Chapter Text
Dante was flipping through the pages of the magazine in his hands, a slice of half eaten pizza in his mouth. His preferred method of winding down after a long day.
He had just gotten to the best part of the magazine, the part that never failed to make Vergil blush and impale Dante with Yamato for his vulgar reading content, when he heard a knock at the front door.
A quick glance at the nearby clock showed that it was just nearing midnight, far too late for him to be dealing with any last minute demon hunting gigs. He had a night filled with pizza, magazines, and beer ahead of him, and nothing was going to get in the way of that. Despite what Vergil and Lady claimed, he could afford to take a night off every once in a while.
He had hoped that the “we’re closed” sign on the front door would have made it obvious to come back tomorrow, when they were, you know, actually open. However, he has learned over the years that people don’t like to wait, or read signs that are right in front of them. Case in point when he heard the sound of someone turning the doorknob of the building’s front door. Hopefully whoever was there would now understand to come back later when the door didn’t op — and he totally forgot to lock the front door again.
Dante sighed, not really wanting to have to talk to anyone at the moment. Couldn’t a man have a calm night with his pizza and magazines? Was nothing sacred, anymore?
He was just getting ready to tell whoever it was to come back tomorrow when the door slowly swung open, followed by his nephew walking into the office.
“Nero!” The Devil Hunter exclaimed as he shot to his feet, his earlier frustration instantly forgotten. As he got up from his chair he made sure to drop his magazine on his desk and place the slice of pizza back in the box. In no life would he ever let any pizza fall onto the floor, that would be committing a crime of the highest order.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dante watched Vergil’s reaction. His brother, seated on the couch, straightened his body enough that the man could pass for a plank of wood. Other than that, his brother gave no outward sign of acknowledgement of his son. His eyes stayed glued to the book in his hands, refusing to even look in the direction of the door Nero had just walked through.
‘Idiot.’ Dante thought, internally chastising his brother. Wanting to leave that leave for another time, he turned his full attention to his nephew. Making his way from behind his desk, and going to meet Nero at the door, proceeding to immediately engulf the young Devil Hunter in a quick hug once he was within reach.
After pulling the kid into the hug, Dante felt the kid stiffen, similar to how Vergil reacted when he received unwanted physical touch. It also didn’t escape his notice that Nero let out a wince, a reaction Dante suspected was more subconscious than deliberate. Which was confirmed when he heard Nero cough, probably trying to mask the sound.
Dante pulled back from the hug, hoping to get a good look at his nephew, as he was curious as to why Nero winced. Well, he certainly got his answer alright.
From head to toe, Nero was covered in dust and debris. The amount of dust made his already pale complexion almost translucent. Scratches and dried blood marred his skin. Several parts of his jacket and pants were torn, the tears ranging from small to several inches long. And to top it all off, the remains of a shattered Devil Breaker were held in his hand. Honestly, if he had to describe it, he would say that the kid looked like a raging Goliath had decided to use him as a personal punching bag.
“Surprised to see you here.” Is what Dante said, despite actually wanting to ask what it was that had decided to treat his nephew like a pincushion. But he knew from experience that if he just straight up asked the kid would take it the wrong way and bite his head off. So it was best to let the kid speak the information of his own free will.
“Nico and I just finished a job nearby.”
“Where is she?” Dante asked, surprised at the absence of the smoking weaponsmith. Since the two ran their business out of Nico’s van, the two were with one another practically all the time. It was rare to see one without the other.
“She said, and I quote, ‘ain’t no way someone of my genius is going to stay in that smelly armpit’.” Nero said, in a terrifyingly accurate impression of Nico. All that was missing was a lit cigarette hanging from the mouth.
Dante raised an eyebrow in response.
Nero huffed. “She is pissed at me for breaking my reserve of Devil Breakers.”
“Ah.” ‘Sounds about right.’
