Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dante wakes up, his vision bleary as he tries to come to. He tries to recall the last thing he remembers before his deep slumber, but his mind is impossibly groggy, and his limbs even heavier than normal. Above him, the phone rings incessantly, but he makes no move to stand up to answer it. He lays on the floor a little longer, his eyes finally clearing from his haze, and he stares at the ceiling, his mind blissfully blank, not even questioning himself as to why he has decided to lay on the floor. He cannot remember a time where he has slept so fitfully and so deeply, the nightmares and its claws far buried in the pits of his consciousness. 

He slowly glances to his side, and the memories of Hell, of fighting against and with his twin brother, Vergil, and their unceremonious return with a horde of demons chasing their tail from the portal Vergil made with the Yamato, their hungry mouths closing in right behind their necks—it all comes crashing to him, like a slab of cement meant to flatten him to the ground. 

His brother is still asleep beside him on the floor, which means that the moment they had entered the premises of Devil May Cry, they have decided to drop to the floor and sleep their fatigue away. Vergil is turned towards him, head resting on his bent arm, and he wonders how long the two of them had laid on the floor. It could not have been good on their bones, but they must have been so tired and weary that they had no option but to settle to the flattest and most spacious area to sleep on. He is even surprised that Vergil allowed himself to be so vulnerable, but then again, despite their numerous encounters filled with the intent to murder one another, the person that they can only turn to at their worst moments is one another. 

The phone rings again, and despite Dante’s protesting body, the heavy leaden limbs and stiff shoulders, he jumps to his feet, and he clamps down on the phone, preventing it from ringing again. He detaches the cords, and he slides down, risking another glance at his twin. 

Vergil looks peaceful. Dante is surprised that Vergil did not hightail out of his sight from the moment they resurfaced. He expected Vergil to run, or to give him an affectionate stab then run away, but none of that had transpired. Yet. Dante is not sure what to expect anymore. He expected to not come out of this alive nor whole, but he is more whole than ever, the other half of his soul finally joining with him. 

Dante sighs, and he slowly gets up. 

He remembers pushing the double doors of the Devil May Cry, remembers the thrill that his twin brother was stepping inside with him, and welcoming his brother home. Vergil had looked unenthused, face seemingly arranged into a scowl, but Dante saw the hint of wonder in his eyes, the curiosity and the questions burning at the tip of his brother’s tongue. Dante had walked on ahead of his brother, wanting to show him every detail of the office, despite it looking like a wreck, with piles and towers and pyramid stacks of pizza boxes (no doubt Lady and Trish’s work—couldn’t the ladies make the effort of throwing them away, Dante had no idea), papers strewn across the desk and scattered on the ground, bottles of alcohol littered just about anywhere where there is space—when he heard Vergil buckle down, and he caught his brother just in time. 

That moment of weakness shocked Dante, as Vergil would never let himself become so vulnerable, but Vergil had looked at him with relief, and the two of them lowered to the floor. 

Dante remembers sliding down beside his twin, and then his eyes had closed, paying no mind to whatever else would come to them.

Dante glances at this twin again, tempted to nudge him with the toe of his boot, but he decides against it, and bends down to sidle his brother to his side so that he is carrying his weight. He drops Vergil on the couch, and then he brings his feet up along. He searches for any blankets around, but he doubts they have been washed. Still, anything is better than to forgo his twin’s comfort. 

He returns to his rightful place at his desk, props both feet up his desk, and he leans against his chair. He had missed Earth and its living things, and no doubt, if he leaves or answers a phone call, this tiny cocoon of peace with his brother would be shattered, and they would have to deal with what the world has come to, and they would have to deal with each other outside the constraints of battle. 

Dante decides that the world can wait. He closes his eyes again. 

//

When Dante comes to again, he immediately recognizes his brother’s presence near him, a chilling, powerful blue aura that he finds distinctly comforting. Then, his eyes find his brother leaning against his desk, coatless, and the Yamato in one hand, and the other holding the old frame of their mother’s portrait. There is a weary characteristic to his brother’s slumped shoulders, and he watches Vergil place the frame back to its rightful spot on his desk. Dante sees his brother's tattered coat folded neatly over the arm of the couch he recently slept on.

