Chapter Text
“So, what do you think? Great, isn’t it?” Dante said with a grin on his face, gesturing to the room with one arm theatrically.
A month ago, Dante had announced that he was renovating one of the rooms upstairs that was primarily being used to store clutter. He stressed that no one was allowed to see the room before it was ready, glaring at his brother as he said so, but Vergil merely scoffed about how the cleaning would go nowhere just like the rest of the building and walked away. Nero couldn’t quite tell if his uncle took that as a challenge or not, but Dante had ended up dutifully working on that room throughout the month.
Nero asked Vergil about it after the first week of renovations, but his father just shook his head and said it was probably something inane that wouldn’t last regardless of what it was. He acted like he didn’t care, but Nero could tell he was getting more and more curious as the days went by and Dante still hadn’t given them a clue as to what he was working on. Nero tried to see if he could sneak a peek while Dante was entering and exiting the room, but his uncle was unfortunately very observant and never gave him the chance to get even a glimpse. He was able to catch Dante carrying a few blankets into the room once, but at a later day he found those same blankets by the front room of the house and eventually gone entirely.
Now, the three of them stood by the doorway in the room and Nero could finally see what all the blankets were for. Half of the room was, unsurprisingly, the same as it was before. A lot of the clutter that was in the room to start with was now just piled on top of one another. It matches with the rest of the house, and Vergil had said the cleaning wouldn’t get very far, if any cleaning was done at all.
So while that wasn’t surprising, what was new was what Nero could only describe as an elaborate pillow fort. The fort was positioned against the back corner of the room in a triangular shape, using the two walls as support, while the front had wooden wedges to help hold up the blanket roof. Most of the front had lighter blankets draped over the wedges to conceal the inside, but the middle of the fort had one of the blankets folded up to reveal it, no doubt Dante positioning it just so so they could see. Inside, the floor was covered with pillows and blankets all jumbled together. Initially, Nero thought they were placed haphazardly without real meaning, but after glancing over the blankets a few times over, he realized corners were tucked in certain places to hold them in place and prevent them from crumpling in on themselves, pillows were stacked in certain areas to avoid rough edges and hard spots against the walls, and a few pillows were placed in various spots to show multiple different places to rest. It was quite the impressive pillow fort.
Nero couldn’t lie to himself and say this didn’t spark some faint glee in his chest at the thought of having something so childish that he missed out on when he was little. If this was what Dante was intending when he was building it, though, Nero wasn’t going to admit that to him.
That didn’t make sense as to why Dante wouldn’t want his father to see the fort, though. If this was a surprise for Nero, wouldn’t he want Vergil’s help making it? Though, imagining Vergil meticulously place pillows with a concentrated frown on his face, arranging and rearranging until they were just right, seemed impossible.
Even if he wouldn’t help, it wouldn’t have ruined the surprise if he knew.
Nero looked over at his father and was a little surprised to see a deep scowl on his face.
Dante looked over at him too, but seeing the negative expression seemed to spur him on.
“You’re impressed, I can tell.” Dante chuckled, a heavy hand patting Vergil’s shoulder, though Vergil quickly shrugged his hand off with a huff. “I put a lot of work into this, don’t you see.” Dante was finally the first person to move as he stepped over to the fort and squatted down to better look inside. “Thought about getting some couch cushions for the base, but they were too stiff, but that one giant blanket you had in your room was great for this. Very cushy.” Dante continued, shooting a look at Vergil.
“And you didn’t ask?” Vergil glared back.
“’Cause you weren’t using it and obviously weren’t gonna miss it. I took it last week. You didn’t notice.” Dante said with a smirk, and Vergil only huffed again in response. “Don’t worry, it has a bit from each of us in it of course, some of my old pillows are here, yes they’re clean, and that shawl Nero was forced to wear during the winter is here too, I’m sure you’re glad to see it retired to a better purpose, won’t have to wear it anymore. Makes for a great improv cover.”
Ugh, the oversized shawl. Nero forgot about it after stuffing it away in his closet as soon as he could convince his friends the weather was letting up during the winter season. They meant well. Nero already bought a new coat specifically to wear around his friends when winter rolled around again so they wouldn’t bring it up again. Hopefully they forgot.
Wait, that meant Dante grabbed stuff out of his bedroom without him knowing too.
Nero finally stepped forward himself and kneeled down next to his uncle to look inside the fort, and sure enough he recognized everything his uncle pointed out resting snuggly together. Some part of him recognized the fort as being a mash up of him and his family, which. . . was a little odd to him, sensing something like this on some sort of emotional level, but it was strangely comforting.
He. . . liked it.
And still wouldn’t admit it to his uncle.
When he turned to look at Dante, the older man was looking at him expectantly, and Nero couldn’t hold back an airy laugh.
“Sure, sure, it’s impressive.” Nero said with a wave of his hand. “Could fit a whole slumber party of girls in here, just set up a laptop in here and they can start bingeing the Barbie movies.” He teased.
“Damn you’re right, we could watch shows in here.”
Nero heard a sound from his father and turned to see him cross his arms with a shake of his head, muttering something under his breath.
“What’s the occasion, though.” Nero asked. After taking in the surprisingly well put together fort, he realized they didn’t really have a reason for it. Clients wouldn’t come upstairs to the private part of the building where their rooms were, and now apparently the pillow fort, and they certainly wouldn’t bring kids with them. Vergil isn’t a fan of even any of their friends spending any time up here. “We got a new surprise child?”
“Nah, one’s enough for us.” Dante teased back, and Nero didn’t duck his head in time to avoid his uncle putting a hand on his head to ruffle his hair. “It’s just for us three.”
