Hurricane's Shadow(Title)

M(Rating)

Percy/Nico(pairing)

In the end, Nico couldn't do it. He retracted his fingers from the Mediterranean skin, keeping his powers at bay. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I hate you," he murmured.

1/21/13(Month/Day/Year)

This is a flimsy little thing I wrote early in the morning. It is unbeta'd and I apologize for any major mistakes that hinder any reading ability. If people show any interest I might continue this in a real superhero fic. I hope you enjoy this and it doesn't confuse anyone. A.N. Can anyone guess who Midas and Melinoe is? I own no part of Percy Jackson; I disclaim.

Hurricane's Shadow

Hurricane.

His alias was Hurricane and he was the superhero of New York City nicknamed Gotham. He gave to the poor. He saved the helpless and weak. He cleaned up the crime in his city with the help of several other superheroes, but mainly it was he who protected and served Gotham. Hurricane was the boy wonder dressed up in some blue skin-tight, strong as hell, leotard, complete with a shimmery eye mask.

Hurricane was his archnemesis.

Hurricane who had fallen asleep by his side after a bout of hot sex. He couldn't believe that Hurricane would trust him so easily as to not kill him in his sleep. It'd be so effortless too… he grinned in the dark; his canine teeth seemingly glinting. He was Shadow.

Shadow was the yin to Hurricane's yang. He caused destruction to Gotham. He played with the people like marionettes and willingly found and attracted trouble. He wanted to be detrimental to Gotham's growth. The city that wronged him. His goal was to annihilate the city, to leave it as a rubble of ruins. The only obstacle that stopped Shadow from completing his goal was the tanned superhero peacefully slumbering by his side.

Shadow sat up on the firm king-sized mattress, the covers pooling around his naked waist. He glared at Hurricane with distaste. His impossibly dark brown eyes narrowed at the hint of a smile on Hurricane's lips. What did this goody-twoshoes have to be happy about in this forsaken world? A world, which had turned on him as it had turned on Shadow. He didn't understand Hurricane's psyche; how in the world did he stand the putrid environment they lived?

Shadow was a honest being. He was honest with his needs, wants, and dislikes. Hurricane… he wasn't. His archnemesis liked to hide behind his cheerful bravado and optimistic disposition. Shadow chuckled low and dark, a seductive purr to any bystander. Gotham was a constant state of hypocrisy, they turned on their saviour on some days and others they welcomed him. Shadow always happened to be around when Hurricane was shunned by the ignorant sheep.

Hurricane's sea-green jewels seemed to transition into something utterly sinister, he lashed out his confusion and anger out on Shadow, and then after that he'd usually be shoved into some wall and be fucked senseless. At the end of the fucking, they both slide down to the ground and Shadow would use that time to jab at his buttons and point out all his flaws. Beckon him to the abyss, in which he belonged with all the spit-and-chewed up heroes of yesterday.

Hurricane… was… is too loyal though. He never accepted Shadow's offer. For some reason, that stirred up an odd emotion: anger, resentment, rejection? All of it? None of it? A big mess of confusion. Shadow told himself that he didn't care, he did not to lie to himself. He was being truthful. He did not care for those that wore blinders on and had infuriating hero-complexes.

Shadow arose from the bed, skirting around the frame to get to the large windows of the bedroom. He had no problem with nakedness; modesty was a fickle human limitation he learned to lose long ago. He overlooked the never-sleeping city with its brilliant lights streaming from all sorts of sources and the loud hustle and bustle going along with it. If Shadow concentrated he'd feel the dead that stirred under the city, he'd see the ghosts of times past that walked alongside all that lived. He only had to will it; his army would rise and obliterate.

"Mmm… Shadow?" a sleep-filled voice ripped through the serene air.

Shadow turned to the owner, padding over to his side. "I thought you were knocked out?" he questioned, the swaying Hurricane blearily glared at him, grasping onto his arm.

"Get in bed," he demanded. "I'm not in the mood to fight."

Shadows grinned somewhat impishly. "I'm sorry, Hurricane. Midas and Melinoe get worried if I'm gone too long."

Hurricane yawned. He laid back down on his fancy feathered pillow before dragging him down in one swoop, tucking him under his chin. No, it wasn't some act of super-strength; he was a lightweight and scrawny. Hurricane's powers laid in water; anything with water (including the air) he could manipulate with startlingly ease.

"Sleep," shushed Hurricane drowsily. Sleep covered the superhero, but not Shadow. He wriggled out of his enemy's tight embrace, glaring at him as he did twenty minutes ago. Why did he put up with it? This infuriating Hurricane.

He knew his secretive past. He knew him outside his superhero persona: a normal student, Percy Thalassa Jackson, NYU freshmen, majoring in Marine Biology and occasional teacher's assistant in Keto's junior year Advanced Placement Biology class. A class he happened to be in…, Percy didn't notice him in class; Shadow hardly attended school.

Was it because he had some familiarity with the hero, or maybe it was the awesome sex? Shadow mauled over it, dismissing the excuses after a minute. The "Twin" Tricksters provided all those, yet, Shadow barely gave them a passing glance outside of business.

"So what?" he whispered into the dark, studying Hurricane over. What made him so special that he, Shadow, developed an attachment? What made him nervous enough to question his gliding fingers on Hurricane's skin; was he scared to take his life?

Shadow dared to snicker raucously. He scared to take Hurricane's life? Preposterous! The very idea of him scared; he tittered at his crazed mind. He'd crush his thoughts right now: he placed his fingers on Hurricane's strong jaw, caressing the skin littered with stubble and microscopic scars. He gathered his death powers, preparing to murder his greatest adversary until Hurricane shifted.

"Nico," he groaned in his sleep.

Shadow gasped, but did not move his fingers. Hurricane knew his name?

"Nico," Hurricane repeated.

Shadow couldn't do it. In the end, Nico couldn't do it. He retracted his fingers from the Mediterranean skin, keeping his powers at bay. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I hate you," he murmured.