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Vergil slipped stealthily through the doorway, steps measured and confident as he shut the infernal bit of wood before it could emit an egregious series of wailing creaks.
The muted presence of his son tangled itself up in his senses, warm and inviting in its subtle intensity. Vergil's inner devil cooed at the intrusion, intrinsically reaching out and wrapping itself around the tendrils of Nero's energy delicately wafting its way. The young devil's presence, so much like Vergil's own, was relaxed and soft in contrast to its typical fieriness.
Vergil decided to humor his baser instincts, as he often did with alarming frequency these days, allowing himself to feel drawn to his son and bask in the bit of familial solace it brought him.
Inhaling deeply, Vergil felt a sense of tranquility settle itself hesitantly over his stiffened shoulders, which loosened minutely. His silent, lethal tread led him over to Dante's grimly worn leather couch, upon which his son was nestled as firmly as he possibly could be into the back seam of the aged cushions. His head was pillowed by his own arms as he lay balled up tightly. Blue Rose was hanging limply from his fingers as the tips of those same digits traced over the hilt of Red Queen from where the sword lay propped up against the front of the couch.
Vergil spared Nero's right arm a momentary glance, fascinated with his son's resilience and formidable demonic power.
A thrum of expected pride gently pulsed through him. He paid it no mind as his gaze continued to wander.
Dante was sprawled haphazardly alongside Nero, legs splayed and head thrown back as a vengeful snore spilled forth from his gaping mouth. One hand was woven through Nero's short, fluffy hair, where his idle fingers were gently playing with the soft strands. The other was wrapped purposefully around the hilt of Devil Sword Dante, which had somehow managed to remain fully realized regardless of the unconscious state of its wielder.
Vergil raised a brow. He surmised the duo’s latest gig must've gone rather sideways in order for the two of them to have both ended up passed out on the downstairs couch with weaponry fully at the ready.
In his slumber, Nero huffed out a small, high-pitched sound and flexed his fingers over the grip on his pistol. Dante answered his nephew's cry with an impressively more aggressive snore and lazily tugged Nero closer into his side. Nero tucked himself into his uncle's grasp with a pleased sigh.
A prickle of agitation wormed its way below Vergil's skin as he observed his family's nonchalant rest. He spared the uncomfortable feeling a moment of concern, wholly confused by his body's strange reaction to what simply could be described as drab domesticity.
A bright, lazy azure eye slid open and flickered around the room before landing on Vergil's newly tensed form.
“Hey, Verge,” Dante called softly. A loopy, carefree smile drenched in sleep scrawled itself across his scruff.
“Dante,” Vergil greeted crisply with a minute tilt of his head.
Dante shifted slightly as a quiet groan left his lips. Both eyes blearily fluttered open as he strained to focus in on his twin’s rigid stance.
Nero whined in protest at the abrupt change in position, face scrunched up in discomfort as he pressed closer into Dante's warmth.
Dante crooned softly as he moved to wrap an arm around his nephew. Nero curled into his touch.
Vergil clenched his teeth as an absurdly potent surge of something nearly indecipherable flashed through his veins and seized at his chest, tightening the breath in his lungs and leaving a burning fire of what felt like discontent brewing in his very soul.
Dante gave his brother a frustratingly knowing look.
“Kid's out like a light,” he explained, voice kept low as he spared his slumbering nephew a brief, affectionate glance. “Long hunt.”
Vergil nodded once, curt and pointed as the set of his jaw sharpened into something lethal.
A pleased huff dropped from Nero's parted lips as Dante scratched a hand through the coarse hairs sprinkled across the back of his nephew's neck.
Vergil's heart rate quickened for a fleeting moment, startling him and causing his fingers to twitch and flex over nothing to grip onto. The unnerving, biologically nonsensical defects his body seemed to be exerting were occurring notably persistently in the presence of his now-alert brother.
“Dante,” Vergil growled, “I believe it is possible I am experiencing a uniquely human ailment.”
Dante quirked a brow. “How do you figure?” he drawled, worry alight in his blue eyes as he turned his attention to his unsettled twin.
