I have a headcannon that because leo’s Body temp is so high, he feels cold constantly, cuz of temp contrast and all that. I would literally die if you wrote a fic for me and @honestlydeepestmilkshake about Leo and Nico on the Argo and Leo stealing his aviator jacket.
you couldn’t blame leo if he was cold.
they’ve been on the sea for days, weeks, months — it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to say that things on the argo ii were starting to spiral downwards into a pit of despair. one was the rocking of the ship, which would cause his friend hazel to groan as she slouched over the toilet bowl, the contents of her lunch now discarded into the clear waters. leo would often hold up her hair as she retched, wincing in sympathy as tears began to dust the corners of her eyes. the same thing happened with jason, though he would not vomit and instead stay cooped up in his cabin, shivering and whimpering away from the eyes of others. that didn’t stop leo from trying to aid him, however. next was the frequent monster attacks. gaea was really out here, though asleep, attempting to foil their plans to make it to the ancient lands by sending waves of harpies and sea monsters their way. it didn’t help the crew’s seasickness at all.
finally was the cold. leo had a high body temperature, and as a result, was actually cold constantly — especially in open, windy air. usually he could handle it, as all he had to do was create a flame or use his own supply of heat to warm his aching bones. yet as of now, he was shivering in his work boots as he walked down the hallway from the engine room, just having made repairs on the gears and pulleys in his living space. it was cold, so goddamn cold he was literally about to fistfight khione all the way from the argo ii. wasn’t he supposed to be the son of hephaestus? wielder of a fire that burns brighter than the ancients? it didn’t feel that way as he marched on, the rain pattering against the floorboards above him.
then he sees it. there’s a table on the side of the hallway, a small cactus on it that leo had personally named george. george was a small green little fellow, sitting inside of a clay pot and thriving in the waterless scene. leo had made sure to give him water whenever he would not be busy with the quest and shit. but that was not all that was on the table. next to george was a brown aviator jacket, the furs looking way too warm to pass by.
leo had been so cold, shuddering with each step he made, that he wasn’t thinking when he grabbed the jacket. he supposes it is jason’s or piper’s, as it was pretty big on him yet fit around his body just right. it smelled of petrichor, a peppermint and earthly scent despite how much heat it administered to leo. he tugged the corners around his stomach so his entire torso was wrapped in the furs, and he couldn’t help but smile at the feeling. a small blush came over his face. he was totally stealing this.
he finished his walk to the mess hall, entering the bright-lit room which held all his friends, who had already begun chowing down on the food magically prepared for them — frank was eating some carne asada, piper was chowing down on a pb&j with coca cola, jason was drinking a glass of oj, and hazel was coloring in a sketchbook as she mindlessly ate some chicken nuggets (she had grown fond over them after leo had decided to introduce them to her). “sup, crew!” he exclaimed as he waltzed into the mess hall, and the reactions that occurred snapped him out of his euphoric mood. jason spat out his oj. frank and piper choked on their food. hazel only gasped, dropping her pencil, which rolled over the table and fell onto her lap.
“dude, what are you wearing?” piper asked him, coughing to expel the contents of her sandwich so she wouldn’t choke to death. leo raised an eyebrow.
“what do you—?” he looked down at the jacket and made a noise of realization. “oh, yeah, i found this in the hallway. this isn’t one of yours?”
his friends shook their heads.
realization hit leo when he had heard the voice behind him. he snapped his head towards the hallway, and felt his face heat up at the sight of nico di angelo, the last of the seven, wearing only his black t-shirt and ripped jeans, staring at leo with wide eyes and a gaping mouth as if he were a fish. okay, well, leo’s had a good run. nico will probably vaporize him on the spot for stealing his precious aviator jacket, and at this point leo already accepted the fact that he would die of a premature death. leo hums in astonishment at his bad luck. “oh, this is… this is yours,” he starts, noticing that nico is not making a move to murder him where he stands. leo forces a strained laugh. “whoops. sorry, man. uh, here.” he begins to take off the jacket when nico raises his hand in protest.
“no, don’t,” he says, quick and way too eager. nico clears his throat when he realizes the sudden outburst, then returning to his no-shit-taken look, breathing in deeply. leo notices that nico’s cheeks are flushed. “uh, you can wear it. it’s pretty cold.”
“oh, um…” leo side-eyes the rest of the crew, who are equally agape. he drifts his gaze back to nico. “thanks, man.”
“no problem,” nico answers, and the conversation ends there. the son of hades takes his seat at the table, and leo falls suit.
dinner is quiet. quieter than usual, though this time it was not from the looming awakening of mother earth herself but rather of the awkwardness of a situation leo did not account for. leo was pretty sure nico was staring at him, but everytime he would attempt to be sure of his guess, nico’s eyes would drift away and focus more on his plate of french fries. nico had been eating french fries for the past three days. leo is going to kill him.
the seven decide to call for a break, with hedge steering the ship and barricading any of their attempts to be on the lookout after the demigods overstrained themselves for the past month. leo voices his goodbyes to them, and exits the mess hall first, trying to exit before any further conversation could be made. then once he’s in the clear, he hears the padding of footsteps. he looks behind him, and nico di angelo has now entered his space, walking by his side and looking towards the end of the hallway. leo’s face is flushing. it’s enough heat to light a tree on fire, but leo knows that if he sets nico’s jacket aflame he’ll end up in the underworld, right in the fields of punishment. so he doesn’t say anything, and he walks all the way to nico’s room.
they make it to the door. “uh, thanks. again. for the jacket.” leo doesn’t really know what to say to nico, but he makes up for the lack of words by taking off the jacket and handing it back to the son of hades. nico nods, staring down at the fabric with an unreadable gaze.
“you look good,” nico admits. “in the jacket, i mean.”
leo blushes. “oh, uh… thanks.”
there’s a silence in the air. leo’s eyes drift to the burn on nico’s shoulder and feels his stomach tighten. at least it’s bandaged up. that’s… that’s good.
“you can take it,” nico tells him. oh gods, he’s still going. “if you feel cold again. just saying.”
“i’ll keep that in mind.” leo rubs his neck, and offers nico a small smile. “night, nico.”
“night.” nico opens the door to his room, but not without catching one last glance at leo, before he disappears behind the wooden door. leo lets out a sigh, a small exhale. that… went better than expected. leo really thought that nico di angelo was going to rip his soul to smithereens before leo could recite the lord’s prayer. then again, nico is someone else entirely for leo. has been for years.
he walks back to his room, ignoring the heat on his cheeks, and suddenly he’s not cold anymore.
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