A/N: I felt like writing something with Eva and the younger twins.
Blonde hair dancing on the air and body gliding along the landing – as if ethereal, rather than mortal; she never seemed to walk anywhere – Eva slinked into her sons' room. Every night, around eleven or twelve, she would tiptoe into the bedroom and watch the twins' sleeping habits; it had been a relaxing hobby since their miraculous, if exhausting, births.
Leaning over to observe them again, a small, bemused crease came between her eyebrows. The younger boy's bed was empty; a glance over at Vergil revealed why. A musical chuckle drifted from her vocal chords, although at a low level, so as to not wake them.
It had been a habit of Dante's, right from an early age. The elder son would quickly fall into slumber, whilst the younger would remain awake, unable to sleep alone in the darkness. Ensuring that Vergil really was out (every now and then, he would pretend, just to frighten the life out of his little brother), Dante would slip in and curl up next to the former. The shared body warmth would ensure both had a good night's sleep. Vergil would always complain the following morning, but their mother knew all too well that he secretly enjoyed the comfort of sharing a sleeping space.
No matter how different those two were – Vergil with his quiet demeanour, sense of calm and love of books; Dante with his endless talking, hyperactivity and messy eating – Eva was always certain of one thing…
…whenever they went to sleep, those two were inseparable.
