Author's note: Please use caution when reading this. IT COULD GET REALLY CONFUSING! But I swear it makes sense.

The both of them stumbled through their huge front door, swinging from one another like the hinges that were supporting them. The red clad hybrid stormed in headfirst giggling his arse off, taking extra care with every step to not wake the current sleeping presence in the apartment. The bluer took his turn elegantly, poised and professional, and faking his centre of gravity to the T to focus for them both, finding his brother at the bottom of the staircase that lead to his room; he straightened his back and coat, flicking the snow off his collar and shoulder pads as he sauntered to the wobbling odour that was his sibling, not opting for a straight walk either. The path up the stairs was no easier than the trip home, hitting both sides of the wall with each step and misstep of their numbing feet until their temporary eureka moment that, with certainty, neither of them would remember.

Dante opened his bedroom door slowly, stopping immediately as it wailed for its long overdue appointment with some Q20. "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Nero's sleepiing!" The door seemed to have listened to him at being quiet for the rest of the way, opening it wide enough for his brother to drag their size elevens over the threshold. "What a goo daw."

He looked to Vergil for praise at his stroke of genius; he was met with a sloppy nod. "You sure-" and a burp that would surely wake Nero up "-have your way with 'em, Dante."

They got as far as the end of the bed, plopping onto the edge for them to work on each other in ridding their three-layered battle skins, catching a travelling whiff of the strong alcohol content of their clothing; so drenched they were that Dante put the sleeve of the long blue coat in his mouth and wrung it out between his big hands, his mind already drifting to the dizzying nightcap of both strong spirits and his brother's scent, driving his starched mind crazy with want of the rest of its owner. Vergil sprang to his feet causing a rippling dip in the mattress that made Dante wonky again, gathering up his clothes and unprepared for the drunken makeshift tug of war match for his jacket. "Where you goin'?"

He was unsure of which direction to pull owing to the triplet manhandling his attire. "T' bed. Where elss?"

Where Dante was getting his strength from was a question best answered sober. "Sleep here."

"No."

"Why nooooot?"

Vergil tugged some more; no give. "If I do, we'll have dirty sex."

Dante's entire face opened in surprise like it never happened. "Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo-" he belched inward, covering his mouth with a fist "-oooooooooooo. That won' happn." He animatedly shook his head as dire emphasis on his claim, trying to convince himself. "I was juz thinkin' about the long trip t'ur room, buddybooh."

The elder wafted his hand in the air, disregarding the plea for his safety as a con to get him into bed. "I'll be fine. Get some sleep; we have a big day t'morro," he said, erroneously turning his back to his quick-footed and agile brother and was wrenched backward as his clothes flew everywhere, his body twisted to meet Dante's savage eyes while being pulled between his legs; the seated twin messily pulled off his own white tank, tossing it across the room against what he assumed was the untidy pile he had constructed mere minutes before, tugging at the one in front of him to do the same. He lifted the flimsy cloth above his belly button, fixing wet pupa kisses down the light dusting of silver hair and nibbling on the skin at the waistband of his silk boxer shorts, feeling the definite touch of the swell underneath his chin.

"For old time's sake, Vergil."

Their identical gaze met for a split second; nearly sober, famished, exhausted, but harbouring enough promise to see the next few minutes through. That moment told Dante all he needed to know, uncoordinatedly backing up onto the bed where his head hit the pillows against the headboard and waiting for Vergil to make the move they both knew he needed to make; knowing full well that it drove him insane the elder did as he was told, slowly removing the offending fibres and adding them to his small splayed pile and scratching a non-existent itch behind his neck, giving Dante enough time to ogle over what he'd caused for himself.

He stalked the same path as his prey, more soberly of course, keeping his eyes set at the diminishing distance and growing desire of his twin who placed his hands on either side of Vergil's face when he was close enough to be kissed, moving to an inch separating their parted lips. "What's gotten inta you, Dante?"

Again, not the easiest time to think up a viable reason for the suddenness of his request. "Do I need a reason to make love to yooo?"

Vergil pushed their foreheads together. "That look in your eye says more than that."

"Good." Dante gave him a smile so precious, he could resist; he went in for the kill, prying his tongue in the spongy gap beneath waiting to be bruised purple at cushioning the seed he couldn't wait to nurture.

Massive neon lights flickering on and off, thumping bass that made your ears bleed, women prancing on poles along the better half of naked, and music that raised your blood pressure to unsafe status; this was the furthest thing from the proposed relaxing evening his brother had promised after their never-ending day of fighting hordes upon hordes of demons. What was meant to be three bottles of white wine with its own accompanying box of dark chocolate was replaced with a huge bowl of nachos, pieces of steak and feta gracing the tortilla chips on a bed of greasy chilli-cheese potato sticks that were doing wonders at soaking up the alcohol swimming in his stomach. Being the health freak he was, carbs were his ultimate enemy, only existent in times of dire need and frustration loading up as much as he could in a short time to give it no standing chance against his fists, a boxing bag, and three non-stop hours of blowing off the steam of anger that welled as a result of his over consumption. Now, however, he was stone cold drunk; not his usual 'just-about-getting-tipsy-by-drinking-on-an-empty-stomach' drunk, but the 'once-in-a-lifetime-can't-walk-straight-and-seeing-double' drunk, and thanks to his brother no less.