“I am experiencing atypical pains in my chest,” Vergil explained shortly, mildly aghast at exposing any sort of weakness to his brother but curious to see if Dante had enough knowledge to piece together what Vergil might be dealing with.
Dante’s expression morphed into something that blended equal parts relief and mischievousness. Vergil found he wanted to scrape the look off his twin's face with the biting edge of Yamato.
“Well?” he prompted acidically.
Dante sighed theatrically and rolled his eyes. “Relax, Verge,” he droned, words tangled up in the last few dregs of sleep as they slowly slipped free of his yawning mouth. “I know how to fix your little problem.”
A threatening hand clamped ominously around the hilt of Yamato. “You had better be quick,” Vergil cautioned.
Dante held up his free hand in surrender. “I gotta go to the kitchen,” he explained hastily. “What you need is in there. But…” Dante spared Nero's huddled form a pointed glance. “I don't want to risk waking him.”
“Tell me what I need from the kitchen,” Vergil spat, unamused.
Dante shook his head. “I don't recall exactly where I put it…” he admitted sheepishly. “Could you sit with the kid for a moment while I look for it?”
Vergil eyed his twin's imploring gaze, searching it for any trace of deviousness that surpassed Dante's typical sly appearance.
A long-suffering sigh left Vergil's mouth. “This had better be worth the trouble,” he groaned.
A spark lit up Dante's still-waking eyes. “It will be,” he promised, a teasing lilt to his voice.
He began to gently detangle himself from Nero's entwined grasp, light shushing noises falling from his lips as Nero sleepily protested the loss of familial comfort.
Another pang resonated throughout Vergil's chest and seared a hot brand into his heart. He clutched at the fabric of his jacket in mild alarm.
“Make haste, Dante,” he warned.
Dante gestured urgently at the vacant spot on the couch. “Get over here, then.”
Throwing his twin a glare that he hoped would deliver a proper dose of fear to the annoyingly unperturbed hybrid, Vergil sank into the aged leather with a disdainful sniff.
Almost instantaneously, Nero nuzzled against his new source of heat like he had just escaped from the foul reach of some ferocious blizzard. A contented hum bled from his lips as he burrowed into Vergil's side.
Vergil stiffened at the unexpected intrusion as Dante dematerialized his devil arm and all but fled the room, shuffling steps taking him quickly into the kitchen where he vanished from view.
A questioning, almost pleading sound echoed into the ensuing stillness as Nero nudged his nose against Vergil's hip.
Trepidation settled heavily into Vergil's abdomen as he fought to move his limbs in any sort of approximation of what Dante had managed to do so effortlessly only seconds before.
“Hush now,” Vergil soothed, delicately maneuvering a gloved hand through Nero’s unkempt hair.
A jolt of shock sang through his veins as he paused to take in just how soft his son's hair truly was.
The familiar silver-white strands were silken below his touch and fine within his fingers as they slid through his grasp.
In awe, Vergil continued to make sweeping motions over his son's scalp as he admired the wispy strands gliding within his hold.
Touching anything for the purpose of something other than horrific violence was a concept that felt strangely calming and not at all as tedious as Vergil had first anticipated. He couldn't recall the last time he'd directed himself to connect with someone like this - in a manner that was wholly unlike him and in direct contrast to the brittle, combative way he'd raised himself.
Nero was living, breathing, and beautifully alive below Vergil's hands.
He hadn't killed him. Nero wasn't pulling away from him. He seemed to be essentially enjoying his father's tentative touch, if his soft noises and impressive attempts at welding himself into Vergil's skin were anything to go by.
A flutter of some sort danced through Vergil's chest. This time, the feeling didn't ignite a flame in his body or drill a stake into his heart with the aggression of someone on the defensive. This sensation was equable, and practically delightful in its airiness.
Ignorant of the uncharacteristic smile slowly weaving its way onto his face, Vergil allowed his hand to wander onto the plane of his son's face, fingers delicately tracing over features he intimately recognized.
Nero emitted a curious noise as his eyelids twitched in sleep.