“Devil may cry, hm?” Vergil quietly mentions. His eyes slide towards Dante, the pale blue of his eyes almost glowing. 

Dante glances at the shop, noticing that there are fewer pizza towers and boxes strewn in the room. There are also fewer papers scattered around the office. He wonders if this is the right moment to divulge the meaning of the phrase, and he wonders when did he ever hold his tongue around his brother when all he did before was talk aimlessly to the point of being stabbed affectionately (he thinks it’s all affectionate anyway). 

“Made yourself at home, didn't you, brother?” Dante leans back and crosses his arms behind his head.

Vergil scoffs, and he folds his arms, the Yamato resting in between the crook of his elbow and arm. “Unlike you, I prefer to have a cleaner space.”

Dante squints at his twin. “What are you talking about? You've never lived anywhere nice.”

Vergil stares at him, unimpressed. 

“You hungry? I can order some pizza,” Dante flattens his feet on the floor and leans forward to rest his hand on the phone. 

“Can't you order anything else?” Vergil rolls his eyes, but Dante sees the mirth behind his scowl. 

“Chinese?” 

Vergil is staring at him, lips curling in disgust, but he sighs and Dante takes that as a yes. He plugs the phone cables together, and he starts dialing the number of the restaurant on the top of his head that opens late and delivers quickly enough. He could not resist ordering a box of pizza for himself, not when he hasn't eaten any since embarking on this long quest to apprehend his brother and follow him into the underworld. He did not know he could survive that long without food, but then again, he really did not need it. The blood of Sparda provides enough, and food is one of the pleasures in life he likes to indulge himself in. 

After ordering food, Dante falls into silence. He wants to talk to his brother, but to talk to him without a fight, he struggles to find a common ground that does not have to tear their chest open to reveal their bleeding hearts. He would rather just sleep it off. Or stuff his face with a lot of pizza. 

Vergil relocated to the couch, crossing his long legs elegantly. His brother glances at him occasionally, no doubt, debating whether to send a spectral blade above his head or something. Dante finds himself twirling the phone cable on his finger, waiting on food. He needs to say something to lighten up the air, comment something to annoy his older twin, but the balance that they sit on at the moment feels precarious, or maybe he is reading too much into it. They have not really spent that much time together unless it is fighting. 

Vergil uncrosses his legs, now opting to lean forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, hands clasping together and then separating, mouth pressed into a tight line, or perhaps, trying to open to spill some words. 

Dante purses his lips, and he finds it in himself to smirk. “Want to call Nero?” 

Vergil’s head snaps up to meet his eyes. 

If truth be told, Dante does miss the kid, and has let his mind wander to his nephew a lot, and whether he is doing alright with his new powers and responsibilities that they dumped on his shoulders. He knew it was unfair of him to reveal life-changing truths and not explain them, but Dante thinks that there isn’t anyone better to fend for humanity than their own family. Besides, he had to follow Vergil down. He is not leaving his twin alone for a while. 

“He’d be happy to hear from us,” Dante reassures. 

His brother seems to tense from the mention of his son. His shoulders harden, and his eyes are guarded. 

Regardless of how his brother feels, Dante dials the phone. 

Nero answers on the second ring, his voice slightly annoyed, no doubt from the sounds of Nico badgering him in the background. “Shut up!” Nero’s voice fades away for a little, then he comes back, his tone serious and more professional. “Devil may cry-”

“Hey, kid,” Dante chirps. “We’re back!”

Silence greets him, and the sound of something dropping on the floor. 

Vergil has now taken a couple of steps closer. Dante smirks at his brother. For all Vergil’s apprehension and nonchalance, his actions show differently. 

“D-Dante? Is this for real?” Nero exclaims, his tone between anger and excitement. 

“Yeah, kid, we’re alive and well. Got your pops nearby, you wanna talk to him?” Dante offers. 