With a slight pink tinge to his cheeks and his hair flowing to every direction on a compass, the elder twin struggled to figure out which hand held the oily mess, which made the journey to his mouth even more difficult; the swivel chair didn't help, and neither did the freshly polished wooden bar top he held onto for dear life. Balancing with food and a neat triple bourbon in his hands was almost impossible, but he was known to make it work. The owner of Love Planet watched him from the corner of the bar, cleaning out the last of the washed tumblers and setting them on top of their allotted glass shelf; dressed in a stylish plain burgundy shirt, black pants and sneakers, Hanson smirked at the jaw-dropping sole patron staring at the dance floor like a bottle of strong-smelling antiseptic, drunkenly blowing strawberries to the open air as he slugged his drink.

He looked over his shoulder and wasn't surprised to see Dante knee-deep in flashy, fiendish, barely-adult dry humping in a mixed crowd bobbing to the mind-numbing tempo blasting from the numerous speakers littered across the vast room; the blinking rainbow lights cut the viewing rights short, making him amply dizzy to turn back and claw at the basket of delicious filth, his limbs feeling miles away from his physical body. As messy as his situation, he remained composed in his endeavour, drawing out the licks every one of his fingers in savouring the last time he'd ever go near the tasty stuff. He finished the thumb on his left hand, pursing his lips as the digit escaped and shooting daggers at the innocent pair of grey eyes looking at him, panning downward at the full six feet of slim semi-stranger, leaning against an open cabinet with a dishcloth in his veiny grasp. Vergil kept his stare, slanting his mouth to the side and pouring the final few drops of his glass into his mouth on purpose; Hanson grabbed the bottle he was drinking from and removed the cap, taking the glass from the hybrid and filling it to the brim once again. "You look like you're having a miserable time."

He swirled his drink, forgetting there was no ice. "This is my normal face," he said, wrinkling his face at the somehow stronger burn down his throat. "But no, not miserable; out of my element, but not miserable."

"And what exactly is your element?"

A digit found his chin, 'deep in thought'. "The kitchen, my bedroom, the cellar." It roughly translated to food, sex, and wine, preferably involving him and even better all at once.

The barman set the bottle down in its place, drifting alongside the invisible pull at his ribcage. "Straightforward. I think I'm beginning to like you."

"Only now? I thought I built up quite the reputation since I walked in."

Hanson shrugged. "I've never seen you in here before; I was intrigued and also ready to kick your soft, plump ass if I needed to."

Vergil took another sip, leaving half of the brown spirit in the tumbler. "I'm flattered by the detail, but I'm not used to having my ass handed to me by a lower-class demon with no harmful intent, just trying to better society by one bottle at a time. I'm a respectable man."

Respectable indeed, he thought, watching the intoxicating mess run a long, pink tongue across the glass' rim. "Who'd be pouring your drinks if you did?"

"That too."

He was far beyond the ranks of the vermin that usually came through his doors; it was just a hunch, judging by the expensive, star-crossed material used to manufacture his blue coat. "What brings you here?"

Vergil nudged his head in the direction of the social dragonfly in the centre of the erupting circle of drunken sods looking for a chance to slip their hands into his jeans, giving it a wealthy squeeze as a silent appeal to venture home with them or vice versa. It worked on his nerves that he was forced to watch yet would do so obediently, if he truly wanted Dante to come home in one piece; the number of times he'd used the excuse was beginning to lose its efficacy, and he wondered whether he should let his younger sibling experience the real world of germs and illness thanks to the many spiked drinks a random would need to get away with murder. "Someone in particular insisted I needed to unwind; I was hoping for a long hot bath and look where it got me."

The barman tilted his head at his reply, wondering if he truly was the type. "Oh, you're one with an 'acquired taste'?"

"Since when has a hot bath been an acquired taste?"

"Since some beings in here don't know what a bath is." Hanson leaned on the bar top with a filthy stare that altered to a tantalising purple with flecks of gold, deliberately invading the hybrid's personal bubble. "I have one upstairs if it'll get me a smile."

He didn't have bubble, unfortunately; anything that normally got this close was shredded to one thousand glowing blue pieces, but as he'd stated before, this was an honest man who meant no ill will. The demon matched his action until Hanson could smell the alcohol dissolving through his pores and tiny tufts of his fringe ghosted his forehead with a dangerously thin hair's width amid their aching mouths. "I don't smile."

"Really?" They could whisper now; even with the booming noise all around, their tongues were sensitive enough to trace the ends of the ideas from each sentence. "Is that an acquired taste too?"

Vergil licked his lips, indirectly licking Hanson's as well. "If my brain wasn't soaked in bourbon I might have had a really good comeback."

His eyes flickered behind to the red moving too fast for the assumed stage of inebriation he was meant to shoulder. "Offer still stands; I can stall your brother if you want."

The hybrid shook his head, turning his face to the exit and taking a small sip. "He's not my brother."

"So it doesn't count that he looks exactly like you and comes in here every second night complaining about someone in a long blue coat that can't help but get on his nerves that he just so happens to be related to?"

"Happy coincidence." He dipped his head to look at how much he had left, keeping the lie out of harm's way from the stranger. "As for your offer, I'm going to have to pass; if I end up enjoying it I won't hear the end of it."

"There's no way you will."

"Why is that?"

"Because I'd be down here." It pained him to pull away from the intensity of the blue stare, but he was merely following orders; Dante had requested to keep the bourbon flowing and that's exactly what would happen. "With the alcohol, of course."

The last few drops of the bottle reached to half the glass, with him retrieving another one and opening it to complete the transaction. "It'd be a different story if I was alone-"

"-but you gotta look after him, I know. I guess that's why he brought you along."

"That's the only reason he'd take me anywhere. I'm really fussy."

The miniscule squint of burn was lost on his deadening oesophagus. "In general?"

"When it comes to my acquired tastes."

Hanson was a nosy bitch by nature. "What does fussy entail?"

