Devil May Cry © Capcom

Edelweiss

Jason M. Lee

Dawn had barely crept in when Lady found herself trying not to fall face first into the toilet bowl for the nth time. While her morning sickness wasn't as bad as some of the more noteworthy cases, being mostly every other day or so, it still aggravated her when she found herself wishing for certain foods but unable to consume them. The first time of experiencing morning sickness - 'Ha! More like even right in the middle of a fight.' - for a week straight had Sláine confirm her suspicions, solidified with the paper results in black and white. After that, it had been a roller coaster of emotions that had been comprised mostly of fear and anxiety until she finally bit the bullet on making her decision - they haven't even moved her stuff over to Devil May Cry yet. When nothing mercifully came up, Lady relaxed, although she squeezed her eyes tighter, fighting back against the prickling of frustrated tears.

Feeling a warm hand rub circles on her back bought some comfort, and she let herself lean against an equally warm chest, gratefully sipping the cold water that was offered.

"...so weak," Lady mumbled, eyes still closed. Her fingers unconsciously curled into Dante's. "Pathetic, aren't I."

A low rumble emanated from his chest and he tucked her head under his chin, taking in her scent deeply. Sorting through the mild scent of sickness and pregnancy hormones had his devil struggling between on wanting to find and destroy whatever was hurting their partner (mate), and wanting to curl up with her in their bedroom (nest). Dante had also read up about the symptoms, borrowing Sláine's books, and much like Lady, he wasn't liking it either as it was something that he couldn't affect directly in his position. Faintly, he could hear Nero's footsteps patter away downstairs, no doubt up to something.

"Never." He pressed a kiss to her temple, still rubbing her back as well her knuckles. "Who's the one who climbed a demonic tower to get revenge for her dead mother, shot a rocket and bullet at a half-devil without blinking along the way, and didn't give up until reaching her goal at the end?"

"Still human," she whispered. The scar on her thigh throbbed briefly, a strong reminder even years later.

"Pure and innocent... just like your mother."

"Simply mortal," Dante corrected, pulling her closer as if reading her mind. Sparda might had lived in the Human World for two thousand years, was definitely older before his rebellion, but Dante doubted that he'd be seeing his father alive ever again. And that wasn't getting into other long-lived devils that had been encountered and defeated by various means, including trickery. "You bounced back stronger, more than what I could say of some humans and even devils. Besides, we still haven't gone on a proper first date yet, since half the jobs we go on together don't count because I keep getting covered in blood."

Lady couldn't help but let out a breathless laugh at that. "Dork."

He smiled into her hair. "Yours, Nero's, and our baby's."

Those last two words had them briefly silent in the bathroom, another day of realizing how real it was for them, to hear that very phrase spoken out loud. They were many things and sometimes called by such: screwups, basket cases, lunatics, maniacs, orphans. They both didn't think of themselves as good role models for anyone under eighteen, much less good parents what with their own histories and half the antics they'd pull. Yet the reminders of her helping Dante raise Nero and seeing how happy the boy was gave them a glimmer of hope in their minds, like hesitatingly reaching out to a perched butterfly. Both wondered if this was how Eva and Sparda also felt.

Even though she felt a bit more stable, Lady still leaned on Dante as they slowly went downstairs, the faint sound of plates clinking from the kitchen hinted that Nero was at work. The smell of slightly burnt toast greeted them, alongside a somewhat red-faced quarter-devil boy fidgeting next to the placement that had several glasses filled with various drinks and several open jars. There was even a bowl of plain yogurt, the container's lid barely snapped back into place.

"Wasn't sure if you were up to any of the juices or tea, Aunt Lady, so I... did a bit of everything. I think you said that you didn't had any issues with toast, but you didn't mention anything about jam or butter, and I was kinda planning on oatmeal and..." He stared at his bare feet, blushing even harder upon feeling their stares.

Both of them would deny to their dying days that they absolutely melted at the gesture if asked by anyone else. As it was, Lady slipped into the obvious seat and pulled Nero into a hug, lightly kissing his forehead.

"Toast is fine, and baby doesn't mind boysenberry jam." She shot an amused look at Dante. "Unlike a certain someone's obsession..."

He simply grinned, gently ruffling his nephew's hair and beaming when Nero rubbed the side of his nose. "Somehow gotta get my vitamin C, and strawberries are the best way."

Nero vehemently shook his head as he climbed into his seat, his cheeks returning to normal. "Nuh-uh, Uncle Dante. Black currant."

"Bull, kiddo." Dante clicked his tongue, rummaging through the fridge and pulling out a carton of eggs alongside a jug of milk. "None can deny the red juicy goodness."

"Boys, please." Lady delicately sipped the glass of cranberry juice, glad when her body didn't immediately react negatively. "Boysenberry all the way."

Breakfast eventually descended into a mock table knife fight between Dante and Nero with Lady offering silly "tips" from the side, smiling behind her glass each time Nero would "score" a point against his uncle. Briefly, both adults exchanged looks that no doubt matched what they were both thinking: even if they didn't think they deserved these moments of happiness, they would fight to keep making more because these moments were theirs.

A/N: Follows "Nibble, Nibble" in "Bouquet of Calendula", after "Waraizome".

To those of us who grew up learning music, Broadway fans, and film fans in general, sorry for getting the song "Edelweiss" from The Sound of Music stuck in the heads again! (Mine, too.) I was looking up the language of flowers, both Victorian and Japanese (hanakotoba). Various hanakotoba sites associated edelweiss for "courage", which kind of fit the Western perspective, given the courage required to even see one back in the days yet also the adventure of going beyond, and the song itself in the aspect of defiance and hope of spirit from the 1969 film version.