Nero shuffles around, and takes a couple more seconds to reply. “Yeah, sure.” His tone is now more steady and even. 

Dante offers the receiver to his twin, who stares at it like it might bite his hand. Dante urges his brother to take it, but Vergil is frozen in his spot by the desk, hands hanging open by his sides awkwardly. Then, all of a sudden, there is a knock at the door. 

Dante stands, gingerly presses the receiver into his brother’s hand, and he gallantly saunters towards the door. He can already smell the food behind it, and he cannot wait for Vergil to taste what he has been missing out on. He wonders if years of not digesting any human food will affect him, but they will both find out soon enough.

As he pays the delivery guy, he glances at his brother, who has pressed his ear against the phone, but he is not saying anything. Vergil looks almost afraid to say something, and Dante chuckles to himself. 

“Hello, Nero,” Vergil politely greets, his voice low and hesitant. 

Dante hears Nero’s voice and catches the word book, which means that Nero is mentioning Vergil’s keepsake, and then silence.

“I see,” Vergil slowly says. 

Nero says something again, and Vergil’s face arranges into a grimace. 

“Hm,” Vergil surmises.

Dante raises an eyebrow at this. Nero is not going to like his non-word replies. 

Then, Vergil’s expression falls, and he gingerly puts the phone back in its place. He sighs quietly, and presses his lips together, and Dante can see the boundless words that are attempting to spring out of his mind. 

“Not a word,” Vergil says instead. He tilts his head slightly to the left, as if he expects a challenge.

“Wouldn’t think of it,” Dante shrugs. He resists making a joke about his brother being a deadbeat father. He knows it’s not his fault and that his brother did not know. Maybe he can do it on another day, where it does not feel like one wrong misstep is enough to send his brother away.

Dante does what he does best and throws on an easy smile, and slides the pizza box and the bag of Chinese food on the desk, knowing that the phone call was not too fruitful. What do you even say to a parent who took your own arm? To the man who had no idea who you are up until he had to leave you again? Dante cannot even imagine starting the conversation around that. Vergil is a man of few words, and even less generous in letting people in on his thoughts. It is going to take some time for him to acclimate in this world in general, and even longer to find a common ground with his estranged son. 

Tonight, however, they will eat. 

//

Dante eventually gets around to calling Morrison, Lady and Trish that they are back. The girls are obviously threatening to visit, but they back down when he expresses that Vergil needs time to adjust. Or rather, he needs the time to adjust without them bullying him for keeping Vergil, whom he has plenty of reasons to kick to the curb (Lady’s own words). He doesn’t get too much into details, just that he is back, along with his recluse of a brother, who is awake for most of the time that Dante spends sleeping. Vergil continues to clean up around the shop, and Dante lets him. If Vergil has something to do around him and in this place he calls both his home and his prison, Vergil will not just up and leave. Maybe this time, his twin will stay. Perhaps, given that Vergil has not high-tailed it out of here with the Yamato, his brother is making an effort to stick by his side. They have not called Nero again, and the boy has not made an effort to ring them, and while Dante is a little disappointed for the lack of Nero in their lives, he tells himself to be patient and that all things will come in time. Besides, he figures that any time now, a job or two will go their way, but for now, the two of them do what they do best: fight. 

They find themselves sparring late at night in a nearby park, where there are no eyes on them but the moon and the stars. The two of them had agreed that no weapons will be used, and as their fists come to meet each other for blows, Dante feels alive again. He thinks he can get used to this.

Vergil meets him with the same strength, and it sends earthquakes through his gritted teeth as he receives the impact, and before Vergil can get another hit on him, he snakes his hand around his brother’s wrist, and he uses his momentum forward to throw him on his back. 

Dante stands over his brother, hands over his hips. “That all you got, brother?” He smirks. 

Vergil rolls his eyes and he immediately jumps to his feet. He lowers his stance and throws his hands up, opening them slightly. “Again.”

Dante sighs. “Persistent, are you?”