He wasn't going to spill his secrets any time soon. "There's too little time."

He was a trained barman – he knew a fib when he saw one. "And what would it take to loosen that tongue?"

"A head of soft, graspable hair connected to a supple mouth bobbing between my legs and settling me deep inside its throat."

Wasn't Vergil in luck? "I'm more than capable of that-"

"I have no doubt that you are."

The raspy tinge to his voice gave no way for hesitation, ruffling his fingers through the long, jet back hair as the barman caved into his perpetual desire, finding the hybrid's lips hastily for a lingering peck that gradually turned eager, the tips of their tongues joining at the precipice of their reeling bluffs; Vergil was in common territory with the deep strokes of his organ, earning pleasured hums from the owner in speedy succession, dragging his attention back to him each time his mind had drifted to anything that wasn't the present. Hanson was weak in the knees at the unplanned onslaught, wanting the demon crying against his headboard as opposed to over the bar but either way he'd have his fill, feeling the pool of his release drop between his legs the longer the man held onto his face, nipping at his lips to accentuate the trouble he'd started. The crowd behind Vergil wolf-whistled and howled as they observed the treacherous act at a distance, cheering him on at the personified sin he'd scored for the evening; they were undeniably on the same page, wanting nothing more than a quick alleviation of a moment's lust to disperse in the cool, artificial air circulating through the room, breaking for oxygen with a potent blasphemous look in both their professional glares. "You're almost as bad as he is."

"Don't compare me to my br-" Vergil swallowed for a moment, wetting his dry mouth, "-that man who claims he's related to me. I can do so much more damage."

The worker couldn't handle all of him, but he wasn't one to downplay. "Please carry on – I think this is something I need to hear."

"By the laws of this city, I can't divulge such detail; you'll have to find out for yourself."

"How long's the waiting list?"

Another persistent kiss, lighter with the fragrance of boyish charm, holding its claws on Hanson's jaw no matter all he told himself to pull away. "It just got shorter."

The owner finally got the smile he wanted, beginning as a tentative smirk at the corner of his mouth until he could no longer resist the tug at the other side, smiling against his lips and giving him a total of two seconds to soak it all in as he attended to the new customers along the bar; welcoming glares of all colours and hues shot through the heavy darkening air between them, keeping sure to not stretch the twisting red ribbon to its breaking point. Vergil watched him intently, floating around his territory and moving according to everyone's needs, providing him with an eyeful he hadn't expected after their shared moment of temporary omission. It was at that same instant where their circuit was broken by another ball of red fibre, his jacket following him like one of the ladies he'd swathed himself in mere seconds ago. "Hey Hanson. How's my favourite incubus?"

He wouldn't dare take his eyes off Vergil, motioning Dante with a flick of his hand to lean back until he was done with the other clientele. "He hasn't come home in three days, ask him yourself."

A pout; an adorable one. "Come on; don't be like thaaaaaaaaaaaat."

Their voices drowned into the background while Vergil turned his shoulder to the conversing pair getting back into his musty dignified although strong-smelling bubble; he was starting to feel it, blinking too fast to erase the phantom doppelganger of everything in his sights. He turned to his left and shook the zing from his ears, observing the four figures gesture in unison to the topic at hand, Dante clearly more passionate of the subject matter as the barman tried his best to keep his laugh behind his hand. The blue demon was ever so thankful he got the tail-end of their exchange. "You don't know how difficult it is to keep up this façade."

And cue his job of embarrassing his sibling by any means necessary as payment for making him move out of their front door. "He thinks he has it bad. He's delusional if he assumes his life is anything but unreasonable." He took in their burning stares, singeing his left arm for entirely different reasons. "If I knew him, that's what I would say."

As he'd predicted, Dante's zippy features moved in perfect harmony. "You do know me-"

"No, he doesn't." Hanson's bottom lip curled over avoiding the cerulean as much as he could.

The hybrid met his gaze even if it wasn't returned. "I complain to you about him."

"He says he isn't your guy."

"If he isn't then he should keep his nose out of my business, but does he?"

His reply almost made him laugh. "My nose is too far up my ass to take interest in your bothersome troubles."

The mixture of cocktails was steadily making their way into his bloodstream, or at least that's what Vergil thought when his first three long-island iced teas shot an accusing finger aimed at his nostrils. "You see, I said that to him this morning. In OUR kitchen in OUR house."

"How many times have you reiterated that it's YOURS as I don't pay rent?"

"But you cook to make u- SEE? WE LIVE TOGETHER!"

The fiend behind the bar resumed his spot after helping his customers; he leaned across the oak in front of Vergil, maintaining his gaze while unknowingly putting his cheek in jeopardy. "Dante, we're pulling your leg."

Dramatically pinching the bridge of his nose, he shut his eyes tight, giving his brother the opening to plant a sultry smacker on the barman's cheek. "I'm too sober to comprehend this."

"Yes, his life is as hard as it was for him to say that three-syllabled word." The drunken persona chewed on his earlobe, hearing the sex drip from his deep, husky voice.

"That proves we know each other."

He spoke deep into his ear and cheek yet sufficiently loud for the grudging expression on Dante's face to deepen. "It proves nothing; you don't look the type to know big words, that's all."

"WE ARE IDENTICAL!" A snide whisper with the slight lisp that came with his engorged tongue.

Vergil twisted his neck to look at the poorly placed mirror to his left, distorting his coat, face, and hair; he was slowly getting used to the awful jerk to the corners of his mouth as soon as the spongy barbs traced the veins to his collar. "Your own perspective."

