Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nero awoke to Dante’s smooth and inexplicably seductive voice in his ear. “Baby….we’re here.” His voice was slightly unenthused, as if a part of him wanted nothing more than for Nero to stay exactly as he was. He felt the man’s tired head lazily nestled in his hair. If not for Kyrie he may never have moved. 

But as soon as he felt her gently stirring his eyes shot open and he carried her mostly lifeless body on his back. It was so easy to carry her now. 

He instinctually reached to grab his bag of clothes, and Red Queen from the floor beside him. “Kid, you’re carrying a whole ass lady. I can take care of your luggage.” 

After a brief pause Nero surrendered the bag and his weapon to Dante. But just because it was brief didn’t mean Dante didn’t notice it. He saw the way his nephew instantly relied on himself and only himself at any given opportunity. Gave him half a mind to march right back to Fortuna and beat whoever instilled that behavior into his baby until they looked like a train disaster.

Nero’s jaw was on the floor as they departed the ferry. He’d never seen anything like the big city. It was kind of disgusting but in a charming sort of way. This was real. Unlike Fortuna’s faux perfection that was propped up on the backs of suffering citizens, this place didn’t hide its flaws. Which to Nero was an instant improvement. Trash littered the streets, vagrants on every corner, and there was just about nothing about it that looked good. But that was sort of perfect in its own way. 

Nero just sort of mindlessly followed Dante, and the cat just followed Nero. “Well, there’s a hospital not far from here, probably where I would go if I wasn’t so-“ he gestured to his entire body “Demonic? Obnoxious? Lecherous?” Nero chimed in. “I was gonna say perfect.” Dante deadpanned. 

After several at least 10 too long seconds of Nero trying to think of a response, he sweetly responded in a too quiet tone “That too” 

Dante’s heart nearly melted at the pretty young thing’s little amateurish attempt at flirting. He would’ve hugged and kissed and praised him to high heaven if not for the girl that was on both Nero’s back and death’s doorstep. 

“Cute” he muttered under his breath. He only said it because it felt like if he didn’t say anything his heart would beat out of his chest.

He wondered for a second if Nero heard him, but when he turned around to see him bright red and bashful, he came to a pretty clear conclusion. The way he was so embarrassed and yet his eyes could only fixate on Dante. Watching every movement like an exceedingly obsessive hawk. It filled Dante with a pride he hadn’t really earned. 

The hospital towered over most any building Nero had seen on Fortuna. It must’ve had at least 20 floors. It had a sleek modern-esque design that was nowhere to be seen on Fortuna. Buildings there were nearly all concrete and stone, but this hospital seemed to be mostly made up of steel, at least from the outside. 

He was practically hiding behind Dante as they walked in. But he swore the front desk worker rolled her eyes the moment Dante walked in. 

The whole admittance process was a blur. Nero didn’t understand a word of it, he just stood and carried Kyrie until the hospital staff transferred her to a room. Thank god Dante knew what to do. 

“So…is she gonna be okay?” For the first time in forever Nero didn’t totally resign himself to the worst case scenario.

Dante gave him an unreadable expression, it seemed equal parts hopeless and hopeful. “She’s gonna be unconscious for a while, but she’ll most likely recover eventually.” Dante smirked a little “you’re lucky they owed me a favor, otherwise you might’ve been shit outta luck.” 

“Th-Thank you…Dante” the shaky, apologetic tone Nero gave him made Dante immediately regret saying anything.

“Hey, Hey, don’t even think about it. This is a happy day, don’t sound so down, baby. You’re free, she’s free, and you’re both gonna be okay.” Dante laid a hand on his thigh and rubbed gentle circles onto his skin in an attempt to console him.

“Do you wanna go to your new home, or do you wanna stay with her for a bit longer?” Dante meant it as a genuine question but Nero read it as something else. The touching, the soft tone, the offer to go back to his place? They were all telltale signs he’d learned in the choir. 

“We can go back to your place…”

Dante kissed his cheek and stood up “If that’s what you wanna do. C’mon baby.” Nero wordlessly followed, visibly anxious. Dante assumed he was just nervous about moving in. He couldn’t think of another reason for him to look so frightened. 

Dante opted for walking home, so Nero could get a better understanding of the area when he inevitably went out alone every once in a while. Nero was a full grown adult and still Dante didn’t want him to ever be unguarded. The kid could defend himself, but that barely comforted him. 

The stray kitten rejoined them as they walked. Exploring around a little along the way. “Smart cat.” Dante said, looking lovingly at the precious little snowball. Nero didn’t look up from the sidewalk that his eyes had been glued to since the moment they left the hospital. 

“Here we are! Home sweet home!” Dante played up the friendliness to try and put Nero at ease. It didn’t work. Nero just marched inside, barely acknowledging the gaudy neon lights that read “Devil Never Cry”. He knew a Devil could cry, he had lived experience. The name annoyed him more than it really should have. It felt patronizing—As if a neon sign was capable of patronizing him. 

He stood awkwardly next to the couch. “Make yourself at home, I’m gonna finally take a shower.” Dante’s tone was still trying to be infectiously upbeat 

Nero mumbled an “okay” as Dante walked up the stairs. Closing the bathroom door behind him. Dante was honestly shocked there was any hot water for a shower.

The cat lingered on the doorstep, afraid of going inside. As if it hadn’t just followed them across an ocean. 

Nero slowly climbed the stairs, trying to find Dante’s bedroom. Quickly discovering it was the door on the far left of the stairs. It was an absolute mess, beer bottles filled with stale alcohol littered every surface, dirty clothes covered the floor, there were dirty dishes and grease stained pizza boxes anywhere they would fit. 

Nero decided to at least clean the room before Dante got out of the shower. He gathered the dishes into small piles he’d probably have to carry downstairs himself after they were done, and gathered the empty boxes and bottles to throw away immediately, because they were fucking disgusting. 

The clothes were gathered into a pile after Nero realized the horrifying truth that Dante didn’t own a hamper. Cleaning cleared his mind a little. He’d just need to get this over with and maybe, just maybe, Dante would be all loving again when it was over. 