“What, you wanna watch Barbie?” Nero asked incredulously.
“While I’m sure your father can learn a lot of valuable lessons from that,” he started, ignoring the glare Vergil was giving him, “this is just your classic family demon den.”
A. . . what?
“Well, not so classic, that would include a lot more blood. And dismembered limbs in some.” Dante continued. “You can call this one unique. It has the essentials regardless. Mixed scents, something from each of us, in a safe space. Or as safe as it gets around here.”
“What’s that?”
“What’s what, kid?”
“A demon den. This.” Nero gestured to the fort, or rather apparently the den.
“Right, I forget you’re not used to this stuff.” Dante nodded. “Demons travel in packs, yeah? And blood is important to them. In more ways than one, yeah we know the murderous importance of course. But family blood, too. A den shows the significance of that. Demons like to spend time grouped up together in them; it’s safe to be together with everyone. And it’s a reassurance that everyone’s alive. It’s deadly business being a demon.”
“Demons do this? That sounds too. . .” Domestic? Affectionate? Nero didn’t know what, but it didn’t sound right.
Dante paused to think for a moment.
“Yeah, it’s more for the higher thinkin’ ones. And like I mentioned earlier, they’re not as nice as this one.”
Nero found himself gratefully glad that there was enough human in them to not want to pour blood all over the room for comfort. Sounded gross. And probably smelled terrible.
Now that he thinks about it, though, that’s probably what that odd feeling in his chest was earlier when he recognized their mixed belongings in the fort. Den. He’s not used to the idea of having a den yet. It must’ve been the instinctual part of him that recognized this as comfort. Safety. Home.
Vergil continued to look on in indifference, which was better than the scowling at least.
“Don’t want to join us in here?” Dante asked, having looked back at his brother as well.
“Absolutely not.”
“Shame, less family bonding time for you.” Dante said as he swung an arm around Nero, tipping him over from his spot on the floor as his face smushed into his uncle’s chest with a thud. As Nero tried to push himself away, voice getting drowned out against Dante’s shirt, he heard his father turn his heels and leave the room.
“Do what you want.” Vergil called over his shoulder, and when his uncle finally released him, Nero heard the familiar sound of someone descending the stairs.
“Don’t worry about him, stuff like this isn’t good for his image.” Dante chuckled and finally stood up. “Feel free to come here whenever you need it. I get this stuff is still new to you, but you’ll know it when you know it. You know?”
“No.” Nero rolled his eyes, standing up as well. The two of them walked over to the door to leave themselves, but Dante stopped him right as he reached the door. He put a hand on Nero’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.
“We’re all still getting used to being a family. It’ll take some time. Be easy on yourself, okay? And on your old man.”
Nero blinked, finding himself at a loss for words, but Dante didn’t seem to mind as he gave him a smile, pat his shoulder, and left the room.
Nero looked back at the den, giving himself a moment to think about it without the others in the room with him.
It still seemed a bit absurd to him, and he couldn’t think of a reason he’d ever have to be here. But that odd feeling in his chest still felt warm when looking at it, and the idea of the den going away made him feel slightly uneasy. Odd, seeing as he never knew it existed until a few minutes ago. But it’s like Dante said; be easy on himself. He doesn’t have to deal with this room until he has a better understanding of this type of stuff. It’ll be fine.
.
-
.
Nero woke with a start, a strange sound coming out from his throat, and he almost fell out of his bed. It was still dark in his room, so he guessed he was only asleep for an hour or two before he was brutally awoken by a nightmare. He’s had them before, nightmares weren’t new to him, but this one was. . .
Unsettling.
He violently shook his head, trying to will the images out of his mind, and he clenched his teeth to hold down a whine that wanted to escape from him. He doesn’t need to do that. It took him a minute to realize he was losing feeling in his fingers from gripping the blanket he threw off of himself earlier, and he quickly released his hold, fingers shaking as he tried to bend them in the air. His heart hadn’t let up its aggravated rhythm and he felt sick.
Usually when he had vicious nightmares like this, he thought about how his father and uncle were in the other bedrooms upstairs with him, and they wouldn’t let something like the. . . nightmares he had. . . actually happen. They would help him.
Still odd to think about having a family.
But it helped, damn did it help a lot.
He was still shaking, but he tried to calm his breathing as he repeated his usual speech to himself in his head that everything would be fine, it wasn’t real, he can go back to sleep, the others are in the other rooms.
And that’s when he remembered the den.
He felt himself freeze up at that thought, but this time it wasn’t out of overwhelming fear, but out of this sudden feeling of longing. He remembered how Dante had crammed it with all of their belongings and the thought of burying his face against a blanket surrounded by stuff reminding him of the family he always previously used to assure himself of his safety made him want.
Damn it, he wanted to go in the den.
There was a brief flash of embarrassment at the idea, but it was quickly drowned out by the mixture of persistent fear from the nightmare and instincts calling him to go to the safe spot in the house.
He was at his bedroom door, already having opened it, before he even realized he had gotten out of bed.
He looked back at the bed, but felt nauseous at the idea of trying to go back to sleep again there, and quickly left his room to avoid the feeling. He sternly kept his head down as he walked past the other doors, stepping quietly over to the room where the den resided, and slowly opened the door.
The room looked the same as it did all those days ago when Dante initially showed it to them before. Nero has never been back in this room since then, and he wasn’t sure if either of the others had either, though he pursed his lips at the thought of Vergil stepping in here again. Unlikely, he thought.
