Warnings: Daddy!Dante, Son!Nero, Annoying/Sweet!Patty, Maternal!Trish (to both, as in no romance), Cursing, Gore, Violence, Death, spoilers for DMC1, 2, 3 and 4 as well as the anime. Foul, Foul language.
Jason M. Lee has kindly betaed this chapter for us.
Hey! I have fanart for this fic! I squeed long and hard and frightened my study group when I saw this. Thanks Jason M. Lee for getting it commissioned. Check it out, karaii. deviantart. com/ art/ Commission- Lonegamer7- 212044348. Just remove the spaces. Feel the awesome. It's thanks to this baby that I'm taking time from my exam schedule to pop out this chapter.
To show my gratitude, I'm giving you guys an extra long chapter. 21 pages!
The first half of the chapter is the two finding some balance, the last half is more of them finding out each other's boundaries over a two month time period.
Last Time: There were general misunderstandings, Nero finally found out what the hell was going on and Dante unleashed the girls on Lady Mae.
Like Father, Like Son
Session 6
Settling In
Part 1: A Lily's Demise
From where they sat a few buildings down, the two hunters watched the lazy tendrils of smoke that climbed across the city skyline. The streets below them were littered with emergency vehicles. Next to her, Lady let out a self-satisfied sigh as she took a sip of her double non-fat latte. The human girl had always been a bit of pyro, Trish mused with affection as she watched mismatched eyes alight with amusement while watching the scurrying forms below.
Trish turned her eyes back to the carnage. The Pink Lily was destroyed – only the front frame of the brothel remained, the rest having been burnt down to smothering cinders. The rock face was stained an ugly brown and black, the ivy having burned first like kindling and leaving a permanent shadow of its vines on the stone. The stain glass window was also gone, along with Mae's expensive Cadillac resting half-in and half-out of the frame. Mae was long gone, carted off to the hospital for smoke inhalation. The old bitty had refused to leave her brothel, screaming something about going down with her ship. Much to both hunters' disappointment, firefighters had hauled the still screaming woman out seconds before the second floor collapsed.
Trish lit a cigarette and leaned back on her palms, frowning attentively. "You don't think we went overboard, do you?"
"Hm? Oh no. A minute-thirty is more than enough time to grab anything essential and exit the building. Considering the offense, I think we were damn lenient." Lady's eyes narrowed as she spoke the last part, shaking her drink thoughtfully.
Trish made a soft sound of agreement, recalling the drawn look on the half-devil's face as he had carried the bloody bundle into the shop. Add that to what Lady had told her about what she'd seen up in Dante's room and Trish thought they'd been incredibly understanding, all things considered.
It was a rare moment when anything ever managed to get under Dante's skin. The exception was almost always family. The incidents with Vergil, her own appearance and now, a son kept from him. The female demon cared deeply for Dante. Trish didn't know if this was because she was made to be a carbon copy of his mother or just because she felt indebted to him for sparing her life, but the demon wanted things to go right for the white-haired man, at least once.
"I mean," Lady said slowly, "this is a pretty shitty situation. The least I can do is burn down a whore house."
"Well," Trish spoke after a moment, shaking off the depressing thoughts and brandishing Dante's credit card for the human to see, "we need to go shopping."
"Great idea!"
The kid was going to need things if he was going to live comfortably at the shop. The second bedroom was used as storage and was bereft of any kind of furniture, so a bed and a dresser was a must. There was a real possibility that Dante would just move one of the couches up to the bedroom and call it a bed if he thought he could get away with it. Plus, sheets and lamps, maybe a desk or a bookcase for when he enrolled in school. Most likely a new wardrobe as well, if his clothing was anything to go by.
Mental list made, Trish stood and brushed herself off. And if the two of them happened to see a few cute outfits on their endeavor, they would simply serve as proper payment for the hard work and time spent trying to make Dante's son comfortable.
Part 2: The First 60 Days
Day 1
When Nero awoke next it was to the sounds of things being moved to his left. He sat up slowly, frowning as he took in his environment and more than a little relieved to find himself alone in the room. The man in red's – Dante's – scent was everywhere though, even on him, and Nero wrinkled his nose at the heady smell. The little devil pulled the sheet off of himself, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress before pausing to stare at his oddly naked demonic arm. The preteen stared at it, brows furled as he thought.
"My father, huh?" He squeezed his fist shut, staring hatefully at the scales that had made it past his wrist and dotted the back of his hand like twisted freckles. "What a joke."
There was a particularly loud thud, followed by a male and female voice bickering angrily and Nero slid from the bed and made his way to the door. He was relieved to find it unlocked and after a moment of hesitation, opened it and stepped out into a small hallway. Nero had opened the door as quietly as he cold but the man in r– Dante seemed to have heard him anyway. The older half-devil's head popped out a door directly to the left. He flashed the preteen a brilliant smile.
"Hey! You're up! I was starting to think you were gonna sleep all day. Eh, hold on a sec." The head disappeared into the room and a moment later he reappeared, stepping fully into the hall with a bundle of clothes. Nero stiffened, more than a little apprehensive about being stuck in a narrow hallway with the unknown man but Dante either didn't see it or ignored it, pushing the bundle into mismatched arms. "The girls bought you some clothes, considering the ones you got were gross as hell. They guessed your size, but Trish is pretty good at that so I wouldn't worry."