He stripped at a torturous pace, sitting on the bed in a nervous panic. If this was what Dante wanted, he’d do it, without a second thought. He saved Nero’s life, freed him from Fortuna, and offered him a home. This was the least of what he owed him.

He left skin-deep cuts on his thigh with his human nails, they healed back immediately but he just reopened them every time. Only stopping when he heard the shower stop. He hoped they’d heal back before Dante could see them. Fortunately or unfortunately, they healed nicely in less than a second. 

Dante’s footsteps sounded like the four horsemen’s approach. He knew it was coming and he knew he wanted to run but he also knew that if he did, Dante would abandon him and Kyrie. 

And what was just one night of pain if it meant his sister got the care she needed?

He knew it wasn’t just one night. It was never just one night. 

It took too long and not long enough for Dante to reach the door. Just long enough for Nero to torture and chastise himself for letting this happen, and then chastise himself again in reverse for being so entitled as to think that sex was too high a price for literally saving his life. 

But on the other he still hated knowing this was the cost of his freedom. He was still the same kid from choir, just under new management. Better management, he supposed. 

The way Dante’s footsteps made the floorboards creak with nearly every step made it oh so very clear just how close he was. Just how long Nero had before he needed to be gone. Dissociation was something he could nearly do on command but why now of all times was it failing him??

Dante’s wolf whistle as he swung open the door nearly brought Nero to an early grave. Before Nero could even say a word Dante had him on his back with his wrists above his head. 

Nero knew what had to happen. He just focused his entire attention on the window and hoped eventually he’d be fine. He felt lips ghosting over his throat and heard Dante muttering something but it was all a blur to him. 

Eventually it would end. He just needed to be patient. Like a good little songstress. 

Chapter Text

Dante sped into the bathroom, the second the door was closed he tore into the cabinet beneath the sink at an unheard of speed, tearing away a false partition hiding a safe. Opening it was practically muscle memory at this point. 

He left all the records he had stolen inside. And there they sat alongside anything else he had left of his other long lost family members. Which was almost nothing, just a few pictures that survived the fire and anything Vergil had left him. He tied the Yamato’s silk–which he had grabbed from Nero’s pocket while he’d been sleeping on him–around the hilt in his best attempt at a bow. He gathered the Yamato’s pieces together for what he hoped and assumed would be the last time, pressed a kiss to its blade, then stored them all away. 

He replaced the partition after telling himself repeatedly that it was hidden in case of a break in. He wasn’t hiding it from Nero. He was going to tell him….just….just not yet. There would be a better time. He didn’t want to overload the poor kid, he’d just gotten there. He knew he was waist deep in his own denial but didn’t let that stop him.

He stepped into the shower tiredly. The cold porcelain feeling almost invitingly warm after the week he’d had. The memory of everything that happened hung heavily in his mind as warm water washed away the scum that covered him. He couldn’t help but worry. Maybe leaving Nero alone in his house literally the second they got home was a bad idea…a thought he wished he’d had before getting in the shower. 

He finished up as quickly as he could, making what should’ve been a relaxing shower after a week of disgusting circumstances into a stressful rush, trying to finish as soon as possible so he could look after his baby boy again. 

He heard Nero going up and down the stairs a few times, which reassured him, though only slightly. Nero was at least exploring his new home. 

Dante realized the way he was talking and thinking about Nero uncomfortably mirrored adopting an abused dog. Nero deserved better than that. Nero deserved the world.

Dante turned the shower off and barely took time to dry, he wrapped a towel around his waist and walked to his bedroom to get dressed, so he could help Nero feel more accustomed to his new home. He was still dripping wet.

The moment he opened the door he whistled at the sight before him. Nero’s beautifully nude body, skin the color of pearls in the few places he wasn’t clearly blushing. Right knee tucked up to his face as the left hung off the edge of the bed. 

He tried to control himself; he swore to god he tried. Maybe in a more sober moment he would’ve noticed the only scar on Nero’s entire body. But Dante had anything but a clear mind when what was practically a clone of Vergil was naked on his bed. 

His right arm immediately pinned both of Vergil’s arms above his head, using the other hand to leave teasing touches over Vergil’s nipples. The look in Vergil’s eyes, the way he looked to the corner of the room in what Dante assumed was an attempt to hide his embarrassment was too cute for Dante to handle. 

Vergil’s little noises he’d let out as Dante penetrated him drove Dante crazy. To see his beloved brother again after all these years? It was a dream come true. Vergil was so adorable, submissive, and warm in a way that was just so irresistible to Dante.

But Vergil? Vergil was never any of those things. Vergil was a dominant, cold, handsome man. Vergil didn’t have a submissive bone in his entire perfect body. But even a faulty imitation was more than acceptable to Dante’s desperation-riddled mind. 

Then Vergil tried to….push him off? After 10 years of absence when he finally gets a taste of his beloved again he’s trying to reject it? Dante triggered his arms for only a second before coming to his senses. 

The moment he was lucid again he noticed the tears and the tears. Nero was crying uncontrollably as blood flowed from wounds Dante had inflicted. A puncture wound on his shoulder from his demonic claws growing and tears in his cunt from Dante’s recklessness. 

Dante wanted nothing more than to die in that moment. After Nero had trusted him enough to leave his entire life behind, Dante had viciously maimed him without so much as a second thought. 

Dante didn’t even get a word out before Nero timidly apologized. “I’m sorry….I-I can take it. I…I just panicked, I’m sorry.” Nero’s eyes were swollen from crying and his hands were shaking with visceral intensity. He’d been drooling due to his desperate attempts to breathe through his mouth, Dante could watch the panicked way Nero’s chest rose and fell from his sporadic breathing.

He hadn’t even pulled out. But the second he did Nero let out a cry of abject suffering. His movement clearly agitated the newly inflicted wounds. The wounds Dante had put on him. The wounds Dante would never forget inflicting. 

Only then did he finally notice the scar, and what Nero had so brutally lost. 

He didn’t even say a word as his demon’s caretaking instincts took over. He pulled Nero onto his lap and opened a wound on his wrist so Nero could drink. He needed to help him now or he’d never get the chance. 