Nero carefully made his way to the front of the den, pushing the blanket aside as he ducked his head underneath and finally crawled in to sit in the center of it.
He knew it was more intricate than what a basic pillow fort was when he initially saw it, but now, finally sitting in it, he could really see. It was surprisingly tall, though they still couldn’t get any taller than their sitting heights for sure without hitting their heads. He carefully ran a hand across the blanket underneath him and it was soft to the touch, the fabric being smooth and comfortable, and he could tell there were multiple layers underneath to counteract the hard floor it was resting on. There were a few pillows underneath the top layer of blanket as well, though there were plenty of others placed around at the top. Each ends of the den had some pillows for various places to rest, but Nero found himself leaning towards the center still where a few pillows were placed in a half circle.
With a huff, Nero tilted himself forwards to face plant against the middle pillow in the center, arms reaching up to grab it as well.
He focused on his breathing again, trying to slow that down once more. He’d stop shaking eventually.
As he counted his breaths, he could pick up the scents of their belongings in here. The faint scent of their shampoo, gunpowder, the metal tang of a sword, leather of their jackets, and he could pick out the accent that was unique to each person.
See. He was with family. He was safe. It was fine.
But. . . something still felt off.
He could tell the den belonged to the three of them but. . . it felt a bit empty. And it was easier to pick up his own scents over the older scents of everything else around. Surely they wouldn’t hold those scents forever if no one ever came in here, either. It didn’t help that the nightmare made him wake up in a cold sweat. Can’t do anything about that, and he definitely wasn’t going to take a shower at whatever-the-fuck o’clock it was right now. That would definitely wake up his father who already slept lightly from being used to waking up to danger at a moment’s notice.
And the thought of leaving the den appalled him right now.
He pressed his face further against the pillow and let out a heavy breath. It was harder to pick out the scents with his face nearly covered like this, but they were already faded and he didn’t want to think about them disappearing.
Of his family disappearing.
No, no, don’t go there, think about something else.
Like how he was cold. He didn’t bring a blanket with him; he had remembered the den’s existence and impulse took over before he could think about much else. He didn’t want to get up, but he didn’t want to disturb anything his uncle had so carefully arranged. He realized now that the blankets that had been taken and subsequently removed was Dante testing them out and finding them not good enough for the den. He didn’t show it in words, but he had really put a lot of care and effort into this.
It made Nero smile.
It also reminded him that he was alone, lying face down against a pillow to avoid looking at the empty space next to him, and cold.
He gripped the pillow underneath his hands tighter.
Then he felt something heavy, but more noticeably warm suddenly drop down on him. He shot his head up, but couldn’t see much as part of the thick blanket that had suddenly fallen on top of him covered one of his eyes. He tried to turn around, limbs kicking at the blanket, but froze when he recognized whose blanket this was. The blanket was covered in his father’s scent. And it was warm, this must’ve been the one he was sleeping with tonight and he-
He felt the blanket shift and lift up on his side by the entrance to the den, and sure enough his father was then lying down next to him, pulling the blanket over the two of them. Vergil wrapped one arm around Nero’s back and pulled him close, and Nero went, too stunned to do anything else as his forehead bumped his father’s chest. He felt his father rest his chin atop his head and the arm around his back moved to the back of his neck, giving it a gentle but grounding squeeze.
“Go to sleep.” Vergil spoke softly, voice low.
Nero blinked, still needing a moment to process what happened, and when he finally cleared his thoughts, he felt himself tense up. He didn’t want to have to explain to his father why he was here, that he had a nightmare, that he wanted to come to the den Dante made for them because the thought of being alone in his room for another second made him illogically terrified, because he was too old for this type of reaction, and-
His father tightened his hold around him again.
“You are safe. Go to sleep.”
And that was all Vergil said. He didn’t ask anything. He just held Nero in his arms.
Nero blinked away the feeling in his eyes that he refused to acknowledge as the urge to tear up, and ducked his head under the blanket to further hide his face against his father’s chest as he shut his eyes.
He focused on his breathing again, noticing it had slowed down significantly, and he wasn’t shaking anymore. Nor was he cold.
Sleep overcame him before he even realized he was starting to drift off.
-
Nero was woken up to the sound of a door swinging open and heavy footsteps entering the room.
“Aww, you guys were in here and didn’t tell me?! Making me miss out on my own den cuddle time.”
Nero groaned and buried his head further underneath the blanket around him. He didn’t know what time it was but he didn’t want to be awake yet. His head was still groggy and his limbs felt sluggish. He felt whatever he was pressed up against rumble, and faintly recognized it was Vergil complaining and telling his brother to shut up. The two of them said something else but Nero tried to block out the sound in favor of going back to sleep. He was disturbed once again by something moving him around.
“Sorry, sorry, going as fast as I can, can’t exactly see where all your guys’ limbs are, ya look like a giant lump under there.” That was Dante, now in the den with them. “Didn’t bring any extra severed limbs in here yourselves, did you?”
“Quiet, before it’s your limbs that are cut off.” Vergil growled back.
“That’d certainly add some flare to the décor, though it’d probably ruin the blankets. Don’t think this brand is stain proof.”
Nero grumbled and tried to tug the blanket around his head tighter around him, as if that would drown out the noise better. He heard something that almost sounded like a hiss as Vergil tightened his hold on him, then he felt something thud down behind him on his other side.
“Didn’t have to knock me over.”
“Dante.” Ah, Vergil sounded pissed off.
“Alright, I won’t move.” Dante said. True to his word, Nero didn’t feel any movement for a minute.
