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Dante was jolted out of his afternoon nap by the slamming of the shop door. However, since the wards didn't go off, his devil arms merely murmured sleepy greetings, and he recognized the silvery nimbus of his nephew's aura, Dante didn't bother opening his eyes or moving the latest gun magazine from his face. Nor did he look when he heard tiny stamping feet march his way. He deliberately kept still, boots kicked up on his desk, breathing slow and easy, listening with amusement as Nero hovered, fuming, and Dante just bet he was glaring daggers. When Dante refused to budge, Nero escalated… almost literally. Dante heard the scrape of the client chair being moved, then the sound of Nero climbing, first onto the client chair, then up onto the desk itself in order to better loom over his poor, defenseless uncle.
"Uncle Dante!"
Dante let out a loud snore, to indicate he was not taking meetings right now.
"Dante, wake up!" The little brat kicked his boots. Apparently, the shop's tiny tyrant had decided that this meeting couldn't be delayed.
Grumbling, Dante lifted the magazine up just enough he could see his nephew. Nero was, as expected, scowling at him. Obnoxious nap interrupter or not, he still was ridiculously cute in his cargo shorts and mucky blue dinosaur t-shirt, dirty tennis shoes solidly planted on the desk like he expected a fight, tiny face contorted in a scowl. Standing there like that, Nero was living proof of Nature vs Nurture. Dante's DNA could fool a paternity test into believing he was Nero's father, but that pose and that scowl came straight from Vergil.
It was almost as painful as it was endearing.
Dante dropped the magazine back to its previous position. "You're back early. So what put you on the war path this time, squirt?"
"You did!" Nero's voice was rife with outrage. Something hard and rectangular landed on Dante's middle, not quite knocking the air out of him, but definitely too heavy to ignore.
Frowning, he took the magazine off completely and looked down at what Nero had thrown on him. It was a kid's book on the Roman Empire. Where had he gotten that from? Well, no that was a stupid question. Nero had just come from playing with Albus Haas's kids, and since the man was head teacher of a fancy school, he had a ton of books. (Vergil would've loved the guy.) This was not the first time Nero had treated the Haas house like a library and borrowed a book, but this was the first time he'd thrown a borrowed book at his uncle.
Dante looked from the book to Nero and accepted the inevitable. With a groan, he pulled his feet off the desk and sat up straight. "Alright, spell it out for me. You mad 'cause you can't get up in armor and go empire building? Or did I accidentally get some historical fact wrong and made you look silly in front of your friends?"
Nero's face, which had been lightening with triumph at Dante's capitulation, darkened again, his ears turning pink with temper. He stamped his foot. "You named me after a crazy emperor who threw people to lions!"
It took Dante a good ten seconds to process this statement, then he looked down at the book with new eyes. Flipping it open, he found a bookmark on the chapter about Emperor Nero, who was indeed, one crazy s.o.b. However, Dante hadn't known that at the time he'd named Nero, or had only known it peripherally. And even if he had known…
He shut the book with a snap and set it on his desk, then stood and captured his nephew, tossing the boy over his shoulder.
"Hey! Lemme go! Lemme go!" Nero shouted, beating at Dante's back with his fists and trying to kick. Dante, an old hand at this, kept his legs pinned and so avoided a black eye from flailing feet. "You suck!"
"Hush up, you little goon," Dante told him, going to the shop doors and locking them, then turning off the neon and twitching the blinds closed so they would have privacy. That done, he went into the kitchen and plopped his nephew down on the counter. "We're having ice cream sundaes. What'dya want on yours?"
Nero gaped at him, then closed his mouth and blinked a few times. Drawing his knees up, he watched Dante with uncertainty. While Dante could admit he wasn't the best at being a parent, there were some rules he tried to keep, and one of those was dessert after dinner, and sundaes were reserved for Sunday… or when Dante felt like he really needed the pick-me-up. So of course Nero's alarm bells would be going off.
"Um… hazelnut?"
"Anything else?" Dante gave him a lopsided smile as he pulled out the ice cream and the two special sundae bowls. "We're going all out, kid, so dream big. Anything in the fridge, freezer, and cupboards are fair game today."