“In besting you, yes,” the corners of Vergil’s lips pointing up discreetly. 

Dante shakes his head. “When are you going to learn?” 

Vergil immediately aims a kick towards his head. Dante quickly dodges by ducking down, but Vergil follows his first kick by sweeping the next leg towards Dante’s lower half. Before he can jump upwards, Vergil is spinning around with another follow-up kick. He blocks the impact with his arm, but the force makes him grit his teeth and he skids away. He falls to the ground, and he looks up to see Vergil towering over him. 

Expecting another hit, Dante braces himself, but instead, Vergil is offering his hand. 

“There’s no honor in kicking down a defeated enemy,” Vergil says instead. 

Dante smiles, and he pulls his brother forward, which leads to Vergil crashing into him and rolling to his side. 

“Cheater,” Vergil murmurs. 

Dante chuckles, and he looks at the night sky. He feels relief that he is topside, and he realizes that it has been a while since he really looked at the stars and appreciated it for what it is. Even when he roams around with humans, he can never feel too comfortable around them, but he misses it, craves the humanity adjacent to being just a demon. He stands out among the living, and he has never belonged anywhere. He is the needed savior, the one that no one has to be worried about because of his strength, and the one who carries the burden of eradicating the demons that plague the night. 

When he was in hell, he only had to worry about the sword in his hand, and the light work of slaying the demons that came his way. It was not complicated, and it felt like he could have kept this going. 

He did not have to think when he was in hell, and did not have to face the fears he refuses to give into. Most of all, he did not have to think about how he has spent most of his life missing his twin for more than he has known him. 

“Nero would not believe that we’re actually getting along,” Dante comments, resting an arm underneath his head. 

Vergil’s eyes ease at the edges, something akin to a smile. “No, he would not.” 

Dante smirks. Of course, he has to be the one to ruin the mood. “So, you think you’re ever going to tell me about Nero’s mother?”

Vergil’s expression quickly soured into a scowl. A spectral sword appears right above the middle of his forehead. “Be quiet, and stop pestering me.”

“Be careful what you wish for, brother, in a million years, we could be the only ones standing in this world,” Dante quips, glancing at the glowing blue sword above his head. 

Vergil grows quiet, and the spectral sword disappears. His light blue eyes are pensive, a storm of words he cannot pin into a coherent sentence. Dante supposes they are a lot alike in this way—he says too many things for them to matter, never meaning what he really wanted to convey, and Vergil—he says too little in place of the many things that matter, and chooses to guard and protect them deep inside his heart. Dante does not know what to make of this. At times, the demon side of him is itching underneath his skin to fight his brother, to give him a jab that draws the blood out of him and to make the air sing and smell like rust, at least that he can understand. In the other moments, he is angry at him for everything Vergil left him with—abandonment, pain and loneliness—and at the same time, the feeling that he would always forgive him because no matter what, he hates him as much as he loves him. 

Dante cannot even begin to say any of these. He is afraid that this will be the final straw for Vergil to turn his back on him. 

Perhaps, resurfacing from hell can give them another chance to become brothers, to be a family once again, along with Nero and the family that they have found in the relationships he has built here. Though, none of those are Vergil’s, yet. Vergil only has him. And maybe Nero, if they decide that they can look past the arm thing.

“I would not mind it,” Vergil says in a low voice that Dante, caught up in his whirlwind of thoughts, did not catch it. 

Dante glances at his twin. “You’d be cursing the gods before you know it, ‘cause I won’t leave ya alone!” 

Vergil meets his eyes. How Dante wishes they still share the same eye color. Dante catches a growing smirk behind his brother’s lips. 

“I’m counting on it.”

//

Dante cannot help but sleep with one eye open. He does not know if he can trust his own twin, not after he’s pulled several world-ending catastrophes. He does not know if he can even trust his own twin to keep himself safe, not that he thinks Vergil is weak, but mostly because Vergil keeps jumping into self-castrating methods to escape his own pain and troubles. He wishes that the two of them can come together again and be one of mind like they were in Hell, but here on the topside, Dante keeps guessing and hopping over scattered eggshells on their floor. 