“Dante.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
Nero heard another growl, then he felt more shuffling about along with the blanket moving.
“Whoa, what are you-“
Nero felt something land over his legs while something else was pulled against his back, and it took him a moment to realize Vergil’s tail had manifested and he used it to grab Dante and pull him closer and under the covers. Said tail was now resting over his legs and holding Dante hostage.
“You just needed to ask Verge, I would’ve-“
“Stop. Talking.”
Dante chuckled, but thankfully didn’t continue his sentence, and soon enough Nero felt another arm wrap around him loosely. He also thought he heard purring behind him, but his mind was already drifting off again and couldn’t focus on it.
His family was here. Everything was going to be okay.
-
When Nero blinked his eyes open, it was brighter in the room, signaling it was at least morning now. He found he had shifted to lay back on his stomach, and with a careful turn of his head, he found Vergil still asleep to his left, though his father still had a loose arm resting over his back. Looking to the right, he found Dante just waking up himself, stretching slowly on his back. When he noticed Nero watching him, he smiled warmly and shifted to lay on his side to face him.
“Everything alright?” Dante asked softly, voice low. Nero gave him a questioning hum. “I’m assuming you were the one who went to the den first here?”
Nero felt himself frown and duck his head slightly, though he didn’t want to move too much to keep from jostling his father’s arm still lying on him in case it might accidentally wake up the other man. Dante seemed to catch his embarrassment and chuckled.
“Hey, one of the den rules is that it’s a safe spot in here. No judgement. We’re not gonna ask why if you don’t wanna share. I’m just making sure you’re okay.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. . .” Nero murmured, voice feeling a little rough. He must have slept really deeply last night to still feel this heavy now. It wasn’t a bad heavy, though, but rather relaxing in a way. Like nothing felt urgent to do at the moment, so he could just rest here for a while. The more he thought about it, he realized he was more embarrassed about the den than the nightmares now, and a part of his mind was telling him his uncle wouldn’t care about the reason. He’d probably be happy the den provided comfort for him.
He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he did.
“It was just a nightmare.” Nero finally spoke up, eyeing the pillow he was resting on rather than looking at his uncle, though. “Not that those usually bother me, this one was just. . . different.”
“I get that.” Dante nodded reassuringly. It made Nero let out a silent breath of relief. “I’ve had my fair share of ‘em. Still do.”
“I don’t know why I came here. I mean, I do, but it just kind of. . . happened without me realizing.”
“It’s as I said. When you know you’ll know. Your instincts will steer you right. You listened to them.”
“Yeah.” Nero hummed. “I don’t know how. . . Vergil knew I was here, though.” He almost called him Dad out loud. In his head he thought of him as his father, but he has yet to say so out loud. It was still weird to him.
“Probably heard you come here. You know how he is, waking up at the slightest breeze ruffling his hair the wrong way.”
“No, I remember being really quiet.” Nero frowned. He didn’t say he did so specifically not to wake anyone up.
“What about when you first woke up, then?”
“You think I scream myself awake?” Nero scoffed. “You would’ve heard that yourself. I didn’t do anything, I just woke up and. . .” He trailed off. He did make a sound, he remembered now. It caught him off guard and he remembered struggling to keep other sounds down as well. “That. . . couldn’t have been it. . .”
“So there was something?” Dante raised an eyebrow at him. “Was it higher pitched, from the back of the throat, kind of warble-y?”
“Ah. . . I guess. . .” Nero answered slowly, still frowning in thought.
“Yep.” Dante jokingly snapped his fingers lightly as he got his answer. “That’ll do it. A cry of distress. From his own nestling no less.”
A what?
Nero felt himself tense up and he shut his eyes. He couldn’t move unless he wanted to risk waking up his father, which he really didn’t want to do now. His father heard that? He woke up last night and no doubt could tell he left his room then, going to the den, and that’s why he brought his own blanket and came to comfort him.
Oh god.
“You’re his son; he’ll always come when you call.” Dante hummed. It only made the blush on Nero’s face grow. “Hey, hey, don’t be embarrassed. That’s what family’s for, kid.”
Nero grumbled something, but even he himself didn’t really know what he wanted to say, and it was incoherent anyway as he turned his head further into the pillow. He kind of wanted to suffocate against it.
“Nero.” Dante’s voice was softer now and he gently grabbed one of Nero’s hands, causing him to finally peek over at his uncle. “Being able to rely on a family again is hard, I know, but if you ever need anything, or need any help, for whatever reason, let one of us know, okay? It’s fine.” Nero hummed, and Dante continued. “Well, I’m sure your old man would prefer you let specifically him know, but. . .” Dante shrugged. “I know you’re still getting used to all this, and maybe you’re not too comfortable talking to us about certain things, but at least come to one of us. Him. Me. Both. But not neither. Okay?”
Nero hummed again, still not wanting to talk, but he nodded in understanding. Dante grinned back at him and finally let go of his hand to ruffle his hair lightly. His uncle leaned forward and Nero felt as he pressed their foreheads together silently.
Neither of them said anything, but Nero didn’t feel an urge to either. He would’ve thought the silence would be awkward, but instead it felt reassuring. The feeling of safety shifted to the front of his mind and Nero appreciated just being able to rest like this for a moment.
“I’m gonna see if I can fix up something for breakfast.” Dante finally said after a moment and gently nudged his forehead before finally getting up.
His uncle took his time carefully moving himself out from under the blanket that had been tousled from their sleeping already, and maneuvered around them with a lot more grace than he had when entering. Nero held back a laugh as his uncle finally left the den and quietly exited the room, finding the sheer contrast of how he acted earlier a little funny.
