Imbibe

by Vergil's Inferno

Demons and alcohol don't mix; with the anniversary of the twins' mother's death, how will Nero react to the violent side of Dante, his current housemate and man he is supposedly in love with? Disclaimer: I don't own tipsy Vergil, drunken Dante, and drunken Nero.

"I pledge my life to protect you and everything you are until death do us part. If you would give me a second chance to prove myself to be worthy of you, I will serve my life honouring you and loving you, just as I have these past three years that I have known you. I will cherish you and be faithful to you, never neglecting your feelings and sharing in your happiness and sadness wherever it may take us. I want to be yours."

The weather was on the inappropriate side of the 'fuck off' stick; Nero seldom enjoyed being outside when it was sunny, let alone the morbid and the rain the town was currently experiencing. He was self-diagnosed allergic to anything other than the confines of four walls, but college proved unsympathetic to his fake raging headaches and stomach bugs. The current migraine was a group project with two of his classmates that stayed on campus, three kilometres away from the flat he rented with his roommate. He stayed as far away from any fraternity his legs would allow, so opting for a relatively bigger option without all the stresses of being woken up in the dead of night by screaming adolescent teenagers was the better way to go, or at least his last remaining titbit of sanity thought so.

The day started out bright and humid and transformed to cold and wet fairly quickly and Nero was forced to walk home in the pouring rain, his outfit of heavy denim, calf high boots, right arm decked in his trademark industrial-strength glove and white sling, and layers upon layers of clothing did wonders in adding unnecessary weight in its soaked state, making for a gruelling trek home. A deep sense of relief overwhelmed his tired frame as his main gate came into view: buzzing himself through, he permitted his feet to drag him up the one flight of stairs to his front door when his body hit a something metal at full force. Their parking spaces were always empty owing to their location being within walking distance of everything they needed, so the navy blue Audi R8 currently parked in the space baffled him – maybe one of the neighbours asked for the extra parking space for a short time.

Nero exhaled sharply as he reached his front door; he was irrefutably exhausted and the only action worthy of effort would be a piping hot bath. He knocked his head on the big oak door and his eyes opened in shock as he heard two voices coming from within. It sounded like they were arguing from another dimension, and Nero fought with his pockets to retrieve his set of house keys which were in the opposite side of the door. Deflated, and knowing his roommate always kept the door locked when he was home, he knocked on the door calmly whilst still hearing angry growls coming from inside his living room. After ten seconds of the residents feigning absenteeism he knocked again, harder and urgent. "Open the damn door, Dante. It's your fault I don't have-"

The door unlatched and opened slowly, the angle giving nothing away to the person on the other side. The portion of face that greeted him was his flatmate, but also not his flatmate: his hair and eyes were different; his clothes were a blazing contradiction to Dante's casual attire; his red eyes diffused to a cerulean texture, and his overall aura froze Nero to his core. He spoke through clenched teeth, trying his best to conceal pure irritation and gore at its peak. "If you don't mind, I'm in the middle of something. Come back in an hour and I'll buy some cookies-"

"He lives here, Vergil." Dante called from across the room. Nero could hear the vast amounts and varieties of alcohol he had consumed. "For god's sake, let him in."

The man named Vergil released his grip on the door and Nero pushed through aggressively, clearly agitated at being stranded on his own doorstep, soaking and freezing – it nearly flew off its hinges at the power of Nero's bringer and his gaze caught Dante sitting on a bar stool at the kitchen counter; all of the alcohol was removed from their place on the shelves and neatly lined up in front of him in alphabetical order. "What the hell is going on here?"

Vergil closed the door in haste. "Today is-"

"Not you." Nero pointed an annoyed finger in Vergil's direction. "I've had enough out of you. I want to hear it from him."

Vergil stalked towards him, a glaring smile bearing two pairs of the most painful fangs he had ever seen. "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with, dear boy?" His red eyes were in full view and his body was in attack mode. He shifted his frame inches from Nero's body, relishing in the cockiness that radiated from him.

"I know perfectly well who you fucking are. I'm asking why you are in my house." He squared his shoulders on Vergil; to some degree he was scared out of his wits, but he never enjoyed seeing Dante in his current state. His roommate only drank heavily when it came to family matters, and there was no doubt that Vergil mysteriously popping out of the ground to visit him contributed half of the alcohol flowing through his bloodstream.

Dante didn't bother turning his head to look at the face-off in his living room. "Watch your tongue, Nero. He's the new king of hell – he'll squash you like a fucking bug." He held a shot of vodka between his flaccid fingers and threw it to the back of his throat, letting out a puny cough as it burned straight down. Nero backed off at hearing this new piece of information; regardless of him being Dante's twin, you never mess with the king of hell, especially when you know what had to be done to get to there.

Nero turned his head from Vergil's intense gaze and relaxed his frame, but the demon grasped his chin and forced his eyes on his once more. They heard a bottle being tipped and noisy glugs from the kitchen. "He isn't well-"

"You think I can't see that?" He gestured behind Vergil's towering frame never tearing from his icy blues. There was something in them purely human that sympathised with what Nero was suffering. "What is it this time, huh? I won't even bother guessing-"

"It is the death anniversary of our mother, Nero."

The anger reverberating through his body dissolved within seconds. His face melted in dread as he looked past Vergil and watched Dante take shot after shot, sometimes emptying the quarter of a bottle in one swig, occasionally sniffing and pinching the bridge of his nose to secrete a well of emotion and the lump burning at the back of his throat. Vergil twisted his body next to Nero, and they both gaped at the muscular, perfect, handsome, crumbling mess that drowned his sanity with alcohol. Dante stared forward the entire time, knowing full well they were watching him and spared no remorse in opening up more bottles of the poison. "No point in just standing there. I won't be stopping anytime soon, so you might as well join me."

