greenconverses | fic: Alternative Uses [PJO, Nico/Rachel, PG]

Title: Alternative Uses
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Nico/Rachel
Spoilers/Warnings: None. Disregards TLH.
Notes: Written as a pinch hit for

pjo_xchange and

lunaterium. Prompt was "scarves and mittens," but it still ended up a little Christmas themed? With the weather we've been having, it might fit right in.

Alternative Uses

“I'm sorry this is so late,” Rachel says, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear nervously. Her green eyes are trained on the hole Nico's fingers are making in the shiny holiday paper. “I was having a hard time thinking of something to get you and then I decided to make you something, but I had to teach myself how to do it first and that took ages – ”

“Chill out, Dare,” Nico interrupts, ripping a slit in the wrapping and pulling out the white box from underneath. “It's just a Christmas present; doesn't matter to me if it's a couple days late.”

“I know. You've only told me that a million times,” she replies, sitting back on her haunches on the couch beside him. “I just figured that since it was our first Christmas as a couple couple instead of roommates or awkward teenage friends, I should actually try this year.”

Nico pauses in opening his gift to arch a surprised eyebrow. “You mean you weren't trying when you bought me the pool table last year? Because that was probably about the most awesome present ever.”

Rachel blushes and Nico wonders if she's remembering exactly what they did on top of the pool table a few months later that made it so awesome in the first place. She recovers after a moment, and waves her hand dismissively.

“This is different. The pool table is something you wanted, not needed. And I didn't spend hours hand carving the pool table.”

“I'd be incredibly impressed with you if you had. That takes real skill,” he replied, giving her an easy smile. He pops open the lid to the box and tosses it on the floor. “So, something I need instead of what I want, huh?”

“Yup,” she says, inching closer to him. “Think something that will keep you warm so you can stop with the whole put-your-icy-hands-under-my-shirt-to-make-me-scream thing when you get home.”

“I thought you said that game was funny,” Nico replied, digging through the tissue paper to find his present.

“It's only funny when I do it.”

He rolls his eyes. “But of course.”

He'd noticed the knitting manuals she'd stuffed under the sofa and the piles of multicolored yarn in her studio in recent weeks, and now that she's given him that hint, he's pretty sure he knows what's going to be in this box. He mentally prepares himself not to blurt out anything snarky or sarcastic the instant he sets eyes on it – no matter how ugly it is – because if he makes Rachel cry by being an ass and making fun of a gift she spent so much time on, he will never ever forgive himself.

His fingers wrap around something soft and plush, and he pulls his gift out of the box. It's a long black scarf, knitted in a complex and intricate pattern. There isn't a flaw in sight, and it's sleek and sophisticated in a way he didn't think homemade knitting could be.

“There's a pair of mittens in there too,” Rachel says, a childlike eagerness to her voice. “At the bottom.”

He glances down, digs through the box, and sure enough, finds a pair of mittens in the same color and material. He notices she's stitched something on the wrist too, and grins when he realizes it's a tiny, smiling cartoon skull.

“Very cute, Dare,” he replies, fingering the skull stitching before setting them back in the box. He'll try them on later when he goes out.

“You like them?”

Of course he likes them; that's a dumb question. He likes anything Rachel gives to him, no matter how small, but especially if she put some time and effort into it. It reminds him that she cares about him – might even possibly love him – to put so much of herself into a gift and then put it into his clumsy hands to care of and cherish. He's lucky to have a snagged a girl like Rachel – something he reminds himself of every day.

Nico holds out the scarf for her, smirking suggestively. “You wanna put it on me?”

Rachel smiles, scooting close enough to him that she's almost in his lap, and grabs the scarf from him. She wraps the scarf around his neck once, twice, and then makes a loose knot. She tries to arrange it nicely down the front of his shirt, but gives up the pretense after she locks eyes with him. She wraps her hands around the edge of the scarf and uses it to pull him closer to her until their noses bump together.

“Hmm, didn't think this would be useful for yanking you around when I was making it,” she giggles as one of his hands presses into the middle of her back and he lowers her back onto the sofa. The box falls off his lap and onto the floor, spilling tissue paper and the mittens on the floor. “Definitely will have to remember this handy feature.”

“What, like you needed the help?” he replies, kissing her deeply. “You’ve been yanking me around since I was fourteen.”

He flushes and regrets it as soon as he says it. It makes him sound like he’s been in love with her since he was a teenager, and that’s definitely not true at all. Rachel’s just had him hooked on her since she started bossing him around and demanding to be taken on quests and monster hunting expeditions in that annoying way of hers, and he hasn’t done anything to change that.

He thinks she likes that admission a little too much, if her broad smile against his lips is any indication.

“Right,” she murmurs. “And don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t,” he replies as she hooks her fingers under the loop of his scarf, pulling him down on top of her. He’s not going to let her win entirely though, so he slips his hands under her shirt and she lets out a little shriek of surprise.

“What did I say about cold hands!”

“Sorry. One of the many hazards of dating a son of Hades,” he says, entirely unrepentant as he kisses her again. “Now if you can shut up for five minutes about my hands, I will thank you properly for your gift.”

“Well, if you insist,” she sighs, but it’s a good sigh, the kind Nico likes to hear, and he knows he’s got her, cold hands or no.