He thinks that Vergil is glad to be here with him, but he wonders if this is what Vergil wants. He wonders if Vergil is looking for a window to escape him, despite promising Nero that he would keep an eye on him. He wants to because for the first time in his life, there is something he actually wants to do that does not involve pulling his ear just to make him move. Despite it all, he wants to give Vergil a chance to prove himself. 

Dante lies awake on his bed. He would have been fine taking the couch downstairs, but Vergil had insisted on occupying the couch, wanting to keep watch. Not that they need it, but Dante lets him have it. He knows that his twin does not sleep all that much, and like him, no matter how much Vergil hides it, there is a restless energy accruing inside of him. He also knows for a fact that Vergil is not sleeping, because now that he is alive again, solid and breathing, he can feel Vergil’s power, accommodating him, molding with his own. 

He silently creeps out of his room, and peeks over the balcony. He finds Vergil lingering by his desk, staring at their mother’s portrait again. Dante watches his brother set the portrait down, and brush his fingers along the telephone’s neck. 

Vergil picks up the phone, hand lingering over the numbers, but Dante senses his palpable frown. 

Is he trying to call Nero? Dante wonders. 

Vergil hesitates, but then he starts to spin the dial. He puts the phone to his ear reluctantly, and Dante hears the faint ringing on the other end. 

“Devil May Cry, Fortuna branch, how can we help?” He hears Nero’s voice answer. 

“Hello, Nero,” Vergil greets. 

Dante strains to hear Nero’s reply, but in the silence that follows, he figures Nero did not give an answer. 

“I was wondering if I can tell you about one of the poems I liked from the book,” Vergil quietly suggests. He slowly leans on the desk. 

Nero still does not give an answer. 

“...Alright, I’ll leave you alone,” Vergil says. “I am sorry for the intrusion.” 

“Wait!” Nero calls. Dante hears a faint sigh. “Fine, fine, what is it?”

Dante may be hallucinating, but he sees a soft but faint smile on his brother’s face. Then, Vergil is speaking to Nero about a poem that mentions kids and something about a nurse’s song, and Dante leaves for his room, with a smile growing on his face. 

Perhaps, this can be a start for the estranged father and son. Maybe, in the future, this means frequent visits, normal family gatherings like picnics or dinners. 

Maybe. 

//

“You know anything about William Blake’s Nurse’s Song?” Nero asks on the phone. 

“Huh?” Dante pretends to not know anything, and instead replies with a drawn out voice. 

“Where is Vergil, anyway?” Nero asks, changing the topic. “You two better not be trying to kill each other again, or I swear, Dante.”

“He’s-” Dante glances around. Come to think of it, he has not seen Vergil since this morning. “Not here.”

“What?” Nero exclaims. “What do you mean?”

Dante gets a sinking feeling. Maybe, this is the day Vergil leaves without as much of a word, but a stubborn part of him gives Vergil the benefit of the doubt. 

“I haven’t seen him,” Dante replies vaguely, ignoring the storm of emotions that he has been trying to keep inside. He does not know if he can go through the ordeal of losing Vergil to his quest for power and fight him to the death again. 

“Dante, he’s-” 

A portal shimmers inside the Devil May Cry office, and Vergil walks in, a box of pizza in one hand, and on top of it, a bag of burgers and fries. 

Dante squints at the scene before him. “He’s here. Have a good day, kid.”

“Wait, Dante-!”

Dante quickly hangs up, and Vergil walks over to place his loot on his desk. 

“What’s this?” Dante asks, already reaching for the box of pizza underneath the burgers. 

“Breakfast,” Vergil replies simply. 

Dante glances at the bag of fastfood. “Vergil, this is an online order for another person.”

Vergil shrugs. Then he opens the pizza box, revealing Dante’s favorite combos like a bribe to keep quiet. 

“Where’d you get the money?” Dante raises an eyebrow. 

Vergil shrugs again, nonchalant. “Well, brother, we have no money.” 