Nero was shivering, but not because of the clothes he was wearing. "Why w-w-w-were you two s-s-s-s-screaming when I g-g-got home?"

His teeth were chattering and his lips were turning an ominous shade of purple; Vergil looked down at the boy and held out his hand prompting Nero to take it. "It will sting for a moment." He did, and his body was wracked in flames from head to toe, but no unpleasant burn ensued. Instead, a pinprick of heat doused his figure as his clothes and hair dried instantaneously and welcomed warmth enveloped his senses, tricking up his back and resting comfortably. "Being evil has its perks, Nero. I have to at least try to be nice at some times during my rule." The boy patted himself down, still in shock at what occurred in the past few seconds; his wonder at Vergil's magic trick faded to black as his gaze travelled across the room at a fatigued figure losing his grip on reality. Dante's eyes lidded heavily as he resisted the effects of the liquor. Vergil was quicker, warping to his side when he nearly fell off the unsteady bar stool, cradling his immense frame with no real effort. He set Dante to his feet and he swayed to an inaudible beat, gripping at air to maintain his balance. His brother eventually stuck a hand out for him to grab, and smiled goofily. Nero couldn't believe what he was seeing, and Vergil was ready to rip his head off. Dante excused himself with a forced giggle as he caught the devil's eyes watching him intently: deep down he knew he crossed over a dozen lines he swore he never would, but the enthused numbing sensation was just what he needed to get through the day – stumbling up the stairs, he found the bathroom and bolted the door. The two men below waited to for the vomit to spew.

"He's been drinking since you left for class this morning." Vergil kept his demonic expression as he addressed Nero. "He watched you leave and sat in that same spot all day, drinking, passing out, waking up, throwing up in the bathroom, and looping that vicious cycle." He located two clean shot glasses on the counter and poured a generous dose of chocolate vodka in each, holding one out to Nero. He crossed the room and took the shot, swirling his tongue in the glass for every last morsel. Vergil pulled it from his grasp for a refill.

"But why-"

"He feels guilty. He thinks our mother's death was his fault: she died protecting us from an ungodly hoard of demons set free to murder our family owing to the nature of our conception. I think it hits him more because he had quite a view while she was being attacked. She hid him in the same room she supposedly died in, and I don't think the memory has ever left." They drank once more, and Vergil threw a disappointing look at his glass, reaching for a higher percentage range. "And to answer your question earlier, I'm here because Dante is a violent drunk: leave him be and he'll wake up in a week; take his alcohol away and he would most probably skin you alive." He twisted the cap off a bottle of bourbon drank straight from the bottle. "I cannot have your death on my conscience. Your potential lies here on earth and not in the fiery depths of hell with me."

"What are you talking about?"

He handed Nero the bottle and he took it gracefully, swallowing three massive and potentially dangerous slugs. "In due time, my boy. For now, we have to beat the shit out of him." Mid swallow, Nero freaked and choked on the bourbon in his throat, and it made its way uncomfortably up his nasal passage. "Do not panic; it will mainly be me, but I need you to distract him. As inhumane as that sounds, I need you as bait." He handed the bottle to Vergil, feeling drowsy and nauseas at the task presented to him. "He has a soft spot for you and that will make you an easy target. This will numb most of what he might do to you, but whatever you do, do not fight back – he may be Dante on the outside, but there is an extremely possessive demon resting deep within. It doesn't take much for him to be freed, and that one wreaks unimaginable havoc. I would prefer to keep him under wraps for tonight; I do not wish for you to witness the possible bloodshed that may incur whilst in our demon forms-"

The bathroom door from above opened slowly and Dante stumbled downward, fluffing his hair in an attempt to look presentable for the beverages on the counter. He coughed into his hand and stood in front of Vergil, implying he move away from his seat; his brother had other plans as he removed his coat and laid it across the stool, unbuttoning his shirt at his wrists and rolled them up his elbows, grabbing the brown liquid and drinking harmoniously at its contents. "That is really expensive-"

"Don't care." A pissed off Vergil wiped his mouth with the back of his hand; the breaks between sips were much needed for that brand of bourbon.

"You should-"

"I really fucking don't." The size of the swig he took left the alcohol dribbling out of the corners of his mouth. "Come on, brother, this is what you want, correct? The two of us majestically burning our deepest and uttermost feelings to ash in the hope that we'd forget about our dear dead mother… That we'd bond over these dreadful liquids to give us an excuse to eject profanities without proper conscience… Doing something near to impossible even by your fucking standards-"

"VERGIL!" Nero's voice sounded a split second too late on Vergil's ears as Dante quickly closed the gap between them and grasped at the now vacant bottle. The younger brother was too drunk to gage its emptiness and attempted to pour one last shot from it. When no liquid came he laughed sadistically, grabbing the base of the bottle and flinging to the adjacent wall, barely missing Nero by the skin of his teeth. The shattered shards exploded all over the kitchen, and a few glass pieces embedded into Nero's back and cheek, slicing through his outfit like a hot knife through butter.

"See, Vergil? See what you made me do?" His lips pouted sarcastically as he groped at something less potent; Nero was bleeding profusely under his scorching wounds but couldn't move to clean them owing to all the glass at his feet. Tears stung at his eyes and he fought himself to not let them fall – he didn't sign up for this. "Oh would you look at that? He does bleed."

The fresh shot made it to his lips, but Vergil was fast enough to wrench it from him and crush the crystal in front of his face; it penetrated through his skin as the clear alcohol dripped to the floor, and Vergil picked them out of his hand too politely, placing the shards on the counter. He came inches to Dante's face, and albeit a miniscule amount, he could smell the fear masked by the spirits. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" A tiny yelp came from behind the counter and Nero fell to his knees from the pain – his demonic healing had not kicked in owing to the glass deep in his flesh where the gaping holes breathed too much oxygen for his body to handle. Vergil heard his internal cries of pain and quickly swept him from his predicament and far from Dante. "This won't take long, I swear." Nero had no choice but to double over in agony, breathing as evenly as possible.

