I do not own Devil May Cry or any of it's characters and anything else I need to say so I don't get myself into trouble.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Dante muttered with every step, pacing by the bathroom door.
"How easy do you think it is to piss with you right outside the door!?" the occupant screamed.
"Just do it already!" He reached for the door knob, and was treated to a hair-raising electrical shock for the action. Women! He hit the door in frustration and left the room, deciding he wanted a beer.
Surprisingly, he had an untouched six-pack in his fridge. He ripped a can out of the box automatically and threw himself onto one of his ragged couches. A spring bounced out of a cushion with the force. Crap. He'd have to replace that. It was just as well since the couch smelled like ass anyway. His thoughts couldn't distract him for long (he didn't have that many to begin with) and he hauled himself off of the seat in one lithe movement and began pacing once more. How long had it been? Had she even peed yet? When did he finish his beer? He crushed it with little effort and went back for another.
As he was walking back to the couch he noticed her standing halfway down the stairs, glaring at him as if he had just ran over her puppy.
"You better get me a ring," she answered his questioning look through gritted teeth.
Shit.
Trish was sitting on a couch in the corner, a new couch, Dante thought venomously. How she had talked him into letting her redecorate the Devil May Cry was beyond him, it looked like the queer-eye guys had a decorative orgy in here. No, the coffee table and house plant did not scream 'an infamous devil hunter lives here,' quite the opposite in fact. His eyes returned to Trish, she was sitting under the picture of their shotgun wedding, and she had been the one holding the shotgun all the way up until he had said "I do". Her stomach was round and swollen, her new short hair-do was rumpled and she was resting her pregnancy-enlarged feet on the aforementioned coffee table. God she looked hot, Dante though ruefully. She was carrying his baby after all. He told her that he didn't care if it was a boy or a girl, just so long as it wasn't twins. She had laughed at him for that and assured him that if she had to squeeze out two 'miracles' he wouldn't be around to see them anyway, because she would kill him.
The two of them had relocated to a spacious apartment in the city (thank god Trish was better with her money than Dante was his, although he still didn't know the number to their 'joint account'). The place was baby-proofed, Trish was finishing reading her umpteenth thousandth parenting magazine and Dante was finally past the 'are you really sure it's mine?' stage. This baby was coming. Soon, if he remembered the number of months right.
"Hey," he spoke to Trish without turning his head or opening his eyes, he was comfortably perched in his chair after all, "do demons give birth like normal people? The thing isn't going to pop out of you and start eating the nurses right?" He smiled at the joke he thought he made. There was no response. Weird, Trish usually jumped down his throat at things like that. He quickly got his answer when he found himself falling off of the chair that had just been swiped from under him. His ass collided with the floor heavily, eyes flying open to see Trish not even one foot away from his face. Damn, he forgot how good at that she was.
"I told you not to call the baby that anymore," she growled.
"No," he replied as he stood and wiped off the area that had sported the brunt of the impact, "you told me not to call the baby 'it' we never discussed 'thing'."
"Why won't you just call it 'the baby'?" she threw her hands up in frustration.
"Why won't you let me know what the sex is? Then we can just call it by name." An electric shock ran through him causing his teeth to slam shut and his eyes to roll back in their sockets. "My bad," he muttered after recovering, "then we can just call the baby by name."
"Because I want to be surprised."
"Hasn't it already surprised us enough for one life time? It's not like it was planned." Dante could brag that he was an excellent shot, a great swordsman or even a powerful demon hunter, but smart he was not, as he realized while waking up from being knocked out cold. Trish stood above him, looking him in the face from beyond her belly. Dante groaned as he rubbed his head. Yup, definitely fried some neurons.
"This," Trish started sharply, pointing at her stomach, "is a baby. YOUR baby, and deserves to be called so."
Dante rolled over and lifted himself to his knees, making him just a little taller then the belly. He placed his hands around it gently, felt up, down and sighed.
"No." he said simply as he rose to his feet.
"No?" Trish inquired.
"No, it's not a baby, it's a thing in your stomach, and will be until it's out." Dante shrugged, "that's just how I see it." Trish sighed.
"Fine. I give up, my baby is an 'it'," she went to where Dante was sitting at the desk.
"I thought you just said it was MY baby," he smiled wickedly. She looked as though she was about to dive into another argument but was cut off when Dante abruptly stood and closed his lips onto hers in one quick movement. She melted into the kiss and accepted it passionately. "You're very pretty today," Dante whispered to her, that wicked grin of his permanently etched into his face. She relented.
"You're impossible," she smiled.
"You've always loved a challenge." He retorted quickly. Her response was cut off by the shrill tone of the phone.
