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Nero stares into the distance, watching the people go by beyond the shop's window. It's a very slow day and he is daydreaming about warm meals and soups, because for some Saviour forsaken reason both Vergil and Dante like it cold and the shop is a veritable ice box as a result. It's times like these that Nero acutely notices that he has less demon blood in him than those two. The thought makes him preen though, knowing he can still keep up with them even so. Suck on that, you old farts.
To his side Dante is at the desk, sorting through paperwork. Complaining all the while, of course. Nero has to grin at seeing him forced through bureaucracy. He is so glad he has Kyrie for that kind of stuff. Dante's stuck with it and Nero has the luxury of a girlfriend good with numbers. Makes him feel right good. It's why he is even here right now, seeing as his own branch of Devil May Cry is affiliated with the main one and that means they actually have to compare records for some of this stuff.
"-Makes no god damned sense, why do I even have to do this. And on my birthday, too. So rude," Dante grouses. "Idiotic insurance paperwork, always changing up their forms, and making it extra hard on people to fill out-"
Nero blinks out of his daydreaming of Kyrie's stew, while Dante continues on muttering.
He frowns, trying to replay that in his head.
Wait. What?
"What?" he asks, bewildered.
"What?" Dante asks right back, buried in incident forms.
"No, wait," Nero shakes his head a little, trying to come to grips with what he has just heard. "What did you just say? Birthday?"
"Huh? Ah, never mind that, do you have your-"
"No, the fuck, what? Did you just say it's your birthday?" Nero lifts his feet off the coffee table that Vergil has forced onto Dante when he moved in and turns fully to the old man.
While he moves he is very careful not to disturb the stack of books towering on the wooden surface, though. Both of the twins are amazingly prickly about their books, it turns out. Nero expected it from Vergil, he seems the type, but Dante is a hilarious surprise. And also a painful one. His uncle is not above a smack to the back of the head when Nero doesn't baby his grimoires enough.
But never mind all that. He leans forward, staring intently. "The fuck did you just say? It's your birthday? Why didn't you tell me that it's your birthday?"
"Awwww, is the little kiddie sulking about not knowing everything?" Dante finally looks up from his number shuffling, grinning teasingly.
Of course.
Nero rolls his eyes at the antics. No matter what the ass tries, he absolutely isn't going to be distracted by any goading. With Vergil suddenly in the mix, the patterns of Dante's evasions have become very visible and Nero can recognise them far better now. Mostly because Vergil never lets Dante get away with them. It's kind of amazing to watch how easily his father handles his uncle, actually. And a little bit disheartening, if he is honest with himself. Nero never realised exactly how much the old man swerves around talking about anything even remotely personal. He knew of course that Dante did it, but the sheer amount of it now that Vergil is there to point it out is a bit staggering. Not like his father is anything better, of course, but Vergil just stares stonily until Nero drops whatever sensitive topic he has accidentally stumbled upon. It's always very obvious where his lines are.
Both of them are constipated assholes, Nero has come to realise. Dante just tries to hide it, where Vergil clearly doesn't care what others may think and therefore doesn't even bother.
"Stop playing, you old ass. It's your birthday?" he asks, trying to imitate the tone Vergil always uses when he manages to get Dante to be honest. Nero isn't really there yet, but it's coming.
Dante blinks at him, actually startled for a moment before he manages to rally again.
Hah, Nero is so getting better. That's the look Dante always throws him when he and Vergil sound too similar.
Sadly, his uncle recovers easily, the easy grin hiding way too much right back on his face. Nero doesn't manage to so effortlessly pin him down like Vergil does yet.
"Aw, come on kid, it's nothing. Birthdays come and go, you know. Annually, even. Nothing to write home about."
"Nothing to- You ass! You need to celebrate birthdays! Fuck, I can't believe I never asked either of you for it." He scrubs his hands through his hair, exasperated and a bit embarrassed with himself. That seems to be a glaring oversight right now. "Hell, you were there for mine and Kyrie's birthday!"
Dante blinks some more. Nero thinks he is even actually bemused and doesn't just play at it. "Sure, but that's yours. Mine is whatever. Why should it matter?"
Ok. So. Nero is going to file that away for later, next to all the other little bits and pieces about themselves that the twins drop so carelessly, even though they paint a fucking abysmal picture that Nero hates. Later. When he has finished brainstorming with Kyrie about how to force the two idiots into actually facing their trauma without resorting to murder and or implosion. It's a work in progress, but he is determined to get this done. He will have a happy family, damn it.
"Ok, first of all, congrats. Second, of course it fucking matters!" he groans, but before he can continue into a proper rant, the other twin utterly failing in saying anything about their birthday comes down the stairs.
"Nero," Vergil nods in greeting.
"Well, look at the other asshole not informing me that it's his birthday." Nero points accusingly at him. "Happy birthday!"
His father comes to a halt at the bottom of the stairs and blinks at Nero, exactly the same way as Dante has done a few seconds before. Sometimes Nero gets whiplash when the two of them do something so similar to each other. They are normally so different that there are moments he actually forgets they are supposed to be twins.
"It's not my birthday," Vergil dismisses, turning to Dante in the next breath. "What's for dinner? And don't say pizza."
What the fuck.
"Booo," Dante makes in protest to that ruling, and then shrugs carelessly. "Dunno. Wanna go for Indian?"
"What the fuck," Nero says, quite restrained in his honest opinion.
Vergil nods. "That is acceptable."
"Helloooo?" Nero complains. "What the fuck do you mean it's not your birthday? Dante just said it's your birthday!"