Dante sighs. Of course, Vergil would probably not care about following human customs when it comes to acquiring goods. However, his relief supersedes the fact that Vergil is stealing things. Vergil came back, and that is all that matters. 

So he digs into his pizza, happy for the free food, and from the corner of his eye, Vergil takes a bite out of his burger, and for some reason, Vergil looks almost pleased with himself. 

//

The phone is ringing incessantly, and Dante is shaken out of his sleep. He wonders why Vergil is not picking it up, he is awake, and he is lingering by the desk again, sitting on its edges rather than the very empty chair pushed beneath it, staring at their mother’s picture. He notices that Vergil has never, not once, sat at the desk himself. 

“You sleep too much, brother,” Vergil comments lightly. “What have you even done all day?”

Dante stares at his twin, confused, and a little bit annoyed. “Are you going to get that?”

Vergil shoots him a withering glare and he picks up the phone. “Speak,” he commands sternly. 

Dante shoots up to his feet and makes a beeline for the phone. Vergil is going to chase away their earnings if he keeps this up. He snatches the phone from his brother. “Devil May Cry.” 

“Ah, Dante,” Morrison greets him, although he sounds very amused. “Just who I wanted to talk to.”

Dante turns away from Vergil. “What is it?” 

“Well, Dante, how would you like to do a job right about now?”

“Depends, I’m not taking anymore world-ending related jobs ever,” Dante replies tersely. He pins the phone down between his shoulder and ear, and he crosses his arms. “Not even for the right price.”

“Good news, it’s just another Tuesday for you,” Morrison quips. “How do you feel about going to an abandoned mall and killing a nest of spider demons?”

Dante sighs. “Really? Couldn’t the ladies snag this up?” 

“They’re on a holiday. On your tab. They reason it’s for cleaning up your mess when you left for hell.”

Dante resists the urge to groan. “Of course.” 

After getting more details from Morrison, Dante glances at his brother, whose face is twisted in hesitation. 

“What?” Dante inquires, a bit miffed. 

“I can take the job, if you want. You can keep sleeping.”

Dante stares at Vergil, baffled. 

Vergil shrugs, and Dante wonders if he should be more suspicious of this. 

They have a staring competition of some sorts, but finally, Dante relents. “No detours.”

Vergil gives him a strange look. “I can take care of myself.”

//

Dante has no idea why Vergil volunteered to do his job all alone, but he figures that he should give Vergil a chance to prove himself, and to give him his space. Besides, he is confident in his brother’s skills and powers, and will probably get the job done quickly and efficiently. He knows that pursuing and exterminating demons is at the bottom of Vergil’s priorities, but Dante wonders if Vergil is doing this to figure out how he can fit into this life. The past few days of their return has been an adjustment, with Vergil barely interacting with the outside world unless it is about calling Nero and telling him more about Blake’s poems, or creating portals with the Yamato to steal more things they need (which Dante does not know whether Vergil is doing this because he does not care or if he is enjoying it). 

Vergil also told him to go back to his sleep, but Dante is wide awake now, wishing that he is with his brother, hunting demons with him. 

He thinks about how he can make Vergil feel more at home, such as more sparring sessions, trying new foods or alcohol that his brother may like, or shopping for new clothes, not that he can afford it, but he figures Vergil is just going to use the Yamato again and call it a day. They’re both too old for clubbing, and he is sure Vergil will stab him if he takes him to the dingy bars he and the girls would frequent at times. 

Fighting is pretty much what they do best with each other. 

The phone rings, and Dante does not let it chime for long. He makes a grab for it, thinking it is Vergil, but it turns out to be Patty. 

“Dante!” Patty squeals over the phone. 

Dante sighs, but much to his chagrin, he cannot help but smile. He does not want to admit it to her, but he also missed Patty’s random calls and visits. “Hey, sweetheart.” 

“So I heard that you’re back and you didn’t even call me! I was worried!”