"Ohhhhhhh, you're doing this for him?"

"I'm protecting him from you-"

"He doesn't need it, right pumpkin?" Shiny red armoured scales enfolded Dante's arms and sharp talons enclosed around Vergil's entire neck, slinging him against the concrete wall beside the front door; the devil's body flung lifelessly across the room, compressing the hard material to rubble with his back. Over-encompassing horror washed over Nero as Dante stalked toward his direction. "Come on, we both know how badly you waaaant meeeee." The torment in his back returned when the demon pushed Nero's body into the wall behind him, driving the glass deeper: Dante pushed his prodigious frame flush against him, grinding seductively on his pelvis as the younger man screamed at the top of his lungs, the oxygen eluding at the sudden pressure on his chest. His blue talon clawed at the red around his neck to no avail. "I see the way you watch me when I'm in the bathroom; when I stalk around the house in my underwear; I know you secretly watch me when I jerk myself off, hoping it was you I thought about for the six minutes it would take me-"

"Seven."

His head snapped and they were face to face. "What?"

Nero's confidence would waver soon, but this was his only shot to take a stand. "You don't take six minutes. You take seven."

He raised his head to the ceiling gasping for air and Dante released his grip: he laughed as his demonic arms massaged Nero's shoulders and upper arms tenderly, bringing them wrist to wrist at his stomach and raising them to the ceiling, the other busying with getting Nero's manhood free. Dante rubbed over the bulge of his cotton underwear and took his time grazing at his taut skin. "Give in to it, Nero. Let me fuck you like in all of your fantasies-"

The weight on his body vanished: a cloud of blue smoke erupted behind Dante and thrust him in the opposite direction toward the crater Vergil had created earlier. He, however, hit the wall with a fiercer impact than his brother and Dante crashed to the floor in a heap, momentarily unconscious. The two men watched anxiously as he picked himself up, his muscles straining under the blend of gravity and alcohol. With a curt nod to Nero, Vergil dispersed into thin air as Dante stood upright, wiping a tiny trickle of blood off his collarbone. Red electricity split the air as he looked at the smaller man at the wall, crouching and ready to tear Vergil to shreds. "The next words out of your pretty little mouth better be wherever the hell he went."

Nero had known Dante for the better part of three years, and even he knew this wasn't his roommate talking. More silence broke the atmosphere, and it was evident that Dante was trying to take back control over his body. Breathing heavily, his talons transformed back to its human state and his eyes Nero's favourite shade of blue – the flaming aura engulfing his body was new, and Nero fought with his psyche to stand resolute for the sake of Vergil's plan. Upon receiving his boost of newfound confidence, Nero stood tall and shrugged, displaying a level of disinterest to Dante's proposed question. He pulled himself away from the wall and pursued Dante, reciting his prepared speech over and over in his head. "What did you expect was going to happen after this, Dante?"

"That's not the answer to my question-"

"I DON'T FUCKING CARE! YOU NEED TO SNAP THE FUCK OUT OF THIS OR I SWEAR I WILL FUCKING RIP YOUR THROAT OUT!" Nero's fists clenched and his fingers dug into his skin, having a difficult time containing his blistering rage. "THIS IS NOT YOU-"

"You have no idea who I am." Dante raised his head to look at Nero and he squared his jaw challengingly. "Don't fucking pretend to think you know me."

"I'm very much aware that I don't know you, but I know what you're not-"

"And what would that be?" Dante moved in Nero's direction. "Please tell me, Nero. I'd love to hear what you come up with, and then confirm everything you say as complete and utter bullshit: you claim to think that you can figure me out, then by all means go ahead. This is me, and this is as good as you're ever gonna get." Dante nonchalantly walked to the counter, keeping his eyes on Nero and inching toward the closest alcohol to him.

"You… so much as touch that fucking bottle…"

Dante snagged it and raised his shoulders in mock defeat. "What are you gonna do, Nero? Claw me to death with that piece of shit you call a Devil Arm? Don't make me laugh. You have nothing on me. I have absolutely no obligation to prove anything to you, and I don't care what you think. Your opinion means nothing to me, as do you. So don't stand there like you own me or my decisions; you own nothing. You have nothing. You are nothing. Back the fuck off and let me deal with my own problems." Dante raised it to his lips and stopped midway to vomit more venom at the boy. "And you know what else is funny? The fact that you think your opinion matters to me in any way." He moved within whispering distance to Nero, insultingly playing with his snow white hair. "It's quite hilarious seeing you in a happy mood after-"

A blue burst of air cracked the space behind Dante and the point of a kitana slid effortlessly through his ribcage: the surge of pain dribbled down his frame with his demonic blood and the vodka slipped out of his grasp, crashing to the floor and mixing with the small red pool at his feet. Vergil's fingers held his scalp firm and drove the sword further into his brother, the tip approaching Nero's chest. Dante coughed and bubbles of blood landed to the floor in front of him; as a last effort, he looked to Nero with a pleading look in his eyes as his eyes closed and his body drifted to unconsciousness – keeping him upright, Vergil removed the sword and allowed him to crumble away from the broken glass. Nero glared at his lifeless body void of emotion; his words vibrated through his skull and he was thankful Vergil appeared when he did. The king of hell met his eyes and what stared back was indescribable hurt, hatred, and anger fused into one.

"For what it's worth, I didn't hear a word he said."

