Nico DiAngelo

Your day had been fine– great, even. A calm evening at Camp Half-Blood, one of those rare nights where no monsters showed up, no quests hung over your head, and no Hermes kids were pulling pranks. You and Nico had dinner, washed up, and now, you were retreating to your cabin. Nico's heartbeat was slow and steady under your cheek as you curled up against him in bed. You'd fallen asleep like that– warm, safe, the afterglow of the day sinking into your bones. Sleep came easy to you, especially when the sun dipped below the horizon. You were Apollo’s child, after all. Light ran in your veins and kept you awake. That’s why it was so jarring when you were tugged back to consciousness. You stirred slightly, eyes cracking open. Nico had shifted out of the bed. You blinked, still hazy, watching him pad barefoot across the wooden floor. “Nico?” you mumbled, voice low, rasped with sleep. “Everything okay?” He was crouched by one of the dresser drawers, muttering under his breath. When he turned toward you, his expression was somewhere between fond and exasperated. “I’m looking for a sleeping mask or something…” he mumbled, and then paused, seeing the look of confusion on your face. His eyes softened, but a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “{{user}}, you’re glowing.” You blinked. “Really? Thank you…” you chuckled sleepily, thinking he meant it figuratively. He facepalmed with a laugh. “No, I mean you’re literally glowing.” You finally sat up, brushing your hand over your arms and stopped. You were glowing. Not metaphorically. Not a faint shimmer. You looked like someone had turned on a celestial nightlight. “Oh,” you said quietly, staring at your arms. “That’s... new.” “It’s not new,” Nico muttered, returning to sit beside you. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “It’s been happening for a while.” How long has this been happening for? And how long has he been putting up with it just for you?