A/N: This is my first DMC fanfic… and in fact, my first time even writing a fanfic in a long while. But hey, whatever helps get me out of writer's block, right?
Warnings: I only have a very sketchy plot in my head at the moment, so I can't give too many definitive warnings. What I can guarantee is VxD shounen-ai and, very likely, full-on twincest sex. Also, there's an extremely high probability of gore, even if only because of the very nature of the DMC universe (hah, yeah right).
Full summary: Nostalgia – a bittersweet longing for things, persons, or situations of the past. Many people look back on things and wish they could relive events that took place in a time of innocence. But sometimes, nostalgia brings back memories that are best left forgotten.
Dance Floor Metaphor
Chapter 1
"Daddy!" a young boy shouted, tackling the man that had just walked through the door. He was always enthusiastic in responding, but this time, something was different – something was wrong.
"Daddy? What's wrong?" an identical twin of the first boy asked, looking (if not feeling) much calmer than his brother did.
"Dante, Vergil, I'm afraid I have to leave soon," their father said, trying to avoid seeing the worry and confusion on his children's faces. It was heartbreaking enough to have to leave his family, and he wanted to avoid giving in to their pleas to stay. It was for their own safety.
The sound of the phone ringing woke Dante up. Normally, he would roll over and try to go back to sleep, but he didn't want to risk that particular dream continuing. Some events were better left in the past, and the devil hunter definitely didn't need to be thinking about that particular memory all day.
"Sorry, business hours start at nine A.M. Call back then," he grumbled, ready to hang the phone back up when he heard a voice he thought long gone.
"Is that any way to treat your brother, Dante?"
The man stopped abruptly, half-tempted to hang up and never hear the voice of the twin brother he'd thought dead for years. However, that dream - that singular memory from his childhood - was calling to him, screaming that he regain at least this one part of his past. "Well, well. Where've you been all these years? I thought you were dead."
A hesitant near-silence came from the other end, the breathing that was barely being transmitted the only clue that Vergil was still on the line. "I was, in a way. I died a long time ago, and you could say I've been… resurrected."
The cryptic answer was definitely something that the gun-slinging hunter had to roll his eyes at. "What the hell are you talking about, Ver? It's too early for me to think, you know?"
A very soft chuckle came through, actually managing to surprise Dante. "You're right. Perhaps I should call back later, when I probably haven't woken you up. I'll see you soon, baby brother." CLICK
The cold dial tone rung in the man's ear for a moment before he slowly set the phone back on the hook. Vergil was alive, and apparently in a good enough mood to actually laugh at his twin's cluelessness. Which meant that there was at least some semblance of his old self after all these years…
You know... Nostalgia was a bitch.
End A/Ns: Yes, I know it's relatively short, but then again, I've never been the kind of person to use one long chapter that could be divided into several. My short ones get their point across much better, I think. Anyways, please R&R, as this is my very first DMC fanfic, and the first time I've written any fanfics at all in… well, in just over a year, I think.
Oh yes… a note about the timeline: it takes place after DMC1 (after DMC3 is a given), but before DMC2 (where, I think, Dante is around 40… if I'm wrong, someone please tell me?)