Vergil returned downstairs after tucking Dante into bed and stared holes into Nero's back as he watched the boy force multiple shots of brandy down his throat. He could see the boy wanted to be left alone, but Nero turned in the stool sensing his presence and pulled at the one next to his, filling a spare glass to its halfway mark as Vergil sat. "I'm not going to defend him-"

"I don't expect you to." Nero speedily slugged the contents of his glass and looked at Vergil, giving him a disapproving look at why he was taking so long with his drink. He held the bottle at a distance and dispensed the harsh-smelling liquid until it dripped at the corners of his mouth, closing and swallowing at an unpleasant speed. A throaty grunt came from Nero's lips as he recovered from the assault at the back of his jaws.

"You should slow down."

"I know I should. Doesn't mean I will." He filled Vergil's glass and he copied Nero's actions, welcoming the burn that followed. He held no clue on how to address what just happened, but it was clear it was the last thing Nero wanted on his mind at the moment; the look on his face seeing Dante flop to the ground was neither empathetic nor troubled, and something must have hit a nerve in the time Nero gave him a clear path in which to attack.

"Look, Nero-"

"Please don't bother. Thank you, but I can't. I really can't right now." He repeated his actions and set the half-empty bottle on the counter. "And I don't care how this sounds, but it would be really nice if you could rub my back. I know it's probably blasphemy to perform two nice gestures in one night." For the first time that evening, Nero glimpsed a smile spread across the devil's lips. He couldn't help but laugh as a blush creeped into his cheeks, his libido mixing with the strong brandy as a breath hitched in his throat when he stared at Vergil in awe. The demon set his glass down and moved off his seat to remove the hefty denim jacket to work his magic for Nero's request: his enthusiasm faded when his eyes spotted hundreds of bloody droplets dried against the blue of the jacket. Nero had forgotten about the glass, and upon closer inspection it looked gruesome.

Vergil dropped the jacket on his seat and pulled Nero off his chair; the younger man nearly fell to the floor at the suddenness and strength of his actions. He held his hand firm, tugging in the direction of the stairs. "Come on, we need to go upstairs."

Nero was loopy and the unexpected jerk threw him off balance. "People usually buy me dinner first."

The grip on Nero's hand tightened at his last comment. Damn, this kid was feisty. "As tempting as that sounds, the glass is still in your back. We need to take them out."

Nero's head wobbled in and out of place as they journeyed up the steep flight. "Can I puke first?" The first round of bile missed projectile status a second too late as Vergil was able to steer him to the bath not a moment too soon: the smooth brown sludge slurred against its walls at the sheer force of their exit, disappearing rapidly down the drain to make way for the future, fresher bile to accumulate at its centre. Vergil angled his head from the view and smell as he moved Nero's hair out of his face, protecting the silver locks from disgusting contamination; the demon begged for Nero to finish up as the heaves used to extract the last remnants of alcohol from his system caused excessive amounts of blood to seep from his wounds. Nero's t-shirt was able to catch most of it, but the profuse bleeding wasn't good to begin with. "Okay, I think that's it." He rested his face and relished at the cool porcelain on his skin.

"Great. Now sit on the edge, I want to see if I can get this godforsaken piece of material off you." Nero utilised every ounce of his remaining energy to lurch onto the edge, barely managing one foot into the bath without Vergil grasping his shoulder and directing him to equilibrium. "Arms up." He obeyed, and the first whiff of oxygen on his skin stung on the multiple cuts on his back. Vergil tried his best being careful around the outer skin of the wounds, but the glass shards were deep and vast in number with many tinier pieces covering the flawless paleness of his flesh. "Fuck it!" With no word of warning, Vergil ripped the shirt to shreds; the cotton snagged at some of the fragments and pulled them to the floor in a crumpled bloody heap, and Nero bit long and hard on his bringer to quell the imminent scream burning in his chest. Vergil perched behind him in the same position and watched the muscles under his skin constrict in agony – what would ensue would only feel worse, and Nero writhed whole-heartedly to calm himself. "We need to do this, Nero." Vergil leaned over and grabbed a towel from under the sink, handing it to his arms that were still hoisted in the air.

"I know. I know." He wrapped the towel around his left palm and wrist. "I think I might just throw up from the pain alone."

Vergil slid his body closer to Nero and began mapping out the shards and the best route to take when removing them. He may be the king of hell, but he wasn't heartless. "I will be gentle, I promise." Nero felt the gap between them pulverise as the demon started removing the bigger pieces first and he could feel the wounds healing at a comfortable pace. It wasn't at demonic healing speed just yet, owing to the high alcohol content and physical trauma, but come a new day and everything would be back to normal. It was getting through this next hour in one piece that proved to be the real obstacle.

"Now that's something I definitely wanna hear after dinner."

Piece by piece, Vergil's blue talons dug deep into Nero's flesh to tweeze the fragments of glass out from its roots to prevent any means of infection: some shards eased out of the skin, almost begging to be removed, while others fought a tougher game in choosing their temporary home inside Nero over being thrown into a bin. The smaller slivers were the worst to detach because of their size and overall depth; in normal cases, they would be easier to remove as the force needed for deeper penetration was much greater than its bigger counterparts, but the laws of physics flew out the window when Dante was involved, or any demon for that matter. The bourbon had shattered with an immense strength that had enough inertia to apply the same pressure to each split particle, making the tinier pieces of glass more deadly owing to its limited visibility on his pale skin. Nero experienced mild episodes of shock when Vergil broke his already-healed skin to reach these particular pieces; he could feel the anxiety and pure mutilated suffering reverberate through the poor boy, and it made the job undeniably more difficult to carry out. It was imperative to retrieve every piece, and although he worked methodically in making it less painful for Nero, there were moments where Vergil felt equally responsible for this unfortunate incident and wished he were the one on the end of Dante's wrath.

