Devil May Headcanon

Friday rolls around, and Dante's in his room when he hears the shop doors bang open, Patty announcing her arrival, and the thud of her schoolbag hitting the floor. The sudden silence that follows makes him grin. Then he hears her happy shriek and thundering footsteps heading toward the guest room. He takes the opportunity to slip out of his room and into the office, settling on the couch to wait, listening to the sound of her running back and forth in the guest room and bathroom. Eventually she emerges, and he stands to greet her. Patty is resplendent in a gauzy blue dress the color of mist, pale blue butterflies dotting the shoulder veil and skirt. Her hair is done up in fancy braids, a delicate and intricately twisted diadem crowning the whole look. (Dante, for his part, is wearing the red and black leather outfit he'd worn during that mess with Arius and Argosax. It's the most medieval outfit he's got, and figures it'll be acceptable.) He bows with a teasing grin just to make her blush, offering his arm once he straightens. "Our carriage awaits, Princess~" His grin only increases at her delighted gasp when she sees it's an actual carriage waiting for them outside, instead of his car. He knows he's probably gone a little overboard with this whole thing, just for some school event that isn't even prom or whatever. But it's worth it to see the girl who'd once been as alone as he'd been at that age beaming so brilliantly.

Vergil knows he's not as alone as he seems these days. Not in the sense of Dante and his friends always lurking about and "being there for him." Dark glimpses at the corner of his eye haunt him when he goes out, flashes of movement that aren't there when he turns to look. He has stopped turning to look. Sometimes in the silence of the night, when not another creature is stirring, he hears the distant echo of familiar laughter, gone when he tries to focus on it. He has stopped listening for it. He doesn't try to rationalize them, or the odd things that happen around him with increasing frequency. Blankets draped over him while he sleeps that Dante swears up and down that he doesn't even own. An energy drink can rolling out of nowhere to fetch up against his boot when he's out on a long hunt. An unaccountable light with no visible source lighting his way when there are no more streetlights to see by. He is a patient man, has learned not to push, to force things before their time. His impatience and temper cost him dearly in the past; he will not make that mistake again. He doesn't want to risk... Something is building. He can feel it. When it finally reaches its peak, he can feel it at his back. But still he doesn't turn to look. Doesn't listen for it. Instead, he holds out his arm, the movement ingrained in memory, and feels fanned air against his hair, his face, as a familiar weight settles on his arm. A familiar heavy weight leans against his leg a beat later, his hand reaching down to brush velvet-smooth fur. And at his back, a familiar cracking rumble vibrates the very air with its depth. He doesn't look. He doesn't have to. "Heya, Shakespeare! Long time, no see! Didja miss us?" Vergil closes his eyes at the familiar voice. "...yes. I did." And he smiles.

Electric guitars wailed in the office, punctuated by whoops and laughter as Dante and Nero played along with the jukebox. Nero had started it by grabbing Dante's old guitar from its stand under the mezzanine, and Dante couldn't help joining in, grabbing Nevan from the armory. Of course, the added effect of purple lightning arcing everywhere as Dante played the Devil Arm only amped the pair up, driving them to more and more ridiculous rockstar antics as they jumped and danced around. Neither noticed Vergil had entered the room, until the jukebox suddenly went silent. (Not because Vergil had turned it off, but because the current song ended.) They looked up to see Vergil staring at them with an unimpressed stare that was almost his default these days, and while Nero promptly blushed, Dante just grinned and hefted himself up from his knees. "Oh, looks like the no-fun train just arrived!" the younger twin taunted. "Ya got something against our music?" Vergil's eyes narrowed, but he didn't retort as he usually might. Instead, he strode across the room, Dante and Nero turning to watch as he walked between them, and he carefully picked up the old violin laying on top of the filing cabinets. Turning to the pair, he gave them a challenging stare as he lifted the instrument to his chin, lowering the bow to the strings, and started to play. It took five seconds for them to recognize the tune, and about three times as long before they were able to recover enough to pick their jaws up off the floor. Dante was the first to recover, grinning like a kid whose Christmases all happened at once, and started playing along. Not to be outdone, Nero was a beat behind his uncle, all three soon grinning at each other as they played.

Morrison hummed as he unlocked and opened the post office box, sighing as a cascade of envelopes and flyers fell out of the overstuffed box onto the floor. "Gettin' too old for this, Dante," he muttered, bending to pick up the scattered mail. Emptying the box of the rest of the mail, he flipped quickly through it to check for any notices there was more mail to retrieve, then again more slowly, discarding the junk mail in the nearby trashcan. Chewing on the end of his cigar, he studied the stack of bills left, and the red "Past Due" stamped on several of them. He tapped the stack of envelopes against his hand, then headed out. He had a few stops to make.

Nero eyed V's profile, frowning, the man so pale the dark smudges beneath his eyes looked like bruises. "...you know you look like one of those raccoon things?" "Griffon has informed me of such several times." Yeah, Nero would bet the annoying bird had. Still... "You really should get some rest, V. You can't live on Surge and Monsters." V finally lifted his head from reading his book to give Nero a look that made the other man twitch. "There's little time for-" "Five minutes isn't gonna kill you." V's mouth twisted in a frown. "We don't-" "Fifteen minutes." "I-" "Thirty minutes." V's brows furrowed slightly as he paused, meeting Nero's raised eyebrow. Neither spoke as they just looked at each other, silence filling the air between them. Finally V's expression melted into a smile as he chuckled quietly, gaze flicking down briefly. "You're giving me no choice, are you?" "Nope!" Nero grinned. "Two hours. At least." V opened his mouth to protest, faltered when Nero's eyes narrowed. "I will sit on you if I have to."

Vergil jumped awake at the thump of something landing on his mattress. Sitting up, he saw the dark shape and glowing eyes that was his brother climbing from the top bunk. Scrambling out of bed after him, the twins padded quietly out of their room and down the hall. Up ahead, light spilled from a partially open door like a beacon, drawing the boys in to crouch by the frame just out of sight, listening. Inside, they could hear the rustle of pages turning under the crackle of a fire in the hearth. The scent of smoke and burning wood filled their nostrils as they inhaled, scenting the air, and...there. The sharp, spicy scent they were hoping for. Before they could act on it, their father's deep voice rumbled from inside. "Come in, boys." Immediately they scrambled into the study and to Sparda's massive chair as he set his book aside. Bending down, he scooped them up onto his lap, rumbling as they snuggled into his sides with quiet nestling trills. Wrapping his arms around them, he enveloped them in warmth and scent, his low rumble continuing as Dante and Vergil relaxed against him, the sound following the twins as they drifted back into sleep.

"Don't even say it." "I haven't said a word." "You're thinkin' it pretty damn loudly." "I am not." "Stop thinkin' it, or I'll find a rock to throw at your head." "As if that would stop you- don't you dare move, dammit! You'll start bleeding again!" Dante huffed and reluctantly sagged back to the ground, eyes closing, listening to the rustle of cloth, tracking Vergil's progress around him. He didn't jump at the light touch near one of the deep gashes across his ribs, though it stung like a bitch. "How long's this venom last?" "...I'm not certain," Vergil murmured at length. "I don't recall hearing of anyone who survived before." "That ain't saying much." That Vergil didn't contest the accusation was a win in Dante's book, but he kept silent as Vergil checked the rest of his injuries. "...I believe these are starting to heal." "Yay. Not that I don't enjoy the chance for a breather, but I'd prefer it without the burning venom." "I warned you not to provoke-" "Don't fucking say it!"