The older half-devil pushed a door on the opposite wall open to reveal a full bath. The hunter pulled out a thick, fluffy towel from a linen closet across from the shower and made short work of pointing out the toiletries and explaining how to work the shower. Nero glowered at the man. Just because it looked like he'd never bathed before didn't mean he didn't know how to work a shower. What, did Dante think he was an idiot?
"The heat's a bit iffy, kiddo, so you may want to take a quick one. Can't guarantee how long you'll have hot water." Then with a quick pat to the head that made Nero actually flinch, the half-devil left. For a moment the preteen just stared after him, before reaching out to shut the door with a heavy frown.
He stripped quietly, still frowning and kicked the giant-sized clothes spitefully behind the toilet basin before stepping under the hot spray. It was god damn wonderful. Nero melted into the stream, groaning loudly as the water cascaded over his (mostly) healed body and washed the gunk of three weeks off him. The water immediately turned black, streaming like dark tentacles down his body.
The half-devil grinned for the first time of the day and set about scrubbing the filth and blood that coated him off. And the scent. Oh yes, Nero was more than ready to get rid of that man's scent.
"Hey, I still don't get why we need to paint."
Next to him, Trish sighed, bringing a hand up to rub her forehead in a practiced moment as she paused mid-roll. "Because, Dante, you want him to feel welcomed. Water stains aren't exactly welcoming."
Dante tsked, hands on his hips as he took in the spare room. True, there were water stains in a few corners from where the roof had sprung a leak last winter but you could hardly see them. Nevertheless Trish was dutifully painting away, having already done most of the small room. The room wasn't the biggest – neither of the bedrooms were – but the girls seemed to have kept that in mind when shopping for furniture and got multipurpose, compact things. He had to admit, the tan color did look a little better.
He wrinkled his nose in distaste at the heavy smell of paint. Next to him, Trish shot him an evil glare.
"Hey. I paint, you build. That was the deal, remember? So build, idiot."
Dante held his hands up in defeat and went back to constructing the furniture the girls had bought. At first he'd been pissed that they'd gone and spent all his money – again – but once he'd thought about it, the hunter was fairly grateful. He hadn't admitted it to the girls when they'd commented, but he had been thinking about just dragging an old mattress he had in the basement up and putting it on the floor.
A bed was a bed, but the girls – well, mainly Trish seeing how Lady conveniently disappeared once she realized manual labor was going to be required – had a point. He wanted Nero to feel like this was his home now. And if giving him a dolled up bedroom helped make his kid feel like he was welcomed here, Dante was more than alright with the hefty price tag.
The dresser and bed had been brought up by movers, so that just left Dante with putting together the shelving and various (somewhat pointless) knickknacks Trish and Lady had bought. It didn't take them long to finish the room. About two hours into it, the kid had woken up and Dante had done his damnedest to downplay the heaping amounts of awkward that existed between them. It didn't seem to help, much to his dismay.
Nero had stared at him like he had three heads and it had been hard to miss the fact that the kid cringed when Dante touched him. With a sigh, Dante hung the last shelving unit. Next to him, Trish gave a satisfied grin as she took in the decorated room. It still smelled heavily of drying paint (of the fast-drying type), but other than that it looked pretty damn good. Even the random wall knickknacks.
"Yeah, okay. It looks pretty awesome," Dante admitted at Trish's expectant look. "I still don't see why we needed all those things on the wall. A glow-in-the-dark round clock? Isn't that a little fruity?" Next to him, Trish fisted her hands and Dante took a precautionary step away. "I mean, I could have just brought in some of my posters. I got extra."
"Don't be a jackass, Dante," the huntress snapped, reeling on him so suddenly that he actually bumped against the frame of the bed with a nervous laugh. "You're a father now. You've got to grow up, at least a little bit."
"Hey! I'm grown up!"
"Please." Trish's finger jabbed his chest viciously with each sentence. "I mean it, Dante. You've got to shape up."
The half-devil rolled his eyes. Yeah, he got it. Things needed to change. He wasn't stupid. But just because he was a dad know didn't mean he was dead. "Okay, I get it. What do you suggest?"
"For starters, call a plumber."
Dante shrugged. That was a fair point. He guessed he could spare a few extra expenses for constant hot water. Speaking of hot water, the kid had been in the bathroom for a really long time. As if on cue, there was the telltale whoosh-thump of the too-low door sliding against the thick hallway carpet. Dante stepped into the hall and paused.
The kid looked good after being cleaned up.
The clothes fit him perfectly (not that he ever doubted Trish and Lady's shopping abilities) and Dante was pleased to see that in properly sized clothes his son didn't seem sickly thin. Nero tugged at the hem of the black AC/DC T-shirt, looking incredibly uncomfortable as he stared down at his bare feet. The jeans were a little bit too big but the older half-devil knew the kid would grow into it sooner rather than later. Especially with all the food he planned on shoving down the undersized boy's throat.
For the first time, the hunter was treated to his son's full scent, untainted. It smelled a hell of a lot like his, but there was still something undeniably Nero about it. He took another deep inhale and chuckled as his kid shot him a dark look before returning to study his feet.
"Don't do that," Nero mumbled, pink from the bottom of his collar line up to his ears.
"Sorry, kiddo," Dante said with an unapologetic grin, one hand reaching out to ruffle his hair. He purposely ignored the way the smaller half-devil stiffened, gently running his hand through suddenly baby-soft white hair. What the– It didn't feel like this at all last night. Gotta remember to wash my sheets. "I got a surprise for you."