Hanson felt the 'help me out' frozen glower at the joint of his elbow. "I'm strangely more attracted to the one in blue." He detached from his new obsession and gave all six feet three inches his nagging once over, doing the same to his seated twin and cocking his eyebrow arrogantly, unable to willingly defuse the playful conflict. "But your life looks hard, Dante. Really… really hard."

"Thank y- wait, what?" The younger sibling looked down, gave him a face that screamed 'nice one'.

The older finished his drink, conscientiously noting that it would be the final one, put his glass down and set himself straight while on his butt. "You wouldn't last a day as me." He sat up too fast and walked into an imaginary cobweb, loud as daylight and scratching at the grey matter between his ears; he fanned nothing but air, convinced something must have crawled from its spun home onto his clothing; he wasn't too pleased he had a face full of non-existent butt juice either. "Correction; two days, in case you enjoy the first."

That may be true. "You underestimate me, brother."

"Don't call me that in public."

The owner had had enough, launching over the wooden countertop and flicking them both on the forehead, painfully, using their conditions to his advantage; without calculation, the attack on a beginner's level was easily felt five times worse from the liquor, and that was a number he could work with. "Would you stop? Everyone here knows you're twins so give up the fight. My stomach can't take anymore."

Dante rubbed at the spot on his forehead, cursing his brother under his breath – better to get it out and not think it; with his mind-reading and all, there would be no limit to the punishment when they got home. "I want to get going; you ready?"

Vergil had one last jab in him. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

He was patient and had good memory: the worst possible opponent in psychological warfare. "Thank you for the incredible night, Hanson. Do give us a call if you want us to look for him."

The barman walked them to the door. "You can give it another few years."

Dante held the other man's chin with his index finger and thumb, tilting his head for a good angle at the graveness of his statement. No one could have seen it coming. "I'm serious-"

"I know." He offered a nervous smile at the idea of his missing twin. "If he isn't home by tomorrow, I'll let you know."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, whatever." The hybrid took offense to his nonchalance, raising his eyebrows in conceit to twist his arm into full disclosure; Dante inclined, placing a snailfully gradual full peck on Hanson's mouth, sucking at his bottom lip which he knew he was incapable of contesting. It was a tactic he'd deployed only once before, when he'd brought Nero along for one of his late-night escapades to keep him from tattling to his brother. But this time was different, and he knew why. "Fine; I promise."

Demons were bound by their word; he wasn't going to leave without it. "Let's get going."

No amount of self-control could hide a night of heavy drinking, even for a demonic tolerance. "Please excuse me while I take this complete stranger home."

It was more along the lines of taking each other home. "Do you need his address?"

"He lives in a house?" A plastered impressed face gawked back, making the owner laugh more. "Who would have known?"

Vergil was hurriedly wrenched in the direction of the door with his fingers being laced by his brother, squeezing a squeeze to a different type of tune he hadn't felt in a while; the 'I-don't-want-to-crush-you-but-we-need-to-go-for-reasons-I'll-tell-you-at-home' as it was better known, told a different story to the composed twin he faced at the threshold of the club. "Let's go quickly, Vergil; the sooner we leave the sooner you grovel on your feet to spend the night in my bed."

His voice was as smooth as honey in reply, hitting Dante square in his core. "I will do nothing of the sort. You will be on your knees long before I have the chance."

Before he risked more of his diminishing, dry brain cells, Hanson moved from behind the bar and steered them both out by the smalls of their backs. Vergil sneered at his grip being a little lower. "I know what you're trying to do, but I have to ask that you please leave before my powers activate on their own and find yourselves in very compromising positions."

Dante held the door open for him, tripping over air as he masterfully carried through the motion his twin had been wanting to do since he got there. "Don't make jokes like that. Vergil likes it rough."

The blue man nodded, delivering with accuracy and the straightest face imaginable. "I do… Very much."

How a stranger knew that was a mystery.

Dante was breathing heavy underneath him, wasted in his efforts to dominate the situation and failing helplessly, staying crushed on his back and reflecting his defeat by the pace of his heart in his chest. "That was it? You were jealous?"

Vergil was doing this on purpose. "I wouldn't use that word-"

"You were fucking jealous, Dante."

He was fast approaching seeing quadruple, with his brother's tongue waging war with the skin on his neck. "I know what those incubi are-" a sharp intake of breath broke the silence as his legs were pulled apart like a surprise attack he asked for "-capable of."

"So do I." Vergil hiked both his legs around his waist. "Or did you forget-"

"Lars is different."

"How so?"

"Lars likes us. Hanson would do it so you owed him a favour."

"Isn't that what that kiss meant?" He lied flat on the body beneath him, rising and falling with the soothing heartbeat he enjoyed toying with. It was as if the alcohol in his bloodstream seeped through his pores, the skin on skin contact making his brother more drunk than he'd originally been. "Okay, I'll bite; how was that different?"

Dante squirmed. "It wasn't."

He rested his chin on his chest. "So now you're a jealous hypocrite."

"I'm not. Not that much." The younger sibling looked down ran his fingers through the soft mop of silver hair ticking his torso; a perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised at the heartfelt action, changing his aura in the blink of an eye – his once placid demeanour swung to the opposite end of the stick, mouth-watering in a steeled black that overcame his rich blues. With his demon excited and prepared for what was to come, Vergil stalked up his milky frame: arms at either side of his head, powerful between his legs, hovering over the parched sharp features of Dante's face, marvelling at the extremes he accessed at the click of his finger. "Can you not try and kick back? Even for me?"

They kissed with their eyes open. "I don't know how to do that. I'm your brother; it's my job to protect you-"

"You can relax while you're doing it."