“Rest,” Vergil instructed quietly, thumb stroking over Nero's cheek.
Nero turned into the offered touch, peaceful, dopey smile spread casually across his features.
A twinge in Vergil's ribcage pulled him insistently toward the figure practically crawling into his lap as his inner devil purred in satisfaction at their closeness.
Curious, Vergil tugged at the weaving bonds of demonic energy coursing through his soul and allowed his baser instincts to claw their way up from careful concealment. Watchful of their potential intensity, Vergil reached out and pulled, feeling the intrinsic wash of otherworldly power wind around his inner devil and stir it pointedly.
A steady, rhythmic cry pulsed through Vergil's mind. Though no real, discernible words were attached to the measured call, it seemed intricately laden with both a protective claim and a strong fierceness.
The magnitude of the sentiment interrupted Vergil's patterned breathing and caused his hold on his son to tighten.
Nero sensed the shift in demeanor even in sleep and answered it with a low, keening sound.
Vergil responded instinctually, wordless reassurances rolling off his tongue as his vision narrowed in on his son.
His hands skated along the grip of Nero's gun, freeing the weapon from his son's lax grasp so he could place it down next to Red Queen.
Nero jerked at the sudden loss of his sidearm, beginnings of a snarl building in the back of his throat as his newly empty fingers spasmed against the stuffy office air.
Vergil wrapped both arms around his son in a single fell swoop, anchoring Nero firmly against his side and maneuvering his son's head so it was pillowed neatly atop his chest.
A feral sound leapt from Vergil's throat as he comforted his defenseless child.
I will protect you, his instincts seemed to say. You have no need for weaponry. I am here. I will protect you.
Nero took in the assurance silently, pressing his face unconsciously further into his father's embrace as his limbs began to lose the coiled tension that seemed to always live there.
Something internal and strongly rooted in demonic ancestry prodded at Vergil. He drew back from the insistences with a shuddering breath, at once overwhelmed by the cacophony of demands his inner devil seemed to have.
A clear drag of air filled Vergil's lungs as his vision recentered forcibly on the dull furnishings peppering Dante’s living quarters.
Said half-devil was peering at Vergil from his position at the entryway to the kitchen.
Dante appeared to be shrouded within some sort of raggedy tunic, azure eyes alight with fascination and zeroed in on Vergil's face as though it was smeared with mustard.
“Did you find it?” Vergil growled, unamused with his twin's unabashed staring. A spectral sword materialized at his side as he kept a deadly gaze trained on his twin.
Dante held up his hands in a frantic gesture of surrender. “Yes!”
He scuffled back over to the duo, signature red coat swaddled beneath a swath of gray fabric.
Vergil narrowed his ice blue eyes at the sight of what appeared to be some sort of blanket.
“I've got the solution to your problem right here, Verge,” Dante crowed delightedly, thoroughly pleased with himself as he carefully detached the blanket from his shoulders amidst a hiss of static.
Eyes tracing the explosive results sketched in Dante's white hair, Vergil drew in a leveling breath, fingers shuffling dutifully through his son's hair as he breathed in the relaxed scent wafting toward his nostrils.
“How exactly,” Vergil deadpanned, tone as even as he could maintain it, “will that piece of cloth assist in dispelling my troubles?”
Dante flopped down onto the couch in lieu of giving an actual answer, fussing with the fabric clutched tightly in his fingers as he draped it atop his brother and nephew. He dedicated an exhorbitant amount of time to tucking the blanket up and around Nero's shoulders, soft shushing sounds escaping his mouth as Nero’s eyebrows furrowed.
His nephew hummed below the added warmth.
“You don't get it, do you Vergil?” Dante teased, shit-eating grin plastered across his features as he fought to tame the frizz that had taken root in his shock of white hair.
“Explain,” Vergil demanded, frost clinging to his tone as he tilted the still-hovering spectral sword so it pointed at the tip of Dante's nose.
“It's the kid,” Dante hastened to clarify, ducking down to avoid the unforgiving bite of his twin’s demonic energy. “You feel better with your kid, yeah?”