Blue eyes slowly regarded him. "…okay."
The hunter chuckled at the open suspicion. "Come on, you'll like it. I promise."
Nero was still unsure how he felt about Dante – his father. He had to keep reminding himself of that fact, it just didn't seem real. The preteen didn't quite trust the older man and his constant smiling, and chuckling, and petting. The petting was weird. No one had really touched him in a friendly matter in over a year, and even back in Fortuna physical affection was scarce. It wasn't really the Order's thing. You were supposed to admire from afar. Hell, he doubted that his foster parents ever had sex more than twice.
When it looked like Dante was about to grab him by the hand and drag him into the room, Nero finally followed him. And stopped dead surprise, snowy white eyebrows shooting up and almost disappearing behind shaggy bangs.
The room was painted a tan color and several thick rugs had been thrown over top the ratty carpet. There was a loft bed, with a desk underneath it and two large bookcases supporting it. The bedding was brown with orange stripes, with matching orange sheets and more pillows Nero thought was necessary. A long, lengthy dresser framed the opposite wall, with a mirror hung over it and a lamp that was filled with some sort of brightly colored liquids that floated around on one side and a clear plastic CD player on the other.
The desk had a thin laptop on it with what looked like a well loved wooden desk chair tucked under it. The bookcases were filled with empty metallic baskets and random toys, as well as books with brightly colored spines. Random artwork was up on the walls, mainly industrial scenes and street signs that looked like they'd been bought, of all things, which was beyond bizarre as Nero could had just gone out and taken any sign they'd wanted. There were also a few neon lights nailed to the wall, one around a clock and the other in the shape of a guitar.
Next to the bed, a blonde woman was staring at him expectantly. Nero stared back before slowly turning to observe the room in full.
"This is… mine?"
"Sure is!" Dante said with a grin, leaning against the door frame. "Pretty awesome, huh?"
When the hell did they had the time to do all this? A quick glance at the wall clock revealed it was fairly late in the evening but damn. Nero shifted uncomfortably. Yeah, the room was pretty cool but, all his? His room in Fortuna had been small, dull and Spartan. This all seemed like so much. And he barely knew the dude. The preteen still didn't even know how he felt about the older half-devil for god's sake and here he'd gone and… and spent a freaking fortune by the looks of it.
"So," Nero paused awkwardly, "I mean. Uh, it's nice."
"Surprised?" the woman asked softly, watching him with sharp eyes that made him squirm even more.
"Yeah. You didn't have to do all this. I mean, we barely know each other and–"
"Hey." A heavy hand dropped on top his head for a third time and Nero winced, resisting the urge to shy away from the older half-devil. The man had just given him a hell of a room. "If you're gonna stay here, I want you to be comfortable."
"Right." Nero carefully stepped out from under the hand. "Yeah."
He could feel his father's gaze on him and could see the sharp frown from the corner of his eye. The blonde woman cleared her throat and excused herself from the room, saying she had to get to work or something or another. Nero was too busy fingering the fabric of his covers. It was soft, like a really soft T-shirt or something. He almost wished the weird woman hadn't left. Now he was alone with the man in red.
"You don't like it?" The disappointment was hard to miss and Nero brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck nervously.
"No, I mean. It's not that, the room's great. It's just…" I said a lot of mean ass shit last night to you and suddenly we're buddy-buddy? Or, I dunno, it's kinda weird that we're suddenly the demonic version of the Brady bunch?
The preteen moved so that he was facing the window, glancing at the alleyway the room faced before reaching out to feel the thick flannel of the curtains that framed it. Nero sighed. He had no idea what he was trying to say. Dante was still waiting, though. "Yesterday, I was sleeping under a crate, and now I have a room and a d-dad."
He couldn't keep the stutter off the word and tensed instinctively when the older half-devil sighed.
"Things are moving pretty quick." It wasn't really a question and Nero nodded before turning cautiously to look at him. The half-devil didn't look threatening though. He was watching him intensely but Nero didn't see any violence in it. "I remember what it was like, the first few times I had to go to a foster home."
"You were in a foster home?"
Dante nodded, crossing the room and reaching past Nero to open the window on relieving the room some of its overwhelmingly paint smell. "My parents died when I was eight. The city tried to put me into a few foster homes but they figured out that wasn't going to work out pretty quickly."
Nero couldn't help it. He was interested. "Why not?"
There was a dark chuckle. "I hated that they tried to pretend we were this perfect family overnight. I would move in and then suddenly I was the long lost son, the missing piece of their family. They didn't understand jack shit about me and I let them know it. Besides, I was pretty pissed at my dad. He left us, my mom, me and my brother. Went off and got himself killed and never came back. After that my mom was defenseless when the demons attacked. Not really sure how my brother and I survived."
The preteen as silent for a long time, trying to absorb what his father was saying. "So, I have an uncle?"
There was another long silence that instantly clued Nero into the fact that he'd said the wrong thing.
"Used to. He died." There was an awkward clearing of the throat before Dante carried on. "The reason why I'm telling you this, kiddo, is because I kind of know what you're going through. I'm not gonna ask you to pretend we're a perfect family. You don't have to call me dad unless you want to. You take as long as you need to figure this shit out. Hell, I'm still figuring it out myself. All I'm asking is for you to give this a try."
Nero looked up at that only to find determined-looking blue eyes staring down at him. He's serious about this, Nero realized with a slight jolt of surprise. He really wants me to stay here and try and play house.