“Sorry, sorry-”

“Don’t make me come over there and start beating you with a broom-”

“Hey now-”

“And you didn’t attend my birthday party! Do you know how many times a girl turns eighteen?!”

“Patty-”

“Ugh! What are you going to do to make it up to me?”

Dante sighs, and he rubs his temples with his free hand. “A new dress?” He volunteers, wanting to appease her. 

“Can you even afford a new dress for me?” Patty complains. 

Dante smirks, wanting to chuckle out loud. Unbeknownst to her, he knows someone who can efficiently acquire whatever dress Patty wants. “Well, how about you do me a favor first, and then you tell me which dress you would like?”

“This is so like you.” Dante can hear Patty rolling her eyes. “What is it, then?”

“How would you make someone feel welcome at home?”

Patty gasped excitedly. “Did you get a girlfriend? Is she moving in?”

Dante groans. Of course, Patty is more interested in these types of things. “Forget I asked.”

“Well, I would decorate the place-”

“Not that,” Dante shudders, remembering all the bows and the pinkness of the Devil May Cry office back when Patty lived here shortly. 

“Ugh, you’re no fun! Fine! Buy them something they like, or a place where they can put their stuff in, just something personalized so they have belongings.”

Dante thinks about it. He looks around the office, realizing that Vergil does not own anything in here. He shares his space, but Vergil rarely touches anything, unless it’s to clean something up, to call Nero on the phone, or he needs somewhere to sit or lay down, which he has claimed one of the couches for. Vergil only has the clothes on his back, the Yamato, Dante, and Nero. 

Dante reels with a newfound hope and love for his brother. Maybe it will take a while for them to get to know each other all over again, and maybe it will take even more time for them to truly confide and be honest with each other, but what matters now is that they are here. Just as Vergil said before, but it never really occurred to Dante that his brother meant it.

“Dante?” Patty calls, and a huff of annoyance follows his name. “Are you even listening to me?” She demands.

“Alright, I’ll get you the dress, sweetheart.”

“You don’t even know what dress-”

Dante chuckles, and he hangs the phone back. He can worry about that another day. 

He grabs his coat, and ventures out towards the doors. 

//

Vergil is still not back when he returns, so he settles back on his desk, and he props his feet up and leans back. He tries not to worry about Vergil, but he knows that Vergil is not going to ask for his help, not unless it is a dire situation and he has no other options, like he has obviously demonstrated by splitting himself into V and Urizen. 

The thought of Vergil doing that again brings a headache to Dante, and while he finds it mildly amusing, he would prefer if Vergil just comes to him so that they can put their two heads together. 

Dante tries not to think about anything at all really, but the possibility of Vergil leaving again without so much of a word is starting to be real. 

He sighs, and glances at the surprise he has for Vergil when he returns. 

His eyes fall to his lower drawers, and he leans down to his side to pull it open. The bottle of bourbon stares at him like an inviting friend. He decides against it for now, so that he can save it for later for the real devastating news, and he shuts the drawer closed.

The hours tick by, and Dante is getting ready to march out of the office to look for Vergil, when the phone rings, and he wastes no time crossing the floors of the Devil May Cry office to reach for the receiver. 

“How was your first day?” Dante asks, as if he has not been worrying all day. He knows that this is Vergil from the moment he picks it up. He can just sense his twin’s slight irritation at having to speak over the phone. 

“Hm, well, expect Morrison to pay you.”

“That’s good news,” Dante states. 

“Yes, and well, this city has one less abandoned mall to worry about.”

“Ah, so we are not getting paid.” Dante wants to laugh, but he fears this may discourage Vergil from talking to him more. 

“Is that how it works?” Vergil intones, almost disinterestingly. However, Dante finds relief in his brother’s nasally voice. “Is it not abandoned?”

“It’s still property. The government and banks are weird about their properties.”

“That is the most foolish thing I have ever heard.”

“For once, I agree with you there, Verge.”

“I’m coming home,” Vergil states. 