Any normal demon, or even half demon, would’ve instantly known to drink. Nero hesitated. He let both his hands sink claws into his own thighs. Which was mostly harmless—for the left thigh, but his right was instantly torn open. Nero winced in pain but only dug deeper. Nero was human. Too human. A familiar insecurity caught in Dante’s throat, it felt like dry swallowing a mace. 

“Baby.” Dante’s voice was so small, only a whisper in a torrent of emotions, but it pulled Nero from his trance.

“Oh…I’m sorry…” he drank from Dante’s flowing wound, dutifully sucking at the opened flesh. For the first time since they’d left the ferry, Dante saw an ounce of contentment in his dear nephew’s expression. 

But only an ounce. The boy was still shaking like a lamb and cold tears still fell to Dante’s wrist. Dante pressed a kiss to Nero’s throat, gentle and loving. Trying to convince his baby boy that Dante wasn’t the monster he’d just proven himself to be. 

“Are you okay?” Dante’s words were so filled with warmth. A warmth Nero had needed his entire life and yet the second he got it….this happened.

“I’m fine….thanks….thanks for the blood” Nero’s voice was weak, like he was trying to talk whilst actively suffocating.

Dante spun Nero around, licking away his salty tears and leaving small kisses on his cheeks. “I’m sorry, baby.” Nero hugged him the moment the words came out

“don’t be sorry, please don’t be sorry.” Nero’s words had a disproportionate amount of panic behind them. 

Nero buried his face in the crook of Dante’s neck. He knew the nightmare would resume but he’d be stronger this time. He’d been through worse. He could survive this, no problem. 

“What do you wanna do?” Dante tried to console him, to return the control he’d stolen from Nero.

“Whatever you want to do.” Was all Nero responded with. He couldn’t risk telling him the truth; that what he wanted to do more than anything was run away and hide behind a thousand locked doors. 

“Then….then let’s clean you up.” The way Nero hesitated to trust Dante to carry him was heartbreaking. The little tiny moment of his self preservation telling him to not trust somebody who had just hurt him so much was anything but unjustified, but it still made guilt settle painfully in Dante’s gut. 

But eventually Nero did climb into Dante’s loving arms, holding him in a vice-like grip and praying he won’t be left behind for his insubordination. He couldn’t survive here on his own, and Kyrie definitely couldn’t. 

Thankfully Nero had mostly healed, so Dante could lay him in the bath tub without any complications. He turned the water on, a soothing warmth that should hopefully help Nero relax. Nero gathered his knees to his face the moment he wasn’t being held. Dante knew this was all his fault. Nero shouldn’t want anything to do with him after this. After Nero finally showed vulnerability to the one person left he thought he could trust….he was cruelly violated for daring to misplace his faith. 

“Are…are you gonna kick me out?” Nero knew it was presumptuous and entitled of him to even ask. He regretted the words the moment they were out of his mouth. It made Dante briefly pause in confusion before he pulled Nero into a full body hug. 

“No baby, I’d never do that to you.” 

Nero didn’t lean into his warmth. He knew not to take what he hadn’t earned.

Dante didn’t know what to say. There was a thousand things he wanted to say. But none of them felt right. “I’m sorry for stopping you” Nero muttered, his words muffled by the way his mouth was pressed to his knee. That was the third time he’d apologized for that. 

It made Dante sick. 

“I just- I swear I’ll be better for you next time. Just please don’t abandon me.” Nero’s words felt like barbed wire pulled taut around Dante’s heart

“shhh, I already told you I’m not gonna leave you.” Nero still didn’t fully believe that. He couldn’t fully believe that. 

“When…when are we gonna do it again?” Nero spoke with the utmost certainty that this would happen again and god did that hurt.

“It doesn’t have to happen again. This wouldn’t have happened at all if you weren’t naked on my bed.” Dante hated the way that came out, like it was somehow Nero’s fault that Dante abused him. “We’ll only do what you want to.”

“I don’t want to do…anything like that…is- is that okay?” Nero hated how hope bled into his voice. His words were a blatant cry for help that he was certain wouldn’t be answered.

“We don’t have to do anything, baby. I’m sorry that I ruined your attempt.” Dante just kept calling him “Baby” as if that would make this all go away. As if an overly cutesy pet name could trick Nero into forgetting what he’d done.

“Why…why did you have me do all that? If you didn’t care if I slept with you or not?” Nero seemed to somehow impossibly shrink himself further. Trying to appear as helpless and small as possible so Dante wouldn’t be upset with him. 

“What do you mean ‘have you do all that’ …?”

Nero stifled a hopeless laugh. “Why did you tell me to come home with you? Why did you tell me to ‘make myself at home’? Why did you grab my thigh and make me choose between staying with Kyrie or leaving with you? Why did you immediately go to the shower?” Nero described this as if it was somehow immediately obvious that Dante was going to make Nero have sex with him. 

“Baby, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” Nero blushed a bright red at that. He felt so embarrassed and pathetic.

“So you don’t want to have sex with me?” Nero’s timid words were juxtaposed against Dante letting out an involuntary laugh.

“No, of course I want to have sex with you. Like really bad. You’re adorable, but I also don’t want to hurt you.” He kissed Nero’s forehead “But if the day comes you want to do something, or you have any ideas. Shoot, I’ll be sure to score.” 

Nero let out an actual chuckle at that. Dante’s shitty wordplay had actually made somebody laugh for the first time since….ever. Maybe it was the warm water or the juxtaposition or just how awful Nero had felt, there was no way Dante was actually funny. 

Nero finally returned the hug, then pulled on Dante’s body in an attempt to get him into the bath with him. Dante complied without a word. He settled his back against the cold edge of the tub with Nero’s tired head resting on his chest. One hand wrapped around his shoulder and the other petting his fluffy hair. There was a certain reverence to his affection, he knew Nero was better than him and he knew Nero shouldn’t be so accepting of him and he knew he couldn’t let go and he knew this couldn’t last.

But more than anything he knew he didn’t deserve this. 

Chapter Text

Nero was in Dante’s bed when he woke up. Wrapped in a blanket that hid his nudity, with calloused hands holding him in place like a human bear trap. He didn’t even bother trying to move, he just snuggled against Dante’s bicep and waited for him to wake up. 