Well, it was better than the street. And… and did he really not want to know his own father? Nero still wasn't sure how he felt about everything, yet he couldn't help but remember the sense of safety he'd felt after the canal or the warmth that had filled his core this morning.
"...Sure. What the hell. But you gotta stop the sniffing shit." The preteen shifted, letting his eyes drop back down to stare at his feet before finishing at a mumble. "Gives me the creeps."
Dante laughed. "I can do that. Sort of instinctual and all, but I can try."
When the hand came down to pet him a fourth time, Nero managed to keep himself from flinching. The grin he was rewarded with was damn near blinding.
Day 3
On the third day of their co-inhabitance, Dante began to understand just how much he was going to have to sacrifice.
His kid was glaring death at him from the other side of the kitchen table, pointing at the presented plate with a look of absolute disdain. "Sorry, man. But I'm not having pizza for breakfast. Again. What is wrong with you anyway? It's been pizza for every damn meal. Who does that?"
"Have you been talking to Trish or Lady?" Dante asked suspiciously, cradling the plate close to his chest in a distinctively protective motion. Nero rolled his eyes.
"First off, I don't know who the hell those people are, and secondly, no sane person just eats pizza."
"Well, it's all I got so take it or leave it," Dante shot back.
"Fine," Nero grounded out, heading towards the front door. "I'll go get some myself."
"Ah, sit the hell down," the hunter said as he reached over and grabbed his leather duster. "I'll go to the grocery, geeze."
Nero snorted and pulled on a thick hoodie. "I'm coming with you. I don't trust your understanding of food at all."
"Whatever, picky-ass brat."
Three hours later and four-hundred and sixty-eight dollars in the hole, Nero was eating a toaster strudel at the table happily and Dante was staring at his account balance mournfully.
Day 4
On the fourth day, Nero met the girls. It had been hilarious. The girls had pretty much left them alone till then so they could 'bond.' Lady's words, not his. Still, Dante had been grateful for the time alone with his son. By the second day of living together he'd learned his kid had a prideful streak a mile long, a head so big it could probably get some air if set free, and was somehow incredibly shy at the same time.
He was also a fairly good wrestler. Dante had found that out after their first fight. The ten-year-old had jumped him, all snarls and scratches and surprisingly harsh punches. Little bastard took after him a hell of a lot. Dante couldn't help but be impressed with himself.
The subject of the fight (and any fight they would have in the coming months) was always over what Nero could and could not do. The kid was used to an ungodly amount of freedom after a year on the streets and while Dante respected that – he was all about the freedom of choice after all – he was going to be damned if he let the kid out of his sight any time soon.
The girls had shown up about ten minutes after one of those fights. Nero was sitting on the couch, glaring death at the cartoon show while Dante fiddled with the mail on his desk. Patty had entered with the grace a whirlwind, questions bouncing off the wall about what was happening, where was the boy who looked like him, why was he bleeding, and why didn't Dante ever call her – before trailing off to a complete stop as she stared at the white-haired boy.
Nero had taken one look at her and turned to throw a dark glare at the older half-devil.
"Please tell me she's not my sister."
That had sent Dante into a fit of hysterics, while Patty became incredibly offended and began to lecture Nero on just how lucky he would be to have her as a sister. Trish and Lady were standing in the doorway, exchanging amused looks as Nero visibly paled at the sight of Lady's gigantic launcher.
"Mind your manners, kid," Lady warned with a sadistic smile. Nero was sickly polite for the duration of their stay.
Day 6
On the sixth day, Dante came home from a late night hunt to find his ten-year-old watching monster movies and making his way steadily through a six-pack. The look of pure outrage on Nero's face as he snatched the half-empty can from him and downed it was hilarious.
"What the fuck, old man?"
He crushed the can and waved it warningly in front of the little half-devil's face. "You're like five. No alcohol."
Dante barely ducked in time to avoid the barrage of empty cans aimed at his head.
Day 7
On the seventh day, Dante wondered if his kid had a hearing problem.
"What the– Didn't we just talk about this? No smokes. What the hell? You friggin' delinquent."
Day 8
On the eighth day, Nero gave into temptation.
A quick look around the shop revealed it fairly empty. Patty was happily watching TV and his father was nowhere in sight. With a cheeky grin, he took one of the swords down. To his surprise it gave out a scream so loud that his father came streaking down, ignoring the stairs completely and leaping over the railing instead.
Nero had dropped the sword the moment it began cursing at him and had backed so far away from the shrieking thing he was actually pressed against the couch, a shaking Patty peeking out from behind him.
Dante gave a snickering laugh and quieted the weapon, placing it back up on the wall.
"That's what you get, touching my things."
Nero just nodded, too stunned to do much else.
Day 11
On the eleventh day, they had a problem.
"Seriously, Nero. This isn't gonna work. 'Cause I'm not going to stop buying alcohol." Dante ripped the beer can from the preteen's hand and tossed it uncaringly over his shoulder. Nero sputtered as the arching liquid sprayed all over the shop.
"I thought we came to an understanding last time, but apparently not. So…" A second later and a screeching Nero was over his knee. "Don't," whack, "drink," whack, "my goddamn shit," whack, "you," whack, "mini," whack, "alcoholic," whack, "brat!"
"Help!" Nero screamed as he tried to wiggle off his lap. "Help! Raaapppppe!" The front door was suddenly kicked open to reveal a snarling Lady, gun drawn. She stared at them for a moment before rolling her eyes, holstering her gun and stalking over to the fridge.