“Good,” Dante replies, not really knowing how to express that his twin is always welcome here, and that he would rather have Vergil, cursed or not, split into his weakest form or tearing apart at the seams. Despite his doubts, Vergil mentioning that he is coming home of all things, is slowly erasing all his judgements towards his brother. “Pick up some pizzas for me while you’re out there.”

“Are you going to compensate me?”

“Are you for real right now?” Dante scoffs in disbelief. It’s not like Vergil uses currency at all nor uses any modes of transportation that require gas. And even if he did, Dante is not going to pay his brother for something that is going to benefit him too.

Vergil lets out a low breath that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, surprising Dante. “Extra olives, yes?”

“Now you’re just shitting me,” Dante wants to kick his brother’s ass back to hell. “Don’t even come back unless you have a decent pizza order in your hand.”

“Ah brother, you underestimate me.”

Dante falls silent. This is the most they bantered without a sword in between them. 

“Where did you even find a phone to call the office? And how do you know this number?”

“Again, you underestimate me, Dante. I am not an idiot.” 

Dante supposes that is true. “Yeah? Sometimes you really act like one.” 

He can hear Vergil bristling over the line, and Dante laughs this time. 

“I asked Nero, you fool. And I know how to use payphones, Dante, unlike you, I can be quite resourceful.”

“And the coins?” 

“They were just lying around.”

“Sure, Verge, sure.” 

Vergil hangs up, and Dante stands there for a couple more seconds, listening to the empty line beside his ear. 

Then, he returns the phone back to its place, and plops himself down to his desk. 

A moment later, Vergil returns with two boxes of fresh pizzas, and Dante thinks that he can get used to all of this. Vergil eats his share quietly, his coat off and the Yamato stowed at one of the free spaces on the wall, and Dante cannot get enough of the sight that his brother’s sword is hanging on his walls, along with his own weapons too. It feels like Vergil is beginning to feel at home. 

Speaking of things. 

“I got you something,” Dante starts vaguely, feeling a little nervous for some reason. He does not want his brother to reject him. 

Vergil looks up and catches his gaze. “What is it?” 

Dante walks over to Vergil’s designated couch, a hastily wrapped gift in his hand. “It’s not much, but I figured you should have your own things in this office too. It’s now your home, if that’s something you want.”

Dante waits for his brother’s response, because Vergil is electing to only stare at him with minute bewilderment. 

“And you know, you can also hang up Beowulf too, if you want.”

“Give it to me,” Vergil quietly says. 

Dante almost throws his gift to his brother so that he can run away from this situation quickly, but Vergil tears through the wrapping as fast as Dante spent time taping it up. 

“It really isn’t much.” 

“I like it,” Vergil interrupts. He stares at the blue ceramic mug in his hand, and Dante can see his brother’s forehead smooth out, and his narrow eyes rounding. 

His expression assuages Dante’s fears and doubts, and he begins to smile, even if it hurts his face slightly. He is out of practice, and his face muscles are protesting. He feels like he is grimacing instead. 

Dante shrugs. “What can I say? I’m a good gift giver.”

Vergil raises an eyebrow dubiously. “Which one of the women that hangs around you helped you with this?”

“Hey, I can be thoughtful!” Dante stands up and saunters back to his desk. “Besides, they will charge me if I ask for their advice. They’re already getting a free vacation on me.”

“I see why we do not have any money.”

“Shut up,” Dante grumbles. Since when is his brother this annoying? 

Vergil only smiles secretly, and Dante cannot help but smirk to himself. 

Vergil is staying, and Dante thinks he can sleep with both eyes closed tonight.

//

The telephone is ringing incessantly again, but Dante makes no effort to rise from the couch his brother had claimed. He opens his eyes slightly to glance at the desk, where Vergil is currently sitting at. He watches his brother hesitate, hand hovering over the receiver. 

Then, finally, his brother picks it up, and Dante closes his eyes. 

With much trepidation and through gritted teeth, he hears his brother say, “Devil May Cry.” 

It sounds a little awkward coming from him, but it is a pleasant improvement. 

Dante smiles to himself. This, he can definitely get used to.

End.