"Devil May Cry," Dante answered, keeping one arm wrapped around his wife. "Yeah, sure, give me 10 minutes." He hung up and kissed Trish once more. "Gotta go make the world safe for our baby." He grabbed his guns, slung Rebellion over his back and walked to the door.
"It," Trish corrected impishly. Dante turned and gave her that dazzling smile that had gotten them into this mess in the first place, then left.
Shit. Shit. Shit. He was pacing again, remembering when he had done this last. He refused to go back into the hospital rooms, they gave him the heebie-jeebies. To his disappointment Trish didn't seem to mind, she seemed almost happier with the arrangement. She had been very business-like all morning. When her water broke she had simply gathered her things and ordered Dante to drive, he didn't even know what was going on until about halfway to the hospital. From there she checked herself in and left him in the waiting room. That had been 12 hours ago, he had already raided the vending machine, slept on one of the couches and tried to bring whiskey into the hospital, now he was just bored. The fact that his child was soon going to be apart of this world hadn't hit home yet, he didn't even know if Trish was in labor. The thought sent a sudden nervous realization in him. She was going into labor. Labor. HIS baby was going to born, soon. So here he was, pacing by the double doors and cursing.
There was a scream from beyond the doors, he knew that voice, and was dashing through the doors before he knew what he was doing. Dante was at her side in an instant, ready to cut down any demon stupid enough to hurt his wife, but there was no one there, just Trish. Her forehead was sweaty and her breathing came in fast, shallow breaths.
"Get it out of me!" she screamed, which turned into an agonized moan. Dante bit back the urge to correct her use of 'it', tapping into his rarely used self-control. Instead he opted for taking some of the ice chips in the cup sitting by the bed and dabbing them gently over her head. She sighed and closed her eyes. It was then that a fat little nurse came frittering in, whipped back the blanket coving what now belonged to Dante and began to probe. Dante watched in fascination from Trish's head, having no real desire to see what was going on down there. The nurse re-emerged a moment later.
"You look like you're ready to deliver," she said with a smile.
"What tipped you off!?" Trish shot back irritably; the nurse ignored her and instead turned to Dante.
"If you're going to be in the room while she gives birth you'll have to put on some scrubs." Dante was about to decline and say he was going to wait out side, but he glanced at his wife's eyes first and saw something he didn't know existed in her, just the tiniest trickle of fear.
"K," he answered simply, letting the nurse lead him away for the moment as others entered the room to prep Trish...
She was squeezing his hand off and yelling words that could have scorched your ears. Dante had gotten over the fact that his newly acquired scrubs made him look like the 'green giant' and was focusing on Trish. She had been pushing like this for over two hours and he wasn't enjoying the nervous looks that the nurses were giving each other. The strain was beginning to take its toll on Trish, sweat rolled off of her in peals and her yells had become hoarse, her squeezing hand however was doing just fine.
"It's crowning!" the doctor yelled triumphantly. He had been about five minutes from ordering a c-section and was pleased to finally see some progress. Dante froze, barely feeling his hand as Trish continued to squeeze it off. This was it. His baby was coming.
"Just one more big push!" the doctor encouraged. Trish obliged and gave one final groan. The room was silent for a minute, and then was filled with the sound of an infant crying. Trish fell back, exhausted. Dante gently wiped the sweat from her forehead.
"Congratulations, it's a girl," the doctor handed the baby to a nurse who handed her to Dante. The baby had stopped crying and was looking around the room with bright green eyes. Dante was holding her carefully, afraid that he might break her. He looked at the baby, the very thing he had been calling 'it' for the past 7 months, and couldn't for the life of him remember how he had been so callous. She was perfect.
"She's so tiny," was all he could think to say. Trish smiled, knowing that 'tiny' was not how she wanted to describe the child she had just spent two hours pushing out. One of the nurses came back to Dante to retrieve the child who he reluctantly handed over. They left the new parents to their privacy.
"So what should we name her?" he asked while wiping strands of hair out of his wife's face.
"I don't know. What do you think?" she asked, closing her eyes. Dante thought a minute, he hadn't considered the name.
"How about Yuki?"
"Why?"
"It means snow, for her hair."
"hmm," Trish thought it over a moment. "I like it, Yuki. But she might get teased, it's not exactly a common name."
"Don't worry. I'll make sure that she can handle herself." Trish smiled at that. She could just imagine the fighter her daughter was going to grow up to be.
"Yuki," she said once more, then fell asleep with Dante stroking her hair.
I promise that this story eventually becomes more than just mini stories, just wait until Yuki grows up a little. Please let me know if I'm staying true to Dante's character or if I need to fix anything! Thanx!!