AN: Yeah... So I've finally gotten back into the writing groove. This kind of happened xD This is the first of possibly a trilogy, but if I do decide to write two more counterparts for this, they'll be all wibbly-wobbly, out-of-ordery, and I'll post them separately. But that's if my muse gets back here long enough for me to do any actual writing, and whether anyone likes this enough for me to do a sequel!

Warnings: Language, as per always. I'm still a potty mouth. Slash, too, because I can't stop, won't stop. But also, I should put a trigger warning here. I'm not sure what I wrote in this one is enough to warrant a trigger warning, like it could be pretty pansy, but I'm putting one just in case.

Disclaimer: I know this is pretty much required but really? Who comes on this sight looking for fics written by a published author? Like I swear, if I were Rick Riordan, I wouldn't spend all my time writing slash fanfiction. I'd have fangirls to do that for me.

Onwards and enjoy!

~THF

Leo wakes up to the sound of shattering glass, and thinks, Oh, fuck, really? I just got that window replaced!

He sits up, blearily looking over his living room. The TV hums on low volume, and when Leo checks his phone, it reads 12:19 AM. So he fell asleep watching Friends reruns again ("No, Nico, Friends isn't girly; half of the main cast is composed of men, for fuck's sake.").

But the shattered glass he heard isn't from the living room window like he'd expected. Leo stands, fumbling to get a small handgun out of the drawer on the coffee table, before creeping to the kitchen. The gun was Nico's idea, and Leo is almost positive he can use it effectively. Like, 68% sure.

He hesitates in the hallway, his back pressed against the wall, and then whips around the corner, aiming the gun straight at the intruder like he's seen in every cheep spy movie he's ever watched ("I'm telling you, Nico, James Bond is way cooler than Ethan Hunt.").

Leo almost pees his pants, but not because he's scared. Because that would be girly. He almost pees his pants because he drank two liters of Root Beer all by himself during his Friends marathon, and he hasn't used the bathroom since he finished off the bottle an hour ago.

"Fucking hell, Nico!" he shouts at the sight of his boyfriend, standing stock still in the kitchen, staring down at a broken glass plate (My good China, Leo thinks with a sardonic smile). "I was going to shoot you!" And he sets the gun down on the counter and carefully crosses the kitchen floor to get a broom and dustpan, careful not to step on any of the glass shards.

"Did I wake you?" Nico asks, staring down at the glass, and Leo sweeps the pieces into the dustpan and doesn't ask why Nico hasn't made any move to pick them up, because Leo is pretty sure he doesn't want to know.

"Yeah," Leo says absent-mindedly, and when he's positive that he's not going to cut his socked feet on any of the glass pieces, he leans over and presses a kiss to the corner of Nico's mouth, tugging lightly at Nico's shaggy hair.

"I thought you weren't coming home for three more days?" Leo questions, emptying the dustpan into the trashcan, and he doesn't face Nico again until he's returned the broom and dustpan to their original perches.

"Yeah, well." Nico's eyes are trained on the gun on the counter, and Leo scoops that up, too, and slides it into the waistband of his flannel pajama pants. A gentle smile softens Nico's features, and he finally meets Leo's gaze.

"I missed you."

And damn it all to hell, but this is the kid Leo fell in love with.

"I missed you, too, you fucking bastard," Leo grumbles, tugging Nico close by his narrow hips and kissing his forehead. "Come on, let's go to bed."

When they pass through the living room, their fingers intertwined, Nico catches sight of the TV, and a cat-like smirk stretches across his mouth, just like Leo knew it would.

"Friends, Leo? Really?"

"Shut up." Leo tosses the gun onto the coffee table and doesn't blush at all. "Chandler is going to propose to Monica. I couldn't not watch this episode." (And yes, Leo has seen all of the episodes about ten times each, so he knows that Monica and Chandler take turns proposing, but he won't say anything about that to Nico.)

In their bedroom, Leo helps Nico out of his shirt and jeans and combat boots so that he's just in his boxers, and then they climb into bed together, curling around each other in the dark.

Leo presses open-mouthed kisses to Nico's collarbone, and Nico shivers against him. And after a couple of hand jobs, they finally settle back into the blankets together, and Leo nuzzles his nose into the crook of Nico's neck, and they lie in silence for a few minutes.

It's Leo who speaks first. "How was the trip?"

Nico squirms and grunts. "It was fine. Percy was there."

Leo pushes himself up on his elbows, hovering over the younger man. "Yeah? I haven't talked to him in a while. He and Annabeth still together?"

"They're engaged."

Leo grins. "I called it," he croons. Then;

"I'm sorry I couldn't fly down there with you. I would've, but work at the garage is always busy this time of year, you know."

Nico nods, his dark hair falling into his eyes, and Leo sighs.

"It's fine, Leo. I'm fine."

Leo presses his forehead against Nico's, kissing him briefly. "I should've been there. It was Hazel's wedding."

And Nico closes his eyes, lets out a harsh puff of air. "I told you; it doesn't matter. I'm twenty-three years old. I can handle a wedding on my own."

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't have to," Leo mutters, pushing himself back up and staring down at Nico. "I'm your boyfriend. I'm supposed to be there for you when your sister gets married."

Nico narrows his eyes. "This isn't like when Bianca died, Leo. It was just a wedding. I didn't even drink very much."

Leo sits up, pulling away from Nico. "I saw the way you looked at the broken glass, back in the kitchen. You hadn't even had anything to drink. Nico, I know how you get when you drink. I'm supposed to be there to make sure you never cut yourself up or try to off yourself again."

Nico is quiet for a moment, and Leo avoids looking at him. When Nico does speak, his voice is harsh.

"It's not your job to protect me, Leo. Those three months in the mental hospital were before I even met you, and you wouldn't know shit about me trying to kill myself or the self-harm or Bianca dying or how depressed I get when I drink if I hadn't decided to tell you."

Leo finally looks at Nico, and Nico's gaze softens just the tiniest bit. "I told you because I want you to know who I was before I met you. But it's not relevant to the present, Leo."

Leo presses his lips together, considers, and Nico sighs.

"Take the way I looked at the broken glass in the kitchen, just a few minutes ago. You could tell what I was thinking about when I was staring at them. You could tell I was considering taking one of the shards to the skin of my wrist and just letting go. Having at it. Carving shit into my arm until there's so much blood you can't make out the skin itself, until I'm dizzy, until I cut through a tendon." Nico pauses, and Leo flinches, closing his eyes, trying to block out the images his boyfriend is painting. He fails, and he feels like he's going to throw up.

"But you're here, Leo," Nico whispers, pressing his lips to Leo's shoulder. "You're here, and if you ever saw me like that… I don't think I'd ever forgive myself if I did that to you. You don't have to worry about me, because I want to be a better person. I want to be a better person for you, Leo."

Leo is pretty sure Nico is going to be the death of him, but hey. He knew that when they started dating.

"I love you, too, you bastard," Leo breathes, and twists in the sheets, covering Nico's mouth with his own, pressing him into the mattress, grinding their hips together.

He knows Nico might never say it back, but when Nico does that thing with his tongue, and bucks his hips just right, Leo doesn't really mind.