The younger hybrid joined his brother bit by bit, the colour in his eyes swiftly darkening in conjunction with his mood. "I won't get it right."

"Doesn't matter," he said, dropping the discussion he knew would be useless owing to his effervescing consciousness. "I can't waste this naked Vergil; I have a very high tab already."

The being on top used his legs to prod his sibling wider, snaking his hold to the back of his twin's knees and pulling him along for the ride. "I still see two of you."

Dante had to ask. "How much did you drink?"

"How long were you not watching me?"

"A long time." He laced his fingers behind Vergil's neck, using the robust muscle as leverage to get comfortable for the acquainted pain that would ensue.

"Yay. Math succeeds again. Never a strong point of mine."

"I know one major strong point-" A prolonged, harrowing groan spewed from clenched teeth.

Vergil was so used to it he didn't notice the effect of his thrust, habitually licking the palm of his hand and enclosing it around his throbbing penis. "And what would that be?"

The first coil to his wrist sent Dante's arching to the ceiling; mouth open wide, clinging white-knuckled to his sheets, keeping the sting in his lungs at bay as he fell back onto his mattress, his only inclination of throwing his eyes at the points of contact, getting dizzy, pound for pound sending him into the mattress to ride out his improper decimation. "You just shoved it deep inside me."

Dante was sprawled on his mattress like a dead starfish half-covered in dark blue, the blankets hiding the bare minimum of his assets while the morning sun and breeze hit his bare limbs. His hair fluffed against the bushel of soft pillows under his head like a king in a throne, the smell of the vanilla-zephyr fabric softener hitting him as soon as he regained his senses out of sleep; he tossed a few times rolling over the expanse of his bed…

And everything felt wrong, confirmed by the hazy reflection that stared back in a mirror he didn't own: the blankets were way too thin, the mattress too soft and large, too many fragrant pillows and sponginess he was used to; he never opened his windows and blinds in the morning – he didn't normally get sun. He sat up straight camouflaged in the dark room with the only light coming from the huge window where his wardrobe should be; he rubbed his eyes and felt a completely naked forehead, looking for the hair for its mandatory fluffle ruffle for that gorgeous 'just-out-of-bed' look, the strands feeling a tad too soft after forgetting to wash it the day before. The hangover he expected was nowhere to be felt, seen, or heard in the immense quiet of his four walls. Too dark, too silent, almost as if… he was…

He was in Vergil's room…

How and when his adventure had taken a steep turn would be for him to piece together for the rest of the day, following every one of his and Vergil's footsteps to the club and back. Under reflex, he felt all over his body for anything missing, touching every nook and cranny of past experiences and finding everything in place, smiling to himself at the good decisions he'd made the night before even if he couldn't remember them; he had all his hair, teeth, limbs, yet it still felt awkward – everything was okay but nothing was right, and in the weirdest possible way. The otherworldly relief that shrouded him when he woke dissolved quickly within his distress, knowing the only precise manner to diffuse his unease.

Dante lifted the covers and looked down.

And then to his right at the mirror.

Dante didn't stare back.

On the other side of the house Dante opened each curtain and window for some fresh air, squinting through the glares in the hopes of it being hot enough to scorch the pain away; he massaged at his temples as the pain grew, coming to realise the wild predicament that would storm his brother's bedroom door in short order where he'd hoped most of the throbbing would die down, even if just for a bit. The rushed steps of the assumed visitor were beyond the boundaries of ridiculous, getting louder with every distance each foot had crossed to reach the bottom of the stairs; thumping, agitated confusion vibrated on the wooden slats under the carpet until the door, with the king of all hangovers trudging over to answer the ironically soft knock beating on it. "Who is it?"

He copied the high pitch perfectly, not waiting for a reply to open it and dragging his feet to the bed smaller than his, plonking his heavy frame on the hard mattress while Vergil made himself at home on his couch next to his closet. "That's my line."

The mass on the bed squeezed the sides of his head to dull the bass line booming on the only frequency he picked up; the constant zinging would drive him insane up to a point, but there was little a whole box of Myprodol couldn't fix. "Still fits." Dante moaned as he scoured the only two cushions on the bed and propped himself against them with not a care in the world at having his loaned body on full display.

Vergil crossed one leg over the other, awkward in the black and yellow 'police tape' boxer shorts he'd found in his brother's room. "What happened last night?"

Dante spoke through the gaps in his fingers. "I was about to pull out my best moves and you fell asleep-"

"Not that." Vergil flicked his wrist in the space between, gesturing the swap that he'd prefer not to voice for his antsy nerves to seep through. "How did this happen?"

He bent his leg for his elbow to rest on; he anticipated having no energy for the rest of the day. "I don't know. We didn't go anywhere but Love Planet last night."

"You sure?"

Dante dropped his hand from his face into the too fleecy duvet in his lap that concealed nothing. "You have my memories, don't you?"

"Nope. Only my own, and I have until telling that door to shut up as reference."

As relaxed as they appeared, both twins were stiff in either's skin, thinking of the best way to handle their circumstances and unhappy with the mental results they'd conjured in the silence that befell; they picked their teeth and scratched their scalps trying to remember another trail of possible events and both came up empty, the only reasonable explanation lying on the stained, sticky grimy floors of the pink club. He couldn't believe he'd have to go back there after such a short time, but that building held all their answers. The demon on the couch looked as if he'd seen a ghost, turning paler with every passing second at having to replicate the very existence he was the clear-cut opposite of, or at least that's what it looked like on the surface; the morbid face altered to every face of sour, misinterpreted by anyone who'd bothered to stare longer than two seconds, and one sole way to distract him. "I would have gone easier on you had I known this would happen."

