#soft vergil

He was supposed to have gotten back from his trip with Nero for work like three days ago. You were pissed as hell that they got held back for whatever reason it had been, you tuned it out to be honest, after Vergil told you that he wouldn't be returning for a while more. To say you were frustrated would be an understatement. Sexually, that is. You used to have absolutely no issues going through long dry-spells before Vergil. Why couldn't you do it now!? Ugh you hated him so much (affectionate).

You were comfortable in bed, late at night, playing some game on your console, exploring around a new area you had just unlocked, when you heard the front door unlock. He must've gotten back. You'd have been ecstatic, under all other circumstances, but at the moment you were still bitter and, well, really pent up for having gone almost a month with no sex at all. You couldn't even touch yourself right, every time you got into it in the moment, you'd have a stray thought about how much better it would feel if he had been here with you, which would further sour your mood.

Your ears were tuned to Vergil's footsteps, having mastered the art of recognizing people's steps at an early age coming in handy now, so you knew he was making his way to your shared bedroom. The door softly creaked open, ad he stepped in, looking tired, then surprised, as he saw you wide awake, and focused on your game. 

(Another thing he had ruined for you was… um, more like fixed for you, was your sleep schedule, and with him having been gone for so long you naturally fell back into the old habit of staying awake until at the latest five in the morning. Fucker.) 

“What are you doing awake?”

You shrugged, “just playing, good of you to finally come back,” you said, bitterly. 

He was moving around the room, first placing the yamato on its place near his bedside table, then moving to gather a fresh change of clothes he could wear after his shower, you assumed. “Don’t give me attitude, you know I had no control over the situation,” was all he said before heading to the en-suite bathroom, closing the door gently.

You grumbled a ‘whatever’ back, which you knew he could hear perfectly well from behind the closed door and continued with playing, trying to locate the few stray chests you had remaining to complete the exploration of this area. It helped ease your irritation, and you could also ignore him to rile him up more, it sounded like a good plan to you.

(Was it a bad idea? Yes. He was probably just as pent up as you, if not more, so your ass would be grass by the time he was done with you, but, hey, it would be a fun ride, so it was worth it.)

The minutes seemed to pass by, with your focus shifting entirely on your game, irritation forgotten by now, and your plan all hatched. He would exit the shower, probably try to paw at you, but you would ignore him and act innocent, he'd get frustrated and then that's when the fun would begin. You're such an evil genius, you giggle lightly. 

A bit more time passed by, Vergil finally exiting the bathroom, all freshened up and clean, his hair still wet and pushed back into his signature style, but a few stray strands were unruly, grey sweatpants hanging low off his hips, so deliciously, but this was your time to shine, you thought, so you stopped staring before you threw your perfect plan out of the window and pounced him like a ravenous tiger did with prey.

He settled in bed next to you, his actions unassuming at first, probably trying to keep up his stoic facade. “You didn't answer my calls today, why is that?” he asked, voice calm and collected.

You side-eyed him, before looking back at the TV again, "I spent today sleeping, had my phone on mute.”

“Ah.”

“Yeahhh, so how was the return trip? Uneventful, I hope?”

He hummed lowly. 

A few minutes passed by, ever so slowly, your excitement was starting to build, but you had to keep your cool. Torture him some more. You know the drill.

His hand sloooowly started to wander, the one he wasn't resting behind your back, that is. It was inching and inching closer to your inner thigh. You hid your smile, still pretending to be very focused on your game. You felt like a fly rubbing its little hands excited about what was to come.

(And that would be you, hopefully.)

“How about you turn that off for the night?”

Game on, girl, game ON.

“Hmm,” you pondered out loud, “maybe not, I have a little more left and I’ll be done. Maybe after that! Don't let me keep you up, though!” you said cheerily, a fake clueless smile about why he wanted you to turn your console off, adorning your face.

“We haven't seen each other in almost a month, your little game can wait.”

Such stern tone, he wasn't onto your little scheme yet. Marvelous. “Nooo you can wait a little bit more until I finish,” oh you'll finish alright, you thought, and suppressed yet another giggle.

The hand on your thigh squeezed you once, then his thumb rubbed gentle circles on the soft skin that was exposed. You're glad you had only one of his shirts on and underwear now. “I cannot wait. Stop being a brat, turn that thing off.”

“Just a little bit more, Vergil,” you chuckled. 

He groaned in frustration, the arm behind your back moving to push the stray hairs that had fallen into his eyes away. He changed his strategy at that, moving to pepper soft kisses against your neck, one of his arms moving slowly up, up, up, and under your (his) shirt.

“I know what you're trying to do, Vergil! It wont work!” you said, defiance heavy in your tone, if you played your cards right he would snap soon, and give you a dicking down of the century. You'd be giggling and kicking your feet if it wouldn't blow your nonchalant cover.

He continued his little kiss assault, actions starting to get impatient and more rough. Wouldn't be long now. You could tell he was starting to get more and more agitated. “Come on, Y/n,” he mumbled against your skin, biting down gently before soothing the area with his tongue, “let me show you how much I have… missed you.”

A small whine left you, before you could control yourself. You could feel him smirk against your neck. But you continued to play, somewhat unfocused, but good enough to keep up the act. 

His patience grew thinner and thinner the more you ignored him, enough for him to yank the controller out of your hands, pause your game, and place it on your bedside table moving between your legs, pushing your thighs open and situating his right thigh against your apex, whilst his left was beneath your thigh, pushing up and opening you up instantly. 

(You were so turned on by his little hissy fit.)

“Enough toying with me, Y/n,” 

You whined in fake protest, but before you could get another word out, his lips captured your own in a fiery kiss. You kissed back, like a person starved, all pretenses dropped, now that you had him exactly where you wanted him. One of his hands grabbed yours by the wrist and interlaced his fingers with your own, while the other one was behind your skull, holding you there possessively. The kiss got more and more messy the longer it went on, all teeth and tongue, heat coming off of his body in waves. You could feel his hardness pressing up against you, making you smirk into the kiss. He pulled away for air, your eyes instantly fixating on the thin line of spit that connected you two.

“Ah, I see now. This was all part of your plan to rile me up,” he said lowly, his lips moving to your neck again, placing some more marks on it. “You can be such a cunning vixen when you want to.”

You hummed, lowkey lost in the lust and the feeling of his lips against you, finally after such a long wait. “Had to retaliate somehow,” you managed to breathe out.

He quirked a brow in amusement, “and toying with me is the way you decided to do that?” he ‘tsked’ once and shook his head, his hands trailing down again, and pulling your shirt up and off your head. A low hum of approval at your lack of a bra escaped him, before he moved to give attention to your breasts. He was kneading one of them with his free hand, his mouth on the other, while the thigh that was still against you was moving tantalizingly slow against where you desperately had needed him for weeks. 

A breathy moan left your lips, he had barely touched you and you were a mess already. He had switched sides now, giving attention to your other breast too, teasing, flicking, biting. You were positively writhing under him. The comeback you had thought of vanished from your brain, thoughts foggy and slow, and entirely consumed by his actions.

He moved you down, so your head was resting on the pillow, then moved himself further down, glancing up at you once to find you with your eyes closed and mouth slightly open. You could feel his satisfied smirk against your tummy.

“F-fuck, stop stalling, Vergil,” you whined.

“I would like to take my time unraveling you, my love.” was all he said as he continued kissing his way down. He removed your (soaked) panties off you in one fluid motion, threw them somewhere behind his head and was back on you again, this time riiight where you wanted, no, needed him.  

He started off slowly licking a strip up your soaked folds, humming in satisfaction. “All of this for me? My my, dear, you're such a mess and I've barely touched you.”

Your scoff turned into yet another moan as he sucked on your clit, gathering some of your slick with one of his fingers before pushing it into you and moving it in and out ever so slowly, matching his slow rhythm with his mouth. He was going to drive you insane.

“I tried to get myself off, you know, b-but, fuck, youve ruined me Vergil,” you whined, “ didn’t feel the same without y-you there.”

Your statement only seemed to fuel him, making him increase his pace. From the little you could keep your eyes open, you saw his hips bucking into the mattress. Fuck, that was the hottest thing ever. Your orgasm washed over you unexpectedly, seeing him do that somehow driving you over the edge. Your vision exploded with color behind your now closed eyes, your right hand that had been tangled into his hair digging into and scratching his scalp and keeping his face there as your hips were grinding down against his face and fingers. (Wait when did he add more?)

After your high was over he stopped and rose up to kiss you once more. This time it was more slow and languid than the first one, but still somehow assertive and full of possessiveness. 

“Please, Vergil," you pleaded, voice weak.

“Please what?”

Bastard was gloating again. 

“F-fuck me,” you croaked out, bringing him in for another bruising kiss.

He obliged, finally removing his sweatpants and underwear, taking his cock and giving it a few pumps, before ever so slowly and torturously, you  might add, bottoming out inside you.

He stilled for a moment above you, giving you a bit of time to adjust to his size again. It had been a while, after all. You were lowkey surprised by how he just slipped it inside easily. You must've been more soaked than you had originally assumed.

You nodded at him, giving him the okay to start moving again, to which he wasted no time in doing so. His thrusts, slow at first, then faster as he got more and more into it, were positively ruining you. You think you were close again. Fuck, this man is perfect at everything.

He was mumbling soft praise about how well you were taking him in your ear, biting the lobe teasingly, while increasing his rhythm more and more. One of his hands was squeezing your hip so hard it would leave marks, while the other was toying with your clit, trying to get you to come again. 

“V-Vergil, I'm c-close,” you moaned softly.

“Right there with you, Y/n.”

You came with a stutter of his name, and he did too soon after, your name like a prayer on his lips. He guided you both down from your highs again, before pulling out, kissing your forehead gently, and going to the bathroom to get a washcloth and clean you up. 

He was so gentle with you, helped you to the bathroom after, too, and then took you back to your room, sitting you down on the bed, bringing a new pair of underwear for you and another of his shirts for you to wear to sleep, he put on a fresh pair of boxers too, deciding to skip the sweatpants this time. He also changed the bedsheets, fast and efficiently, while you went to grab a glass of water for both of you.

You were now laid against his chest, snuggled up under the covers, your body feeling heavy and weightless at the same time, somehow. 