"I don't want to know."
Day 12
On the twelfth day, Nero left. The spanking had been the last straw. All the rules, all the you-can't-do-that and you-can't-do-this had been too much for him. Who was this crazy ass man to think he could just breeze into his life and set all the rules? And who the fuck did he think he was to spank him like a three-year-old?
So, father or not, Nero had had enough.
He was not a child. He had lived on the streets for, like, ever, and that pretty much negated being a kid. Plus, it wasn't like this dude was his dad. Not really. A dad didn't just show up out of the blue after ten years.
So, yeah. Nero was done playing house.
The preteen nodded decisively, making his way towards his old haunts. So it'll get cold and he'll have to fight for his food again. Nero had done it before. Besides, it was better to be his own man, live his own life than be tied down like some sort of –
The half-devil's instincts reared just in time for him to avoid a pipe to the head. Nero rolled to the side and attempted to run away, but found the small street he was in closed off on both sides by two men on each end. He glanced desperately at the walls, but found little hope of escape on the smooth brick walls.
Shit, what the fuck do they want?
"Listen, boy. Don't make this difficult," the man holding the pipe advised sharply, "Mr. Rockwell just wants to have a talk with you. So come quietly and– Hey!"
Nero had launched himself at one of the men, knocking him so hard against the brick face that he didn't get up. The half-devil swung about, ducking the arms of a third man and dropped, sweeping his legs out from under him. The preteen made for the now open street exit but a hand grabbed him by the ankle and brought him painfully down, smashing his chin against the pavement. Nero spat out a bit of blood from biting the inside of his cheek and instinctively kicked back at the man's face holding him.
For a second he was released and then something hard – the pipe, Nero guessed – caught him in the ribs and the preteen blanched as the pain erupted against his side. A weight settled on his chest and Nero was just aware enough through the pain of his ribs to recognize a heavy boot.
"Don't worry, kid," the man with the pipe said around a bloody nose, "You're just gonna take a little nap."
The pipe raised and Nero closed his eyes, turning his head away in the vain hope that it would keep the metal from hitting anything too vulnerable.
There was a strange sound – sort of a gasp mixed with a yelp and when Nero opened his eyes the pipe was gone from the man's hand. His father stood above him, feet planted on either side of Nero's body and snarled at the men surrounding them. As he watched, the half-devil blurred into action, making short work of the four men. One went for his gun and Dante turned sharply, the pipe swinging out with enough force that when it made contact with the thug there was a loud, sickening snap.
The man hit the ground at an odd angle and didn't move. For a moment Nero thought Dante had killed him, but then he realized that somehow, despite the pretzel like shape of his body, the man was still alive.
Dante pressed the pipe against the limp man's shoulder and snarled down furiously at him. "Every time you try to move, I want you to remember this moment. I want you to think of me. I want you to think of the moment when you tried to touch what's mine and know that's why you're like this. I want you to realize how fucking gracious I'm being in letting you keep your piece of shit life."
From where he sat, Nero watched with wide, shocked eyes at the frightening sight of his father. He had always known the older half-devil was capable of violence but seeing it – seeing it changed everything.
"And I want you take a message to your boss. I want you to tell him how gracious I've been in letting you and your little friends live. How kind I am that I didn't take anything off. I want you to tell him how it feels to be trapped in your own body. How much you wish you could move. And then I want you to tell him to back the fuck off. Because if I ever catch one of you fuckers around my kid again, I'm gonna be coming for him. Do you understand?"
There was a weak nod.
Dante dropped the pipe, the sound echoing ominously in the street. He turned to Nero and the preteen couldn't help it, he flinched. The look in his father's eyes was mixed and mostly unreadable, but he could see the hurt – and regret? – reflected in them. The half-devil shook his head, running a hand through his hair with a sigh.
"Come on, let's go home." His voice was strangely hollow and Nero stood, following the man quietly. He still wasn't sure where the defeat that was etched into his father's face came from, but Nero figured it had something to do with him. Which made him feel bad, because the man had just saved his life. Maybe it was because Nero ran away? The more he thought about it, taking nervous glances at the dark look on his father's face, the more Nero began to worry. After ten minutes, he finally gathered enough courage to ask his question.
"Are you mad at me?"
"No," Dante said after a moment. "Just… don't leave like that again, okay?"
Nero nodded and seeing that the look hadn't left, after a moment of careful consideration, reached out and took his father's hand. Dante stiffened and turned to stare at him in surprise. The smaller half-devil concentrated on the cracks of the sidewalk as they passed them and refused to meet his questioning eyes.
After a little bit, his father looked away. Another quick glance revealed that the miserable look was gone.
Day 18
On the eighteenth day, Rockwell came to the shop. The police commissioner was dressed in a pressed white and grey pin-striped suit, looking around the shop with an air of quiet distaste. Patty instantly disappeared off back to where Dante was working on his car. For a moment Nero and Rockwell just stared at each other. Right when it looked like the police commissioner was about to speak, his father appeared from the back.
He crossed the room with an air of disinterest, yet Nero couldn't help but notice he'd slung his gun belt on. As discretely as possible – which wasn't very, all things considered – Nero moved until he was partially hidden behind his father.
"Nero, take Patty and go wait upstairs."
"What? But I want to–"
"Now." That tone was chock full of don't-fuck-with-me and Nero didn't. He grabbed the gawking blonde by the hand and made their way upstairs, but that was as far as they went. Both sat at the top, out of sight, and listened in.