Both of the twins turn to blink at him again. Nero is frankly getting very tired of all this blinking.
"Yes. Dante's birthday is indeed today," Vergil nods again.
Doesn't continue. Like this makes any sense whatsoever. Dante smiles beatifically beside him, utterly unhelpful himself. Nero is so tired of them both. Why does he have to deal with this shit. What the fuck did he do to deserve this garbage.
"Well then it's also your fucking birthday!" he groans, gesticulating between them and their eerily similar staring.
Fucking hell, it's enough to give a man an ulcer.
Dante is beginning to smile that smile that makes Nero want to sock him. There is actual amusement playing at the corners of Vergil's mouth. Oh god, they are ganging up on him.
Shit.
"Noooooope," Dante singsongs while Vergil gives a single shake of the head. "Not Verge's birthday. Just mine."
Nero is going to fucking pummel them.
"What the ever loving fuck are you on about?" he groans, exasperated and clinging to hope for at least a mostly sane explanation.
"It's not Vergil's birthday. Obviously," Dante continues in the exact same annoying tone.
"It's Dante's birthday. Obviously." Vergil's lips twist even more, into an actual grin, holy shit.
No but seriously. Violence. Upon them both.
"I hate you both so much right now," he says faintly, burying his face in his hands in exasperation.
"Rude," Dante laughs, underscored by Vergil's hum of agreement.
Nero is going to toss them into a lava pit and be done with this, holy shit.
"Ok," he sighs, deeply and with great feeling and then just gives up on life in general. "What the fuck does that mean."
When he peaks through his fingers, Dante is still grinning widely. Vergil has lifted the eyebrow of doom and despair. Nero spends two seconds widely glad he wasn't with them during his teenage rebellion. They would have driven him straight bonkers.
"Aw, come on kid, stop with the long face. Makes a man feel all guilty," Dante lies shamelessly. Even places a mock delicate hand on his chest.
Lying liar pants on fire. Nero will- he will- fuck, eat all the last pizza slices! Yes, that's it! Right in front of his face, too.
"Verge was born early and I was born late, kid," the asshole finally relents, showing the little bit of mercy he is capable of. Vergil looks on silently and with great condescending amusement. "We weren't born on the same day."
Huh. Does that mean Vergil is the older one? Weird. Nero never really thought about which one would be, now that he thinks about it.
But ok. Fine. He can manage this. Even if it means he missed his father's birthday then, fuck.
"Ah shit. So your birthday was yesterday?" he asks, looking at the seemingly older twin. "Happy belated birthday?"
Shit, he will have to get them both belated presents. Not like he can go out right now for something for Dante either, it's already too late. Fuckers, the both of them. Now Nero is feeling guilty and it's not even his fault.
"No," Vergil declares. And again doesn't elaborate.
Holy shit. Forget the presents. Neither of them deserve one.
Nero stares silently and contemplates a great many things, like the universe, world peace and murder.
"Fuck you both," he declares, when they refuse to elaborate on their own, and lets himself fall back into the couch cushion to stare at the ceiling.
He is very seriously contemplating kicking over the book tower now. He won't, but the thought is so very there.
Dante laughs again, the ass, and starts packing away his paperwork. Vergil comes over and leans into Nero's line of sight, staring down at him. Asshole. Nero bares his teeth at him, but his father remains sadly unimpressed.
"Hm," he makes.
"hmmmmmm," Nero imitates.
That nets him more unimpressed staring, but at least Vergil finally seems willing to relent. Small mercies.
"I was born four weeks early and Dante one week late," he explains shortly.
And then he just starts picking up the books from the table and turning to shelve them away in their proper place. Like this is not the most buck-wild thing to say right now. Dante makes a protesting noise form the side, presumably about his books getting put away and not the fact that they are both lunatics. Whatever. Not Nero's problem. There is more important things to concentrate right now.
"The fuck," he repeats.
It bears repeating. What the hell. How.
But of course those two would manage to find a way to so royally screw up being twins to not even being born in the same fucking month. Of course. Nero doesn't even doubt the outlandish claim. In fact, he really should have known from the start that it would be something this insane. Why wouldn't it be, after all, when it involves them.
"Mam said you were always screaming unless you were laid on her stomach during that time," Dante says, and his voice is warm and fond.
Vergil doesn't turn to him, but from where he is standing at Nero can see the smile on his face. "And you supposedly kicked more than we both did together in all the months before, when I was not laying there. Clearly similarly unimpressed."
Nero doesn't dare interrupt, even as he looks back and forth between them. They never talk about their childhoods. Or anything from their past, really.
"Your fault for being so lazy and tarrying, brother," Vergil continues, leafing through a small book he pulls from the shelf, seemingly just for something to do.
Dante is intently rummaging in his papers without looking up, even as he stuffs them haphazardly into a drawer of his desk. "Hah, my fault? You were the one too impatient to wait. Not my fault we got separated."
"Hm." Now Vergil turns around to face his twin, unimpressed frown in place to cover any underlaying amusement. Or fondness. "If you would not be so careless and directionless all the time, we would not have."
"Oho," Dante looks up with the goading face he always wears when he is trying to start a brawl with his brother. Nero has been keeping track, nine times out of ten it works. "Big words for someone so overeager and ambitious he can't think his plans through properly."
Vergil scowls fiercely.
Dante grins brightly.
Annnnd that's that. Back to the familiar playground fighting.
Fucking hell, Nero is going to make them macaroni art or something equally stupid. Seems to be about their maturity level, after all. See if they like that.
(They do. The two pictures hang over the kitchen table now, much to Nero's embarrassment.)