Nero rolled his eyes. “Happens all the time. She will be fine once she cools her ass off.” Nero scoffed, though Dante could detect some fond exasperation lacing his voice.
‘Two peas in a pod’
“Anyways,” Nero began, crossing his arms, “cool if I crash here?” His words and voice suggested indifference, but his body language screamed of anxiety and worry. Like he was worried about what Dante’s answer might be.
‘Well that just won’t do’
“Of course! I could never say no to my favorite nephew!” Dante proudly exclaimed, gesturing with his hands for Nero to step further inside the building.
“I’m your only nephew.” Nero said, uncrossing his arms, his shoulders slumping in relief. “But thanks.” He said, stepping out of the doorway and into the office.
Dante closed the office door behind him, remembering to actually lock it this time. Now it was guaranteed that there would not be any surprise visitors for the rest of the night.
With the door closed, Dante’s nose was suddenly hit with a foul odor, the scent invading his nostrils and piercing his brain. Rotten eggs, sewage, feces, you name it. Every sour smell under the sun assaulted his senses. Each of the smells fought for dominance over the other, with his sense of smell becoming collateral damage in the process.
It didn’t take long for him to realize that the odor came from Nero. The putrid smell seemed to follow Nero as he walked, similar to how a bride's veil trailed after her when she walked down the aisle. Dante probably only now smelled it because the door was closed, the outside air no longer around to keep the stench at bay.
“Phooey, Nero.” Dante stated, trying to waft the smell away with his hands. “No offense kid, but you smell like a literal ass.”
“Oh yeah? I bet even you wouldn’t still smell like roses after dealing with a horde of Hell Antenora and some creepy bastard.”
“Creepy bastard?” The kid certainly hadn’t inherited his dad's way of speaking.
“Yeah, a real pain in my ass. The damn thing was invisible so I hadn’t seen it before it had attacked. Bastard ended up running off before I could finish it off.” A scowl appeared on Nero’s face, rotating his arm while recalling the memory.
“You fight them in the sewer or something?”
The way Nero’s face scrunched up in disgust told Dante all he needed to know. He also couldn’t help but let out a small snort, Nero’s facial expressions always managed to make him laugh.
“Yeah. The fight started above ground. But then those assholes caused the ground to collapse, which sent us all down into the sewers. That’s also where I ran into that creepy bastard. After I rest here I plan on going back out after it to finish it off. Don’t want it to cause more damage and hurt someone.”
“With how you’re smelling right now, not really surprised the thing ran away. It would probably keel over and die if it took a whiff of you.”
Nero glared at him. “Fuck you, it ain’t that bad.”
To prove his point, Nero held his jacket sleeve up to his face and took a good sniff. Instantly, he reeled his head back with a look of horror on his face.
“Oh god! That’s fucking rank!”
Not even bothering to stop or hide it, Dante broke out into voracious laughter. Having to hold onto his sides as laughter took over his entire body.
“You- haha- you just now noticed!?”
“Not my fault!” Nero exclaimed, clearly exasperated with his uncle. “Honestly, I hadn’t even noticed the smell. Probably due to how pissed I was.”
“Must have been pretty pissed not to notice that stench.”
Nero grimaced. “Maybe that’s why Nico was crankier than usual.” He softly muttered under his breath.
Dante certainly couldn’t blame her if that was the case. It was probably the worst thing he has smelled in his entire life. And given everything he had seen and done over the years, that was saying something.
“Anyway, is it cool if I take a shower?” Nero asked, gesturing towards Dante’s bathrooms with his thumb.
“As long as you don’t use all the hot water.”
“As if you could afford hot water.” Quipped Nero.
Instead of a verbal response, Dante pulled Nero into a playful headlock, giving the kid a proper Sparda family noggie. Foul smell be damned. He would not take such lip, even from his own nephew.
“Want to say that again, runt?”