"I believe we have a few things to discuss."
"Not really," was his father's icy response.
"…Well. That's your opinion." There was the sound of shifting fabric and settling leather and he assumed Rockwell had sat down. "Your son took something of mine and I want it back. Now, the cash is not that important. But there was some paper there – my personal notes. And not having them has cost me quite a bit of money and standing."
"Again, don't see what that's got to do with us."
There was a sigh and the sound of a cigar being lit. "You don't scare me, Mr. Alighieri." The last name was said with the rolled accent of sarcasm. "I've heard all the rumors and frankly, I don't believe them. You're just a man, Mr. Alighieri, and not even a clever one at that. The half-breed myth has been around for as long as religion has. And I'm not a religious man."
There was a long silence before Rockwell carried on.
"You pay me the money I lost, plus interest and hardship pay for my men you've injured and we'll call it even. If you don't, my friends and I will raze this place to the ground and I'll string you up right next your son."
Another stretch of silence, then, "You done? Good."
There was the sound of a chair being dragged against wood floors and then coming to a squeaking halt. "Okay then, let me tell you how this is going to go. Those rumors? They're only telling half the story." A strange smell filled the room – rough and hot, like sulfur but angrier and when Dante spoke next, his voice was several octaves lower and had a strange echo. "You think you're some tough shit because of your family? I'm the mother-fucking spawn of the devil and I've got a whole load of batshit crazy just waiting to be directed at someone."
There was the sound of someone clearing their throat nervously.
"You're going to walk out of this shop and forget me and my kid even exists. You'll get nothing and be goddamn happy about it. And if I think you're so much as thinking about my son in a way I don't like, I'm going to bring me and all my fucked up friends to your doorstep and we'll just see how far off those rumors are."
"That…" It was more of a croak than anything else and Rockwell stopped, clearing his throat. When the commissioner spoke next, the waver was gone. "That seems acceptable."
"Great. Now get the fuck out."
From next to him, Patty let out a soft sound. "Dante said a lot of bad words."
Nero snorted, a wide grin on his face as he heard Rockwell tuck tail and leave. "No shit."
Day 23
On the twenty-third day, Nero stole for the first time since living at his new home. He pocketed the thick doughnut, napkin and all, quietly and quickly in his back pocket and strolled from the bakery as Patty negotiated with the owner over some hand rolled bread. Nero grinned as he made it successfully around the corner and into a small alleyway.
He pulled the doughnut out, using the napkin to scrape off some of the lint that had attached to it before taking an excessively large bite.
"You steal that?" Nero jumped at the sound of his father's voice, the sugary treat suddenly tasting like ash as he turned to find the older half-devil standing behind him in the alleyway. Uh oh, totally busted. When the hell did he get here?
"No." The doughnut was removed from his hands and tossed over the tall man's shoulder. "Hey!"
"That's for lying to me." Dante took him by the elbow and lead him back towards the bakery. For one horrible moment Nero thought his father was going to make him apologize to the shop owner. But instead Dante left him on the sidewalk and reappeared a moment later with a second, legally purchased, doughnut. "You don't need to steal, kid. You want something, you let me know. 'specially food."
Nero nodded at his father in shock, then stared down at the pastry in his hands before blushing heavily, muttering a soft "thank you." Next to him Dante laughed, reaching out and ruffling his hair roughly.
"Its okay kid, no reason to change color on me."
That only made the blush intensify, but this time out of anger as Nero cursed his father out heatedly. To his fury, Dante only laughed harder.
Day 24
On the twenty-fourth day, Dante broke the bad news.
"What the hell do you mean school?"
He winced at the high pitched screech. "You heard me. Tomorrow, you're starting school."
"What in the flying hell made you go and do that?" Nero demanded angrily. "Well screw that, I'm not going."
"Yes, you are," Trish said firmly from behind the bar. She took a sip of her bourbon. "It's the law around here: if you're under eighteen, you have to attend school. If you don't, it's truancy and you can go to juvenile detention."
Nero had paled dramatically at the words 'truancy' and 'juvenile detention.'
"See, kiddo? My hands are tied here," Dante said with a smirk. "Guess we have to go get you a backpack. Maybe some cute school clothes."
Nero fumed.
Day 31
On the thirty-first day, Dante was called into the principal's office for the first time. He received a call an hour before school was out. The principal, a Mr. Windall, didn't like him much, which was fine, as the hunter didn't much like the repressed old white dude either. The fact that he was an hour-and-half late to the meeting didn't help much either.
When he'd arrived Nero was sitting – stewing, more like it – in a seat in the hallway.
"Well, you made it a week." He was rewarded with the finger.
"Mr. Alighieri, I assume," a sharp, irritated voice called from an office at the end of the hallway. "Why don't you and your son come in."
The room smelled heavily of potpourri and Dante couldn't help but grin slightly at the repulsed look on his kid's face. The meeting was short. Dante was informed of a laundry list of offenses which included but was not limited to: cursing, spitting, fighting, eating and sleeping in class, selling candy and other items on campus, wrongful use of restroom facilities (he'd looked at Nero on that one and the kid just shrugged), insulting teachers, and leaving school property.
"You understand why there is an issue, I trust?"
"Sure do." Dante sighed and gave his kid a baleful glance. "You sorry?"
"…yes?"
"There you have it. Problem solved. Come on, juvie."