Sleep hung heavily on Nero’s entire body, he was almost asleep again when Dante pressed a kiss into his hair, squeezing him a little tighter as he blushed from the (Not-So) sudden affection. 

“Morning, Verge“ his words were slurred and quieted by sleep, it took Nero trying to wriggle out of his grasp for him to realize what he’d said “-in. Morning Virgin” truly a master at improvising. 

Only a deaf person wouldn’t realize how much that not only didn’t make sense but also had an extremely suspicious pause. Nero was considering saying something, but he wasn’t one to rock the boat. If Dante didn’t want a problem, Nero didn’t have one.   

Nero looked around the bedroom, the sheets were replaced but other than that it was the same as before. Nero didn’t want to nag the man but he also didn’t want to be the only one doing any cleaning. He tried to escape Dante’s grasp; rather than just asking him to let go. 

Dante could take a hint though, he released the poor boy and immediately Nero got to work. After clothing himself in too-small jeans and a plain black tee shirt, he grabbed the 2 stacks of dishes he’d made the night before and walked them down to the sink. Luckily the kitchen was visible from the front door or he wouldn’t have known where to take them.

Predictably—considering he was walking down stairs with two comedically tall stacks of dishes— he dropped one, a ramekin that was sitting on the very top. Luckily the rest were spared and reached the already full sink intact.

He hurried to pick up the shattered pieces of the ramekin he’d dropped, if he was fast enough maybe Dante wouldn’t need to know. 

“Baaaaaaaabbbe? You okay?”  His voice echoed off the walls, his tone was casual but it terrified Nero. He was caught red handed. 

“Yeah! Sorry! I just dropped something!” Nero’s voice was panicked and there was barely an attempt to conceal it. 

“It’s fine, I'll clean it up.” Dante said as he appeared at the top of the stairs. Now “dressed” in sweatpants and nothing else. Nero almost wanted to laugh at the idea of Dante cleaning anything. He clearly hadn’t heard of the concept. 

Nero already had half the pieces in his hands when Dante said that, so he figured he’d just finish cleaning up. “I don’t mind, I’m the one who dropped it. It’s my job.” Dante raised an eyebrow at that

“And whose job were the dishes that I left in my room after I ate off of them?” Nero felt a little embarrassed but didn’t stop picking up the shards. 

“Mine?” The response had a hint of sass, he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which slightly warmed Dante’s heart. Nero felt safe enough to at least have a little bit of the attitude he’d loved so much. But that needed to be used for something better than an excuse for slaving away doing the cleaning Dante was too pathetic to do himself. 

Dante raised his hands in mock surrender, trying to ignore the demon half screaming at him that Nero might get cut trying to clean up. Because a tiny self inflicted cut was so much more of a worry than outright stabbing him. At least, according to his demon. 

“Thanks for cleaning up. Really ‘ppreciate ya” Dante gave him a flirty wink, luckily Nero found it charming rather than desperate. He kinda blushed a little, unable to hide his face behind his hands as they were full of porcelain shards. 

Nero nearly tripped at the sudden fluffy warmth in front of his leg. 

Dante chuckled a little at his stumble “Okay, maybe she’s not the smartest cat in the world. But at least she’s friendly.” Nero tried to make it to the trash can without tripping over her. 

“She’s friendly because she needs food.” Dante’s eyes lit up at Nero’s words in a way that told him whatever came out of Dante’s mouth next was gonna be an awful idea. 

Dante sauntered over to his desk and picked up the ancient rotary phone. Luckily for him, Nero didn’t know just how outdated owning a damn rotary phone was. He heard bits and pieces of mumbles about “the usual” but nothing he could confidently use to assume who he was calling. 

After about 4 minutes Dante hung up the phone, then marched back to Nero and leaned on the boy’s back, draping his arms over adorably tiny shoulders. He said “food’s on its way” between loving, reverent kisses to Nero’s small throat

“Food for us or food for her?” 

Dante’s silence did not inspire confidence. But the way he grasped Nero tightly, like he was a lifeboat in a frigid ocean or a rappel on a cliff face, did inspire a very different kind of confidence. Like Dante was his one man cult who would never ever stop believing. He felt silly just thinking that, but just because he knew this was all kinda stupid, it didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it for now, right? 

“Can we at least try to feed her? Do you not have any pet-shops in this city?” 

Dante let out a weary sigh, as if he’d just been asked to spend 30 days and 30 nights on some Sisyphean task. Rather than a 30 minute trip to a pet shop so the cat he wanted doesn’t starve to death. 

“Okay, kid. We can go for a ride.” Dante shot him an oddly excitedly smug grin

“You’re gonna fly me across the city to buy cat food?” 

Dante only chuckled at that. “Nah, we’re doin’ somethin’ way more fun.” 

 Nero couldn’t stop his obvious concern from showing on his face. Dante’s smile seemed to only grow wider the more anxious Nero looked. Whether or not that was a good thing? Debatable.

“You’re gonna love it!!” Dante’s exceedingly obnoxious positivity did nothing to assuage Nero’s worry. Neither did him insisting on Nero being blindfolded so it’d be more of a “surprise”. 

By the time he was able to see again he’d had his arms wrapped around Dante’s perfect waist, mounted atop a sleek motorcycle. The kind of thing he’d only seen in movies he wasn’t supposed to watch. Dante had thrown a coat on over his bare chest but didn’t indulge in an actual shirt, much to Nero's....he wouldn’t say pleasure, moreso interest. 

The perfect way the engine purred beneath him, the way the wind swept through his hair at the perfect angle, the way his arms held onto Dante’s perfect body so perfectly tightly. It was all just so romantic. It made Nero feel like he’d known Dante forever, he’d met the man scarcely over a week ago but somehow it felt like so much more, like this was his husband coming back from a decades long war. Nero snickered at himself due to the comparison, he was probably just a stupid kid with a crush. There was nothing more to it. 

But then again…pressing his nose into Dante’s back, drinking in the smell of worn leather and gasoline. The way Dante’s warmth contrasted the wind chill at their probably illegal speed, Nero’s hands on Dante’s chest, feeling his breath. It was heaven. 

