“He’s the akuma, Bug.” The handcuffed Chat Noir gritted his teeth, trying to pry the other Chat’s hands off the collar of his suit. The chains were just barely long enough to allow it. “He set a trap and caught me by the scruff, but I don’t know what his end goal is.” “No, I swear he’s the fake!” The Chat Noir not in chains turned to Nico, electric blue eyes wide and sincere, the fight clearly less important to him than the conversation. “He’s trying to drive a rift between us, to steal you away from me.” Chained-up Chat blinked, grip suddenly slack. “Haha, what?” Oh god. This was all Nico’s fault. or; Sometimes, the only way to deal with your feelings is by beating them up.

“Woah!” The other boy righted him and patted his shoulder. “Careful, you might…” The end of his sentence trailed off into nothing as he caught sight of the glower Nico was sending his way. He looked way too normal to be in a place like this. He had blond hair that looked like it was supposed to be short, but had been forgotten about for a while. His eyes were so blue they were almost electric, and they were getting wider and wider as he stared. Nico almost looked behind him to see if there was anything more interesting than a scrawny and hopelessly lost half-blood, but didn’t have time to get too confused. “Nico di Angelo,” the boy whispered.

(or; the first few meetings of Nico di Angelo, Champion of Hera, and Jason Grace, Ambassador of Hades.)

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nico interrupted, stance and voice defiant. He held his sword at the ready as dust and wind whipped around him. Jason tried to vault over a column that had collapsed in between the two of them, but a fresh clump of rubble was hurled his way by the invisible god when he got too close to it. YES YOU DO, SON OF— “Jason already knows I’m gay.”

(or; Nico and Jason follow the rules of improv and "yes, and—" their way into a different outcome in Split.)

There was a stranger on the subway who had been staring at them on and off since they had boarded the train. That wasn’t too unusual, but it was rubbing Nico the wrong way today. He shifted from one foot to the other as their car passed from the light of the last station into the darkness of the tunnel system once more. Maybe it was the fact that the stranger was a boy who looked just a little older than him. And taller. Broader, too, although he was almost certainly less experienced at actually using the muscle filling out his expensive name-brand athlesiure. He’d been looking between Nico and Jason since they left the shopping center they’d spent the afternoon at, but mostly he’d been looking at Jason. (or; Nico and Jason's journey to self-expression and belonging through really dumb shirts.)