Nero's eyes went huge as the possibilities occurred to him. "Bananas! And sprinkles, all the colors! And-And-And fruit loops! And chocolate chips! And honey! And blackberries and gummy worms! The sour kind! With whipped cream!"
Dante laughed, getting out the requested ingredients. "Sounds delicious. Here, since you're up there already, grab the sprinkles and cereal, would ya? I'll need some help to make this masterpiece of yours."
Happily, Nero did so, and was delighted when presented with his bowl. "Wow," he breathed, awed by the sugary sight before him, but waited to dig in until Dante had made his own sundae. It was sadly lacking in comparison to Nero's, with only strawberries and a drizzle of honey to grace the three modest vanilla scoops.
"Come on," Dante said, helping Nero down from the counter and leading the way onto the main floor. He motioned Nero to their comfy old couch, then went to the jukebox and cued up several of his favorite albums. "I like this song," he said, almost to himself. "I've never found another copy, can't even read the name of the singer anymore, but I can't help but play it over and over. Something about her voice is mesmerizing, don't ya think?"
"Mmph!" Nero agreed through his mouthful of sundae. Swallowing, he added, "You've told me that already. A lot."
"Well, I've been hit in the head a lot, so I think I'm allowed to have some memory problems," Dante chuckled, then joined Nero on the couch. They made good headway into their respective sundaes, listening to the music and just enjoying the one-on-one time. "You know," Dante said abruptly, licking his spoon, "your dad was never a fan of sweet stuff."
Nero almost dropped his spoon, staring up at his uncle, half a gummy worm sticking out of his mouth.
Dante wasn't looking at his nephew, instead staring down into his nearly empty bowl. He stirred it about, cutting into a strawberry and watching the red juice slowly stain the white ice cream. "He preferred— prefers sharper flavors with a bit of bitterness, didn't mind sour stuff either. Dark chocolate, lemon, cranberry… even coffee if he could sneak some from Dad. Maybe that's why he liked tea so much too, lavender and chamomile and mint, herby flavors like that. I could never get into tea unless it had a ton of honey or sugar in it, which apparently ruins it." He smiled, and it was bittersweet. "Vergil… what a weirdo. He was like that with everything. Couldn't be a normal dumb kid like his twin, oh no. He had to like reading, and not fantasy or mystery, nah. He loved poetry. William Blake's poetry specifically. Again, had to pick one of the most esoteric poets ever to be his favorite." Pausing, he glanced at Nero and added, "If a thing's esoteric, that means it can be hard to understand for most people. You have to study and really care about an esoteric thing for it to make sense."
"I knew that!" Nero blustered, and Dante smiled knowingly.
"Just makin' sure. Anyway, your dad was always particular, had to do things his way. It annoyed me a lot, but I loved how easy it made him to tease. Even then, though, I knew there were lines I shouldn't cross. I scribbled in one of his books once and…" Dante shook his head, "I'd never seen him so angry before. Scared me a little." He frowned, eyes going distant, the sundae in his hands tilting precariously towards the floor. "I… I don't think I ever told him how sorry I was for doing that. I didn't realize how much he loved that book, and I should have. I just… I just wanted him to pay attention to me instead. Was stupid. So damn stupid."
Nero put the remains of his sundae on the coffee table and instead grabbed his uncle's arm. "Uncle Dante?"
Dante twitched, then shook himself. "Hm? Oh, sorry, Nero. Got lost in thought. Where was I? Oh yeah, I did have a point with all this." Clearing his throat, he put his sundae on the table beside Nero's. "You know the Sisters of Sword had you before I came and got you, right?" Nero nodded. "Well, you were just a little under three months old when Sister Luna finally got ahold of me, and of course they weren't going to leave a baby nameless that whole time. So it wasn't actually me who named you Nero."
His nephew stared at him, shock morphing back into outrage. "So they named me after a crazy emperor?! They're from Fortuna though!"
Nero's indignation got a soft laugh from Dante. "No kid. Crazy Emperor Nero does not have exclusive rights to the name or word Nero. You were named Nero because the blanket the hospital wrapped you in was black. Nero means black in Italian." Gently, he reached over and ran his fingers through Nero's hair, the fine strands catching on his callouses. "Later, when I had time to think about it, I knew Vergil would've named you something else. Maybe after a famous poet or historical person, but it would've been something with a lot of meaning layered into it like his and my full names… and he would've had it ready the day you were born."