The sentiment was emphasised by his grimace as he shifted on the bed. "Why? Are you in pain?"

The smirk was beginning to appear. "A little."

"You get used to it."

Dante tiredly pushed his hair back hoping it'd stay in place. "Do I do this to you every time?"

"Yeah." Vergil picked his nails, feeling the heat from the bed. "Don't let your head get too big."

He tapped at the space next to him. "Too late. But I'll learn to be nicer."

The younger brother heaved his tired body out of the double couch and joined his naked body in the bed, attempting a close range for uncomfortability and failing, trailing a lone digit from the crook of his neck all the exposed way down to his ankle, keenly observing the skin prickle with his gentle touch. Dante could only watch, knowing it wasn't reacting under his command but shaken nonetheless, covering himself more to elude his own gaze elsewhere. "What do we do?"

"The last time both of us had spoken to someone was Hanson. Let's start there; maybe he knows something." The mention of Hanson left a bad taste in Vergil's mouth, leaving a vinegary expression in his wake for his brother to brunt, holding back a tiny giggle. "You're not still holding that grudge, are you?"

The same sultry finger turned vicious, pointing accusingly at the lounging devil. "He dares flirt with me-"

"You will take it and let me do all the talking. It's your territory after all." Unfortunately for them his logic was flawless. "You're me now. Act like it."

Dante gave up the fight with the flat lumps of material and went back onto his back for the last ounce of relief from the heaven-and-back headache that was his sibling's fault. He'd make sure to give him a strict lecture on how his drinking was negatively affecting the spinning household, but then again this was the last thing he'd expected to happen.

"You're calmer than I expected."

Vergil shifted closer to the hunk of skin, each expel of breath tightening his impressive physique; is this what people saw? Is this how he appeared in the presence of the unexpected? Was he truthfully getting turned on by his own body? "It could be worse."

It could be, and the simple swapping of bodies wasn't as complicated when you had a twin brother. "Your body couldn't be in worse hands, Vergil."

Dante pulled himself up and rested on his elbows, facing his kin and resting his head on the palm of his hand. "Well, worst case scenario of these things is reverting to normality learning you've picked up a bad habit or have some scars that go without explanation; the person taking over my body is someone I know and am close to, both physiologically and geographically, so the reason for panic is reduced enormously. I can keep an eye on you, not that I need to. I trust you to not take my body for a joy ride, or any ride for that matter." Vergil sniggered a little at the sternness to his own face, wondering how his brother had got the stoic look down so quickly. "Rest assured, the second you slip up, little Dante will get it."

The outline wasn't as vivid under the thick duvet, but it was incontestably there, ironically being the only part he chose to cover. "He gets offended by that. You can just call him Dante." Vergil tugged at the bedding to reveal himself. "Or Mr. Sniffles."

He pulled them back. "Wait, so you remember him rubbing you the wrong way?"

"He didn't do that to me. He was doing that to you." The duvet was pulled again.

Dante gave up, getting off the bed – with at long last, a clear head – and stopping in the middle of the space on route to the bathroom. "It wasn't the wrong way; besides you were too busy being the centre of attention for every living organism in the room so I decided to have fun on my own." His eyes followed the demon to copy his stance, flimsy boxers waving with the breeze not as frisky as he, but most of the true intent showing in the creases of his face. Maybe there were some things too powerful for a simple body-swap spell to carry over. The tension in the air broken by Vergil's new agility, unlocking his wardrobe and grabbing something at eye level. "Oh, one more thing-"

A white towel flew across the room and into Dante's hands. "Hold this, would you?"

Three quick successive knocks to the door. "You're naked, I know, and I don't care," and Nero let himself in, pushing the door enough to poke his head through the gap, catching Dante completely off guard under the blue scrutiny; for a second he forgot his place, his instincts begging for the material to be dropped but clutching it to him instead, recalling the other persona he was meant to play. "A bit cold there, Dante?"

Thinking up a comeback was quicker without having a reputation to uphold. "The towel is hiding most of it."

Nero brought a bit of his body through the space. "I'll believe that excuse as long as you'll use it."

The length it hid decreased as Dante bunched up the fibres into a big, fluffy ball to adequately hold the younger demon on a leash. "No excuse; you can always take it from me to scratch that bothersome itch."

Was it just him or was he extra feisty today? Their game had no end, but this would be a first that had him blushing first. "Now big boy uses some big words. You sound like your brother."

If only he knew. "Which one?" He nearly gestured with the hand holding the towel, switching them quickly with little damage done to the situation; pity. He pointed to the corner of the room, the general overall direction of where his room would be in terms of the house's floor plan which Nero misconstrued with the skin of his teeth. "That one?"

"Yes." There was only one, correct? Nero's mind wandered to the possibility of having to handle more than the two of them. His stomach burned. "The bossy, respectfully and powerfully arrogant son of a bitch across the timber sea."

"Me? Bossy? That's a bad word. I refute it." The familiar voice made him jump out of his skin, coasting into the room while Vergil moved to secure the door, using his respectfully powerful hand at the point of least leverage with the piece of wood daring to deny his command. "The other titles I will accept with our and your pleasure, Nero."

He gave Dante a betrayed look; being on the same page relied heavily on reading the same paragraph too. "Why didn't you say anyth-"

"How was I supposed to know he was there? Too busy with my big words, I was."

They were on a roll. "It's the 'son of a bitch' part that I don't quite get. Would you care to elaborate?" To add perfectly sliced strawberries to their carefully constructed sundae, Vergil teleported behind him, looking over his shoulder and locking eyes with his naked brother, flicking his head back and calling him forth. "As far as I recall, that isn't something you'd call someone slaving over the stove for your daily meals, does your filthy pubescent laundry and ironing, cleans your disaster of a room, and gives you lunch money to splurge at your so-called University."