The evening had dragged on, ever so slowly. It was to be expected when waiting for something— someone— time did move so terribly slow. Vergil had been gone most of the day, usually, jobs went fairly quick for him, as he is the strongest half-devil you know, and probably is the strongest half-devil. That being, he’s now been gone since 11:00 am, it’s now, you glanced over at the clock on the wall, 9:48 pm. And you are exhausted. Finding anything to do at the shop was a challenging task, there weren’t any books. Vergil didn’t even keep books, or well very many. You didn’t feel it would be appropriate to read his chosen literature, as it seemed quite personal to him. 

You’ve now retreated to your bed—Vergil’s bed. The neatness of the room was still a little alien to you. Not that it was just clean, there was practically nothing in his room. A dresser, two nightstands, a hook to hang his coat, and his large bed. That was it. Maybe it was instinct, a decorated room was a human trait. Though Vergil’s gotten better about his humanity, it is nowhere near perfect and never will be. You slithered under the comforter, laying on your side. Half of you wanted to tape your eyes open just in case Vergil got home so that you could greet him. The other half wanted nothing more than sleep. And one ended victorious, sleep.

It had only been an hour since you had fallen asleep, the silence of the building was not to be disrupted, especially by Vergil’s light steps. A habit he gained from the hells. However, the bedroom door opened with a prolonged squeak. Vergil’s eyes fell on your sleeping form, though he was not surprised. He had already been listening to your heartbeat from the other side of the door before making his entrance. Vergil momentarily propped up the Yamato against the wall as he methodically hung his coat on the hook attached to the drywall. Now walking over to his bed, which you are claiming one side of. Resting the sword against the nightstand, he sat down on the mattress. His weight made the mattress dip, and you remained unaware of his presence. Vergil’s first thought was how weak , but he was quickly overridden by human reason, reasoning he had been taught, especially by you and Dante. Vergil’s gaze settled on your features, ones he could barely see due to your position facing away from him. His hand, which still had his weathered gloves on, moved to grab a section of your hair, feeling it between his fingertips.

Maybe it was to check if you were real. Not many lowered their guard around him, well, those who knew of his strength. Regular civilians would always have their guard down, they were oblivious. But you who showed him patience granted it didn’t come without its respective frustration, but you still did it. You still trusted him, as stupid of a decision he thought it was at first: to trust blindly. Over time he realized it wasn’t blind, you saw something in Vergil he couldn’t see himself. His ability to be a man, and maybe you two had a different definition of a ‘man’, didn’t stop you from trying. Even when he would be covered in gore and carnage, and no regard for human life, you still saw him . It was buried down so deep there was only a sliver showing. But you knew it was there.

Your body shifted in your slumber, switching to the other side. The hand previously tangled in your hair quickly retreated, he observed your micro-movements. How your chest rose and fell slightly, your lips slightly parted. The dim lighting didn’t allow for many details of your face to show, but Vergil’s eyes saw you perfectly clear, thank you demon genetics. Vergil slipped his boots off before sitting up against a pillow on his bed, though you did slowly awaken. You didn’t see him at first, but you smelt him, it was nothing bad, it was just him. Something you had grown very accustomed to. His once cold blue eyes turned warm, at least that's what his gaze felt like on your skin. Vergil’s hands sat idly in his lap, “I apologize if I woke you.” You shook your head and pulled your body closer to him, “I don’t mind, I wanted to see you anyway.” Vergil didn’t respond, your head laid on the pillow next to where he sat. His eyes trained on your face and you couldn’t help but do the same. Admiring his sharp features, his eyebrows were more relaxed, and the shadow that they usually cast over his eyes was lightened. 

Vergil wasn’t extremely well versed in affection, barely versed at all. You settled for the small touches he gave you in private, it never extended beyond. You would usually wake up alone or Vergil faced away from you on the other side of the mattress. Though the man was very possessive, he rarely touched you. As if you were made of glass and the smallest thing could send you shattering. Regardless if you fought alongside him or he simply observed you, he would still treat you so carefully. Fighting your inner turmoil, you shifted your weight closer to him. Moving ever so carefully, lifting your head to lay on his thigh. Your actions were immediately met with his muscles tensing, yet again, he remained silent.

You didn’t dare move to look at his expression, admittedly feeling nervous, though if Vergil was not comfortable, he would have no problem voicing that. A few long seconds later, the muscles of his thigh slowly relaxed under your head, and you released a small breath that had been held captive in your lungs. Then minutes passed, and Vergil remained still, but calm, or so you hoped from the few clues you could gather together from your current position. Your eyes began to close shut once again, without your permission of course. 

A slow hand came to your hair, pushing the pieces back behind your ear. You couldn’t help but crane your neck up a little to maybe get a glimpse of Vergil’s face. His expression was blank as ever, till he caught your eyes. His lips twitched into a tiny smile, that was reward enough.  “What took you so long to get home?” You questioned, your neck still in an awkward position to see him. “I had an errand to run before returning home.” You hummed, he was being vague. Your heart told you he was being truthful, but your head said there was something else- no matter. He would tell you, or at least that's what you told yourself.

Resting your head back down comfortably on his lap, you pondered what his ‘errand’ was. He didn’t need to buy anything, he had food here and he wasn’t very materialistic. Maybe he was seeing someone . The thought made your chest burn, trying to put out the flames you tried to think rationally. Vergil and yourself were not officially dating, you know he cares about you. But the situation is so unique you don’t know if proper dating applies to him. But then again maybe he just needed to get off, he was human after all..well part human. The water you tried to pour on your fiery thoughts was not enough, and the heat from the raging flames morphed into jealousy. Was he with someone else? The thought of Vergil sharing the tender moments you have with him made you boil. 

Maybe Vergil heard your heart begin to beat faster, or maybe it's a demon’s 6th sense. One of his hands laid idly on your back, and you were quickly pulled out of the burning house that was your mind. “What's on your mind?” Vergil broke the silence of the room, you bit your tongue. You could not bear to admit jealousy over an imaginary woman you created in your head, it was ridiculous.  “Nothing, it’s stupid.” You turned your head farther away from his gaze,  “If it was nothing, you would not call it ‘stupid’” Vergil tested you, why must he be so nosey ?  You groaned, lifting a hand to cover your face.  “I’m…I’m just thinking too much, it’s fine.”

That answer was not sufficient enough for Vergil. His hand pried yours away from your face, though it wasn’t much of a struggle for him. He tilted your head with his hand towards his face, he was staring at you, and a couple of his white strands of hair fell out of their place.

“Tell me.” Vergil demanded, he wouldn’t just let it go. “I… I just was…” Jealous wasn’t the right word, what were you jealous of? Vergil was not exclusive to you.  “wondering what your ‘errand’ was, and… I thought you might’ve been with someone else.” Vergil’s expression was back to normal, a deep shadow cast over his eyes, his brows knitted together.  “I could tell you, but I’d prefer not to.”  Now you were fucking confused, what does that mean?  “If it would put your mind at ease, I would.” Vergil’s expression softened slightly. If he was so willing to tell you, maybe it wasn’t anything bad.  “No, it’s okay, I trust you.”  Your own words were not a lie, you did trust Vergil, with your life and your secrets. Vergil nodded, as his body relaxed against a pillow. Now you were curious, not as jealous anymore, maybe a little still. 

Vergil shifted now to laying down, so rudely making you move. He laid on his back as he stared at the ceiling, the air was beginning to feel thick with tension. You managed to scoot your body closer to him, your eyes following a muscle in his neck that twitched as he clenched his jaw. He moved his arm, making way for you to cling next to him. It wasn’t often he felt comfortable with contact like this, it was usually directed by you. Your head now rested on his chest, as it calmly rose and fell. 

Just like that, your worries slowly seeped out of your mind, discarding themselves. Everything felt like it was going to be okay. Even just for a moment, maybe just for tonight, but it was enough to make you smile. The comfortable warmth that radiated off of Vergil made your body lax, while his hand played with a strand of your hair gently.  “What are you smiling for?” Vergil asked, his fingers lacing through your hair, and before your brain could filter the words that slipped out your mouth, they went rouge;

“I love you, Vergil.”

“Foolish girl.”

Another pretty story-heavy oneshot; six dividers (double equal signs) down for important parts if you want to skip the pre-text. ⏳⏳⏳ Once again, I reference the “Revenant Shotgun” as being your gun; I really think the gun is pretty lmao. You also use Beowulf. Minor blood/gut talk, nothing too serious though (figured I should mention it just in case). This is the first time I have tried to write combat since I was like 13, so forgive the (probably) less-than-adequate scene writing--I tried lol. ⏳⏳⏳ Pre-established relationship with Vergil. G/N reader. ⏳⏳⏳ Semi-angst followed by fluff (I don't know why I keep writing sad Vergil things; I swear I'll stop after this lmfao)

==

     The air was stagnated and stale as Nero slowly sat up, groaning in pain. His head was pounding as he looked around, confused and disorientated. He slowly blinked as he got a grasp on his surroundings. With a huff, Nero mindlessly groped around his lower back for Blue Rose and found it missing. This snapped him to attention as he began to sporadically eye over the area around him. 

     His brow furrowed as he focused on Red Queen which was thrust into the ground nearly twenty feet away. Slowly standing up with a wince, he went over to the sword. As he yanked the stubbornly stuck blade from the ground, a glint of light caught his attention. Blue Rose was laying on the ground nearby. 

     Placing Red Queen on his back, he clicked his tongue and went to retrieve his sidearm. “What in the fuck happened?” Nero’s thoughts were a blur as he scrunched his face struggling to put together the broken pieces of his recent memories. 

==

     “Move it, asshole!” Nero insincerely barked as he held a growl from deep within his throat.

     You ducked down into a roll, knowing that Nero was going to lose control soon and it was best not to argue with his demonic side. Using Beowulf to quickly spin upward and to your feet, you managed to make quick work of a Choas demon's spines. Seizing the opportunity, you aimed Revenant dead-center of the creature’s eyes and pulled the trigger. Smoothly holstering your shotgun, you continued fighting the onslaught of demons alongside the now devil-triggered Nero. 

     It was like a beautiful deadly dance when the two of you got into your well-practiced tango of destruction. Nero would typically take a more topside approach, using his wings to pull things to him and then dropping them to you. His over-the-top chaotic slashing and slicing would then be cleaned up by you underneath him. You, who had the completely opposite style, opted for a calm and collected approach, especially if you were using Vergil’s gear. Times like these are something you cherish dearly and never want to end--even if you are being coated by blood and demonic entrails. 