“Babe? We stopped. Like a minute ago.” Nero jolted away from Dante like he’d just stuck a fork in an outlet. “Yeah, it’s rough for everyone the first time. Soon enough you’ll love to hear her purr”

Nero noticed the entirely too noticeable claw marks he’d left on Dante’s hip, obviously his blunt human nails barely left a mark, but where his right arm had been clutching onto him was actively bleeding out. He apologized quickly, before getting an idea.

He left a scratch on his left wrist with his clawed hand, before wordlessly offering it to Dante. The scratch was too shallow, it barely drew any blood. But nevertheless Dante was nigh instantaneously lapping and sucking at the shallow wound.

His eyes fixated on Nero’s embarrassingly blushed face, wanting nothing more than to see his precious baby boy squirm in both arousal and embarrassment. He was barely even drinking the blood anymore, just lapping at Nero’s wrists with a beautifully seductive look in his eyes. 

Nero would’ve flinched away, but he felt too guilty for scratching Dante after he’d helped him so much. He told himself he was just repaying the favor, but the fact he was enjoying this was so thoroughly obvious that passerbies were even starting to stare. Why…why did their stares excite Nero? He’d always hated being seen…but now it was thrilling. Everyone who saw them immediately knew that Dante and Nero were together.

Nero still didn’t understand why he was so obsessed with this man. It was a sickening desire to never be without him that controlled his every action. Originally he thought it was the leech but…even now it’s like he’s stuck in a fly trap. He simply cannot bear being away from him. As romantic as it felt, the feeling was outweighed by the suffocating desire of it all. Like there was a hand at his throat that’d squeeze tighter and tighter the further he was from this man.

Dante didn’t stop leaving kisses on him even after the small cut had healed over, he was in his own literal paradise. His eyes had shut and he looked so at peace. Nero wished it was possible to make him feel like that every second of every day. 

He couldn’t tell what was happening. Obsession and love was a razor’s edge, and Nero was sliced to ribbons. Was he obsessed? Was that why all of this was happening? This couldn’t have been human. Another reason to hate his dad, as if he needed any more. 

“Thanks, baby.” Dante pressed a final kiss into Nero’s hand, shooting an award winning smile that melted Nero’s bones to mush. Dante didn’t need Nero’s blood, it was of such low concentration and it was such a minor wound that with or without it he would’ve been healed in less than a minute. But he’d never miss an opportunity to kiss Vergil’s arm. 

“You know there’s a starving cat at home, right? You can’t sit there blushing like a pope in a brothel.” Dante offered him a hand. One he was inclined to take, despite it serving no practical purpose. He was just holding his boyfriend’s hand. Just enjoying his company. 

This seemed far too easy. For the most part it just came down to following Dante’s lead, or mimicking what Dante did. There wouldn’t be an issue if he just kept trying to make Dante happy. And if making Dante happy just meant things like today, that was doable. Hell, that was fun. 

The pet shop was rather quaint, kinda cute. There were a few children all begging their parents for another pet, none of them seeming all that receptive to the idea. Nero didn’t know what he was looking for, and judging by the way Dante looked as bewildered as a toddler in a fireworks factory, the man was about as clueless as he was.

So they just kind of stalked the aisles hand in hand, trying to figure out what she’d need. 

She seemed to be an outdoorsy cat, so they should only really need food, right? 

They got a few unkind looks from workers and customers alike, but Dante would always just smile a little wider when he noticed. They really were an odd pairing….or too even of a pairing. Nero and Dante were like identical twins, if they were born a decade apart. 

Nero spotted a navy blue bag that was about half his height, there was a calico cat on the front and a bunch of words that seemed positive on the back. Surely a cat that followed him so religiously would be satisfied by “organic, all-natural, free range, no preservatives chicken”. Or whatever that actually meant. 

“I think that should be what we need.” Nero pointed to the bag, Dante threw the bag over his shoulder and started to the exit. Nero immediately missed holding Dante’s hand. He hated how needy he felt. Like he was a dog who just had a door closed in his face.

It was a little more expensive than Dante was inclined to pay, but he wasn’t going to disappoint Nero on the 2nd day after…after the night before went so south so quickly. 

“Hey, baby? You can hold onto this on the drive back, right?” A question that definitely should’ve been asked before they bought it. 

Nero sheepishly replied a small affirmation, mourning not holding onto Dante’s waist. God he was sad. They had just met why was he so fucking obsessed with this guy? Nero spent his entire life learning to not depend on others and yet now he wanted nothing more than for him and Dante to curl up together in bed, to be a tangle of affectionate limbs. He wanted to hold and to be held, to kiss and be kissed, he was such a greedy little thing. 

The drive back was miserable for the both of them. Nero had grown immediately accustomed to constant affection. One little hit of the older man’s charm and Nero was addicted. 

Dante on the other hand, well…he had long since resigned himself to an addiction to Vergil, but Nero failed him in so many ways in that regard. It should’ve disappointed him, but something about his darling nephew could only incite pride. Nero—in a fucked up sort of way—was pretty much his stepson. And god was he a proud father. His son turned out so so beautifully. 

Nero was a complete and utter failure, and yet he was almost too perfect for words. Nero had only two flaws.

1: He wasn’t Vergil, and he’d never be Vergil

And 

2: His injury. But that could hardly be held against him. Dante felt bad just thinking of his perfect baby’s perfect body as a flaw in any capacity.

When they arrived home there was a pizza box on the doorstep and an all too curious cat trying to figure out how to open it. Luckily to no avail. 

In stark contrast to the last time they’d stopped, Nero was off of the motorcycle in less than a second. He brought the bag inside and dropped it just beside the doorway, watching as Dante fetched a plastic bowl from a cupboard and poured some food into it. Leaving it on the doorstep, right in front of the little kitten. 

Then he snatched the pizza box at an unnatural speed, quickly laying it out on his desk and digging in. His toppings of choice were everything but the kitchen sink, or olives, apparently. 

Nero sat himself on the corner of the desk. “May I have a slice?” Nero’s tone almost sounded like he expected a no. 