Nero was now meat for their inappropriately positioned demonic sandwich, a fact he didn't mind in the least; he pretended to be awkward about it, writhing between their heated bodies to find a way out when all he did was touch enough skin to last him a good few days. The twin's however, wouldn't let that slide within a mile of their combined sanities, trapping his arms to his sides while each twin made sure all of him felt all of them. "You don't give me lunch money-"

"Not the argument I'm trying to put forward, but-" he stopped, looking at him over his shoulder, "-was that really all you paid heed to?" If there was one thing he couldn't resist, it was teasing the life out of the poor soul – he was at the soaking age of indoctrination, easily swayed by the sweetest outcome and not thinking with the head on his neck; he'd just turned eighteen a week ago, still ripe and confused on his likes and dislikes on the umbrella topic of intimacy with no shortage of males and females wagging their tail feathers in his direction, yet turning a blind eye owing to him not knowing what he was looking for. Although their banter had no long-lasting effects, every soft touch to his fragile body had an influence, jokingly or serious. There was no need for him to incline his head either way, but instances like these made his stubbornness difficult to maintain; a double team attack so early in the morning would propel him through a minimum of two projects he was currently busy with, thankful that it landed in his lap instead of having to ask for it. They would enjoy that much more, wouldn't they? Nero was wrenched from his thoughts to the present at the firm hands on his tummy, dipping under his flimsy waistband to claw at the lean skin of his hipbones and drawing a deep breath at the contact; Dante was too close to notice, keeping his eyes fixed on his brother for further instruction. "Do my hands trouble you that much?"

The middle man held his breath and peeled his hands off. "What are you doing? Dante's right th-"

"Vergil, enough." The older brother saw the flash of mini-anxiety, feigning a dramatic tone equipped with a hoarse voice and face close to tears, wiping them from his eyes. "I can't stand here and be fondled any longer."

Saved by an unseen bell, deep laughs from both sides set him free, getting a whiff of the deep vibrations of their chests before they parted; Dante made sure to reverse backward, holding tightly onto the piece of cloth to preserve his innocence in front of Vergil. He might not be too happy with Nero ogling his… well, him. He wouldn't be too thrilled either. The teen finally shared the reason for his visit, giving them both a demeaning, friendly once over. "I'm going to make breakfast and I'm in the mood to take orders." He turned to Vergil first because he was easiest. "You gonna have your usual eggs?"

He looked to Dante who nodded healthfully. "Please. Thank you."

You had to wring an answer out of the other one. "And what strawberry monstrosity do you want, Dante?"

Vergil did the same, trying to understand the words being mouthed to him. "You can just give them in a bowl-"

"There aren't sufficient carbs in strawberries alone, and I know you like to eat." Still tongue-twisted, he tried to read his brother's lips; why he couldn't think of saying it telepathically was frustrating. Nero tapped the invisible watch on his wrist, rushing his decision. "I don't have time to make this a brunch. The two of you will be going out today."

Out? Dante was tired of that word. "What do you mean 'out'?"

"I'll tell you over breakfast." He faced the exposed flesh, squeezing the bridge of his nose in having to make his mind for him; he always preferred making what they were in the mood for even if there was no way he'd admit it. "I'll make waffles for the two of us, how does that sound?" Dante mirrored his brother, nodding. "And for the love of everything that is holy, you better put some damn clothes on."

He could get used to the inhibition of Dante's words. "Are you afraid you'll want to eat me instead of breakfast?"

Oh snap! Vergil was officially sure he had nothing to worry about, but as per his manual, he had to bring the peace before Nero regretted the sloppy attempt at a comeback that would fall flat and have him red-faced for the rest of the day. "I'll make sure he puts something on."

The light-hearted death glares bounced off Dante like water on a duck's back, shifting his weight to either side of his hips; he swivelled, tapped Vergil on the jaw and got ready for a speedy retreat. "I knew there was a reason you're my favourite."

His young legs saved him by a millisecond as Vergil ran across the room and yanked the towel from his brother, throwing it at a closed door that clicked into place. God, the teenager was a menace when he wanted to be, but at least he had a cute side to the bite. "I wanted pancakes." He leaned forward as he faced his own birthday suit, emphasising the simplest of words Dante should have been able to decode. "What is so difficult about-" he drew all focus to his mouth, repeating the single word he'd uttered, "-PAN-CAKE-ZZ?"

Dante drummed at his temple with two fingers. "This was easier, you dicknozzle."

It came from thin air. "Dicknozzle?" Vergil's eyebrows shot up in surprise, more bemused than anything. "I need to remember that."

The demon who said it was more confused, looking around the room for another possible culprit to blame his outburst on. "I don't know where that came from-"

"Anyway, you were saying?" Vergil stepped forward, hands on his hips and drooping his shoulders.

"Huh? Saying what?"

"You said 'one more thing'."

Something was off. "Never mind that: why are you so pale?"

He was right. "The honest answer or can I bullshit you?"

"You can bullshit me all you want; I'll still figure it out."

Nothing could have prepared Dante for the own nonsense sprouting from his own mouth. "It's too light between my legs and I'm not okay with that."

The more he spoke, the harder it was to tell they were twins. "That I will sadly agree with." It was sarcasm's turn to take over, not able to take him seriously. "How do you walk with this thing?"

"I have thighs of steel."

"I would have gone with 'I'm okay with being horny all the time' but that can work too. Logically speaking, of course."

"You could be right."