     A sudden out-of-place movement caught the corner of your eye as you tried to move out of its path; however, you weren’t quite fast enough and got thrown across the room.

     Nero’s attention was drawn to your flying body, “What the--!” before he could think he was hammer fisted directly into the ground below him. With a bright-blue flash, his devil trigger ended, leaving a confused and human Nero looking up at a strange figure above him.

     The demon was not one Nero had seen before--it reminded him of the descriptions of the “Third Beast of Revelations”. However, its appearance wasn’t quite as he remembered being told--only having four of the seven heads that it is supposed to have. 

     The young man stood up, “What the hell are you supposed to be, huh?” he smirked. The creature lunged at him, which Nero avoided. He laughed a bit holding the Blue Rose aimed at the back of the beast, “Too slow. Wanna try again?” 

     Nero sidestepped the demon again but was hit by an unexpected swing of its tail. He dropped his revolver as he was tossed across the room. Nero went to get up again. Before he moved back in, however, his ears twitched at a strange sound. The hunter turned to his side and realized that the noise was your breathing. Gently grabbing your shoulder, Nero tried to shake you awake. Revenant and Beowulf had been tossed far from your body and you were out cold. Seeing as there was a large amount of blood dripping from your forehead, that wouldn’t be changing any time soon. 

     “Shit,” Nero mumbled under his breath as he pulled Red Queen from the resting place on his back, “You’re gonna owe me big time.”

     With an impossibly blinding speed, the young hunter took off toward the large demon. Nero’s face was in a grimace as he focused the best he could without his trigger. In hindsight, he was regretting using his demonic energy on such a simple fight before. 

     His attempt at defeating this beast alone was futile; it was much too strong for him in this state. Another large hit from the beast sent him flying in the opposite direction as before; leaving your unconscious body as far from him as possible. The demon also noticed this as it turned its sights to your limp form. 

     “Tch, shit-” Nero hastily got up on his feet and ran to your aid; however, it was too late. The beast had your body in its grasp as it curiously looked you over. “Put them down you fuck!” his mind was racing; if something happens to you, Vergil will kill him. 

     With a grunt, Nero sprung up at the demon. Who only batted him away again. He used Red Queen to stop himself from flying so far off. Knowing there wasn’t time, he left the sword and was going to fight using just his hands. Was it stupid? Yes. Did he care? No, not if it meant trying everything he could to protect you--someone who had become essentially his step-parent. 

     However, the demon had no intent on letting you leave this place with the youngest Sparda descendant. It opened a fissure through the floor, but before leaving, attacked Nero one last time. It sent him flying in an almost straight line across the room and into a wall, knocking the hunter out cold. 

==

     Nero stood in front of where he had last seen you lay, your weapons were still strewn about and your coat had fallen from your shoulders as you were snatched upward. A cold heavy feeling sunk in as he just stood there staring. 

     Slowly he gathered your gear, he didn't know how he was going to tell the others what happened. Nero didn’t know whose response would be worse; Dante mocking him for his lack of skill or Vergil who would undoubtedly lose it over this. 

     He just wanted to go back to the DMC and get this over with. Nero left the demon nest, not caring that he hadn’t finished the job. Outside, Nico was in her van waiting for the pair’s return. 

     Seeing Nero, she opened the door of the van, “Took y’all long--” she paused, seeing the gear in Nero’s arms, “Whoa, wait… Where’s--”

     “I don’t know,” Nero mumbled, refusing to look Nico in the eye as he got into the vehicle.

     “Whatdya’ mean ‘you don’t know’?” her voice was playful, thinking that Nero was just fucking with her as he placed the items on the table. 

     He leaned a bit onto the table with his palms flatly pressed against it, “I don’t know where they are..!” he grimaced as he stood back up with clenched fists, “Some fucking big asshole took ‘em” 

     Nico’s expression and pose changed from casual to a more serious one, “Wait-- they’re really missin’?” Nero’s frustrated stare said it all, “Holy crap-- Should we call your folks, I’m sure--”

     “It wouldn’t help,” Nero relaxed his fists and took a deep breath trying to calm down, “They’ve been gone for a while, their scent’s gone.”

     “Shit,” Nico pursed her lips as she paused for a moment, “Well, whaddya’ wanna do?”

     Nero looked over to her, “I want to go to the shop. This is more important than the job.”

     “Gotcha,” Nico wanted to poke at him but found herself unable to. Nero looked beyond exhausted and she knew that the brother’s responses will be more than punishing enough. 

     Neither of them spoke the whole way back.

==

     Not wanting to be there when the three devils rip each other apart, Nico just dropped Nero in the garage and left.

     Deciding to wait a moment before going in, Nero focused his hearing. He only heard one heartbeat meaning there was only one person at the shop when he returned. Thankfully, upon opening the door, it was Dante.

     The red devil sat at his desk with his back to the garage, “Hey, you two are back early,” his gaze didn’t leave whatever he was doing on his desk, “Was thinking about ordering a pizza. You guys want anything?”

     Nero’s face was pale and gave no response. He just simply walked over to the coffee table and plopped down your coat and weapons.

     Dante pouted slightly with confusion, “If you don’t want--” his brow twitched as he noticed that there was only one person that had come in, “Hey where’s--” his happy expression dropped quickly. He moved around to the side of his desk to see what Nero had just set down.

     “Dante-” Nero bit his tongue in thought, “Before you go off; hear me out?”

     He scratched the stubble on his face, “Sure, go ahead kid.” he leaned back onto his desk.

     Nero explained what happened and what attacked them. Surprisingly, Dante wasn’t mad or made any rude jabs about things. He just simply nodded along and paid close attention.

     “Well Nero,” Dante shook his head and sighed, “As much as I want to give you shit-- You’re lucky to be alive. That bastard ain’t an easy thing to fight, ‘specially without a trigger handy…”

     Nero’s gaze found its way back down to your gear, “You think they’re still alive, Dante?”

     He sighed and stood back up, “If they weren’t, Vergil would know by now,” he bit his lip, “Question is: why did the demon want them alive?”

     “Think Vergil would know?”

     “Doubt it, he knows just as little as I do about those beasts…" he paused briefly before continuing, "Look, Nero,” Dante set a hand on the young man’s shoulder, “go home. I will tell Vergil about this whole thing. He’s already ripped off your arm, I really don’t want him to try ‘n gut you too. Okay?”

     Nero was taken aback by what he said and nodded, “Thanks, Dante.”

     “Any time kid,” Dante removed his hand, “Just don’t come back till I let you know it’s safe. Might take your old man a few days to calm down.”

     “Sure thing,” Nero moved to the garage door, “Keep me posted, yeah?”

     Dante gave a stiff nod to Nero as he watched him shut the door.

      “Vergil’s just going to gut us instead… You’re a fuckin’ genius, Dante.” he sighed at his thoughts. What the hell was he going to do?

     A few hours passed before the door finally swung open. Vergil stepped into the shop raising a brow at his brother who was at the desk asleep. With a sly smile and shake of his head, Vergil walked further into the room. 

     However, that smile quickly faded upon seeing Revenant, Beowulf, and your folded jacket sitting on the coffee table, “Dante.”

     The younger twin slowly blinked as he opened his eyes and sat upwards, “Hm?”

     “What is--” Vergil’s brow slowly furrowed further and further, “Why is their gear here?”

     “Well..” Dante stood up and took a deep breath, “Look I ain’t gonna sugar coat it: They are missing.”

     “ What? ” Vergil’s voice was sharp as he glared at Dante.

     “Look, before you go and try to kill Nero--It wasn’t his fault,” Dante shrugged, “We would’ve had a tough time with what happened.”

     Vergil made sure to enunciate each word clearly, “Dante, what happened.”

     “They were attacked by one of those Revelation beasts. Your kid barely made it out. Nero said that they took your partner with them, so the demon wanted them alive for some reason.”

     Vergil’s face went pale as his blood ran cold, “Where were they, I want to have a look at things.”

     “Sure thing… I’m coming with though--you might need me,” Dante winked then stretched with a groan.

     “Whatever.”

     They did go look. Vergil found nothing. It was a dead end.

==

     Several months had gone by and the usual bustling and jovial atmosphere of the Devil May Cry had faded. Now all that remained was a quiet angst and depressed mood that was brought on by one individual alone.

      The silence was broken by the sound of the garage door opening. Standing in the doorway were the two twin sons of Sparda; Vergil stood in front of Dante. The eldest headed up to his room, not saying a word. His silent steps were filled with anger; an emotion that has become a common theme in recent times. Dante just stood, watching his brother go up the winding stairs.

     Across the room, Nero sat on the couch. His gaze moved off of his phone and onto the remaining brother--who was already raiding the fridge, “Any luck, Dante?” 

     “No! There was absolutely fucking nothing.” Dante was seething as he looked over at Nero, “Your old man is just so… infuriating; I am this close to shoving the Yamato so far up his ass--.” with a pinch of the bridge of his nose, the youngest twin huffed out a heavy sigh.

     Nero shook his head with a small laugh; knowing exactly how Dante felt. Vergil would barely talk to Nero without getting an irritated tone and becoming condescending, “Don’t worry, it’s only gonna keep getting worse; how long’s it been anyways--four months?”

     Dante let out a nod of affirmation walking over to his desk. He kicked up his feet and cracked open the bottle drinking the majority of the bottle in one go, “You know, at this point, I wouldn't be surprised if Vergil’s going to storm his way down into Hell just to make sure he’s looked everywhere.”

     “He’s that desperate, huh?” Nero sat forward more on the couch, paying more attention to what was being said. 

     “That doesn’t even come close to describing how Verge’s being. I mean,” Another wave of building frustration was slowing creeping onto Dante’s face signified by his furrowed brow, “I don’t blame him for being worried--I would be if it were my lover--but still…” he exasperatedly removed his boots from the desk, making a slight thud as they hit the floor, “-he doesn’t have to be such a dick about things. I’m trying to help.” Dante was attempting to find his happy place--lest he wants to have another hole in the drywall.

     “Vergil being a dick is nothing new--you’d know that better than me--he’s just not used to needing help,” Nero stood up from the couch revealing a manila envelope in his hand, “On a better note: Morrison dropped this off while you were out, said it’s for your eyes only.”