The demon felt the relief overcome Nero's body as the last piece of glass detached itself from his inflamed muscles. The other wounds had begun the healing process and his skin was slowly retuning back to normal. "You still okay, Nero?" When no reply came, Vergil worriedly shook at his shoulders and discovered Nero biting unforgivingly into the towel; any harder would have pierced skin. "You can let that poor thing go, kid. Give your body a day to rest and all will be fine by Sunday." Nero kept his face scrunched around the cloth waiting for Vergil to dig more pieces of brown out of him; the bigger demon playfully tugged at the material and Nero's eyes shot open with a baffled look.

"Whhh dhhhn?" Vergil stood in front of him with his hands on his hips and Nero dropped his jaw, the towel falling with it. "We done? Like really?"

"Yes really, I said so a few seconds ago."

Nero considered the glass in the basin – Vergil had collected enough to construct three quarters of its original shape. "That wasn't so bad-"

He held up a finger to stop him. "Explain that to the four gaping holes you just bit into that towel." The injured man stood up hastily from his position; forgetting the amount of liquor in his bloodstream, it spiked to his head and he limply collapsed onto the bathroom floor, giggling on his way down. Vergil sighed loudly and dropped his shoulders, rubbing his hands across his face in exhaustion – looking after two drunk demons was nowhere on his itinerary.

The sheets crinkled under Nero's body as he nuzzled closer to a soft figure that shared the bed. A pair of bare, strong, pale, comforting arms held him close; he was clueless as to how he ended up in the spare bedroom, and even more oblivious to being in Vergil's arms – his memory carried him as far as seeing Dante's body flop to the floor, and everything up until now was a complete blur. Nero trailed the curves on Vergil's chest to his face and stared at the content in his sleepy expression; his face was angled downward and Nero had a full view of the demon's angelic face. His carer pulled him closer, knowing Nero had woken up. "Why does everyone insist on staring at me?"

"Really? That's what you're asking me?" Nero couldn't tell if he was still drunk or this was some really messed up dream. "That's the burning question on the king of hell's lips?" He reached from under the sheets and caressed the outline of Vergil's jaw, and he surprisingly leaned into his touch. Vergil's eyes opened slowly and stared deep into Nero: as if on autopilot, he traced small concentric circles across Vergil's powerful jaw and pinched at the corner of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger; Nero lost himself in the moment and bit at his bottom lip, wondering how his plump and sensuous mouth felt and tasted, but didn't have to wait long before Vergil's hand snaked to the back of his head and kissed him passionately. His tongue was warm and soft and worked with purpose against his own, nibbling, sucking, and roaming the depths of Nero's mouth. Nope; definitely not a dream.

"Dante's coming." Vergil tucked the blankets behind Nero, cuddling him tenderly. "Pretend to be asleep." Nero submitted and shut his eyes a second before the bedroom door opened; he could feel the looming presence of his roommate at the threshold, and sensing the fear overwhelming his frame, Vergil held him tighter and combed his fingers through Nero's silky hair. "What is it brother?"

"Don't 'what is it brother' me. His heart rate spiked. What happened?"

Vergil felt Nero blush into his chest and smirked internally. "I think it was a nightmare. No need for you to worry. You've done enough." He continued tangling his fingers in his silvery locks, giving Dante no leeway to control the situation.

The younger twin hung his defeated mass against the threshold. "Can you wake him? I need to talk-"

"As I have said, you've done enough Dante." Vergil finally looked at his brother with a face of contempt. "He needs to sleep. Leave him be." He went back to admiring Nero's hair, his other hand gently massaging the small of his back. If Nero were to get upset Dante would sense it immediately, giving it all away. Keeping him calm was the only option Vergil had, and that meant keeping Dante from talking.

"Look Vergil, I know you're looking out for him and I appreciate it, really I do, but I said some horrible things last night-"

"Oh, so you do remember what happened." His gaze didn't waver; his eyes were set on the sleeping frame in his arms. Nero took much comfort in Vergil's embrace and hoped the stand-off wouldn't last long.

Dante scratched at an itch that wasn't there. "Yes I do-"

"Then you should know that the move you are currently making could be fatal, and I solemnly do not wish to end your life in front of the man willing to give his to save you from yourself last night-"

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE, VERGIL-" Dante strained the irritation at the bridge of his nose. "You know how I feel about him-"

"Yes I do, and he didn't deserve what you did to him." Vergil adjusted his position next to him as he felt a tremor of sadness travel through Nero's build. He was moments too late in the gesture and a lonely tear rolled down his cheek. Vergil discreetly grazed his thumb against the wet path that burrowed through the anxiety of last night's efforts in an attempt to sooth him.

The man at the door took three steps into the room and straightened to his full height. "So what? You had to be his knight in shining armour and pick up the pieces? Is that it? The wonderful Vergil returning in the nick of time to save the damsel in distress?"

"Watch your tongue, Dante. I'm the new king of hell – I'll squash you like a fucking bug." Vergil unhurriedly pressed his lips to Nero's forehead, lingering as more heat radiated off his brother. "Right?"

His hands rested on his hips – Dante was starting to crack. "I wouldn't hurt him if my life depended on it."

"Yet you did. If you had been with him after I put you to bed, you would have hated yourself for ever taking that first sip." Nero was relaxing into his chest. "You lost everything last night Dante. Everything that this boy felt for you the past three years is gone, and you can only blame yourself." He ended his strokes and observed the boy lovingly, making sure to be in full view of his brother. "Father warned you, and once again you failed to listen. You don't deserve happiness, Dante."

That last comment struck too deep for Dante's own liking. The back-and-forth banter the brother's usually shared never took this ugly of a turn: the remark hit the demon in his core – he took a step toward his brother, eyes a scorching shade of red and Vergil met his level of rage, their inner demons practically begging to be freed. "I fucking hate you, Vergil."