"You have a full name?" Nero demanded, distracted.
"I'll tell it to you later," promised Dante. "But I warn you, it's a mouthful. Back to your name… I knew if I tried to name you like Vergil might have, I would've blown it." His crooked smile was wry and self-deprecating. "I am not up on my classic literature, and never have been. No matter what I picked, it wouldn't be good enough. But I am a fan of irony, and having a kid with our hair named Nero is most definitely ironic."
Nero's ears began to turn pink again, eyes narrowing with his growing temper. "You named me Nero because it was funny?!"
"A little bit," Dante admitted.
"That so stupid!" Nero exploded, his hands clenching into fists. "That's almost as bad as the Roads kids!"
"Oh, it's not that bad," Dante protested, eyes crinkling with mirth. "Nero is nowhere on the level of Dusty and Rocky Roads. And they just named their new baby Misty. I mean, it could be so, so much worse, Nero!"
"Worse?" Now Nero was on his feet, the flush of his ears traveling to his neck and staining his cheeks. "Dante… Credo's name is a word for when people write down something they believe in! Kyrie is a reference to Lord Sparda—"
"Don't call your grandpa lord, Nero."
"Shut up! Alice is named after Alice in Wonderland 'cause that's Mr. Haas's favorite book and he used it to propose to Mrs. Haas! And all the other Haas kids have names from books or authors. Summerlyn is named after both her grandmas! Peter's named after that apostle guy. Nuwa is named for a Chinese goddess." Nero sniffled suddenly, his shoulders rising as he rubbed angrily at one eye, then the other. "Names… Names are supposed to be important!"
"Aw, don't cry, kid. Come 'ere," Dante sighed, and pulled Nero onto his lap. The boy resisted at first, staying stiff in Dante's arms, but eventually gave in and collapsed against his uncle's chest. "Nero, listen to me for a sec, okay? Can you do that?" He thumbed away some threatening tears from the corner of Nero's eyes, waiting for his nephew to sniff and look up before speaking. "Nero, when I went to Fortuna that first time, I thought those nuns were full of shit. I only went because… well, I hoped, deep down, that they were telling the truth. Figured it was total bullshit though, and some lady had just picked Vergil as the father because her baby had blond hair. But there I was anyway, sitting in the orphanage's office waiting to see this fake nephew so I could finally stop hoping for the impossible, and Sister Luna walked in, carrying you all wrapped in that black blanket, with a head of white hair I could see across the room. And then I caught your scent and…" Dante's throat closed up and he hugged Nero to him again, tight as he dared, burying his face in that unruly white hair and breathing in deep. The scent was still the same, deep down beneath the every day smells; the unmistakable scent of shared blood and magic, the scent of family.
And layered deeper still: the smell of petrichor and clear, cold air. So close to Vergil's scent of steel and an approaching thunderstorm, so close that it was impossible to deny that this was Vergil's son.
"She explained the name choice, but I… I honestly didn't care, Nero. I was just so overwhelmed, so happy and sad and angry all at once, and the only thing that mattered to me was that you were safe in my arms. You could've been named Phoenix Wright and I wouldn't have batted an eye, because you were mine. My little spitfire of a nephew, who came in like a summer storm and made everything taste sweet again."
He didn't realize he was crying until Nero's hands came up, trying to wipe the tears from his cheeks. "Don't cry," Nero begged. "I'm sorry! Please don't be sad!"
Dante laughed wetly. "I'm not sad, Nero. I promise. These are the happy sort of tears. Mostly, anyway." Taking over, he wiped away his own tears, and smiled at Nero. "Point is, Nero, that I kept the name they gave you at the orphanage mostly because I was just happy you were with me. I didn't see a reason to change it. But, if it really means that much to you… Tell me your full name."
Nero swallowed, his eyes searching Dante's face, obviously still worried for his dumb uncle. Poor kid must be suffering from some severe emotional whiplash. Finally, Nero must've decided Dante wasn't going to burst into uncontrollable sobs, and said, "Nero Evan Alighieri."
"That's right."
His nephew frowned, thinking over his name, which gave Dante another few seconds to get a handle on his own emotions. Bad enough he'd gotten emotional enough to cry and scare the kid like that, last thing he wanted was another breakdown.