Nero tried to escape the hold, flailing his arms about all willy-nilly while trying to smack Dante, but was unable to. His arms barely looked like they had any strength to them, flopping around like wet pool noodles. Dante took instant notice of this, as not once has Nero ever had trouble escaping one of his headlocks before. In fact, it had become a thousand times easier for the kid to escape them after he had finally unlocked his true Devil Trigger.
‘The fight must have really done a number on him’
“Alright, alright, I yield.” Nero relented. Dante released him from the hold, but still made sure to keep a careful eye on him.
After a quick trip upstairs, Dante handed Nero a set of clean clothes for him to change into. Keeping quiet on the fact that the clean clothes belonged to Vergil, as he had no doubt that Nero would refuse the clothes if he knew who they truly belonged to. But, Vergil was the only one with any clean clothes, so a little white lie didn’t hurt anybody. Usually.
“Thanks.” Nero said, accepting the clothes from Dante. Where, clothes in hand, he made his way towards the shower on the office’s first floor.
Dante watched as Nero stopped by the doorway that exited the main area, glancing back towards where Vergil was seated on the couch. THe man, despite Dante’s internal pleading, had still yet to do anything since Nero had stepped inside the building.
Dante didn’t need to be a psychic to know what Nero was thinking, it was written all over the kid’s face. He was waiting to see if Vergil would say anything to him, waiting to see if he would acknowledge his son in any way.
When it became clear that Vergil wasn’t going to say or do anything, Nero huffed, mumbling something that not even Dante’s devil hearing could pick up, and walked away.
“Stupid.” Nero muttered to himself, banging a fist against the shower wall.
What did he think was going to happen? That Vergil would look up and say “Welcome back son. How was the job? How are you? Do you want to talk about how you have been, or anything about yourself?” Utterly ridiculous.
‘Why would he say anything to me? He wants nothing to do with me.’
Vergil had made his feelings towards Nero quite clear, having hardly said two words to Nero since he and Dante had returned from the Underworld. The only time he has said anything to Nero has been to give orders during a job, or tell Nero that his stance was wrong or that his fighting style lacked finesse. Not once has Vergil ever asked Nero how he is, or asked who he is. Has never shown any interest in trying to get to know Nero. Not that Nero ever really expected him to.
At least he didn’t have to worry about those kinds of things with Dante. Because unlike his brother, Dante actually liked to have Nero around, and seemed to enjoy hanging out with him.
At least Dante would care if anything happened to him, the man’s reaction when Nero had walked into the office was proof of this. But there had been no reaction from Vergil at all, not even a glance in his fucking direction. The thought that he might succumb to injury, or worse, and Vergil, his own Father, wouldn’t even care….?
Against his will, he felt tears start to run down his face. “Fuck. Why the hell should I care what that bastard thinks?” Nero pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes, trying , and failing, to stop the tears from flowing.
“Damnit.” ‘That fight must have really worn me out if I’m crying like this.’
He hadn’t lied when he had told Dante that the job had been utter shit. There were more Hell Antenora than had been originally stated in the job posting. Nothing he couldn’t handle of course, but it had still been a pain in the ass. He remembered dodging out of the way of a Hell Antenora’s swing, the demon’s blade cracking the road they had been standing on, resulting in the ground giving way and causing him and all the other demons to fall down into the sewers. From that point on, the job had gone from annoying to utter shit. No pun intended.
Then that creepy bastard that he had told Dante about had shown up out of nowhere and jabbed him in the abdomen. He remembered the sharp pain of something impaling him, and an intense burning sensation following it. But thankfully the burning had only lasted for a few seconds before going away.
From the second he had left the sewer, Nero had felt extremely exhausted. The second he had sat down in the van for Nico to drive him to the office, it had felt like his strength and energy were leaving him, like they were being leeched. By the time he had stepped foot inside the office he had been teetering on the edge, like he was one stop from dropping to the floor and passing out right then and there. Every action, large or small, seemed to drain a bit more out of him, to the point where he felt he was running on fumes. Hell, it had gotten so bad that he had stepped into the shower with his clothes still on! He knew he should take them off so he could properly wash himself, but he just didn’t have the energy for it. The less time he stood standing the better.