"Mr. Alighieri!" the principal started, clearly outraged, but the pair were already making short work of the hallway. As they stepped out into the cold afternoon air, Dante's hand met the back of Nero's head with an echoing smack.
"Try and tone it down, will you? Damn."
Day 37
On the thirty-seventh day, Dante began to teach Nero how to shoot. It had come about after a lower class demon had followed him back to the shop. While he'd been dealing with it, one of its spawns had gone after the kids. By the time he'd gotten to them, Nero had managed to kill it – barely – by ramming a pool cue through its eye.
The cost was pretty high – his kid would be wearing a sling for a week. Still, Dante was unreasonably proud and had insisted on mounting the thing on the wall next to his own kills. It was, admittedly, the smallest and most pathetic looking one of the lot, but the hunter was practically beaming fatherly pride out of every orifice. He'd even insisted on sending a picture to both Lady and Trish (Patty had to help him figure out how to do that on his cell phone).
Nero was incredibly pleased and embarrassed about it, all the more when Dante had lead him into the abandoned alley outside the shop and brought out his weakest pistol, one with the smoothest and least recoil.
He got four out of the six bottles on his first try. Dante was smirking like an idiot for the next several hours.
Day 45
On the forty-fifth day, it snowed in Capulet. And goddamn, was it cold. Nero was incredibly happy that he was living with Dante. He'd seen pictures of snow before but he'd never even dreamed such a cold could exist.
The preteen had played with it for all of thirty minutes before he abandoned Patty to her own devices and spent the rest of the day under three blankets over the top of the heat register nearest to the TV. His pops was out and about on business and so when Patty left after dinner, Nero found himself alone and thoroughly bored.
He stared forlornly at the locked alcohol cabinet underneath the bar. Dante had installed it after the third time he'd caught Nero drinking. Life kinda sucked sober, but oh well. The preteen could always go out and try to steal some, but that usually ended with him getting his ass kicked by Dante and Nero rather liked to avoid that.
Nero watched some seriously bizarre animated shows about the glory of snow and the season before begrudgingly doing his homework and turning in. The only problem was that it was really cold in his room; like, really cold. It always was, compared to the first floor of the shop which had working heat registers. After about an hour of seemingly freezing to death, Nero finally gave up and brought his comforter downstairs and with the help of the couch blankets made himself a nest next to the heat register.
Nero was gently shaken awake awhile later. Dante was crouched next to him, the half-devil's eyes glowing eerily in the dark. Nero turned bleary eyes first to glare up at his confused father's face, and then to the desk clock and the blinking 3:47am. With a groan he pushed Dante's hands away and burrowed deeper into his nest.
"'eave me 'lone. I gotta get up early."
But his father was insistent, standing from his crouch and pulling Nero up with him. "Come on, kid. You have a bed for a reason." When he tried to sink back down, the older half-devil snorted. "Either you walk or I carry, but you're going upstairs."
"Fine!" Nero grumbled angrily, pulling his comforter and all the blankets from his nest up into an awkward holding hug and storming up the stairs. He nearly tripped twice, only Dante's quick hands keeping him from smacking face first into the stairs. For his help, the hunter was rewarded with half-spoken swears.
"My, you're pleasant tonight," his father muttered, guiding Nero towards his room with firm hands. "Why do you want to sleep on the floor anyway?"
"'Cause it's fucking freezing up here," Nero snapped, climbing up into his bed, dragging the blankets up the ladder behind him like misshaped tails. He made short work of recreating his nest and pulled the comforter over his head before burrowing down. His father lingered in his room for a little while longer before stepping out into the hallway. Nero heard the sound of the linen closet opening and closing and then Dante returned. He peaked out from his nest as his father placed another blanket on top.
"Sorry, kiddo."
"For what?" Nero snapped irritably. Mentally, he was whining. He had to get up for school in like three hours and the walk was gonna be soooo cold.
"Just get some sleep, okay?"
"Whatever," Nero mumbled, burrowing deeper. Morning came far too quickly and as predicted, it was freezing. To his surprise, Dante was waiting downstairs to give him a ride to school. It was almost unheard of to see his father up at this time.
"I got business in that area anyway," the older half-devil explained.
"Doing what?" the still half-asleep boy asked with a yawn as he climbed into the convertible.
"Work shit."
He blinked at the brisk answer; normally Dante was more than willing to talk about his jobs, before shrugging and just accepted the good will.
A few hours later when Nero came home from school, there was an AC/heater repair van outside of the shop.
Day 49
On the forty-ninth day, the growth on Nero's arm over took his palm and began to reach towards his fingers. Dante found him sobbing angrily in his room, his human fingers digging until they drew blood against the misshapen flesh. His father sat next to him on the floor and pulled his hands off, muttering softly to Nero as he used his own shirt to stem the blood flow until his healing kicked in.
"I'm a fucking monster," Nero had managed between a few body wrenching sobs. "A m-monster. Look at it! Why don't you have it?"
"I don't know," Dante said softly, one hand still pressed firmly to his son's while the other was wrapped reassuringly around his shoulders. "But it doesn't mean shit. I know this is hard for you to understand, but you're not a demon. It's in your blood, just like it's in my own. But that doesn't mean you're evil."
"Bullshit."
"No," his father corrected sharply. "I don't know what kind of crap they filled your head with in Fortuna, but you're not a monster." Nero shook his head miserably. Dante let out a soft sound of frustration before pulling him so his forehead was pressed against his muscled shoulder. "I've seen evil, kid. And you're not it. And I won't ever let you become it, do you understand me?"