Finally, the gears clicked and Nero looked up. "My middle name… Evan. What's that mean? I know a kid named Evan in my class."
"Well, you for sure weren't named after him," Dante drawled. When Nero's expectant stare didn't lessen, he chuckled and pushed Nero's hair back from his face. "Nero, what's your grandma's name?"
"Eva," Nero said immediately.
"And how do you spell Evan?"
"E-V-A—" Nero's eyes went wide as dinner plates and his mouth made a perfect O. "I… I'm named after Grandma?"
Dante nodded, turning his smile in the direction of the portrait on his desk. "Would've liked to have done something with your granddad's name too, but his is a little harder to work with. Sparda is pretty distinctive." He propped his chin on Nero's head, which he knew would annoy his nephew. "So Evan it was. Figured even your picky dad couldn't find fault with that. Nero Evan Alighieri. Not fancy, nothing like what Dad or Vergil would think of, but… I thought it fit you anyway."
Nero pushed at him until Dante relented and sat back. Then, to Dante's utter confusion, Nero stood up on the couch cushion and wrapped his arms around his uncle, pulling Dante's head against his thin chest. He rested his own cheek on the top of Dante's head, holding him in place, and they just sat there like that as the seconds ticked by. Just as Dante was about to ask what Nero was up to, Nero began to purr.
Dante almost jerked away out of sheer shock, but Nero didn't let go, his grip surprisingly strong for such a little kid, even a part devil one. After the surprise died away, Dante felt himself beginning to relax, bit by bit. He couldn't help it. This was one-hundred percent instinctive, driven by the need to comfort and be comforted by family. Sparda had done this for both his sons when they were upset or hurt, cradling them against his chest, purring until their anxiety or pain had completely fled and been replaced by sleepy contentment. And so, just as his father had done for him, Dante had done for Nero whenever his nephew had needed it. And now… now Nero was purring for Dante
Dante swallowed hard and put his own arms around Nero, shutting his eyes tight against more tears. "Kid… your very first purr. You're going to make your sap of an uncle cry again."
"You keep sayin' that crying is just rain for flowers, which is stupid, but I know what you meant," Nero retorted, awkwardly petting Dante's hair. "So it's fine. You said you were happy crying anyway. So cry if you want. I won't tell anyone."
Now Dante laughed, and allowed himself to lean against Nero, just a little. "Love you, kiddo."
The purr increased in volume. "You really are a sap." A pause, then an embarrassed, "I love you too, Uncle Dante. Thank you for naming me."
Dante smiled. "You're very welcome, Nero."
~*~
After such an emotionally charged talk, Dante decided that a change of scene was in order, as well as comfort food, and declared that they would be having "A pizza picnic in the park!" A choice which Nero exuberantly endorsed.
In no time at all, they were walking to the park, Dante carrying a tote with their picnic blanket and a piping hot pizza. In years past, his other hand would be occupied by Nero's, but recently Nero had been developing an independent streak and declared he was too big to hold hands. (Dante had rebutted this argument with his own, that Nero was still too short to not hold hands. So they had both reluctantly compromised by Nero agreeing to stay on the side of Dante away from the cars, and still holding hands while crossing the street.)
"So what's your full name?" Nero asked, startling Dante out of his thoughts.
"What?"
"Your full name," Nero repeated impatiently. "You said you'd tell me your full name."
He had, hadn't he? Oh well. No getting out of it then. "Alright. Here it is." Taking a deep breath, Dante rattled off a name he hadn't spoken aloud since officially taking custody of Nero, "Durante Antoninus Sparda Alighieri." A glance down at Nero showed the boy's mouth was open as he stared up at Dante. "Told you it was a mouthful."
"That… That's super long!" Nero cried.
"Yeah it is," Dante chuckled. "And carefully calculated to boot. Listen to this: Durante, for the poet who wrote The Divine Comedy, which was one of Mom and Dad's favorite books—he was also possibly a distant relation. Same last name, you know? Antonius, after Antoninus Pius, one of the Five Good Emperors of Rome. Dad knew the guy and said he was a decent man, which was high praise from Dad. Sparda, because Mom insisted. She wanted to honor our dad, who, to be fair, not only did a lot of stuff worth honoring, but also put in half the work making us."