Rubbing the bar of soap over the pieces of skin not covered by clothing Nero hissed, the movement of his arm causing a sharp pulling sensation in his lower abdomen.
“Damn.”
Before asking to use the shower, he had contemplated asking Dante if he could borrow the first aid kit. Normally he wouldn’t have bothered, since his demonic healing usually took care of most of his wounds. But there was something, an itch in the back of his skull that wouldn’t go away, that told him that something about this wound was different, different from all the other wounds he has received over the years fighting demons. Call it demonic senses or his own intuition, but something about it felt …off. Like his own body was telling him to pay attention. Which he had planned on listening to.
But one look at Vergil sitting there on the couch had dashed that particular plan right out the window.
The last thing he had wanted was to bring the issue up to Dante and have Vergil overhear it. Who knows what would have happened if he had? Would it have led to Vergil making a smart ass comment about Nero not knowing how to take care of himself in battle, or how Nero lacked true battle prowess? Or worst of all… would it have led to Vergil not saying anything at all?
The idea that he could bring up the fact that he might have gotten hurt on the job and his father wouldn’t even bat an eyelid, wouldn’t even bother to check in on Nero or ask if he was alright…. let’s just say that he would rather be stabbed by that creepy bastard again than to experience that.
Besides, he no longer felt any pain in that area anyway. That sharp pulling sensation aside. The only true thing that was bothering him was that his whole body ached and that he was exhausted. So what if he hadn’t checked on the wound since the incident? There was absolutely no point in getting worked up over it and making a big deal out of nothing,
He was saved from this train of thought when he felt the water in the shower go from lukewarm, to skin numbingly cold.
“Fuck that’s cold!” Nero jumped. If anyone out in the living room claimed to have heard a yelp come from the bathroom, he would deny it until the day he died.
“Damnit Dante. It hasn’t even been five minutes.”
Feeling more awake, Nero used what was within hand's reach and quickly cleaned himself off. Since he was still wearing his clothes, he mostly focused on trying his best to scrub the dirt, blood, and grime off his face, neck, and bare arms as best he could.
When he felt that he had done a decent enough job, he turned off the shower. He probably could have spent more time trying to clean himself off, but he refused to continue to freeze his ass off just because his uncle didn’t know how to pay a fucking utility bill.
Hopping out of the shower, he began to peel off his now soaked clothes, similar to slowly pulling off a band-aid. When the lights in the bathroom began to flicker he paused. The lights continued to flickered for a few more seconds before completely shutting off.
Out in the main area he could hear Dante groan.
Used to having to get dressed in the dark when he didn’t want to wake up Kyrie or the kids in the early mornings, Nero dropped his damp clothes on the floor. Then, after a quick pat down with the towel, threw on the clothes Dante had given him.
‘Still surprised that Dante actually had clean clothes. Didn’t think the man knew how to do laundry.’ But clean clothes were clean clothes, so he wasn’t going to complain.
During the whole process of putting on the clean clothes, Nero once again felt that pulling sensation in his abdomen, right around where that creepy bastard had gotten him. Once again, he felt that itch at the back of his skull, his senses screaming at him to check on it. Though not wise, he ignored it. He would check on it in the morning after he got some sleep.
Right when he finished putting on the dry shirt, he heard the sound of something being wacked out in the main area. A second later, the lights in the bathroom flickered back on. Through the walls he could hear Dante’s exuberant yell.
Nero chuckled at his uncle’s antics, as picking his wet clothes off the floor, placing them on the ledge of the shower tub for them to dry.
Clothes on, he reached out to open the bathroom door, only to find himself hesitating, his hand hovering just over the doorknob.