    “Really?” Dante reached forward and snatched the envelope, “I wonder what that means, Morrison doesn’t often--” his voice slowly drifted as something inside the folder caught his attention. He continued to flip through the documents faster and faster with a wide-eyed stare.

     Curiosity getting the better of him, Nero leaned over trying to take a peek at the papers, “What’s so interesting, huh?”      

     Without answering, Dante jumped up from his seat. The youngest son of Sparda ran up the stairs and began to bang rapidly on a certain blue demon’s door, “Vergil! Vergil, open up! Come on! Verge--”

     A door pushed hard into Dante’s shoulder as a set of mildly bloodshot iced-over eyes met his, “What is it?” Dante stood frozen for a moment, not expecting Vergil to have answered the door so quickly; let alone seeing him after he had been (what appeared to be) crying, “What do you want, Dante.” Vergil’s sharp tone cut Dante from his thoughts.

     “Shit, sorry. Just--here,” he shoved the folder at Vergil, “have a look at this.”

    Vergil lifted a brow in curiosity as he let go of the doorknob and stopped shoving the door into his little brother. Sighing quietly, Vergil began to sift through the documents and pictures; the further he read, the further his brow creased. Vergil’s voice was rough and cracked as he looked at Dante, “Where--”

    “Morrison dropped it off while we were out. Gave it to Nero… Is it that what I think it is?” 

     Vergil cleared his throat and took a short pause, “It could be--I would have to see it to be sure.”

    “Alright, then saddle up princess, we got a job to do,” and with that, Dante left before Vergil chastised him for the jab. 

     A few moments later, Vergil came downstairs with his demon hunting gear re-equipped. Dante stretched his arms upward cracking his back quite loudly, “Ready, Verge?” Vergil gave Dante a curt nod and began to walk toward the garage door. Before leaving, Dante humorously cooed at Nero, “Make sure to finish your homework and be in bed by 7. We will be back in the morning--so behave till then. Love youuu~” flashing a wide sharp-toothed grin, he waved and headed for the door--ignoring the fact that Nero just whipped him off. 

     “Where is the location?” Vergil’s voice was deadpan as he unsheathed the Yamato.

     “Here-” Dante handed Vergil the paper with the address, “So, what are we gonna do if it really is--”

     “Silence." Vergil’s voice was sharp as his eyes turned to a harsh squint in irritation; tossing the folder off to the side. 

     Dante pursed his lips, pouting slightly at his brother’s attitude; but, didn’t feel like bantering so he remained silent. 

     Upon exiting the portal, the twins looked in front of them. The object of the job was before them, a large nest that was crawling with demons. Not wanting to waste time, they both ventured forward. 

==

     A few hours passed as the brothers slashed their way through the mound’s inhabitants. Dante and Vergil stopped for a moment to catch their breath.

     Dante adjusted his coat, “So, how far down do you think it’ll be? We gonna have to go all the way?”

     “Most likely,” Vergil slicked his hair back, “Is that a problem?” 

      “ ‘Course not, just was wonderin’,”

     Vergil didn’t respond and just continued forward, Dante following in toe.

     Dante cracked his knuckles, “So if it is-- then what?”

     “I do not know--nor will I know until I see it.”

     “Really hope that this lead is real and not another stupid hoax,” Dante frowned. 

     “If it is not worth our time,” Vergil’s voice was filled with more hostility with every word, “I will make sure to give the client a visit .”

     “No-- Vergil you can’t kill our clients; we are demon hunters, not people hunters. Plus, this nest needed to be taken care of anyway.”

     The eldest twin only scoffed in response. 

==

     It had been nearly eight hours since entering the nest and they still had no signs of what they were looking for. Both of them were getting crabby at this point; Vergil about the lack of evidence and Dante because of Vergil’s attitude. 

     “I swear--” Dante growled in frustration, “I am going to just fucking dig my way to the bottom of this fucking bastard.”

     “That is impossible,” Vergil’s voice held no emotion. 

     “I know, I am just getting sick of this shit,” he groaned, “Just feels like we are getting nowhere--that’s all.”

     Vergil stopped and tilted his head up slightly. Upon seeing this, Dante stopped as well.

     “Verge, I didn’t-” 

     Vergil turned his head to the left and began to walk.

     Dante rolled his eyes and pivoted in a grandiose manner, “Okay-ay, I guess we are goin’ this way now.”

     They walked in silence for a few more minutes before coming to a dead end. Vergil began to scowl and stare at the wall.

     “That’s a mighty fine wall there Verge, but what-” 

     “Break it.”

     “... What?” Dante double-took at his brother’s words.

     “I want you to break down this wall,” Vergil’s eyes moved sharply off the wall and to Dante.

     “Look, Vergil, I made a joke about breaking shit down--wasn’t actually going to start--”

     “Do as I say, Dante,” Vergil snarled, “Break. It. Down.”

     Dante sighed, driving his sword into the ground, and responded by using a mocking baby voice, “Fine, mister grumpy pants.”

     Using his Sin Trigger, Dante made quick work of the wall. The pair quickly stepped through as the hole repaired itself behind them. He shifted back into his human form and jogged after Vergil, who was already going forward. Another half hour passed of Vergil's speed walking forward intensely focused on something.

     “Soooo… Plan on telling me what exactly you’re doing or are you gonna make me guess?”

     Vergil hit Dante flat across the chest with a sheathed Yamato; before Dante could protest, he saw what his brother was staring at. 

     In front of them stood a fairly huge demon--the same one from the job's folder. The creature was similar to a centaur; however, a lizard (or demon) had been thrown into the mix as well. 

     A large spear was held by one of its three-fingered hands. On the body, there were three sets of violet claws; the legs of which were covered in a thick dark midnight blue fur with bits of sky blue streaks scattered throughout. Three maroon-scaled tails protruded from the back of the creature, a thin cerulean membrane trailing up the middle of each topside and trailing up the base of the creature’s skull.  

     Layered scales, colored the same as the tail’s, ran up the underbelly, body, and torso of the demon. Pale teal-green scaled skin was exposed through the frontline of the torso, showing off a muscular structure similar to that of a human. 

     Continuing up those scales led you to the head of the beast. It was similar in shape to a human’s but had seven eyes of pure milky white which filled the entire front due to the lack of a mouth. Extending from the sides of the face, there were clay-grey semi-transparent frills--appearing very much like a frilled lizard’s--that ran from the underside of the jaw up to a set of horns that the frills connected to. 

     Dante nudged Vergil, “Man, I thought Lady’s demon form was ugly--theirs takes the cake. Good job using that nose of yours and finding your mate, good thing you--” he stopped noticing his brother’s glazed-over stare.

     Vergil was paying no mind to Dante or anything around him. His eyes were focused on the trinket that was embedded right in between the creature’s collar bones, nestled deep in the suprasternal notch. His blood ran cold as he would know that jewelry anywhere; it was his amulet half--the one he had gifted you on your anniversary nearly a year ago. He stood, unmoving--not even taking deep enough breaths to move his chest. Everything in him told him to fight the capsule of a demon in front of him; yet, he couldn’t bring himself to.

     Dante, however, was paralyzed by neither fear, grief, nor anger; he was actually glad they finally found you. Giving one last glance at his, still very frozen, brother Dante moved into the large space--drawing the demon’s attention. 

     “So,” he started, “this is where you’ve been hanging out, huh? ‘Place is kind of a drag if you ask me,”  Curiously, the demon slowly approached Dante, staring at him, “You ain’t gotta make this hard--just lay that big stick down and let us-” he looked back at Vergil, who still hadn’t moved, “or well let me get you outta there. Whaddya say?”

     It stood in front of the younger brother for a moment then turned its head to look at Vergil. Without even returning their attention back to Dante, they punted the younger brother across the room with one swing of its paw. A loud crack emanated from the force of him hitting--and going through--the wall. 

     “Son of a Bitch…” With a groan, Dante slowly stood back up, “And I’m supposed to believe you’re the same person that gives me shit for my hugs.”

     Digging his heels into the ground, Dante took off running. He raised his Devil Sword as he got within striking distance; however, the demon only backhanded him, sending him flying once more. The creature still hadn’t torn its gaze from Vergil; it almost seemed as if it was trying to place the eldest son. Dante attempted to strike again, only to be hit away for a third time.

     The eldest son’s mind was racing; between infinite anger that spiraled to the deepest darkest depths of his demon and immense guilt for not protecting you eating at his human consciousness--Vergil, for the first time in a long time, was completely frozen. He was your boyfriend, your lover, your mate; he should’ve been there to protect you: instead, you ended up suffering something that he wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

     “Okay, you bastard,” Dante sniffled as blood began to drip from his nose, pulling out Ivory & Ebony, “Let’s try this, shall we?”

     Upon feeling the bullets hit the side of their legs, the demon turned to Dante--finally breaking their piercing staredown. It trotted towards Dante and swung its spear, only missing Dante by mere inches. He jumped onto the spear and ran up it, still firing the twin pistols. The creature used its free hand to grab Dante; moving much faster than the devil hunter had expected, and began to constrict him.

     “Heh, you got quite the--,” he let out a strained groan, “quite the grip.”

     Dante struggled a bit trying to loosen the demon’s grip. He couldn’t focus like this and, if he couldn’t focus, triggering (in any capacity) was off the table. So, Dante did what any younger sibling would do; he started to yell for his big brother.

     “Vergil-- I could use a hand here!” Dante’s body started to ache from the pressure, “God damn it! VERGIL!”

     The loud shouting from his baby brother pulled Vergil from his thoughts. He looked up at Dante and started moving. The demon’s attention was now drawn to the sudden movement of the oldest brother and ever-so-slightly loosened its grip. Not wanting to waste the chance, Dante quickly triggered; making the demon drop the lava-hot Dante.

     “He-hey! Nice to see you finally helping out,” Dante rolled avoiding the large spear.

     Glaring over at Dante, Vergil teleported near the creature’s ankle and sliced it with Mirage Edge; coating him with the creature’s blood.

     Vergil moved to Dante’s side taking advantage of the few moments of reprieve the attack gave them.

     “So, got any ideas?” Dante tried to wipe some of the blood off of Vergil’s face using his coat; however, Vergil harshly swatted away his hand.

     Vergil’s brow furrowed, “Its front and neck would be the best places to try and cut it open; given its scales might be much thicker than I think…”

     Dante twitched his head to the side in a nod, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, “Better than nothing. Shall we?”