"You're supposed to." Vergil rested his arm over the covers enveloping Nero's body. "Now leave him in peace, or I'll be forced to burn you to ash where you stand." Seconds of dreaded quiet followed, and Nero breathed easy after hearing the door slam to oblivion, splintering on its hinges and cracking the doorframe. "I'm terribly sorry you had to hear that." Vergil kept his eyes on the door as he spoke and Nero watched him intently. "He needs a deep kick in the chest for him to accept the consequences of his actions. Dante went too far; I had never seen him act the way he did yesterday." He raised his body onto his elbows and caught Nero's sleepy gawk. "I apologise to you if you think I went too far, but it would all make sense if you could just peek inside his head for two minutes. It is only at that time that things will become clear to you."

Nero nodded and insecurely burrowed deeper under the covers – to try and understand the encounter and make sense of Vergil's words was a form of head trauma he could live without. He felt sorry for both brothers for obstinate and starkly different reasons, but that didn't mean he had the right to pick sides, let alone decided the right or wrong one. It took all the strength in his body to resist running to Dante's side as he always did. "Can you make me forget?"

"Yes and no. Yes I can, and no I won't." Vergil relaxed against the headboard of the bed and the covers slid seductively to his hips; with his bare chest on full display, Nero traced the ridges of his abdomen sinfully, discreetly biting on the skin of his palm for deliverance; he could see Vergil's heart beat against his toned muscles and the image alone made him forget about how mad he was at Dante.

Taking a deep breath and the biggest risk in a month, he activated what little alcohol was left in his system, climbed over the covers and straddled Vergil's hips. "Fill my mind with something else then?" Nero didn't bother waiting for an answer; he compellingly collided his lips on Vergil's, pushing his worth in weight into the wall behind him in an attempt to deepen the kiss; the elder demon ran both hands lustfully through Nero's silver locks, gripping harshly at tufts of his hair and pushing him deeper into his mouth. Nero moaned into Vergil's throat as his hands descended his frame, tugging lightly at the hem of his t-shirt and breaking their kiss for a millisecond to rid Nero of the offending clothing. Vergil held powerful rule on Nero's frame as the man attacked, holding his jaw in place and hungrily sucking on every inch of Vergil's mouth. The younger man bit down on the elder's swollen lips as his hands journeyed into his underwear, squeezing his cheeks and earning a naughty smile from Nero; Vergil held his legs in position as he flipped them, grinding devilishly solid against his pelvic bone as he nestled between his legs. He straightened his arms on either side of Nero's head and hovered over him, continuing his measured onslaught below and Nero gasped as Vergil's erection made contact with his own, a whispered 'fuck' leaving his lips; he dug his head into the soft pillows behind his head when the hand cradling his neck shadowed to his jaw and tilted his head, only to ghost down his torso and dip into the waistband of Nero's trunks and delicately grasp his penis. He hardened instantly and his jaw dropped, allowing Vergil to nibble at his gaping mouth and ravage the sensitive flesh on his neck.

"Tell me I shouldn't be doing this." Vergil now rested on his elbow to get closer to Nero's body, but the man below was still enjoying the attention he was so desperate to receive. "Tell me I shouldn't be enjoying this."

Nero managed to clear his mind for a few seconds to utilise his bringer in unleashing Vergil's equally stiff member. It hung painfully between his legs, and Nero angled the elder's head to look at his own rising arousal. "What does that tell you?"

"That I have much more work to do."

With one last chaste kiss, Vergil kissed and tongued his way over Nero's physique, teasing the muscles under his assault; his hands followed suit, digging and clawing at his unspoiled pale flesh as his teeth nipped smoothly at the skin under his belly button. He descended between the boys legs and licked the hard appendage over this underwear, leaving an envious wet trail that rubbed deliciously against Nero's member. A whimper escaped the younger man's chest as he grazed his digits over Nero's tip, collecting a load of precum and slithering it over his entrance, an action that garnered more cum to emerge at his head. Contrary to the boy's palpable excitement, something didn't feel right. Vergil mentally kicked himself as a question burned at the back of his head, and he knew he would regret whatever decision he had to make depending on the answer. "Have you done this before?"

"No." Nero wasn't ashamed to admit it; he equally kicked himself for being so blunt and nearly punched himself in the throat when Vergil halted his activities and tucked their hardness away. He moved from between Nero's legs to lie on his side next to him with an apologetic expression plastered across his features.

"Then I'm afraid I cannot go further."

Yearning lust overshadowed his disappointment. "Why the hell not?"

"It's not for me to take, Nero." Vergil nuzzled into his shoulder and lifted Nero's head, resting it on his arm and playing with his hair, his other hand interweaving their fingers together. "We both possess enough knowledge to understand I am not the one who is meant to claim this part of you as mine."

Vergil was being adorable, and Nero hated it. "Why should that make a difference?"

"Because your heart does not belong to me. We are not in love. That makes all the difference for your first time: it becomes an outlet for all your pent up frustrations and deep longing for each other, and when it happens it's an inexplicable explosion to your senses and your mind – in that moment, two beings become one, and your connection and love solidifies like you'd never believe. That is what sets it apart from a one-time thing. It's been what, four years now? Fuck, your first orgasm is going to blow your damn mind." Nero's eyes grew to lemons and giggled uncontrollably, masking the blush in cheeks with his free hand. "If it's any consolation, Dante is way better in bed than I am." Nero threw an 'I see through you' look in his direction. "Look, I have to convince myself I'm making the right choice here. You can't blame me for trying."