Nero scrunched up his face. "Ew."
Dante ruffled Nero's hair. "And finally, Alighieri, because Dad insisted. He told Vergil and me that Mom giving him her last name was one of the greatest gifts he'd ever received, so he wanted us to have it too. He was a pretty sentimental guy, once you got past bluff and guff."
Damn, but Dante missed his father so much. Especially during moments like this. How he'd love to hand Nero over to a doting grandfather and let Sparda spin the boy a true story from ages past that would more than explain Dante's odd name! Sparda had been an amazing storyteller. Now, more than ever, Dante wished that Eva, or anyone really, had thought to record Sparda's voice. Sparda had fervently disliked pictures of himself (Dante suspected Fortuna and their graven images to be at the root of that dislike), but he probably would've allowed a voice recording. It would've been nice for baby Nero to fall asleep with Sparda's voice in his ears the way Dante and Vergil often had. (For that matter, Dante longed for it too. And while he was wishing, he'd give away all the albums in his jukebox just to hear Eva singing one more time.)
Shaking away melancholy thoughts of family lost, he focused back on the family he still had. Grinning, he asked Nero, "Wanna hear your dad's name? It's just as bad." Nero narrowed his eyes, but Dante barreled forward without waiting for an answer, "Vergilius Aurelius Sparda Alighieri! His has a rhyme in it, which I think is cool. Anyway, his name is all chalk full of meaning too. Vergilius after the ancient Roman poet Publius Vergilius— who also makes an appearance in The Divine Comedy, by the way. Aurelius for Marcus Aurelius, another one of The Five Good Emperors— I think Dad was a closet fan of those guys, honestly. And then Sparda and Alighieri for the previously mentioned reasons! What do ya think of that, Nero?"
Nero, overwhelmed, just shook his head in disbelief.
Dante let him mull over all the new information until they reached the park and its rather impressive playground. He turned to ask Nero where he wanted to set up, only to get broadsided as his nephew abruptly threw his arms around as much of Dante as he could manage, almost overbalancing his poor uncle with the force of his attack hug.
"Nero! What—"
"Thank you for not giving me a dumb fancy name like yours!"
Dante blinked, then burst out laughing. What a funny kid! "Sure thing, kiddo." He fondly smoothed down some of Nero's hair as Nero looked up at him again, blue eyes reflecting Dante's face and the clouds floating overhead.
"Except, I wanna have Grandpa's name too. Like you and my dad have!"
That pronouncement stifled Dante's laughter pretty damn quick. He regarded his nephew soberly for a long moment, then picked a spot under a tree and set out the blanket and pizza. "Tell you what, squirt. When you unlock your Devil Trigger or graduate high school, whichever come first, if you still want to add Sparda's name to yours, then you'll have my blessing. Until then, you're stuck with a measly three names."
Nero eyed him long and hard, obviously thinking the offer over. Dante let him think, taking a bite of still warm pizza, savoring the greasy goodness. There was no use telling Nero all the grief Sparda's name might bring him. Dante loved and was proud of his father, but that hadn't always been the case. Too often, the name Sparda had felt like a curse.
"Okay, deal," Nero said, sticking out his hand.
Solemnly, Dante shook the proffered hand. "Deal," he echoed.
Nero nodded firmly, then spun on his heel and ran to the playground.
"Hey! The pizza'll get cold!" Dante shouted after him, but Nero was gone. "Speedy little devil," he muttered, focusing back on his own food. "Shoulda named him Bullet or something."
He finished his first slice before his internal "parent alarm" went off. Looking up sharply, he felt his stomach drop at the sight of Nero standing on the very top of the play equipment.
Nero crouched, body coiled like a spring, his arms held out to the side like wings, fingers hooked into claws. He bared his tiny baby fangs and shouted, "Bang Bang! Go Devil Trigger!"
Apparently, Nero had decided to accelerate his Devil Trigger's awakening by the simple expediency of leaping from a tall height, and believing very hard that he'd grow wings.
Dante Tricked over to the playground just in time to save his nephew from smashing his skull open on an unfortunately placed railing. Just another day in the life of Durante Antoninus Sparda Alighieri.