     The twins decided to split, each going opposite ways. Confused about what to do, it followed Dante with its body while attempting to use its tails and back paws to hit Vergil.

     Dante took another large hit and created another crater in the wall. He fell to the ground catching himself at the last moment, coming to rest in a kneel. He took a moment to wipe some blood that had begun to drip from his mouth. 

     A large heavy object slammed into Dante, it was Vergil. The two of them hit the wall together, Vergil’s weight only shoving Dante further into the already-created crater: they both were going to be sore after this.

     They both removed themselves from the wall and stood side by side, both slouching slightly.

     With a growl-covered groan, Vergil’s eyes sharpened their gaze upon the demon, “You still have a trigger left in you, brother?” his breath had become slightly ragged.

     Despite his exhaustion, Dante clapped back with his typical sarcastic tone, “Always--you sure you wanna use yours?” Dante straightened his posture.

     Vergil flicked out his arm on the side opposite Dante, summoning his doppelgänger, “For this, yes.”

     There was a flash of light and the two were both in their Sin Triggers. It was quite the sight, one that only would occur when the brothers were fighting themselves. Neither of them had to tell the other what the plan was; perks of being twins as Dante would say.

     Taking the same approach as before, they spilt ways--Doppel following beside Vergil. 

     The demon was confused and turning itself around in circles over how many fast-moving targets it was now presented with. Vergil and Doppel managed to keep the creature’s attention long enough that Dante was able to get behind the creature’s head. With great strength, Dante grabbed the creature’s horns and pulled its head back. He did his best to keep it steady; however, it thrashed like a bull and unexpectedly was able to shake Dante around. Seeing his brother struggling, Vergil sent Doppel to assist him. With the two both pulling on the creature in opposite directions, the thrashing slowed. 

     Seizing the opportunity, Vergil shot up the midline of the torso cutting along it with the Yamato. Once he reached the bottom of the amulet, he stopped and fell back to the ground calling back Doppel; Dante followed suit.

     They both stood as humans, having exhausted their demonic energy, staring with bated breath. The demon’s midline showed the cut; however, nothing was happening. 

     “Verge ain’t--” Dante’s face went pale after turning towards his older brother.

     Vergil looked pissed, no, he looked beyond pissed. His grip had tightened on the Yamato so hard his knuckles were turning colors. Without warning, Vergil triggered himself once more and took off toward the demon; this time, however, the creature wasn’t being held back by others. 

     He jumped off of the spear that had been swung and avoided the other hand’s attempt at grabbing the blue devil. His speed was unimaginable as he was instantaneously on top of the demon’s head. With great effort, he plunged Mirage Edge deep into the scaly skin and tissues of the creature. Swiftly, he yanked the blade down the middle of the face, down the throat, and stopped above the necklace. With one of his forearm blades, Vergil gouged out the amulet and tore it from its resting place. 

     A large amount of blood began to spew from the new incision. Vergil was thrown violently from the beast as it began to flail about. A plume of blue energy emitted from the man as he hit the floor--hard. Dante ran over to the hole containing the other twin with slight concern. The once again human, Vergil lay unmoving in the newly-formed crater as Dante slid down to his brother’s side. 

     “Hey, you’re not dead--right?” the red demon poked Vergil slightly. 

     Vergil slowly opened his eyes and glared up at Dante, “It will take much more to kill me,” he sat up and groaned quietly in pain, “I assure you, little brother.”

     Dante laughed and offered a hand to help Vergil up; which, normally he wouldn’t accept but today Vergil was too exhausted to fuss over such things.

     Upon exiting the crater they found the demon laying on its belly like a resting horse, slowly bleeding out from Vergil’s second attack. 

     Vergil moved to finish it off but was stopped by Dante’s forearm, “Allow me.” 

     Dante carefully used his Devil Sword and re-cut over the Yamato’s shallow slice. Although the demon was dying, it did put up somewhat of a fight by swinging its hands and claws at Dante; all the while, its gaze found Vergil’s again--who was slowly approaching the suffering creature. 

     “Just die already, you son-of-a-bitch,” Dante growled through his teeth as he dug his sword further into the demon’s stomach, making it shout an ear-piercing sad cry; which sounded almost human-- Vergil did his best to ignore that part.

     The demonic corpse dissolved slowly. Vergil had made it to his brother’s side as he watched the disintegration before them. He bent over and picked up the amulet that he had dropped while being thrown around. With a gentle sigh, Vergil placed it into his pocket and stood back up.

     The pair's attention was now drawn to where the head of the beast once lay. In its place, you were laying there; naked and dead to the world. At first, the brothers thought you were actually dead but then they heard your faint heartbeat and took a sigh of relief. 

     Vergil’s expression was a strange mixture of joy, anger, and sadness. He walked over to you, his steps were cautious and silent. Once by your side, Vergil removed his coat, gently wrapped you in it, and picked you up. His brief moment of solace was interrupted by a large tremor.

     “Hey, uh, Verge--” Dante quickly moved to his brother’s side, “You gonna be able to get us outta here?”

     Vergil paused for a moment giving thought to whether he could or not, “Yes,” he pursed his lips.

     Dante noticed his hesitation and was going to question him; however, the younger brother quickly put together why. “Vergil, hand them to me--you can’t use Yamato like that.”

     “No, I--” another tremor broke off a part of the ceiling nearby, “Fine.”

     Vergil handed you over to Dante and pulled out the Yamato. With a deep breath, he sliced open a portal and traversed through with Dante right behind him. 

     Once out of the other side, Vergil didn’t even give Dante a chance to think before ripping you from him. Vergil knows that Dante wouldn’t dare hurt you, however, he had an overwhelming urge to keep you far from anyone besides himself. 

     Dante looked around and scratched the stubble on his jaw, “Uh, Vergil… This ain’t the shop,” the pair was standing where they had entered nearly twelve hours prior. 

     With a low mumble, Vergil avoided looking at Dante, “I don’t have the energy for that…”

     Dante bit his tongue hard--all he wanted to do was poke fun at Vergil and would have if Vergil was in a better headspace. Instead, he just simply nodded at Vergil, “Well… I can call a ride if you want..? I’m sure Nico wouldn’t mind picking us up--given she’ll want a cut of the pay.”

     “She can have my half; I got what I came for,” money was the furthest thing from the blue devil's mind, all he could think about was that he finally had you back.

     “Alright--you sure you’re okay with--”

     “Yes.”

     Dante let out a small ‘heh’ and pulled out his very well-protected phone.

     Nico showed up around an hour later. Once stopped, the door swung open, and out strode Nero. 

     He looked over at his father and uncle, who were sitting on a ledge and the floor respectively.

     “Holy shit, you actually found them? Nico said that Dante-- I didn’t believe her…” Nero extended a hand to help the very sore Dante off the ground. Without so much as a nod to his son, Vergil got into the van.

     Dante groaned and cracked his back, “Don’t take it personally, kid. Vergil’s in a weird mood.”

     “What happened? I saw the folder that was thrown on the floor of the garage, but--” the pair began to walk to the van side-by-side, “I don’t get how you knew.”

     “When we get back… or after I take a hot shower and nap… I’ll fill you in on the details at some point,” Dante slumped down on the couch in the van that was opposite Vergil.

     Before Nero could protest at Dante’s wait time, the younger twin was sound asleep--even snoring a little.

     With everyone in the van, Nico began to drive; despite Nero still standing. Before the youngest Sparda descendant went up to his seat, he turned to Vergil, “You uh… gonna be okay?” Nero felt awkward asking the typically stoic man such an out-of-character question.

     Vergil looked up at Nero with a confused tilt to his brow then back down to you, “In time, yes.”

     Nero nodded--shocked that he got anything other than ‘yes’ or the silent treatment--and went up to the passenger seat for the rest of the quiet ride back to the shop.

==

     The moment the van stopped; even before Nico had turned off the ignition, Vergil got up and was out the van door. He thinks he heard someone say something as he left, but he didn’t care. All he wanted right now was to be in his room with you in his arms. Quickly and quietly he headed up the stairs and into his room.

     The eldest son prides himself on being the cleanest member of the Sparda line; however with you being gone, he had stopped caring about such trivial things. The room had quite a few sets of worn and unworn outfits strewn about. Several cups of half-drank liquids sat on various tabletops. The room wasn't messy by normal standards but Vergil was far from "normal".

      He walked over to his bed. Vergil moved you so he could support your body with one arm and fixed the disheveled mess that was his bed. Once satisfied, he set you down on the bedding; he noticed that you were filthy --which wasn’t surprising due to what had occurred. 

     Vergil hesitantly left his room to get some warm water, rags, and some medical supplies. It took him a moment to figure out what to grab--he wasn’t the best at treating wounds, he hasn’t ever needed to know such things; so he was as methodical as possible. Seeing how Vergil was struggling to find what he needed, Nero silently helped his father gather what was needed. Vergil gave Nero a solid nod in acknowledgment of his help.

     Upon returning to his room, Vergil began to gently wash your dirt and blood-ridden skin. While doing so, he noticed his hands had begun to shake. Furrowing his brow and pursing his lips in confusion, he stopped momentarily. Vergil never shakes, so what was going on?

     Using exhaustion as an explanation, he dismissed it with a shake of his head. Vergil continued to clean your body. You had visibly become slimmer from the several months of entrapment. His eyes moved up to your face, you were still sound asleep but he noticed that you looked deathly sick.  

     He took the rag and rung it out. Your body was cleaned; however,  you were still covered in wounds. Vergil knew that he couldn’t do anything for the copious amounts of bruises you had, so he moved to take care of several burn marks you had obtained; most of which were around your neck from Dante pulling on your demonic prison. Vergil put some burn cream onto his fingers and softly rubbed it on the marks. Letting out a shaky sigh, he moved on to the last thing he had to tend to before dressing you.

     The Yamato might not have mortality wounded your capsule, but it seemed to have nicked your midline all the way up--the cut was too thin and clean to have been from Dante’s Devil Sword. After wiping his hands off, he applied an antibiotic gel along the cut. If you had been awake, you would have cussed him out, no doubt. The thought brought a small smirk to Vergil’s face. 

     He grabbed the gauze and began to dress the wound; however, Vergil stopped. His vision had become blurry and his mind went blank. During these past four months, he had cried a few times, but it was always controlled and well-restrained. 