Nero closed his eyes, intending to rest here for a few more minutes before he inevitably had to get up. His father would probably wake up soon, and Nero wasn’t going to be in here by himself. He didn’t want to leave his father here by himself either, though. He guessed he might as well take this moment of peace while he had it and doze off for a bit.
Except it didn’t last for a moment at all. He felt the arm that was resting over him move and pull him over to his father, this time turning him so his back was against his father’s chest, and he felt his father rest his head atop his own again.
“He’s right, you know.” Vergil hummed.
Nero should’ve known his father was awake this whole time. Ugh.
“Really?” Nero tried to turn it into a tease, making fun at the thought of the brothers agreeing on anything together.
Vergil just hummed again.
Nero ducked his head out to move away from his father and carefully grabbed his father’s arm to move it off of him. Vergil let him do so with no resistance until Nero finally turned around on his side to face him with a glare.
It probably looked more like a squint.
Vergil slowly moved to sit up, tossing the blanket off his legs, and brushed a hand through his hair to try to move some of the loose strands out of the way. Most of the strands fell back down regardless, and Nero held his tongue to keep from saying anything as he sat up himself.
“I will always come for you when you call for me. So let me know if you need me.” Vergil murmured, gaze steadfast as he looked at Nero.
His father was acting so considerate; it was still odd to see. Dante had pointed that out, though, stating he knew getting used to his family would take a while.
Nero wondered if there was such thing as too much kindness for one night. It was a lot. And out of character.
Den rules, he guesses.
“I’ll try.” Nero finally answered quietly, and that seemed to appease his father. Vergil reached up and his hand carefully cupped the back of Nero’s neck, strong fingers giving him a gentle squeeze. It gave Nero another sense of that grounded feeling.
Also reminded him of being scruffed like a cat.
Then Vergil leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together, just like how Dante had done earlier. Nero felt that sense of safety rise up again, but now that he focused more on it, he could pick out more specific sentiments. It wasn’t just a blanket safety, but one relating specifically around his father, just as the one from earlier centered around his uncle. It almost felt like an invisible tether in a way, linking him with his family, and it became more present when they were close. There were other underlying emotions flitting around, Nero could tell his father was thinking hard about something, and wasn’t as tired as Nero was. He must have been awake even before he and Dante were.
He also felt a link of affection in between the array of other emotions.
Of love.
On one side, Dante’s love for his nephew was bright and warm and fiery, matching his personality and how he never shied away from expressing how proud he was of Nero. How he freely gave Nero physical comfort, not afraid to tousle his hair, pat his shoulders, wrap an arm around his sides to bring him in for a half hug. Or a full hug, sometimes lifting Nero off the ground just to watch his nephew flail about, trying to get his feet back on the ground. But whereas Dante’s love was vibrant and open, Vergil’s was significantly more contained and quiet, but that didn’t mean it was lacking at all, no. Nero was suddenly reminded of the times his father would keep an eye out for him when they took a job together, how his father had his back during battle, and was acutely aware of his wellbeing even when they were just at home. There were times where Nero would be so focused on something at home, not realizing how much time would pass, and would find a glass of water or a snack resting next to him without remembering where it came from. He had assumed he always got them himself and just wasn’t paying attention to it, walking on autopilot, but he could tell now it was his father leaving them for him. With this connection with his father so open and on display right now, it was undeniable that Vergil’s love for his son was silent but strong. Unwavering and steady, just as Vergil was.
It made Nero let out a startled purr.
“Hmm?” Vergil questioned and leaned back, keeping his hand on the back of Nero’s neck, but giving them enough room to see each other more clearly. Nero aggressively tried to ignore the embarrassment rising in his chest.
“That. . . the. . . you. . .” Nero fumbled, unsure how to word it and still stunned by the earlier sound he made. He gestured between their faces, hoping it got the point across.
“Ah, this is new to you.” Vergil said in understanding, voice still low. “Higher demons can form bonds between one another, most commonly between family who shares blood. It is primarily used to check on each other’s well beings and to make sure everyone is safe. Physical contact can temporarily strengthen the bond between two to make it easier to feel.” Vergil leaned forward once more, bumping their foreheads together, though lighter this time. “The bond does not lie, so one cannot hide within it.”
Nero understood his father meant the bond would reveal his honest emotions, so he couldn’t lie and say he was fine if he wasn’t, but he also caught the other meaning.
That what Vergil was feeling wasn’t a lie either.
It wasn’t a false love. It was raw honesty.
And now that he knew what it was, Nero realized he had been unconsciously aware of the bond for a while, as well. Whenever he had woken up from a nightmare before and reminded himself that the others were nearby, he was unconsciously reaching out to the bond and reassuring himself with their presence. When they were out on a job fighting, too, whenever he lost sight of them, he had been able to recognize that they were still alive and fine. Not that Vergil or Dante could die so easily, with how many times they get stabbed time and time again and come out without a scratch, but a small part of him liked the reassurance regardless.
Nero felt like if he stayed in the den any longer right now he was going to get light headed and fall over. Too much kindness, indeed.
“Dante is downstairs making breakfast.” Nero mumbled.
“Hmm. Better make sure he doesn’t burn anything.”
Vergil gave the back of his neck one last comforting squeeze, then let go and leaned back to step out from the den. Nero watched him leave before crawling out himself and finally stretching as he stood up fully. He gave himself a few minutes, feeling the strain in his muscles from the unusual sleeping arrangements, but after he heard a loud bang from downstairs, he decided he spent enough time delaying.