“Kid, mi casa is you-casa. If it isn’t bolted down you can probably take it.” Nero cringed a little at Dante’s attempt at speaking Spanish. Nero had never even met somebody who could speak the language but he could still tell Dante was butchering it. 

As Nero reached for a slice; the smallest slice, Dante interrupted. 

“Kid, you want your dick back?”

Nero dropped the piece immediately. Trying to force a laugh to kill the tension. Unfortunately the only thing it killed was him. 

“G-Great transition old man.” Nero tried to turn it into a joke but it came out all wrong. Shaky and malcontented. He’d always wanted it back, he hated seeing that scar more than anything in the world. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have sai-“ 

“Yeah. I do.” Tears starting welling up in Nero’s eyes “I really fucking do. I’ve had this scar for 6 years and no matter what I did it would never heal.” Nero’s voice shattered into a million pieces. Dante hated knowing he was responsible for making his darling cry again. Why could he never do anything right? 

“Hey, baby?” Dante caressed the younger man’s thigh, before realizing how that went last time and moving to his arm. “With enough time, maybe I can help you with it, ‘Kay?” Dante smiled sickeningly sympathetically. Nero knew Dante wanted him to calm down, but Nero didn’t want to calm down. He wanted to be able to complain about his shitty life until the cows came home. 

“Could your blood really do that? Heal a years old wound?” Nero didn’t remain hopeful, but Dante sure as hell did. 

“‘Course baby, I told you it could heal a decapitation. In a few months you’ll be good as new.” Dante had an obvious ulterior motive, and Nero knew it. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. Besides, Nero might want to try a few things. The thought almost excited him. 

With a renewed confidence Nero grabbed a slice and bit into it. And damn it tasted so good. He didn’t know if it was the mozzarella or the tomato sauce or the fact he hadn’t eaten in over a day, (probably a combination of the three) but either way it satiated him in a way he hadn’t thought possible. He’d grown dull to the pain of his hunger but the second it was gone he noticed how bad it had been. 

“Then yeah…let’s do it.” Nero smiled big, like a kid on Christmas morning. 

Dante dropped his half eaten slice and cut open his wrist, opening his legs for Nero to sit in his lap and enjoy a fresh meal. Nero happily indulged. 

Dante’s blood was like the finest wine, and yet the way Dante held him close was more intoxicating than any alcohol. 

Chapter Text

“So…..whaddaya gonna name her?”

Nero was idly scratching the little girl’s chin as he received the question he honestly should’ve really expected. He’d “owned” her for 2 days now—if you consider it following him as “owning”—and she needed a name. Her name before was Miri, but she didn’t respond to it anyway. And she didn’t like the person who gave her that name. She needed something new, something exciting, something cuter than “Miri”. 

“Cassiopeia” was all Nero said. He hadn’t put any thought behind it. He just remembered his lonely night shifts where all he had to keep him company were the stars in the sky and the sword on his back. Those were among the nicest days he’d had on Fortuna. Unfortunately the big city has far too much light pollution to go stargazing. 

Well, he didn’t really like stargazing anyway, he told himself. It was more about being alone than anything. Being alone was his ideal state of being. But now…being with Dante was like being alone but…better, somehow. Dante wouldn’t judge him, Dante wouldn’t lie to him, Dante wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect. Perfect to Nero, at the very least.

“Cassie for short” Nero sheepishly added. 

“Okay, welcome to the Sparda family Cassiopeia!” Dante did a little cheer as he knelt down to pet her. 

“Family?” 

“Of course we’re family?” Dante gave a genuinely confused shrug. He didn’t seem to understand the question at all. “Nero, you’re family. And nothing will ever change that.” He pulled his hand away from Cassie and instead picked Nero up in a big bear hug. Nero struggled against the embrace (mostly because he couldn’t breathe) but eventually relented all the same. 

Nero didn’t know what exactly that meant, due to Dante remaining vague enough for plausible deniability to set in. Nero felt an uncontrollable joy at being “welcomed” into the family. Tears welled in his eyes and smiled too wide. Like a toddler being given a candy bar after a tantrum

Dante felt a sick sense of schadenfreude at how happy it made Nero. He didn’t want to process exactly how fucked this relationship was, so he didn’t. He just laughed in his own misery. A laugh that confused Nero. A confusion he chose to ignore. 

When Dante finally let Nero’s feet touch the floor again, the boy stumbled. Nearly falling onto poor Cassie. “Woah kid, keep your legs beneath ya” Dante chortled a little as Nero stared back at him. “Or don’t. Whatever you’re into.” 

Unfortunately innuendo was not a part of the cult doctrine Nero had been force fed. “I think I generally prefer my feet on the ground.” Nero spoke rather literally “or on your bike” which was contrasted by the cheekiness of that addendum. 

Dante beamed a smile “See? I told you you’d love it!” Dante puffed up his chest due to his inexplicable sense of pride. 

Dante shot a glance at the 10 minute late clock on the wall. “Ah, shit. I gotta go with Lady for a job in like-“ after an embarrassingly long attempt at mental math “-25 minutes” Dante happily walked over to his desk and sat down, legs wide open and arms ready to hold Nero in place. 

Nero stifled the smile pushing at his lips and rather daintily sat himself on Dante’s right thigh. He was trying so hard to conceal his enthusiasm.

“Maybe we should just wait until I’m done with the mission.” Dante’s tone was snide and confident. Unwilling to let his baby boy even feign disinterest. 

“No-“ Nero hated how quickly he said that. It was a knee jerk reaction, except he’d rather not even have knees than let Dante know how desperate he was. 

“Well then I guess that settles it.” Dante pressed a kiss to Nero’s neck, Nero could feel the way that the asshole’s lips curled into a self-assured smile against his skin. 

Nero rolled his eyes with so much emphasis that even without seeing his face Dante could tell. Nero settled himself on top of both of Dante’s thighs, lying perpendicular to his chest, resting his head where Dante’s right arm met his shoulder, and waiting for his meal. 

He could feel how hard Dante was. But it didn’t disgust him like he’d thought it would. It was a neutral observation. He had no more of an opinion on his boyfriend’s boner than he did on the weather in Afghanistan. 