     Right now, though? He felt like screaming. He felt like weeping until he became ill. All he wanted to hear was your voice, to feel your lips on his face, to be held as he sobbed uncontrollably. Vergil felt like a little kid again; alone and afraid of losing those he loves. A whimpering hiccup brought him out of his thoughts as he looked up at you. Confusion sunk in as he saw you were still fast asleep. 

     He froze. The noise had come from him. Vergil tried to suppress his tears; he hard-shut his eyes, tried angrily furrowing his brow, and even tried looking upwards; nothing worked. 

     Nothing could stop the storm of pitiful tears that leaked from his tired eyes. So, he worked through them and finished patching you up the best the blue devil could. 

     Another strained whimper left his lips as he straightened himself back up. You didn’t live at the DMC with the brothers, so Vergil did not have any of your clothes. He knew he couldn’t just leave you naked (since anyone could walk in and see you) so he rustled through his clothing. Vergil didn’t have much in the sense of “casual” clothes which made this difficult. 

     Eventually, he decided on a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a sleeveless black turtleneck. He managed to get you into the much-too-big clothing and tucked you into the duvet of his bed. 

     Vergil spent the rest of the night by your side holding your hand as he quietly grieved.

==

     Sunlight spilled into the dark room through the slightly ajar curtains. It was nearly noon and Vergil hadn’t moved from his spot next to you. Nero and Dante had both peaked in to check on you and the visibly exhausted hunter a few times… which they only got stared at in response.

     The blue devil could hear your heart and your breathing just fine; but, was unable to keep himself from thinking you weren’t going to make it. He had convinced himself that this whole ordeal was his fault. 

      “Maybe if you hadn’t had such a noticeable trinket on you wouldn’t have been taken.” he thought, “or was it because you have been associated with our cursed bloodline that this happened?”

     He felt a stinging in his eyes start once more, “I should have been there. It is my job to protect you and keep you safe. I failed you just like I have to everyone else,” his lips quivered as his breath stuttered, “Perhaps you would be better off without me,” Vergil’s chest heaved and his face twisted into a grimace. Once more, he had lost control of his emotions as he unintentionally tightened his grip on your hand.

     “You trying to break my fingers?” a hoarse sarcastic voice snapped Vergil to attention. You had woken up and were staring at him with a gentle concerned crease of your brow.

     Without a word, Vergil pulled you into a tight hug. Even if he wanted to say anything, he couldn’t; not in the distraught state he was in. Although you were still weak, you began to rub his back as you hugged. You relished in his scent and touch; something that felt like a distant memory while ensnared in the demon’s body. 

     “Miss me?” you heard and felt him shutter. He pushed further into you making you acutely aware of the large slice on your midsection, “Ow, fuck--”

     Vergil left the hug upon realizing what happened and, still unable to speak, pointed to your torso. With unsteady hands, you rolled up the very loose black fabric, “Oh…”

     Pulling the shirt back down, you looked at Vergil. His face was puffy and his eyes were bloodshot with prominent tear stains running down his face. Slowly you reached for your lover’s face and gently thumbed one of the tears from his cheek. 

     Vergil grabbed your hand and held it to his lips, just setting them against your cold skin. His expression was a mixture of painful sadness and overbearing happiness. A crease formed on his brow as he shut his eyes tightly. You could see Vergil trying to piece together what to say. 

     A few brief moments passed before he spoke, scarcely louder than a whisper, “I thought…” you felt his lips shake against your clammy skin, “I thought you were…” Vergil couldn’t bring himself to finish his words.

     You sadly smiled as you used your held hand to thumb over his stiff fingers, “and leave you alone? Not in a million years, Vergil.”

     The tremble in his lips worsened as his lips gently kissed your hand, stifling a whimper.

     After he let go of your hand, you moved to sit on the edge of the bed allowing your feet to dangle off the side, “Come here..?” you beckoned to your unraveling lover. 

     “Are you sure--I do not want to hurt you again,” his response was sheepish and meek.

     Not taking no for an answer, you grabbed his hand and pulled him onto your lap. Having the large devil on your lap would have typically been uncomfortable; but, your want to hold him and comfort him in such a distraught state overrode every other thought.

     He hesitantly straddled your lap. You noticed his uncertainty and gently pulled him closer, “Let me hold you, please?” you were trying to reassure him. 

     Which seems to have worked; he hastily put his arms around you. He held on tightly grabbing wads of the loose shirt’s fabric as if he were actively being pulled off of you. Since he was taller than you, his head rested atop yours. The side of your face was resting on his chest and your arms were wrapped around him as you began to rub his back once more. 

     The man’s breathing became ragged as he fought with himself and his emotions. 

     “Vergil, it’s going to be okay,” you lovingly rubbed your face against his chest, hearing his heart racing, “you can let go now.”

     This small set of words finally undid the eldest son of Sparda.

     You had seen Vergil cry before, but only in small quiet amounts; never as raw and shattered as this. The hunter began to shake within your grasp. The only noise coming from the man was loud uncontrolled sobs and sharp breathing. His grip on the shirt had become a death grip; holding on tight enough to rip through the tightly woven fabric. A deep rumble came from his chest as it seemed even his demon was crying out in anguish.

     Deep within, you knew that these tears were for much more than your own disappearance. You knew that this strong soul had finally reached a breaking point. Closing your eyes, you pushed yourself into him and held him tightly, whispering sweet words of comfort to him. Gently and slowly, you kneaded against his back with your hands; knowing that it would comfort the blue devil. 

     Eventually, his cries slowed and his grip loosened.  Vergil’s body shifted as he longingly kissed the top of your head. Letting out a heavy sigh and shutter, he leaned back. You smiled at him. Vergil smiled in return, his eyes creased at the edges pushing the few remaining tears from his eyes. He took one of his hands and placed it on your bicep. The other found its way to your face. He thumbed over your cheek and lips with an undertone of uncertainty and disbelief; that this was real, that you were home.

     You leaned into the warmth of his palm, “I missed you too, Vergil…” a wave of a soft sadness mixed with love washed over you, “so very much.”

==

ENDING NOTES: Hope y’all like the art with this one--admittedly this would’ve been done much sooner if I hadn’t decided to add that. The scales and all textures are not things I drew; they are all sampled from real things--the feet, for example, are textured using orange peel(s). All colors (except the maroon scales) are from Nelo Angelo and both of Vergil’s sin triggers--I did change some saturations, but the basis for them is all from the stoic man’s palettes. ⏳⏳⏳ I swear the next thing is not going to be more angsty/sad Vergil. I actually was writing this alongside “What Would They Think”--I’d get bored with one and write some for the other lol. Hopefully, you enjoyed this story! Much love y’all (I’m thinking something with V or Nero next; which, Nero’s H/Cs are the hardest thing for me to write for some fucking reason lmao idk what is going on with that.)

==

Bonus short story that I wrote as a warm-up; post story stuff:

==

     Nero walked down the stairs of the Devil May Cry with a prominent dejected expression. With a small bounce to his step, the youngest Sparda descendant walked towards the fridge; however, an ‘ahem’ cough caught his attention. 

    J.D. Morrison was sitting on the edge of Dante’s desk smoking his typical stogie. The said owner of the desk was sitting there with a manilla folder in hand, staring at Nero. 

     Dante set the folder down, “So--” he leaned back in his chair, “How is he?” 

     Nero quickly glanced between the two, unsure of what he should and could say in front of the company broker.

     The red devil raised a brow, “Well?”

     “Uh-” Nero centered himself into Dante’s view, “He’s okay. Nothing’s really changed much.”

     Dante slowly nodded and bit his tongue in thought for a moment, “... They awake?”

     “No, doesn’t seem like they’ve even moved.”

     “Damn it,” the younger twin sighed, “Let’s hope they do soon; I can’t stand seeing him like that.”

     Nero shrugged, “At least Vergil’s not going to be a dick anymore.”

     Dante laughed, “Careful, you might jinx us.” he grabbed the folder he had previously been paging through, “Interested in doing a job with me--takin’ Verge’s place for now?”

     Nero took the folder from his uncle. After paging through it and reading it a bit Nero smiled slightly, “Sure, why not. Anything to get me out of here.”

     “Good--” Dante turned his attention to Morrison, “We’ll take it.”

     The broker smiled, “Glad to hear it. When--”

     A loud abrupt noise cut off J.D.’s question. It had come from above them and Nero bolted to the stairs.

     “Wait! Nero-” Dante got up fast enough to knock his chair over. He tackled Nero into the wall, preventing his ascension upward, “Stop.”

     “Let go of me!” Nero shoved Dante off of him.

     Dante put Nero in a sloppy cradle pin; holding him still, “Listen for a minute.”

     The young hunter stopped struggling. He furrowed his brow as he whispered, “Is that crying? ”

     With the same volume, Dante responded, “Yeah, it’s from Vergil.”

     They untangled from the floor and stood up. Both of them decided to grab their gear before Dante acknowledged the semi-confused Morrison, “Let’s take this somewhere else--give Vergil his privacy.”

     “Fine by me,” he stood up from the desk, “Although it would be nice to get an explanation once we leave.”

     Dante nodded with an unintentional smile, “Not much to say… Just a long overdue reunion.”

==

ENDING NOTES (FOR THE SECOND STORY): I figure that Vergil and Dante might not get along per se, but are able to be kind of nice to each other. Giving each other support or defense when needed; they are family after all. (This is why Dante wants to leave)

==

Want to see more like this? Want to read my work quicker and several stories that are not on Tumblr? Check this out on my AO3 (Linked here)

He had stepped into the clearing, his sword cleaned and re-sheathed with a quiet ‘click.’ You couldn’t believe it was him, thinking that he might have been a ghost or some hallucination created by a demon nearby. This had to be some sort of trick. Everyone said the Sparda family was dead! Blade held up and ready for whatever trickery this was a result of, you watched him closely.

He was different… taller. He was a young man now, much more mature than that of the boy you used to know. It was so long ago, remembering how small you both used to be in comparison to how grown up you were today. His jaw had sharpened, shoulders had become more broad. If this wasn’t some sort of dream, he had become very attractive, your eyes having difficulty looking away from the defined tendons of his neck.

“As energetic as always.”

The mouth on him… He always had a bit of an attitude. So what? Was that supposed to tell you anything about the situation you were in? What was the angle? An Ambush? Were you already stuck in whatever illusion this was supposed to be?