Vergil paused as he pondered Dante's words. A thoughtful frown took up residence on his face as he cast his gaze down onto his son's head. Nero was still anchored firmly against his heart, gentle breaths blowing past his lips as he remained lost to the throes of sleep. His right arm had managed to throw itself over Vergil's abdomen, where Nero was clutching desperately onto the fabric of his father's jacket.
Warmth spread unbidden through Vergil's chest as his inner devil hummed, overjoyed at the sensation of inseparability pervading the duo’s entwined limbs.
A resigned sigh left Vergil's mouth. “Yes,” he admitted quietly. “I appear to be in good health at present.”
Dante chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “That's one way to put it,” he muttered fondly.
“Now what?” Vergil prompted, eyeing Dante expectantly. “If you claim to know so much about my predicament, what should I do next?”
Vergil's tone was deliberate and challenging as he sought after any potential trace of trickery woven through his twin's voice.
“Stay here,” Dante instructed gently. “When you’re certain you feel better, you can get up.”
Vergil nodded once, expelling a thoughtful breath as he did so. “That is… acceptable,” he agreed softly.
Dante’s affectionate grin widened as he sneakily prodded a hand through Vergil's neatly styled locks. “I'll catch you two later,” he snickered, darting from the room with impeccable speed before Vergil could impale his ornery twin with a slew of spectral weaponry.
A disbelieving snarl left Vergil's lips as he glared after the retreating flap of red leather.
Nero stirred in his arms, brilliant blue eyes so much like Vergil's own flicking open as he struggled to reorganize his limbs.
Vergil shushed his offspring pointedly as a questioning growl fell groggily from Nero's lips.
“What-?” Nero croaked, face tilting upward as he locked gazes with his father. His eyes snapped open in shock as he realized who he was staring at.
“It's alright, Nero,” Vergil assured him gently, fingers returning to his son's scalp as he hastened to re-establish the sense of calm he'd felt emanating from his child mere moments before.
“I…” Nero stammered, gaze unblinking as his cheeks reddened. “What?”
Nero made a move to depart from Vergil's unrelenting grasp.
Vergil's heart leapt in desperation, the concerning bite of discontent from earlier threatening to take hold of his lungs as his demonic instincts screeched out a warning.
Vergil scrambled to recall Dante’s sage advice as he carefully halted his son's lethargic withdrawal.
Nero, startled, looked down at Vergil’s gloved hand, eyes tracing each finger in awe as he observed the way they were wrapped pointedly around his wrist.
“I need you,” Vergil explained brusquely, hoping he had found a way to make his son understand. “Stay with me.”
Nero’s face looked positively stricken as a myriad of emotions flashed through his expression.
Vergil felt compelled to ask what could possibly be troubling his child so but lost that train of thought completely as Nero surged back into his father's hold.
A shaky, brittle noise drifted into Vergil's ears from where his son's face now lay buried in his chest.
The unshakable sensation of beautiful harmony flowed unimpeded through Vergil's veins as his demonic senses prodded at him in glee, eagerly informing him of what it defined as the truth.
His child was exactly where he was supposed to be.
A low, soothing rumble reverberated through Vergil's torso as he resettled his hands along his son's back. A wayward appendage floated lazily up into Nero's cropped hair as Vergil resumed his tender ministrations. He didn't fully understand his child's volatile reaction to his request, but his innate senses were telling him that perhaps Nero was in need of whatever treatment Vergil himself was undergoing.
“It's alright,” Vergil murmured gently. “I am here.”
Nero whined furtively as he pressed himself closer into his father's embrace.
“I am here,” Vergil echoed softly, dropping a tentative kiss to the top of his son's head.
Although still entirely unsure what physical oddity had seized him earlier, Vergil felt content to rest in his son's familiar presence as he felt Nero's scent ebb into something more stable and relaxed.
“Rest, my son,” Vergil hummed.
As captivated as he was by the sleeping bundle in his arms, Vergil managed to completely miss the giddy, victorious look spreading across the face of his overly triumphant twin as Dante watched his family expectantly from his hideout at the base of the stairs.