, and you knelt to admire the flowers.”

To admire the flowers. Yes. That’s all he'd been doing. The walkway leading to the principia had been gorgeous, elegant flora lining the path in a rainbow of colors, a dozen or more different varieties in bloom. And Nico had only wanted to appreciate their beauty. To breathe in the fragrance of something so alive.

“As soon as you touched it,” Jason says, “it died.”

Nico flinches.

“I was— I was nervous,” he says anxiously. “You and Reyna had asked to see me, and I was afraid you would decide I couldn’t stay. Couldn’t— be trusted.”

“I…” One of Jason’s hands comes up to rub the back of his neck, smudging dirt all over himself. “When I saw that, I had my doubts. But the way you reacted — like you were scared of yourself.” He shakes his head, his eyes sliding over Nico but with the distinct impression of looking beyond him. “I thought you must not have done it on purpose.”

“I didn’t.” Nico feels sick. He doesn’t know what to do here. Jason can’t even look at him. “I had never done it before, not by accident. I was scared.”

“And then I saw something else,” Jason says, blinking repeatedly. He pulls his glasses down the bridge of his nose and rubs his eyes with grimy hands, leaving the impression of twin shiners behind. But when he pushes his glasses up again, his gaze is sharp and focused. He faces Nico, straightening his shoulders. “That night, I watched you plant a new hyacinth.”

Nico stares. The ground underneath him might as well be thin air. “You…you saw that?”

“It was late,” Jason says, perfectly clear now, growing more certain every second. “I mean, later than anyone should have been up and about, but I left something in the principia, so I went back to get it, and when I came out, you were there. Kneeling by the flowers, just like that morning.”

Nico vividly remembers this. The wilted hyacinth had haunted him that whole day, a lethal combination of guilt and fear in equal measure. Something beautiful and alive was now ugly and dead, because of him. If he could do that to a flower, without even meaning to, what could he do to another person? What if he could stop someone’s heart on contact? How could Nico ever trust his own touch again?

And then something else had arisen, the way a new substance can emerge from two chemicals interacting. Determination. Nico may have been a child of death, but damn it, he could be more than that. He had to be more than that.

“I killed something,” Nico says hollowly. “I wanted to give something else life. To atone.”

Jason puts his dirt-stained hand over the knee of Nico’s equally dirt-stained jeans.

“Nico, I watched you plant that flower. I saw…” He hesitates. “I saw you pray. I couldn’t hear you, but the way you just…” He shakes his head, obviously overcome by the memory. “You didn’t do it for anyone else. You weren’t trying to prove anything to the Romans, you were just trying to make up for your mistake.”

“I didn’t know you were there,” Nico says weakly. How long had Jason stood in the shadows of the principia, a silent observer, as Nico mourned for one dead flower?

Jason ducks his head for a second. “I thought— I didn’t want to embarrass you,” he admits. “I figured you would misunderstand me if I said I had been watching you.”

Well, that’s true enough.

“I forgot,” Jason says, which is a familiar sentence out of his mouth. He grips Nico’s leg tighter. “But now I remember, and I was right. It was important. The timing was important.”

“What timing? What are you talking about?”

“My whole life, I had this feeling like I wanted to be more than who my father was,” Jason says. “I mean, you know. Big Three dad. They named the camp for him. Big shoes to fill, and it wasn’t that I didn’t want to fill them, but a small part of me was always thinking, why me? Why can’t someone else lead? You know?”

Nico nods. He does know.

“And then you came along,” Jason says. “The only other Big Three kid I had ever met. And yeah, at first, you seemed like the quintessential descendant of Pluto.”

“Scary, unapproachable, and surrounded by death?”

Jason breathes a laugh. “Yeah. But then I watched you plant a flower.” A slow-growing smile starts at his lips, then spreads up his cheekbones and illuminates his eyes. “The son of death. Nurturing life. Showing remorse and empathy for the living thing he’d killed, that he didn’t even mean to kill.” There’s impossible brightness in Jason’s gaze. “You were so much more than just the son of Pluto. And I thought: if he can do it, why can’t I?”

Nurturing life. Like now, Nico thinks, deliberately closing his fingers around the base of a strawberry plant. That instance, the one Jason is talking about — that had been the beginning of a chain reaction in Nico, turning all of his fear and self-doubt into stubborn conviction. The slow dawning of his refusal to being bound by his father’s name. He would always be Hades’s son, but sooner or later, he had to become his own man, write his own story, choose his own fate. Be Nico di Angelo, and decide who exactly Nico di Angelo would be.

He’d known then who he wanted to be. Someone who protects. Preserves. Sustains. Someone who accepts death and who cultivates life, who one day strikes a balance between light and dark.

He’s not that person yet. But he’s a hell of a lot closer than he once was. And it began with that hyacinth, planted under moonlight.

To which Jason bore witness.

If Nico believed in coincidences, he would call this one. As it is, he tends to believe that everything happens for a reason. Nico was fated to plant that flower. Jason was fated to watch.

“I’m telling you, Nico, it was you who got me thinking about how I could be more than just Jupiter’s son,” Jason says. “You really opened my eyes. And then a month later, when Juno took me…” He chews his lip. “I didn’t remember that moment until now, but I remember how I felt afterwards, like I wanted to just — do something spontaneous, something completely out of character. Surrender my rank and figure out what Jason Grace could do that Jupiter couldn’t. Even when I had amnesia, and even after that, I still had that feeling. It’s what made it so easy for me to choose Greek, to promote Frank as praetor, and then to stay here.” His fist knocks a quick pattern against Nico’s chest. The rhythm is indistinguishable from Nico’s heartbeat. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised it started with you.”

Nico, historically not great with emotions, pulls Jason in by the shirtfront and kisses him in all his dirt-smudged glory. Jason laughs, but he doesn’t break away to do it, so it vibrates over Nico’s lips and travels down his throat like a mild electric shock.

“What?” Nico asks, pulling away.

Jason’s smile looks indestructible. “Nothing.”

“You laughed.”

“I like when you kiss me,” Jason says, with the sun shining from his dimples. “That’s all.”

Nico blushes. “Oh.”

“I didn’t mean to stop you.” Jason’s lips twitch. “But while I’m at it, I guess I should thank you.”

“Thank me for what?” For kissing you? Nico considers, but he’s not that deluded. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You always say that,” Jason says, “after doing something amazing.”

This blush is not going anywhere, anytime soon. “Well, I didn’t do anything on purpose. I didn’t know you were watching.”

“Exactly. You inspired me without even meaning to.” Jason cups his face, so tender. Always. “Then and now.”

“It’s like you want me to kiss you,” Nico says, because he can’t take a compliment to save his life.

But Jason only grins. “I do want you to kiss me.”

Out of respect for Jason’s request, Nico kisses him again.

This time, Jason doesn’t laugh.

Nico twists Jason's shirt into his fingers, right over his hips. Jason buries his hands into Nico’s already-tangled hair. A cool breeze rustles the plants on all sides and tickles their exposed skin.

Jason is gentle. Not like Nico is fragile, but more like Nico is worth taking his time. He breathes, “Sorry if I get dirt in your hair.”

“Don’t care,” Nico murmurs.

If only Nico from Camp Jupiter could see him now. Kissing a beautiful boy in a field of living things.

I did this, he thinks. I nurtured this.