You scowled. “I thought you were dead! Where in hell have you been!? What is the meaning of this?” The shock had yet to wear off and you could only feel frustrated by the fact that if he was indeed alive, that he waited until now to show himself. It set aflame an anger in your chest that he bumbled into your job, killed the last of your prey, and pretended that this wasn’t any big deal.

“This isn’t some illusion is it? Some game the left overs are playing? Prove to me that you aren’t some sort of nightmare.”

He scowled, his nose wrinkled in annoyance at the task of having convince you that this wasn’t an act. You kept your blade up, unsure of what he was going to do, but didn’t really have a moment to think. One moment he was a good couple yards away, now he was right behind you. He swept a leg under your feet and knocked you to the ground, which nearly took the breath out of you.

“I’m more interested in what you’ve been up to. Picked up the blade, I see?”

He held his hand out for you to take, but you simply scoffed, batting it away. Yup, it was him alright. His favorite method of knocking you down back in the day, was to quote “sweep you off your feet.” At least it was what your mother said as you recall her laughing while she scolded the young boy.  You didn’t speak as you sheathed your own blade and shoved your hands deep into your pants pockets. Wouldn’t that be interesting? To have an old ghost float back into your life just to bully you for your lackluster swordsmanship? Hilarious.

“Well I can use guns too, but I have a preference for swords. Don’t bother testing it out, I’m still probably worse than you.”

He smirked, just a tug at the corner of his lips, but you couldn’t miss the way his head tipped and his eyes closed. It was just like he used to when you were kids.

“Read it again, Vergil! I love this part!”

“I already read it twice.”

“I know! I just really like when you read it! Mom says she’ll get me this book for my birthday and she’ll read it to me every night!”

“Why do I have to read it again if you plan to hear it so much?”

“Cos! I like when you read it best!”

“You got taller.” He stated as he eyed you. You had, of course, but were still shorter than him by a good foot or so. It was just a funny thing to mention. Growing up, you’d always just thought you’d be shorter than most of the people around you. At almost wasn’t worth pointing out.

“Was I supposed to stay seven years old forever?” You joked as you stepped closer, wanting to get a better look at his fancy coat.  “I thought the same about you. You really shot up, didn’t you?”

There was a short pause in your conversation, just staring at each other. Even though this man had knocked you to the ground in his usual fashion, your mind still fought the idea that he could ever still be alive. Everyone in Red Grave spoke about how no one had made it out. The beloved Sparda family was ash.

“I didn’t think I would find you here.” Again, this man kept stealing your lines.

You shrugged. “Yeah… I didn’t think I’d see you out here either… I mean… I didn’t think I’d see you ever again.”

The gentle breeze caressed the skin of your cheek with cool fingers, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The sounds of the leaves brushing up against each other and their soft ‘hushing’ sounds wafted over the clearing in the quiet dip in your chatting.

“What brought you to this town?” his voice was low, cold, and soft as it rolled through your ears. You savored how time had graced him with such a beautiful voice, daring not to chuckle as you remembered what he used to sound like.

You began to walk, signaling for him to follow along as you found the trail out of the clearing. “I needed an escape. Red Grave was home, but after my mother passed on and my friends left, I decided that it was time for me to move on as well.”

Your life was simple. Never knowing your father, you meandered through life just doing the best that you could, your mother behind you most of the way until she got sick. It inevitably took her and it made you want nothing more than to leave, to escape this massive graveyard of a city. Vergil and Dante, your friends, and now your mother.  There just wasn’t anything left for you anymore. Nothing but loss and pain left in those charred remains of a house, that stone cross…

“Do you… need somewhere to stay? You aren’t a local so I’m assuming you don’t have anywhere to retire to?”

He gave you a look, one that was unsure or nervous, his eyes flitting to somewhere on the left, probably thinking about whether or not he should. It was a pretty crazy thing to do, yet you wanted a chance to speak to him, be close to him… to find out what really happened the day of the attack. It was a chance to catch up with your old friend and sate your burning curiosity.

“No, I have nowhere to stay yet. I was on my way to find one. You offering?”

Would he take you up on it if you were? Would he think you weird for offering in the first place? It was just an old friend offering shelter to someone who obviously needs it.

“Yeah, I suppose I am. Stay as long as you like. After all, it sounds like we have some catching up to do.”  

His expression was quizzical, as if he couldn’t quite figure out why after all these years you’d just let him waltz into your home and not seem to mind at all. He wouldn’t be wrong in thinking that way. He might as well have been a stranger. He could have ulterior motives that could end up putting you in an early grave and yet… you find that you cannot deny him. Fire rushed in your veins at the mere thought of him staying in your house much the way your head felt, still high off the fact he was still alive.

The walk home was quiet, nothing but the sounds of your footsteps and the chortling of birds to accompany you. It was getting late, the sun was beginning to set and the purples and oranges mixed with the dark green leaves on the trees. The chilly breeze bit your chin, but the cold wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, your blood still pumping from the earlier fight. Still, you hoped the house would be warm when you returned. Coming back to a cold house was never a good way to treat a guest.

“You walked this whole way?”

Of course you did. You didn’t have a fancy bike or a car, so you walked. Its not like you needed to go out of town for anything. Everything you needed was right at your fingertips. If you really did need a ride, you could always just hitch one with someone else. What were they going to do? Try to kill you? Unlikely, since you’d have their fingers in their floorboard before they could even think about trying anything funny.

“Yup. Walking’s healthy. Thought about getting a horse. Wouldn’t that be something? Valiant demon hunter rushing in on a fiery steed! Catchy no?”

It was his turn to scoff, rolling his eyes so hard you could almost hear it.

“Too cliché, as usual with you.”

Clicking your tongue, you replied, “I never claimed to be the creative one. That was you, old friend. You were the one always reading or looking at art… I liked to listen to you talk about it because I found it interesting.”

He hummed and let you continue on.

“I liked to read, help you interpret stuff, but write it myself? Big no-no.”

“What were all the paintbrushes for?”

You hung back a moment, stopping to lean against a tree and sighed.

“Mom bought the set for me, so I figured I could put it to use. Just because I like to paint, doesn’t mean I’m any good at it.”

You could feel the forest darken around you, the sun starting to sleep behind the horizon. Thick clouds floated gently through the sky, bright mists of stars blinking in their trail.

“The biggest critic is usually the artist.”

He gave your shoulder a gentle pat to get you back onto the trail, seeming eager to get to shelter. “We’ll just have to see if you’ve improved since the last piece I’ve seen.”

The last one he saw was an ugly watercolor painting of a horse. All you could think about was the last serious painting you'd worked on. Ugh… the last piece… It would definitely be kept hidden for obvious reasons, for it was of the Sparda house; that beautiful mansion just outside of town where your childhood friends had lived. You painted it as best you could from memory, the year the flowers had blossomed all over the field, the morning sun had shined over the back of the roof, illuminating the building with a golden outline. It reminded you of your friendships and of your losses, the biggest symbol of loss being that majestic house.

“I’ll show that one to you later. There’s a couple others I’m proud of that I think you’ll like!”

-`~`-

Finally home, after what seemed like an eternity of walking and fumbling your keys, you tossed the dumb things on the side table and headed straight to the kitchen. You had been on a grocery run earlier that morning and had your meals mapped out for the week. You, of course, didn’t know there would be a guest, but it was fine. Making a little extra was a habit of yours that you didn’t like to break anytime soon. In any case, dinner needed to be cooked and now you had an extra set of hands to help.

“Hope you brought an appetite with you. I’m thinking I’ll make a stir fry tonight and we can start a crock pot meal for tomorrow if you intend to stay that long.”

He removed his coat, hanging it up on the rack beside the door, but left on his sword and boots, ready for anything you supposed. Guess that was a good thing. Cant be too careful when you went through what he did… what either of you did. Demons didn’t usually make it a habit of attacking your home, though you were probably becoming too relaxed. Maybe you should hide a few more weapons just in case…

“If I wash some veggies, will you cut them? I normally don’t ask that of guests, but you’re a special exception.”

He didn’t respond, but immediately removed his tan fingerless gloves and washed his hands. That means yes… maybe. You chuckled softly and began to wash the broccoli, skinned the carrots, and even threw in some squash, bringing it all to him with the cutting board and your favorite knife. Vergil got right to it, slicing up the carrots with quick precise cuts. Confident that he knew what he was doing, you got started on cooking the meats you were going to use. It was strange having someone over to help you cook, the soft chopping on the wood making something warm tighten around your heart. It reminded you of your home.

“You ever used to do this for your mom?”

The cutting stopped and it was your cue to stop what you were doing and immediately apologize. The subject of his family could be taboo to speak about, still, the thought of bringing back terrible memories wracked your nerves. You wanted so badly to push and get more answers, but the sickness of guilt buried in your stomach kept you sane. After a moment, he shook his head and looked up to meet your worried gaze.

He clearly looked upset, like he was trying not to be angry or frustrated by whatever was on his mind, but he also looked sympathetic. A hand ran through hair, pulling back any loose strands from his forehead before he decided to answer.

“No. I learned to cook on my own through old recipe books the libraries had. Cutting vegetables is nothing anyway. Always been good at a blade.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he held up a hand. “Its alright. You didn’t know. You didn’t know anything.” After a short pause of him staring down at the already cut carrots in front of him, he continued. “Did your mother teach you how to cook?”

You were in shock for a moment, afraid of upsetting him, but if he wanted to move past it and talk about your own family, you would.

“Yes, actually! She taught me some things, but baking is the bigger passion of mine.” You were so good in fact, that the recipes were branded into your memory and anytime your family needed a loaf, they could call on you to make it.

“Cakes, desserts, you name it, I can make it. If its anything too complicated, though, I’ll have to make a trip to the store.”

He began to slice up the squash, holding it delicately between his thumb and pointer as he brought the blade through it nice and clean. His glare was focused on making fine cuts, while his mind seemed to be elsewhere entirely. It would be strange for someone to be so invested without actually being in the present. His forehead wrinkled at a particular thought, one he chose to voice out loud.

“Blueberry scones… like the ones your mother made us for our birthday. I had forgotten what they tasted like.”

Your throat tightened as you remembered that day. You were six and they had turned seven. You remembered the sweet fruity smell of blueberries that wafted throughout the house as the oven filled the whole downstairs with the smell of pastries. Your mother had worked tirelessly to find gifts for her best friend’s sons and had them wrapped and ready to go. All she was waiting for now were the sweet treats to be finished baking.