The younger demon closed his eyes and concentrated on the hand in his hair, feeling his fingers individually working to pacify him. Nero untangled his hand and relaxed it on Vergil's hip, cuddling his body against the heat radiating off the elder's body. Needing no further explanation, Vergil sensually plunged his tongue into his mouth, ravenously tasting the desire and impatience that exhumed through Nero's body: the demon's hand ran down his fragile state and skilfully inclined into his underwear again, rounding the tender skin and squeezing, Nero's leg jerking upward as Vergil skimmed his thigh between his legs and warmly pumped life into the muscle Nero fought long and hard to suppress.

"Fuck, Vergil-"

He laughed as he peeled himself from Nero. "Sorry, force of habit."

Nero returned from the bathroom and watched as Vergil floated around the room, making the bed and cleaning simultaneously, bringing the room to its previous state. It was quite a scene to observe – Nero didn't take Vergil to be the domestic type, and this made him seem more human than the evil incarnation he was meant to be. He moved swiftly to leave the room and make the weighted trek down the seemingly endless stairs, but Vergil caught his wrist before he could make any sudden moves. "Can we talk seriously for a second?" Nero almost laughed at what he perceived as a sarcastic remark, but when the demon's face retained its stoic form he grew worried. Vergil led him to sit on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath.

"Dante is really sensitive. He will never have his emotions on display, but he feels deeply and everything he does and experiences affects him in some way. I have no words for last night, but his visit earlier…." He took another breath. "He was troubled more at how you would see him than what actually happened. I don't know what he said to you while I retrieved Yamato, but I can vouch for him in saying those were the moments he regrets most. Don't get me wrong, I'm not defending him. I'm asking for you to listen." Another breath. "You see, Dante is a very physical person: you can gage what he's trying to say by simply watching him as opposed to hearing what he has to say. His actions speak much louder than his words, so please bear that in mind while he says his piece. Also, I'm going to make a quick getaway when we reach the living room. I don't think he wants to face me just yet, and he will have the opportunity to be vulnerable with you when I'm not in the room. He perceives my presence as a need to prove himself to me and that isn't something I want hanging over his shoulders when he speaks to you. As much as I would pay to hear what he says, it's going to be an extremely personal revelation for the both of you, so I urge you to be open to everything he says, okay?"

"How on earth do you know-"

"We know everything that goes on each other's head; we always know what the other is doing and thinking; it's a weird connection I wish I had the words to explain." He crushed the sleep from his blue eyes. "He knew you were awake when he came in here. He knows nothing happened between us while we were up here. I also know he's been in tears since I kicked him out of this room. His mind has been in shambles since he woke up, and the only thing he has on his mind right now is you and how badly he needs to speak to you."

Nero hit a blank on how to react to Vergil's words. He twiddled his thumbs in his lap to hinder the onslaught of guilt that was about to wash over his body, but then he remembered what Dante had said to him in his drunken stupor and it all made sense. Dante wasn't his to boss around; everyone had their own way of dealing with loss, but very few needed to be impaled by a sword owned by the king of hell to be soothed to sleep. The three had suffered opposite sides of the same stick in less than two hours, and somehow the aftermath would prove to be a more challenging obstacle to face than the incident itself: it was the reflection of actions passed that demonstrated the harsh reality of what was to come in future, and Nero wasn't a fan of it. He permitted his mind to wander to the worst possible scenario and outcome, but Vergil had somewhat perked in posture as he changed the topic.

"Okay, moving to something to lighten the mood. I'm not saying this will happen today or in the near future, but being in the position you are I deem it imperative that you know this tiny bit of information about Dante." Vergil cracked his fingers in his lap and let a smirk envelop his face. "Only two people know what I'm about to say. You will be the third and probably the last person who would need to know this. So-" he adjusted his position on the bed to get comfy "-Dante has this trademark move. I haven't seen him use it, but we once got lost in some or other conversation and he accidently let this slip. He was intoxicated so I doubt he remembers telling me, but it was good to know." He took a moment to gather his ducks in a row. "I don't know if you've ever noticed, but he has a strange obsession with the skin on the neck. When he gets nervous, sad, irritated, whatever the case may be, his hands are always present on his or someone else's body. With that being said, he has this thing… I can only call it a thing because I know no other phrase to use… If you face away from him and there's something intense on his mind he wants to say but can't phrase properly, he will place the gentlest of kisses directly underneath the hairline on your neck. As he explains it, the nerve endings are extremely sensitive there and what he is trying to portray is best said in that gesture. He says it means more to him than a kiss on the lips or forehead, and has a substantial standing over three and a half hours of passionate love-making. I'm assuming that's the shortest amount he can go for?" He shrugged nonchalantly. "Nevertheless, be on high alert when he does it. It's greater in meaning than any 'I love you' he will ever say. I can't remember the exact way he described it."

Nero was dumbfounded at the information presented to him and Vergil tilted his head, silently asking if he understood what was at stake; he squeezed his hand reassuringly and they stood to make what may be the most emotional descent down one stupid flight. Vergil whispered to Nero's ear, hoping Dante couldn't hear them at the top of the stairs. "Don't look him in the eye when we get down there. He hasn't had the best morning." He went first and Nero followed after he took his fourth step; he couldn't remember the last time he took so many breaths to calm himself down and within seconds his feet felt the familiar coolness of the living room's tiled floor, seeing Dante in his peripheral vision. His back was toward the stairs immersed in a magazine of some sort, sitting on the same stool he previous perched on; Vergil retrieved his coat on the seat next to him and placed a brotherly hand on his shoulder. Dante reached up to it with his own, sniffing before he spoke. "I don't hate you."

"I know." Vergil curtly kissed his temple and hurriedly moved to the door. "Come visit sometime?"

Dante snorted. "Too many females."

Vergil shrugged. "They get the job done-"

"They get your job done, Vergil."