He descended the stairs clumsily, not that anyone was watching anyway, and when he entered the kitchen, he saw Dante hovering near the stove with the fire on. There were a few boxes and ingredients scattered across the counter for various meals, so Nero wasn’t quite sure what was being made, but nothing smelt burnt yet, so he assumed it was going well enough. Vergil was most likely still upstairs getting dressed and freshening up, so Nero sat down at the island counter by himself as he watched the back of Dante looking between the stove and reading the back of one of the boxes. Looked like it might be a pancake box.
Nero sat silently for a while as he listened to Dante humming some unrecognizable tune while tending to the maybe-pancakes. His thoughts drifted back to the den for a while, trying to categorize all the new information about demons, and consequently himself, that he learned, and frowned.
“How many more major demon traits are there?” Nero questioned aloud, and Dante turned to look over his shoulder at him.
“What do you mean?”
“I just found out about the, uh, the bond thing.” Nero huffed, gesturing airily to his head.
“Oh, yeah?” Dante said with a chuckle. “Did you just think you were psychic before or something? New breed of empath? That’d be helpful dealing with clients at least. Or irritating. You know, actually I wouldn’t want to deal with every stranger’s emotions, I’ll stick with what I got.” He turned back to flip one of the maybe-pancakes, then made a sound of disappointment. “Damn, stuck to the other one.” He muttered under his breath.
“Do you and. . . Vergil have one?” Nero asked. He almost said Dad again.
“Of course, kid. We’re brothers. It’s been through its fair share of chaos and strain, but it’s doing better now.” Dante answered, his tone getting softer at the end.
“I feel like this is something I should’ve known. Should’ve recognized.” Nero huffed, folding his arms on the counter and resting his chin on them in a pout. “I don’t like not knowing things like this about myself.”
“Don’t stress over it. It’ll come with time. So long as you listen to your instincts when its pushing you towards something, you’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t even know this was what my instincts were telling me. I didn’t understand it.”
“Time, kid. Give it time.” Dante grinned back at him. “Speaking of the bond, though, now that everything’s settled down some, you’ll probably be getting more reaffirmations from us.”
“Reaffirmations?”
Dante’s grin widened and he quickly situated what he was doing on the stove, setting the spatula in his hand down, and walked around the island to stand next to Nero. Dante was still taller than him, even with him sitting up at the counter, so he had to tilt his head up to eye Dante. He quickly closed his eyes, though, when Dante did his usual of ruffling his hair up, then leaned down to press their foreheads together.
Nero felt the bond between the two of them flare up, and he felt the equivalent of a mental hug in his mind. He was safe. Dante was safe. Along with the other emotions of the morning resting in the background of the bond. It only lasted a few seconds, then Dante stepped back.
“That.” Dante said.
Nero squinted at his uncle as the man walked back to his station in the kitchen and he slumped back to his earlier position himself.
“The forehead thing?” Nero questioned, still trying to understand.
“Doesn’t specifically have to be that.” Dante answered between pulling out a plate and dropping some pancakes onto it. “It’s the most common, though, and easiest to do. You just saw it yourself. Hands free!” Dante paused. “Though, parents sometimes also like to hold the back of their nestling’s neck. It’s a support thing, meant to make the nestling feel protected.”
Nero tried not to think about Vergil doing exactly that earlier. He’s been embarrassed enough as it is this morning.
“So you just… walk up to someone and. . . do that?” Nero muttered.
“I don’t think walking up to strangers with that will get the results you want, kid.” Dante teased, and Nero rolled his eyes at him.
“Not what I meant.”
“I got it, I got it.” Dante said, waving the spatula he held around in the air. “Yes, you can just walk up to one of us and do that.”
“And is there a reason for doing that, or just. . .”
“Reaffirmations are, as it sounds like, reaffirming the bond and is a way to check in on each other. Someone can tell you they’re safe, but it’s more reassuring to have them right in front of you so you can see for yourself, too. So you might see it happen more so after one of us goes off on a job or something, but it could also just happen during a slow day, too, just because. One day your instincts are gonna bug you to check in with us. Just go ahead and do it, then; we won’t mind.”
Nero frowned. That felt too. . . domestic. But then imagining announcing before doing it sounded worse in his head. Ugh.
“You know what, you might even be the one to finally get your old man to purr, too.” Dante perked up, then snickered to himself. “Damn, haven’t heard that in ages. I wonder if it even still functions for him. Might have rusted from disuse.”
“He can what?”
“You heard me.” Dante smirked at him. “We all can.”
“No way.” Nero shook his head, denying it, but Dante only chuckled more at him. “That part can’t be real.”
Nero remembered the sound Dante had made last night when he first entered the den, though. And the fraction of a sound Nero himself made when he finally recognized what the bonds were.
He didn’t want Dante to know that.
He probably already knew that.
Vergil walked into the room in the next moment, head down as he was looking at something in a small notebook of his. He was dressed, unlike the rest of them still in their pajamas, and his hair was back in its usual place.
Nero was going to say something about the kitchen not having burned down yet, but he paused when he caught his uncle looking over at him with a smirk. Dante mouthed “watch this” while making a goofy gesture with his eyebrows, and Nero tilted his head back at him in confusion.
Nero watched silently as his uncle walked over to his father, cutting him off from his path, and Vergil barely had a moment to look up from his notebook before Dante rested their foreheads together.
Nero expected his father to recoil and growl at him, especially because Dante was still holding the spatula with pancake batter threatening to drip off. Nero was prepared for it. Instead, Nero somehow was able to catch Vergil’s stance relaxing slightly, then his father carefully nudged his uncle back in a reciprocal gesture before finally straightening up and stepping around him.
