A/N: Sequel to my other oneshot: Shop 'Til You Drop

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Devil May Cry or any of its characters. Please don't sue me I'm broke T.T

Reviews and critique are very welcome :)

Trudging through an empty park was a grumpy Trish and an equally irritable Dante. Neither was too happy with what had just happened.

Back at the mall about twenty minutes ago, Dante had a lapse of stupidity and uttered regrettable comments about Trish's choice of clothing at a boutique in the mall. Although her reaction was fun at first, the pleasure quickly died down after a couple dozen bullets to the temple and several painful lightning shocks, courtesy of the highly offended blonde. However, both of them had to beat a hasty retreat before police showed up and charged them for the excessive damage. Demon hunting didn't pay as well as they'd hoped and both Dante and Trish's wallets were wearing as thin as their patience was with each other.

"Damn it, Trish," muttered Dante, rubbing his sore head, the bullet wounds having disappeared only to be replaced by a splitting headache.

"Oh don't start, Dante. If you'd just kept your stupid mouth shut all of this wouldn't have happened!" Trish crossed her arms and gave the white-haired hunter a death glare.

"Hey, still. You gotta admit you've got some anger issues there, Babe."

"I do not have anger issues!" cried an indignant blonde.

"Yeah? What do you call emptying a dozen rounds into my head and then electrocuting me huh?" retorted Dante.

"You deserved it!"

"For what? Stating my opinion?!"

"No, for all the things you said to me!"

"Well, as I remember, you were asking me for my opinion!"

Trish had no reply to that and simply walked faster. Dante allowed himself a grin, knowing he'd just won the argument. Unfortunately, his small taste of victory was cut short by an unexpected bullet that lodged itself in the centre of his head and sent him plummeting to the ground. Again.

As the devil hunter picked himself off the cement and looked around for his attacker, his eyes narrowed as his gaze settled upon Trish wielding a smoking Ombra.

"Shit, woman! What the hell?! Don't you think you've caused me enough pain for one day?!" shouted a thoroughly infuriated Dante.

Once again, Trish didn't reply. However, this time, something was different. Whether it was the sunlight or just his eyes playing tricks on him, Dante swore he saw what appeared to be tears glisten on the edges of his partner's eyes. That was enough for his anger to cool.

"Hey, Trish, look. I'm sorry. Wh-what's wrong?" proceeded Dante very carefully. Ever since he'd met the blonde, he'd only ever seen her cry once, and that was just before the two rode a jet off of Mallet Island. To see her cry again was genuinely surprising.

Trish turned so that her back was to Dante.

"You just don't get it, do you?" Her voice was soft and strained. It was so unlike Trish.

"What?"

"Everything you say, it hurts a lot more than you think it does."

Dante was speechless as he watched Trish's shoulder shake from quiet sobs.

"Trish—"

"Do you know why I dress the way I do?!" Trish flipped around and Dante saw the tears clearly streaking down her face. "Do you?" Her voice was desperate.

The white-haired man could only shake his head.

"I love you Dante. Why can't you see that?! All this time. Do you know how desperately I dress like this, hoping you'll take notice? Because of this do realize you know how much it hurt to hear you say I look like a hooker? I want so much for you to care about me the same way I do about you. So why…? Why is it you won't look at me the same way you look at Lady? You love her. I can see that. But why won't you give me a chance….?" Trish was breathless as she finished revealing her feelings.

"Trish…I never knew." Dante's expression was sad. How could he have not noticed? All the little things. The way she would talk to him sometimes. Her posture and the cat-walk she always did in front of him. But he couldn't lie to himself. He had noticed. He just didn't want to acknowledge it. He didn't want to accept that she loved him. To him, it wasn't right.

Trish was still sobbing quietly, her shoulders shaking as she hugged herself. Dante slowly walked up behind her as her back was once again turned towards him. Carefully, he slid his arms around her and wrapped her in a gentle embrace.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered. "I…no matter how I try, I could never love you like that. It wouldn't be right if I did."

"Why not? Don't you care about me?" The hurt in her voice was almost unbearable.

"I do care about you, more than anything. But I could never love you. Not in that way. You look too much like my mother. No, you're the spitting image of her. When I look at you I can't help but see her sometimes. Even the things you say. I know you don't do it on purpose but the way you talk, it sounds so much like her. I've told myself a hundred times that you're not her. She's dead. I've accepted that. Yet, I can't look at you and think of you in any other way except family. That's what you are to me. I cherish you as I would family." It felt so much better to say it. Dante knew that by speaking this he was coming to terms with the issue himself.

Trish sighed and laid her head against Dante's chest. "Still, I wish you'd love me."

"I do, Trish."

A/N: I think characters are a bit OOC in this but I really tried my best. This story was kind of a make up for the bit of Trish bashing in the prequel. I guess I do somewhat like her. Man, this story has been on my mind for several weeks now but I've been way too busy to write it. Finally though, I found time! Yay, one more thing off my mind. I think I'm going to stick to short oneshots since they're easy to finish in one night and that's the most time I'm willing to work on a story (I have an incredibly short attention span you see). Hope you enjoyed reading this.