It was that fucking clock that was driving Dante insane. Tic-toc, tic-toc, tic-toc… That cliché. He hated clichés. Without thinking, Dante whipped out Ebony & Ivory, giving the clock the medicine it needed: Two bullets to the battery. Though, that action did cause everyone else in the Hospital's waiting room to snap their eyes in his direction in alarm. " Got a problem, or were you just admiring the hair?" His two metallic friends were hidden behind his 'cape' in an instant, tucked securely in his belt.

How long does it take to get this sort of thing done, anyway?

Tic-toc, tic... toc… tic-toc… tic-toc, tic-toc…

" Oh, Hell no."

Trish rubbed her sweaty, clammy palms together. She hadn't been feeling that well for a few weeks, and both her and Dante had suspicions… Just not conclusions, in case of false hope. After all, the 'Legendary Dark Knight of Sparda'—he liked to be called that in bed—wanted a son. Badly. She knew that the moment they had gotten together (he refused condoms, which was another hint).

Not just any kid. No. A son. He told her, " You damn well better give me one, what would I do with a daughter, anyway? I'm not pampering no brat." He slept on the couch that night.

She knew she was, but Dante had told her to get tested nevertheless. Which was why she was here, on a table, her legs spread, a cold metal clavicle prying her apart and Doctors' hands between her legs; while the doctor did just that—pry. He was worse then Dante.

She felt a sharp pinch with a hiss—Wait. Was that gunfire? She told Dante to leave the guns at home, but no… Egoist.

" Congratulations. Welcome to parenthood." She felt his hands loosen themselves, the clavicle following; then the snap of his gloves being removed and thrown into the garbage.

There was no way she was going to say 'Thank you.'

"TrishTrishTrish…" Dante whined as she exited, an elderly nurse pulling on his ear with a frown.

"…" All she could do was lift her brows, eyes raising to where the smoking clock, than back to her mate's eyes. "… What?"

" Make her let go!" His voice was not commanding, but in a whining, pleading manner. She'd hear that every night, too…

" Only if you apologize and pay for the clock." She was surprised he wasn't harassing her about the results yet—But on the other hand, the nurse was ripping his ear off.

" But…"

Good Devil, she was already a mother.

Trish had never seen a pregnant demon, until she herself was one. Now… There are differences between Demon pregnancies and Human ones.

For instance, while Human with-child mothers yell, " I'm going to kill you for this!" Jurn labor, they don't actually try to cut the father's head off. Demons, on the other hand, do. Humans have odd cravings while laden with a baby… Ice cream, bananas, pickles, etc. So do demons…For bats, liver, blood… Mostly things with high protein and iron. So, Daddy Dante was running everywhere to attain the delicacies for his pregnant mate, waiting on any beck, whim or call she may have for him. Just not ones like, " Go jump off a bridge in the Seventh layer of Hell!" Which he got from time to time. And all for a, " I'm going to fucking kill you!" When the 'Big Day' came. Hmph. Though, like a loyal lost pup, Dante kept holding her hand, probably in more pain than she was with the amount of jolts she was sending into his body, from her fingertips through his.

Eventually, however, they had kicked him out—probably so she would stop getting up and try to go choke him, but also because she needed to concentrate since 'she was dilating.' He was in the waiting room for ten hours before he was allowed to go in.

Trish, however exhausted, was smiling and holding a little 'Angel'—Well, Demon, but—In her arms. Hesitantly, remembering the pain he had brought him, he edged over to her and his child.

" Is it a…" He started, then stopped in alarm. There was another tiny baby in her other arm, its eyes closed while it sucked on its thumb. He could have fainted right there—from what… Pride?

" Twins…" She said, softly, her voice taken with fatigue. But she was happy. And alive. Healthy, even. That was all that mattered as he took the twins from her, cautiously from her—only to nearly faint again.

Twin girls!

While he stood there in shock, he could hear Trish's gentle laughter sooth his ears, going on for a long, long time. Girls…

" Girls, huh?" He smiled, " I can live with girls." He poked their little dimples, while they grinned up at him—showing off fangs, to his surprise, and soon he started to join in laughter with Trish.

It was perfect.

Demon babies are always born with red eyes first, equivalent to how Human babies are born with lush blue hues. However, Dante's children, their eyes faded from red, to the same blue he and his brother held. Their eyes were large and sparkling, just like his was—though he wouldn't admit it, 'cause he'd sound like a fairy.

Both had shining platinum hair, a proud trait of the Sparda Lineage. And… Maybe it was just Dante being 'Maternal,' but they were beautiful, just like Trish. And at six months, they were already speaking full sentences, were toilet-trained, electrocuting, setting the house on fire—And generally just taking after Dante.

" Mundus is gonna be surprised… No son, but double the firepower, baby." He grinned, hands in the water as he washed the younger twin, Eva.

" He might wet his pants laughing, though." Trish added, her hands in the bathwater as well, shampooing the elder twin, Lillith. It was hard to set them apart, so just like Dante's mother had done—(Eva being her namesake, obviously)—they dressed them according to color. Eva had red like her Daddy, where Lillith had purple—Trish said she was too young to go Gothic.

" Yeah… If he wears any." Dante's teeth slammed together in surprise, a shock running up his spine as Eva made volts simmer into the water, Trish pulling Lillith free before she could get hurt.

"… I love you too, Eva." He took his hands out of the water, falling onto his back on the floor. The younger of the two was laughing at him, that adorable baby giggle, splashing at him from her standpoint in the tub.

Parenthood. Dante grinned, splashing back slightly once he had gotten up. They were little Hellions—and what did you expect, saints?—But they were his little Hellions.