“Don’t burn your food.” Vergil said, attention back to his book.
Dante turned back to Nero and gave him a thumbs up with a goofy smile, playing it up. Nero shook his head at him in exasperation and turned to look back at the stove.
Seeing that did make him feel a little better about it, though.
It was always surprising to see moments where his uncle proves he’s smarter than he likes to act, sometimes.
.
-
.
Nero thrust his sword into the final demon in the area a little harsher than was required.
A lot more, actually.
Nero usually tried to keep his emotions in check while fighting so he can stay focused and not make a careless mistake. He’s made enough of those, and he’d prefer to keep his blood inside his body.
And keep all of his limbs.
Ha.
He was on a job by himself, nothing out of the ordinary going on throughout the whole ordeal, but one of the demons spoke to him, and next thing he knew, he was charging at the whole swarm with newfound anger. He was clumsier than he would’ve liked, but a part of him found a crude pleasure in watching these demons get torn apart by his blade, dissipating in the air without giving them a chance to retaliate.
The demon that spoke had recognized him, or rather they recognized he was related to his father and started making threats. Of course his father was known, the Sparda twins were infamous, that part wasn’t surprising. Vergil and Dante both probably had years worth of stories about demons getting in way over their heads, thinking they were something they’re not, and challenging the twins to prove their worth only to get destroyed.
Nero recalls one time he was on a job with his father, and on their way to the location where a higher ranking demon was supposedly located, they came across a group of smaller ones who recognized them. The scent of a Sparda was apparently very discernable. Nero was already preparing to fight, but before one of the demons could even finish its threat, Vergil had sliced it in half.
Nero hadn’t even seen him unsheathe the Yamato.
“You’re not worth our time.” Vergil stated, not even turning his head as he continued onward. The other demons fell shortly after.
So demons threatening them to try to climb the social ladder was just a casual weekday outing for the three of them.
Today, though, it just irked him the wrong way.
Nero stood in the now empty clearing, only half paying attention to cleaning off his sword as he stared at the spot where the last demon had been. Usually he would detour when returning home, sometimes taking the chance to grab some food or check out some stores since he was already out of the house, but now he wanted to return home.
Vergil and Dante should still be home.
Dante would probably appreciate him picking up food, though. He’d probably cheer for him if he stepped into the house with bags full of something greasy, he always appreciated those. Vergil didn’t. Dante always responded saying if he wanted to eat something more refined, he should be the one to go out and buy dinner next time. Whenever Vergil did, Dante would be the one to complain about the menu. It was the usual bickering, but Nero liked seeing them mess around with each other and not have it end with someone getting stabbed.
He could tell Dante appreciated having his brother back. Sometimes he would look at his brother with a soft smile when he thought no one was looking.
He should pick up food, but he just wanted to go home.
Thankfully, the route back didn’t take too long. He may have gone faster than he normally would, too, but he didn’t want to think on it too hard. Dealing with new instincts was frustrating sometimes.
Stepping through the front doors, he found Dante first, leaning back in his chair by the front desk flipping through the pages of a random magazine with a bored look on his face. He turned his head when he heard the door and his expression brightened up.
“Welcome back. How’d it go?” He asked, tossing the magazine on the desk.
“Fine. No problems. Job’s done.” Nero looked around, not seeing his father anywhere, and didn’t hear any other movement as well. He was nearby, though.
How did he know that?
Right. Bond. Still getting used to it.
He loosened the strap that was holding his sword on his back and, after a second of thought, tossed it over to the nearby couch. He’d put it away properly later. Dante wouldn’t let anyone who walked in the doors mess with it, anyway.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Back room with the books.” Dante answered.
Nero hummed. When he finally looked up from where he set down his sword, he saw Dante watching him with a wide grin. What? Why? Was there something up with the sword, or-
Oh.
He clenched his teeth to prevent himself from making a face, not wanting his expression to reveal how he felt about the name slip. He needs to be more aware of that. He’s been doing okay about it so far. At least his father wasn’t around to hear it. He wasn’t ready for that, yet.
But that also reminded him of why he returned home so quickly, too. Demons talking shit about his father.
Nero felt antsy.
He wanted to check in with his father. What was it Dante called it? Reaffirmation?
Oh.
Instincts were urging him on once again.
Nero felt himself frown as he stared downwards at the floor in front of him. Dante had explained it before, saying this would eventually happen, and all he had to do was just. . . walk up to his father and do something. He could probably just lean his head over on his shoulder if he was sitting on a couch somewhere. That gesture would be easier for him to do. But there wasn’t a couch in their little makeshift library room. Vergil was home with them, though. Shouldn’t that be enough to appease his instincts?
The thought of Vergil being nearby and not doing anything actually made him more restless. It was within reach and he was stubbornly not following through with the urge.
He felt something press against his forehead and relaxed slightly as his bond with Dante brightened up. He felt his uncle’s concern being the foremost emotion coming from him, and Nero assumed he must have been making too much of a stressed face. How long was he standing silently in the room like that?
He also felt himself get annoyed at his own inability to do this himself. Look how simple it was for Dante to do this; Nero didn’t even realize he got out of his chair and walked over to him. Maybe if he looked equally as miserable in front of his father, Vergil would do this himself, too. Then Nero wouldn’t have to start it.
He knew that’s not a reasonable solution, though. He can’t just wait until his instincts drive him mad and let someone else notice and check on him every time he needed this. He might as well learn now.