The last thing he wanted was to have to deal with Vergil. Or rather, he didn’t want to have to deal with Vergil not giving a damn about his own son who was in the same building as him. But there was also a part of him that did want to deal with the man, to sit down and have an actual conversation with his father. One that didn’t involve fighting and yelling. If such a thing was even possible.
‘Why do I even bother?’ He knew damn well why he did, but he just couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge it.
All at once, Nero felt the boost of energy he had been given by the initial shock of the cold water wear off. Exhaustion seeped into his core, his muscles and joints practically begging him for some relief. All he really wanted to do now was to go lie down and let sleep take him over so he could forget all about the last twenty-four hours. He could worry about everything in the morning.
Knowing he couldn’t put it off any longer, Nero let out a sigh. “Let’s get this over with.”
Dante looked up from his magazine for the second time that night when he noticed Nero walk into the room.
He wore the black sweat pants and blue shirt that Dante had given him. Since they were Vergil’s clothes, they hung a bit loose on Nero, though not to the point of completely dwarfing him. His hair was wet and slicked back, reminiscent of a stoic swordsman they both knew.
“What?” Nero asked, crossing his arms and scowling in Dante’s direction.
“Just noticing how much you look like your old man.” Which was true. With the clothes and hairstyle, the kid looked like a miniature version of his father. He just hoped the comment wouldn’t tip off that Dante had given him Vergil’s clothes to wear.
“Oh.” Nero said, looking slightly wide eyed. A mix of pained shock and uncertain joy washed over his face.
Dante hated how such a simple phrase could bring out such a reaction in his nephew. Maybe if his idiot brother actually talked to his son, they wouldn’t be in this mess.
Speaking of his brother, he saw the way Nero quickly got over his shock and began to look around the room. His eyes roamed the area as he clearly searched for Vergil, a frown appearing on his face when he didn’t find who was searching for.
“Where is he?” Nero asked, his eyes staying plastered to the couch where Vergil had been sitting earlier.
“He went upstairs to his room.”
“Of course he fucking did.” Nero bit out, his frown deepening.
Dante couldn't help but laugh. “Keep frowning and you will gain your Dad’s permanent scowl.”
He expected a snarky comeback, a “shut up you damn bastard”, or a punch to the face. Responses the kid tended to resort to when the two Sparda brothers were pissing him off. Which tended to happen pretty frequently. Moments between the three of them never stayed peaceful for very long. So he found himself surprised when there was no reaction from Nero at all. No biting remake, no threat of a smackdown, nothing. Almost as if the kid simply lacked the energy.
He opened his mouth to say something when Nero beat him to it. “Whatever.” With that, Nero made his way over to the couch, grabbing a nearby blanket and getting onto the couch.
“What are you doing?” Dante asked.
Nero raised an eyebrow. “Going to sleep?”
Not letting go of the magazine in his hand, Dante gestured upstairs. “Go sleep in my room.”
“Really?”
“Wouldn’t be a good Uncle if I let you sleep on the couch. Not to mention Lady and Trish would kill me if I did.”
Nero’s shoulders relaxed, as if some form of tension had just been released. It was the most relaxed that Dante had seen him be since he had first shown up.
“Thanks.”
Dante waved off the comment with his pizza filled hand. “Yeah, yeah. Go on ahead before I change my mind.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Nero rose slowly from the couch and made his way towards the stairs. When he reached the stairs, Dante watched Nero have to use the railing to make his way up, taking all of his effort and energy just to put one foot in front of the other.
Nero came to a stop about halfway up the stairs, leaning against the railing, his breathing coming out in labored puffs. At the sight, Dante felt his concern grow even more.
“You okay kid?”
Nero waved him off, turning his head to face him. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just need to get some sl-” Dante watched in horror as Nero's rolled back into his head, arms dropping from their place at the railing. The boy's body began to tilt, swaying back and forth, before falling backwards down the stairs.