The king of hell smiled at his brother and vanished into thin air, leaving Nero alone to battle with the mixed emotions he was aiming in Dante's direction. He heeded Vergil's words in not facing him, but where else was he going to look? There was nothing interesting enough in the lounge to grasp his attention for an inordinate amount of time so he stared at his feet confidently when he heard the magazine being placed on the kitchen counter and a weight being lifted from the itchy chairs underneath. Dante, however, misread the situation and inched toward him cautiously. "I know you can't stand to look at me, so I'm just gonna start talking." His comment bit deep, and Nero had to grind his teeth to control his wavering confidence. Once he gained composure, he lifted his face and looked at Dante; what stared back was a handsome fusion of every possible emotion known to man, complete with a pair of intense blue eyes that had seen better days. The skin surrounding his eyes were red with irritation and overuse, his hair untidy and pointing in every direction, and his usually strong build wilted under a degree of agony not yet experienced by any living being.

Dante's voice was shaky, and his usual calm and cool demeanour disintegrated as he addressed Nero. "I've cried myself dry trying to figure out what to say to you."

He resisted the urge to run to his side and comfort him. "You don't have to say anything-"

"Like fuck I don't." He grew agitated with himself in not being able to get the words out. "Nero…" He cleared his throat and straightened his stance for the illusion of self-control. "I've had many bad days. Yesterday was one of them." Dante swallowed the lump forming in his throat and continued. "But you know what the strangest thing about it? I felt worse about what I did to you than I did the entire day thinking about my mother. She's been gone a while; it hurts and I've made peace with it, but then I imagined losing you, and it killed me." Dante smiled a genuine smile at Nero, and it confused him. "There's not much I can explain about losing a parent, but it feels as though the foundation on which your entire life is built just suddenly collapses into nothing, and although you try your best clinging at the opposing ends to prevent it from caving in, the crack gets bigger and you start crumbling with it. There will always be that one anomaly that shapes the rest of the structure and the only way to overcome it would be to make it stronger or start building from scratch. I did neither; I chose to ignore it and not let it affect me and the plan worked for a short time. I fell off the rails some time back and almost lost my life because of one stupid decision." His smile broadened as a fresh tear graced his cheek – he made no effort to wipe it away, and Nero had never seen Dante so vulnerably human. "That stupid decision drove me here, and I met you: the agent that was able to fill all my cracks and push me to rebuild on a new foundation – a foundation you were inherently part of. Losing something like that would be catastrophic, and-"

Dante stared to the ceiling and took a deep breath, a sense of calm enveloping his shoulders. "-I meant none of it, Nero. I don't know where it came from. I admire all that you are and I can only dream of achieving half of that. Your strength, your energy, your fucking everything that makes you who you are; I wish I could claim envy, but having you in my life makes me better. The world would have to implode on itself and hell would have to freeze over before I would do anything to cause you pain or discomfort. I would rather die than see you as hurt as you were yesterday." He moved closer periodically, albeit tiny steps each time. "I implored there were enough of us in each other to not crumble at my actions, but I fuck shit up on a daily basis, so I don't blame you for hating me. I don't want your forgiveness. I want to prove myself to you. I want to prove to you I can be someone you can love - someone worthy of it. All I ask is…" Nero's face snapped to his – Dante was genuinely struggling with the last part of his sentence. He swiftly moved to tower over the younger man, scanning his living room for the courage and strength to touch him. His hand cradled the base of Nero's skull and leaned his forehead against the other, closing his eyes to appreciate the contact. "Nero, please don't leave me."

After waiting patiently for three years, Nero actually felt strange at Dante's sudden confession; he thought he would be prepared for when the demon finally admitted his true feelings for him, but this hit him square in the chest in that it wasn't just a confession of his love; Dante openly admitted that he was scared of losing him. The feeling he imagined to wash over him came nowhere close to the happiness he was currently experiencing. Nero encircled Dante wrist with his bringer, stroking his skin lovingly. "I can't; both our names are on the lease."

For the first time that day, Dante visibly relaxed all the tension in his body. Being careful not to move too fast too quickly, he dipped his head and kissed Nero on the cheek and the crook of his neck in quick succession. His lips tingled in anticipation for a third, but the timer on the oven wrenched them from cloud nine and brought them back to reality. Unfortunately for Nero, Dante left him and walked briskly to the noise and opened the oven, pulling out the piping hot tray with his bare hands. The strong aroma of cheese and bread came from the kitchen: pizza.

Dante placed the tray on the stove to cool. "You didn't have dinner yesterday. I assumed you were hungry."

"You kept pizza for me?" Nero found it challenging to veil his surprise.

The bigger man nodded with a smirk. "I had my half earlier." He moved to the middle of the kitchen and watched Nero grab at a slice, immediately dropping it owing to its temperature. There was no worse pain than melting cheese on your fingers and Nero's hunger opted to wait a few minutes before digging in. Nero purposely stood with his back to Dante, spreading his arms and leaning against the stovetop. He sporadically touched the crusts checking its temperature, his stomach singing the song of its people the more the cheesy smell hit his nose. He almost forgot his endeavour as his need for the pizza grew, and he grappled at a piece and finished it in record time. The three remaining slices followed suit and journeyed to the pit of his belly without a hitch, a deep exhale signalling his contentment. At that exact moment, a pair of muscular, pastel arms bordered his slender waist and Dante's face came into close proximity to his, quiescent on his shoulder. "You still hungry? There's more in the fridge."

Nero shook his head. "Maybe later; I think I need to sleep the rest of this alcohol off." He had to lie – being this close to one another wasn't good for either of them. He moved his hands to carefully remove Dante's grasp on him and froze.

The soft kiss to the back of his neck caught him off guard.