Dante reached his left arm across Nero to reach his right wrist, leaving a deep cut with his nail. Nero was sucking on it before blood had even begun to spill out. Like an eager dog being offered a fresh-cooked Michelin star steak. 

“Geez, hungry much?” 

Nero only let out an annoyed chirp at that. He wasn’t going to let Dante ruin the best part of his day. 

“I’ve seen stray dogs less desperate for me to feed them.” Dante shifted a little, positioning his dick to jab into Nero a little bit less. 

Nero sort of liked that comparison, he let out an indecipherable noise. Interest? Contentment? Beseeching? Dante couldn’t put his finger on it. But what Dante was able to piece together though, was that Nero liked the comparison to a dog.

Fascinating, though unsurprising.  

Nero just kept indulging in the sweet syrupy perfection Dante was spilling just for him. Like his own personal water fountain in the dead center of the Sahara. It quenched his thirst and refreshed his being and took every little ache of stress or doubt or pain and melted it away into a euphoric cloud of bliss. 

Time passed in an instant. Dante was going to run late but Nero was still so excited to drink him up. Nero had shut his eyes, letting the only sensation he felt be the taste of Dante’s love, and the gentle breaths Dante left against the nape of his neck, and Dante’s warm arms and Dante’s everything else. 

It was only when Nero relented so he could take a deep breath that Dante finally moved. If Nero had known that moving away for even a second would mean he’d be cut off, he would’ve preferred to suffocate. 

“Sorry babe, gotta get to work.” He sauntered over to the coat rack holding his beloved red leather jacket. His footsteps heavy after he put on his boots, rebellion strung over his back and just a little bit of a haze in his eyes. “See ya when I get back, pup.”

-

3 hours later Nero was still blushing. Lying in dreadful loneliness in a cold bed. His only companions being Dante’s blankets. Cassiopeia had cruelly abandoned him after an hour of Nero’s tossing and turning woke her up for the umpteenth time. His mind wandered to Dante’s words again. 

“Pup”

“Pup”

Why did just that word drive him so crazy? For what seemed like the first time in his life he felt…excited. Like he was hot but only on the inside. His heart was racing and his mind was foggy and he wanted so badly to have Dante to be here to hold him. 

Slick was seeping down his thighs and he kept grinding them together. That tiny bit of friction absolutely thrilled him. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, he needed more. He shed himself of his pants and tried using his fingers. He made an absolute mess of himself and the sheets beneath him. Drenching them in his abundant slick. 

He spun so he was on his stomach, ass in the air, face buried into Dante’s pillow. Fingers still exploring his insides. Just trying to do whatever he thought could satisfy that horrible need. His mind was blank, unable to think of anything but Dante. 

He heard a ripping noise. His right arm had torn through Dante’s bedsheets, he jerked his head from the pillow. As he glanced around in a panic trying to figure out how to fix it; he noticed something on the floor beside the bed. 

A pair of off-white boxers Nero didn’t recognize. Before he could even think his right arm scrambled to snatch them into his hand. He brought them to his nose and took deep breaths 

Dante

Dante 

It smelled disgusting. Like sweat and dirt and odor and god knows what else but Nero could not help the thrill it pushed through his veins. They were disgusting; he was disgusting but that thought did nothing but encourage him. He was a filthy fucking mutt. Or at least that’s what he kept repeating in his head as he came all over his hand. 

He dutifully lapped up every ounce of it. 

It took Nero a moment to even realize what he’d been doing. This was masturbation. What he’d always known not to do, that he’d never even wanted to do. 

He left the boxers exactly where they were before he picked them up, then headed for the shower to wash the sweat and the shame from his skin. His footsteps were light and fast, like he was trying to stealth his way through the empty office. Who was gonna hear him? Cassie? 

He sat in the shower with his legs pulled to his chest, not even wanting to stand. He was embarrassed of himself. He hid his head behind his knees, trying to escape the judging leers of an imaginary audience.

The water was too hot, but he didn’t bother to change it. He heard the front door creak open, but he didn’t bother to greet Dante. He couldn’t see past the wet hair in his face, but he didn’t bother to move it. He heard Dante entering their bedroom. But he didn’t bother to apologize. He just sat in the hot water, wondering what he was doing. 

-



Dante came home to the sound of a running shower echoing off the walls. He wanted so badly to sprint up the stairs and grab Nero’s naked body. Nero was such a beautiful little creature. He had to deny himself. If he didn’t, he’d lose Vergil again. 

He took a moment to find the kitchen, already heavy steps made heavier by the exhaustion of tedious busy work. 

He reached into the top cupboard and found some cheap whiskey. Even as he uncapped it he could feel how low the quality was. It smelt awful and tasted worse. Whiskey was supposed to go down smooth, this swill though, it was awful. Went down about as smooth as a sandpaper suppository. 

At least it numbed him, if only a little. He’d be able to survive the temptations for another night. Probably. Hopefully. 

He marched up the stairs like a death row inmate. Trying not to imagine Vergil naked. 

The second he swung open the door to his bedroom a scent hit him. Of sex and shame and slick. He buried his nose in the sheets, ignoring the tear. This was the smell of Nero. It smelt like citrus and caramel, so sickeningly sweet and bold. It felt like a ghostly hand was pushing at all the right places, telling him to finally give in. 

It had been all of 3 days. He couldn’t stop himself from touching himself to the scent of Nero for 3 days. But could you blame him? It was more addictive than heroin, sweeter than candy, more energizing that coffee, more irresistible than any indulgence he had ever wanted. 

This was a fight that Dante’s self control was destined to lose.

-

Eventually the water turned cold. He’d drained the office of its supply of hot water all on his own because he was a pathetic perverted brat who couldn’t control himself. He knew that Dante was going to notice the torn sheets and chastise him for it. Well, actually he didn’t, he knew the opposite. But he also knew Dante’s ambivalence would hurt more than any punishment humanly (or inhumanly) possible. 

He dried himself very intentionally, taking time to delay the inevitable fact that Dante would definitely know what Nero had done. He barely even cleaned up the mess he’d made. He opened the bathroom door slowly, trying to avoid it opening any noise. He tiptoed to the bedroom, like the entire office was on high alert. He stood outside the bedroom door catching his breath. 