“Damn, kid, if that’s how you’re feeling about the name, I won’t tell him.” Dante murmured. Nero blinked his eyes open, not realizing he closed them, when Dante ended the connection and stepped back. His uncle put a hand on his shoulder with a slight frown. “Got a mess of emotions there, huh? Vergil calls you his son when he talks about you to others, you know? He’d be relieved to know you feel similarly about him. I know he’s been stressing over it, not that he’d ever admit it.” Dante huffed. “You should tell him, though.”
What?
Oh, Dante thinks he’s upset over the name slip. Well, he is, but that isn’t what’s bothering him the most at the moment.
Wait, Vergil calls him son?
“That’s not. . .” Nero trailed off.
“Not what? Something did happen on the job?” Dante tilted his head.
“No. Or, not really. I mean nothing did, it just. . .” Nero huffed at himself, frustrated. Dante was waiting patiently for him to organize his thoughts, though. “I think it’s the thing you said before, a while ago, about instincts acting up after a job. Wanting to check on people.”
“Oh, reaffirmations, yeah?”
“Yeah. . .”
“Hey, that’s no problem.” Dante returned to grinning, stepping around to Nero’s side now and moved his hand to pat his back, purposely pushing him forward a step. “Just go back there and give ol’ Vergil a hug.”
“No way, I’m not doing that.” Nero scoffed and turned around to face his uncle again. Dante waved his hand in dismissal.
“I told you before, it’s normal, nothing to worry about.” He paused, then smirked. “You’re his son.”
Nero swatted at Dante’s hand when his uncle tried to ruffle his hair. He almost wanted to walk back out the door and go find another swarm of demons to fight.
But then he’d be stressed over leaving his father again.
“Alright, alright, how about this.” Dante said, picking up on his mood, and walked around to his desk. He shuffled through a drawer, pulled out some spare cash, and stuffed it in his pocket. “I’ll go out and get us something to eat. You take whatever moment you need to stop being in your head about it, then go tell your father you’re back and hug him, give him a hearty handshake, leap up onto him for a piggyback ride, something, as long as you don’t just stand there stewing in your own gloom. When I come back, if you still haven’t done something yet, I’m telling him.”
Nero made an agitated face at the last sentence, and Dante responded with his own look that told him to hurry up then. His uncle then swung the front door open with a flourish and left.
The resulting silence did manage to calm Nero down a bit, though. He took the time to go over everything his uncle told him, telling himself to calm down. It’ll be fine. The longer he waits here the worse he will feel. And the higher probability his father will leave the room to find him hovering here. Then he’ll ask what he’s doing, and Nero will most likely fumble an explanation and make things more awkward than they need to be.
Just go in the room.
With a final deep breath, Nero navigated over to where their makeshift library was and gently opened the door. His father was standing near the back of the room, one hand holding an open book while the other was writing something down in one of his notebooks resting on a window sill. His father didn’t look up, but his head did slightly tilt towards Nero in acknowledgement.
“Is everything taken care of?” Vergil asked, referring to the job. Nero nodded before realizing his father was still looking at the book.
“Yeah.”
Vergil hummed.
The room fell back into silence aside from the occasional scratch of a pencil or the flip of a page.
Nero prepared for this; he can’t just stand here. Go, Nero, go.
Without giving himself a chance to back out and find some excuse to leave, he took a step forward. That gave him the momentum he needed to follow through with his plan.
When he reached Vergil’s side, he resolutely grabbed the sleeve of his father’s coat and tugged on it faintly. Vergil turned slightly, pencil dropping in the crease between the notebook pages, and gave a questioning look towards his son. He remained silent, though, and was still standing up straight. Nero couldn’t reach what he wanted from here.
So Nero tugged on his father’s sleeve more forcefully, not letting up until Vergil followed the pull downwards. Once Vergil was finally leaning down enough, and helpfully facing towards him now, Nero touched their foreheads together.
Nero let the relief wash over him at the bond lighting up between them. He felt the initial mental hug, then felt the warmth of safety surround him. The primary emotion Nero could pick up from his father related to the deep concentration around whatever he was researching, but it still calmed Nero all the same. Nothing was wrong. They were both safe.
Which, now that Nero had a clearer mind about it, it was obvious that they were both safe. Of course they were. But instincts called.
Nero caught himself from slumping forwards when he felt Vergil grasp the back of his neck. Now that he knew what the gesture meant, it made his instincts more appreciative about it happening.
But his instincts had also been settled, so Nero stepped back.
Vergil stood up straight himself, shifting the book he still held in his hand. He watched Nero for a second longer, then turned to resume his research, picking up the pencil once more and focusing back on the sentence he left off on.
Nero fidgeted with the sleeves of his jacket for a bit. He expected his father to say something, to ask if there was something on his mind, but he didn’t. Nero didn’t want to hover around any longer, so he left the room. He returned to the front office, taking a seat in Dante’s usual spot in case someone came in or the phone rang, eyeing the sword still resting on the couch as well.
As he thought, Nero realized he liked the silent response better. There wasn’t anything to ask because it was normal. Like Dante said. Nothing wrong with it. Instincts. Natural.
He’s learning to get used to it.
Nero slumped back in the chair, kicking his feet up on the desk to imitate his uncle in an attempt to find a comfortable position. He slung and arm over his eyes to hide his face as he remembered the sound he heard earlier as well.
It was quiet, but there was a low rumble that lasted for a few seconds when Nero started their little reaffirmation.
He couldn’t help smiling to himself. Looks like his father wasn’t rusty after all.