Vergil's face couldn't be more distraught, morphing between the stages of constipation and being asked to dance at a wedding by a distant cousin who reeked of a week's worth of alcohol, and Dante became worried by what was running through his brain; it couldn't have been safe, assuming it was the burden of having to be someone else for who knew how long. "It's not that bad, Dante; we'll get to the bottom of it."

And as usual, he was dead wrong. "Oh, I'm fine – I'm practicing my resting bitch face; AKA your normal face AKA the face of hell AKA the disappointed mother in law AKA the face ewes give when it's mating season and there's one ugly sheep left in the herd."

Damn, he'd given it more than enough thought, but he was unsettled by how he knew what the last one looked like. "I don't look like that."

"Yes, you do. A little pouty mouth for twenty three hours a day. I don't know where the concentration comes from."

He gave into temptation. "I have to ask about the other hour."

Vergil gave him an obvious look like he was supposed to know. "Jacking off in the bathroom. I think I'd prefer not to know what face you pull during that time."

Dante expected something completely different, and as a result burst into uninhibited, raucous laughter, folding himself over at the ache that developed in the pit of his stomach, holding onto it in fear of his insides ripping out of him in their own version of disbelief; his twin was so sweet and naïve, attributing one hour of his day to its dedicated spot of respite – if only he knew the real number. Hell, he might just find out. "It's so much easier to laugh in this body. I hate it."

Vergil tasted something funny in his mouth again, waving circles in front of his stomach unamused at the unnecessary tightness. "It feels like there's a storm inside me, everywhere; it's really uncomfortable."

"You get used to it." He missed it, but to deny the liberation he experienced would be foolish. "Now if you'll excuse me, I don't know what's going on-"

"You need the bathroom. Trust me."

"Really?" Nope, the erection wasn't the biggest giveaway. "No shit."

Vergil steered his line of vision to his non-existent one, shaking his hips to illustrate his idea. "It isn't as well known in the robot population-"

"Do you have to go overboard with everything? LOOK AT THIS!"

Technically speaking, it wasn't his fault. There was no shame in being aroused; it seemed over the top owing to their twinsane shared girth. "I can support it and am used to it. It's your own choice to sleep without clothes. That's the only reason you're in pain."

Feeble deduction. "We both do."

"And the first step is admitting the problem, Vergil." He looked to Dante wondering if he got the joke and was astonished at the beaming smile aimed at the floor, enhancing his gorgeous features exponentially. "Maybe you should give smiling a try from time to time: you're incredibly handsome when you do."

Much to more surprise it didn't fade completely, but merely shifted to a moveable position to reply. "I don't smile. You know that. But I have a sick feeling I'll be doing that all day."

"You're me now; act like it." Not counting the single bright colour they donned and the hairstyles they sported, the other way to tell them apart was the movability of their faces; if it moved, it was Dante, plain and simple. All other instances, Vergil was present; he saw learning his brother's various animations as his main objective for as long as he could endure or until time ran out, whichever came first. In a way, he was looking forward to it, but not in the conventional sense of becoming better at it; he was intrigued at the extent to which he could stretch his face and nothing more. "Can I have a hug before you go?"

He made it seem like he was off to fight in a war. "Why?"

"I want to feel what it feels like to hug me."

"Not with this boner you don't."

As if that would stop him: Vergil used the speed to his advantage, wrapping around Dante's slim waist as it always did and pulled him closer by the small of his back, each growing accustomed to the idea of seeing a reflection versus the other twin. It wasn't something they could get used to, but in the short time they could tolerate it. For Nero's sake. He was too smart to not pick up the anomalies, so their acting would have to be on point; he hated when Dante went to Love Planet to binge away his stress and he'd be even more upset to hear he dragged his straight-laced twin along for the rollercoaster ride of mutual drunkenness – him finding out was the last straw and they needed to make sure it didn't happen. The tacit thoughts flowed between their close, connected stares, mute at the repercussions they didn't need to think about; there was no option for failure – just thinking of the infuriation brought Dante's migraine back from the depths of his subconscious, flinching into Vergil's bare chest as the thudding began a second time. "I'll grab some painkillers from downstairs. It's going to be okay."

The younger held his sibling's face tenderly, placing a tiny peck on his forehead and resuming his previous position, hoping his brother wouldn't notice. "It seems like you need to remind yourself- OH NO YOU DON'T!"

Dante swatted his hands off his butt. "WHAT?"

He didn't break the embrace completely, which was nice. He didn't like being nice. Stupid body. "That's not how it works, Dante. You fell asleep, you missed out."

"It's my body." Vergil went for the crook of his neck and mapped the path down to his collarbone and back up again, sycophantic husk tickling the shell of his ear. "I can help."

"I know that, but you're dead from the waist down this early in the morning. Throw your sex-tempered tantrum somewhere else."

Yes, because that was just going to happen; after all these years, he still hadn't learned the basics of Dante's thinking. "I don't need that to piss you off. I can do it up here… where you like it most-" Vergil traced a digit over his brother's lips, following closely behind with his tongue and holding his gaze, melting his organs in an instant by playing his own tricks on himself; he kissed Dante mad and deep, his own hands and legs failing in function at the sudden blitzkrieg of his favourite moves, overwhelming the sense of urgency in his kiss and breaking apart as Vergil's brain thrashed on the collapsing concrete of his ascetic mindset that he desperately needed to fortify, "-and then disappear like the asshole you are."

They replayed the same routine from before; Dante ran for the towel as Vergil cowered behind his door, holding it closed as he made his exit in case his older brother decided to run after him forgetting his was stark naked. He tended to do that on the best of days.