When he walked inside it felt like a brick wall. Dante was sleeping soundly but the smell of Nero’s mistake was harshly drowned out by Dante. The smell of strawberries and bitter smoky wood mixing in a beautiful bouquet of desire. 

Nero walked forward, not of his own free will. He slid into bed next to Dante, sliding a hand over his sweat-slicked chest. He held the older man tight. So tight. Pressing his nose into muscular shoulders. His lover’s scent lulled him to sleep. 

It was like a comfy cloud of warm unconditional love enveloping him, it felt like the softest blanket Nero could ever imagine.

Chapter Text

Dante awoke to Vergil’s hands holding him close. 

But it wasn’t Vergil. It would never be Vergil. Not like this.

He was being held tenderly, it was very much comforting. Like how you’d hold a dog. Vergil had always held him protectively. His hands were always more animalistic, like he was protecting his mate from competitors. Nero held Dante like he was a beloved stuffed animal. 

Honestly, Dante found it…better than being held by Vergil. And he hated that thought. His brother had always been motivated primarily by demonic instinct. Vergil was never really “tender” in the way Dante had wanted. Vergil saw no point in it. Nero on the other hand…Nero was different. So different. Nero wanted Dante because he wanted security, Nero wanted a shoulder to cry on. Nero wanted to be Dante’s shoulder to cry on. 

This was a mess. Dante was disrespecting the love of his life and yet the guilt he felt was entirely outweighed by how happy he was to be held in this very moment. What would Vergil say if he could see this?

Would he fight to get Dante back? Would he be happy his brother found somebody who cared for the needs Vergil couldn’t fulfill? Would he run away again?

It all seemed like a pointless question. His brother was dead and Nero was a replacement. So what if he was a sidegrade in some ways? Dante loved Vergil. He belonged to Vergil. They were a match set, literally made for each other.

Dante drank in the scent of his lover, Nero always had stubbornly refused to behave as his father had. But that wasn’t a bad thing. At least not tonight.

He knew expecting Nero to replace his father was only going to lead to disappointment. He knew that this was only going to end up hurting the both of them. He knew that everything about this relationship was doomed to fail from its very conception. 

And yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. He knew he had a fucked up past and a fucked up future. But he could have a delusionally joyful now. This would all come crashing down and he’d hurt the boy he’d come to love and he would never let himself forget exactly how terrible of a person he was and this damage was going to be irreversible and he still didn’t stop himself. 

Nero’s arms were the only things stopping him from trying to seek out whatever pain he could find. He’d almost missed the shackles. Back then, whenever he wanted to hurt he could inflict it upon himself. Now he was left with only his arsenal of weapons, none able to satisfy his need to punish himself. No matter how many times he’d cut off a limb, it’d never hurt enough to satisfy the craving. 

Even Vergil never knew what to do when Dante felt like this. Maybe this was a problem he needed to finally solve himself. 

-

Eventually Nero stirred awake. Pressing his nose into Dante’s neck and breathing in his partner’s scent. It was so relaxing. Like a 100% all natural sedative made specifically for Nero’s use.

What he ever did to deserve to be able to hold a man like Dante in his arms he would never know. Although if you asked anyone other than Nero I’m sure they’d assume this was a very different kind of karma. 

“Morning, pervo” Dante sighed out, casual and breathy. He didn’t sound tired, no, this was more like apathy. “You wanna talk about it?” Dante had a clear interest in getting Nero to explore himself. That was obvious to even the blind, deaf, and dumb with how shamelessly his eyes wandered. But this wasn’t all selfish. Part of Dante just wanted Nero to be happy. To be able to ask for what he wanted. Hell, for him to even be able to even know what he wanted would be leaps and bounds better than whatever he was doing now. 

“What’s there to even talk about?” Nero’s already groggy words were muffled by his partner’s flesh. Anyone with normal hearing would’ve heard nothing but gibberish. 

“Well, I’d start with ‘why’ and then if we have time we can get to the ‘how’ and the ‘who’. Sound good?” Dante smirked to himself, Nero didn’t see it but somehow he knew. It was exactly what Dante would do. 

“I did it because I wanted to. I did it by touching myself. I did it while thinking of you.” Nero’s words were an uncomfortable monotone. “That all you wanted?”

Dante chuckled a bit, admittedly he should’ve expected that would be his answer. “Well. As flattered as I am, I do expect a little bit more detail.” 

“After you called me pup I could stop thinking about it. So I did this. Whil-“ Nero’s words caught in his throat. He didn’t need to give any more detail. “That’s all the information you’re getting.” Nero let go after sufficiently answering his partner’s questions. Admittedly mourning the loss of Dante’s scent, but that was outweighed by his need to be indignant. 

“Blood?” Dante asked. 

Nero wanted to decline, but he’d have to eventually. Better to endure Dante’s questions now than dread it for the rest of the day. He just sort of stood in front of Dante. Staring and waiting, waiting and staring. He only moved when Dante started bleeding, but not by choice. His demon tried to make Nero’s body lurch forward and he barely stopped himself. 

He didn’t stop himself enough for Dante to not notice, though. 

Dante let the blood flow out, running a red line over his pale wrist. Nero’s mouth was watering as he licked it up. If he’d taken any longer it would’ve stained the sheets, he told himself. He'll definitely tell that to Dante too if he gets teased about his desperation.

It felt like pouring cold water over a sunburn, but like….everywhere. His entire being yearned for this. His demon was pleased by Nero finally giving in a little. Enjoying his heritage instead of letting some insect hide it away.

Dante raked his long fingers through his baby boy’s hair as he wantonly drank Dante’s blood. Dante made sure the cut was on the outside of the wrist, so Nero wouldn’t have to sit on his lap, but was free to choose to. Unfortunately(?) for Dante, Nero found an…interesting…compromise. He knelt on the bed, legs spread wide open, with Dante’s thighs beneath him. He didn’t break eye contact for even a second as he licked up and down the width of Dante’s wrist with what could only be described as passion. 

And god was he gorgeous while doing it.