“Mama! What’s the berry bread for?”

“You don’t remember, silly? It’s the twins’ birthdays tomorrow! Eva said that Vergil loves blueberries and Dante will eat just about anything, so that’s what I chose. Oh, don’t give me that face! You’ll get one too!”

You chuckled at the thought of your pouting lips and your mother giving you the ‘aw baby’ look. Like a stone sinking down to the depths of a lake, your stomach dropped as you remembered how much you missed her. Her sweet smile, the slight crinkle of her eyes as she did so brought you back to that stone cross, crying your eyes out and begging her to come back to you. Her soft hands on your shoulders as she rubbed her thumbs over your collarbone, made you think of the small crowd of people dressed in black, pulling you away from the casket as they lowered her into the ground.

“Sweetie, it wont be much longer and you’ll get to play with Eva’s boys. It’ll be lots of fun!”

You sniffled and rubbed the tears out of your eyes, trying to hide that they had welled up in the first place, but that was a silly thought. As if you could hide anything from the man in your kitchen and like clockwork, the chopping stopped again.

“…Are you alright?” It was hesitant and quiet, like he didn’t want to ask it in the first place. He was the same, right? Memories swirling in your brain, thoughts good and bad, making you wish you could see them again. You wanted her there with you again, to run a brush through your hair and scold you gently for letting it get bad again. Little things like that made you so desperate to hold on while begging to let go.

“I’m fine. Just remembering when she made them. We had a good day.”

A few more chopping sounds echoed in the quiet kitchen before the blade slid against the wooden cutting board, meaning that he must have finished up. It was followed by the sound of the chair scraping over the floor and the shuffle of his clothes as he came closer to you. You had initially thought he was bringing the freshly chopped veggies over for the pan, but instead, you were met with his arms surrounding you. He had gathered you to his chest and held you tightly to him, his hand running up your spine to cup the back of your head, pressing your cheek to his leather vest. The sweet and spicy aroma of peppermint filled your lungs when you inhaled sharply.

“I never forgot about you… never forgot about how your family treated me like one of their own.” His hold on you tightened a little, a quick squeeze, a constant reminder that he was still there.

“I thought about going to you after… but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t dare get your family involved in what I needed to do.” You felt his cheek rest on your head, his hold unyielding. He seemed to tremble around you, a man trying to hold everything together, much like yourself and when the surprise wore off, you returned the gesture.

“I don’t have anyone else. When I asked about you, they said you had gone. …I feared the worst.”

Tears slid down your cheeks as you held him just as tight as he held you. It was strange how time didn’t seem to change that little boy you remembered, how he was the same Vergil that confided in you when he was feeling down, the Vergil that held your hand as you ran to the playground. Deep inside, you could feel him in there and he was just like you were when you had lost everything, when you realized everything you knew was gone.

“It’s okay… Hey. Its alright. I’ll always be here and no matter what, you’re always welcome in my home. Now leggo! I gotta get this food started. I haven’t even gotten the noodles in yet.”

He waited another few seconds before finally conceding and settled for standing beside you as you worked. A part of you wished he never let go, wished you never told him to let go, but you both needed to be strong. You couldn’t understand why you needed to act so tough, but you just did. At least she said as much.

“Just as stubborn as your father.”

“How would I know that!? He’s never here!”

“He is out there keeping us safe! Just because you cant see him, doesn’t mean he doesn’t care!

“He always makes you cry! You are always crying because of him!”

“Since we’re already on the dusty shelf of hard subjects, is there anything else to get off of your chest while you’re here? You don’t have to say a thing if you don’t wanna. The offer’s on the table if you wanna talk is all.”

He seemed to cringe at the suggestion, his shoulders tensed, weight shifted to the other foot. The only thing it seemed you could do was give him time as you began to cook the noodles. The smells of sauce and veggies fumed in the air, making your mouth water, a fair distraction from the difficult subject.

“You’re trying to ask me about what happened.”

It was a statement, not a question and he couldn’t have hit the nail harder on the head. All you knew about the incident was that demons had attacked the home upon rumors of Sparda’s death and that the house was burned to the ground. All that was left behind were a few objects that survived the fire and the charred remains of Eva’s body, which were promptly buried in the Red Grave Cemetery. Your mother had been a wreck the whole month and nothing you could do would help her out of her depression.

“I don’t want to pry. If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to say anything.”

He leaned over, elbows on the counter, resting his chin on his arms. A ragged sigh tore through his throat as if he were in pain, like if something were tightening around his neck.

“I can’t. Not yet… I’m sorry.”

Something compelled you to touch him, though a part of you screamed to not. In the end, you couldn’t resist and rested your hand on his trembling back, rubbing gentle circles between his shoulder blades. He didn’t strike you to be the kind of person to let it all out and maybe he wasn’t. Bad dreams sometimes have a nasty habit of tearing people out of their confident shell. That’s probably what you were, a loose end to a memory that plagued his existence. It made you feel sick, but knowing that he believed he could confide in you was like balm over your anxious heart.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m here to listen if you need me.”

You wanted to ask him where Dante was, if he had made it out, but judging by the fact that he was alone and didn’t even want to speak about what happened, left a sour taste in your mouth. Bile leaking into the back of your throat was starting to diminish your appetite. So much for hoping he had one.

“Come on. Let’s eat and make the most of it. I swear to you, this’ll be delicious. Cross my heart.”

You didn’t dare say the second part and just mixed the ingredients into the pan, shaking and tossing, making a rather dull show of it. You weren’t sure if the look he gave you was amusement for your trick or for your sad attempt at trying to impress him with your ‘great’ cooking skills.

“Now, this’ll blow your boots off. Promise. If it doesn’t live up to the expectation I set, you are free to knock my lights out.”

“As if I would hit a woman over some noodles…”

“Eh, I’ve seen people kill people for less.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle morbidly, knowing the last part wasn’t a joke and it was absolutely horrible how true that statement was.

You scraped some food onto a plate, grabbed some nice utensils, and served it to your special guest. Well… handed it to him since he was still standing beside you and nearly dropped it when his fingers brushed over yours. You both fumbled comically to make sure nothing fell and for a few moments your eyes locked, heart fluttering awkwardly in your chest.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why i-“

He smirked knowingly at you and left to take his seat, leaving you with the butterflies trying to burst out of your stomach. How dare he do this to you! Reduce you to a high-school student with his fucking smile. Absolutely humiliating!

“After speaking so highly of this dish, I figured it would be a shame for it to be tasted by the floor first.”

You raised your hands in mock surrender, making your own, excited to finally get to eat rather than fester over your embarassment. “Yeah, well the floor rarely gets a decent meal nowadays. And why would something as great as the floor miss out on such a meal?”

His laugh tumbled through your ears, down your throat and into your heart, squeezing your stomach with a force that almost made you drop your plate again. It simmered to a sharp exhale through his nose and he finally gathered some food on his fork.

“Foolish. Absolutely foolish. It makes me wonder why I came here.”

The clattering of your things on the dining room table muffled the last few words of his sentence, but you still heard them, not even waiting to sit down before digging into the food.

“No you don’t… Holy shit, this is actually really good.”

He quirked a brow at you, obviously not impressed by your table manners, but instead of making a snide comment, he took a bite. You couldn’t help yourself but to watch, trying to figure out of he enjoyed what you made and by the looks of it, he did. He didn’t complain about it when he took careful bites, trying not to get sauce on his vest. It was cute how he leaned just a little over the plate as he ate or how he dragged the top of the broccoli through the sauce below the noodles. It was… distracting.

“Its good. I suppose you don’t have to worry about the lights going out.”

You laughed. As if you needed to worry about that. “Well, I had you pegged as a picky eater.”

“You pegged me, correctly.”

“Oh? Didn’t take you to be into that kind of thing.”

“Disgusting.”

He didn’t seem the least bit disgusted however, rather looking lighthearted at you. Though your banter was rather childish, he didn’t seem to mind it, giving you that familiar gaze of someone trapped in a wave of nostalgia. It was if he belonged there in that seat, as if he belonged with you. Quickly, you tossed those images aside. Ridiculous, thinking that after all this time he would ever grow to care for you anymore than just a friend and stupid to think that being in love with you would be his reason to return to you. No. this was just a visit. He was checking to see if you were alright and reconnect with the one person he had left from his past.

“Do you still read?” You asked to silence the voices still plaguing your mind. Which, he seemed to recognize something was bothering you, but judging by his lack of acknowledgement, he continued with the change of subject.

“Not as much as I like… I read now for research more than entertainment. There’s… something I’m trying to find.”

“What is it? What would have you come all the way out here to find?”

He swallowed what was in his mouth before responding.

“I traveled back to Red Grave to find it, but I’ve had no luck so far. While there, I remembered you and your mother and visited your old home, but when no one was there… I asked around. The neighbors said you left and didn’t say where.”

His eyes caught yours and much like a car crash, you couldn’t look away. Something in his eyes screamed with a mix of dread and relief, a look that wrestled with the agony and fear of more loss. The bags under his eyes looked just a little deeper then.

“I had to make sure you were alive before I could do anything else.”

So he came all this way to find something, but got distracted looking for you? That sounded almost ridiculous. What made you so special that he would deviate from his goals to pursue you? You saw it in his eyes that he was after something big, the ambition burned with the sun’s flames. It invoked feelings of anxiousness, wondering what in the hell he could be up to? It seemed as though being the only son left of Sparda would come with its own troubles and would lead down a very dangerous path. Your mind was a torrent of questions, the predominant one being… Why did his path lead to you?

“Well, I am alive and still kicking, whether or not I’m fortunate for that remains to be seen.”

He grinned, “I happen to find your survival very fortunate.”

After scoffing playfully at his admission, you finished your dinner and took both of your plates to the sink, flattered that he had emptied the plate. If he liked that, then he would certainly enjoy the crockpot meal you had planned for tomorrow.

“You’re probably exhausted after traveling that long. The guest bedroom is up the stairs to the right and the bathroom is in the center. You’re more than welcome to shower and whatnot. This meal for tomorrow isn’t going to cook itself.”

He stood up from the dining table, pushed his chair back in, and pocketed the fingerless gloves. Before he passed you to leave the room, he stopped, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“Thanks… for everything.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, his lips parting but closing again in favor of just taking his leave up the stairs.