"Really?" Nero almost winced at how desperate he sounded.
"Really," Dante confirmed. "If it came down to that, I'd take you out myself. You know I kill any demonic evil. That's my job."
Strangely, that fact gave him more comfort than anything else and Nero sniffed, relaxing slightly into the half hug. "Besides, you keep forgetting, you're only a quarter-devil. Which means all the rest is human. You're not evil, Nero. Not by a long shot."
Nero clung to that – he was mostly human. Overwhelmingly human, right? Three-fourths was a lot of human. Maybe that was just enough? He could only hope.
Day 53
On the fifty-third day, Dante was exhausted. The jobs lately hadn't been challenging but he'd been taking a hell of a lot more of them. Keeping Nero fed and paying back Lady – even if she'd been more generous with her collections – was damn hard work. The kid was like a disposal unit, which wasn't really any different from how he'd been at that age. Puberty, the hunter reflected with a fair amount of amused annoyance, was going to be expensive as hell.
All in all, Nero fitted into his life pretty damn well. The kid seemed way more comfortable around the shop and around him, especially after the whole arm bit. Dante shut the car off, making his way up ice coated steps. A few mishaps here and there, but really that was to be expected. Even the girls were fairly impressed with him.
And Lady said I'd fail as a parent. Ha. Bitch.
He let himself into his shop, a quick scan revealing his kid conked out on the couch. Dante stripped off his duster before making his way quietly towards the downstairs bathroom. The hunter peeled off blood-soaked clothes and tossed them into the downstairs shower before pulling on a pair of sweats that hung off the back of the door for just that very reason. Dante ran a wash cloth over the worst spots on his chest before making his way into the kitchen.
He downed about four glasses of water before glancing at the clock. Almost two – he'd gotten home early tonight. Probably should get the kid up to bed. Nero muttered in his sleep, turning on the leather couch to face him. Dante grinned at the ridiculous picture his kid made. White hair shooting off in all different directions, body dwarfed in one of Dante's old Foreigner T-shirts, remote still grasped in a death grip.
He carefully fished the remote out of Nero's grip before gently lifting his kid up. He was halfway up the stairs when a car backfired loudly out in the street and Nero jerked awake in his arms. Dante stiffened but to his surprise, his kid didn't freak out about being in his arms. Instead the ten-year-old let out a wide yawn, and then another before letting his head drop back down against his shoulder.
"Mmmhmm… Wha' time?"
"Late," the hunter replied softly, toeing open Nero's bedroom door. "Go back to sleep."
The kid comically became dead weight in his arms.
"Mm'k… n'ht, dad."
Dante froze mid shift, eyes wide before remembering himself and finished lowering Nero onto his bed. "Night, kiddo."
He tucked the kid in, rolling his eyes in amusement as Nero immediately pulled his sheets and covers to form a small nest and burrowed, leaving only his stock of white hair visible. He double checked that Nero's alarm clock was set and quietly shut the door. It was only once when he was in the shower that Dante allowed a ridiculous grin to burst across his face.
Little brat called me dad.
Day 59
On the fifty-ninth day, Nero became afraid.
The street kid in front of him was dirty as hell and smelly but Nero didn't mind. His name was John but everyone called him Bets after his unrestrained gambling problem. At fourteen, he was far shorter then he should have been and far too thin. He was fiddling his cap in his hand, cheeks and nose red from the cold. They had shared food and a warm spot on more than one occasion, but they'd barely seen each other since he'd found a home.
Nero stared from him to the square and slightly blue tinted envelope Bets had delivered.
"You sure it's for me?" Bets nodded again. "Alright. You got some place warm to go? Good, here." He pushed a small wad into the older boy's hands (it was all the money he had saved/stolen/been gifted) in his short stay there. "Thanks."
Bets gave him a short smile, glancing warily at the mounted weapons and demonic body parts before shoving his cap over dirty blonde hair. "Don't be a stranger, okay, Nero?"
Nero looked at the letter in hands with a frown. Who the hell would write to him? He wasted little time in opening it, flipping the neatly folded piece of paper open and froze. It was only four words long and with one initial, but it made fear blossom in Nero's heart so strong that the preteen sank to his knees right there on the shop floor.
'They're coming for you. - C'
Day 60
On the sixtieth day, Dante was worried. He'd woken up to find Nero curled up around his arm, forehead pressed against his bicep. Dante's brows furled in confusion as he shifted to get a better look at the sleeping boy. It was a strange act for his fiercely independent kid. He ran a gentle hand through hair so like his own, pushing sweaty bangs off Nero's forehead as he carefully worked his arm free. It was only once the hunter had replaced it in a more comfortable hold around the younger half-devil did he realize that Nero was trembling.
More than a little disturbed, Dante brushed his face against the tips of Nero's hair and inhaled. Even in his sleep, Nero was giving off the pheromones that the hunter had long ago learned meant fear. Protective instincts flared inside his chest and Dante pulled his son until he was flush against his side, fighting off the urge to growl on the off chance it would wake the sleeping boy.
What could possibly scare his kid so much? If it was Rockwell again, Dante swore he'd break his oath and wring the man's scrawny little neck. Whatever it was, Dante decided after a few moments of forced deep breathing, it could wait for the morning. It was a school night and the school had made it clear that they were going to have a conniption fit if Nero was late one more time.
Besides, it wasn't like there as an even remote chance that he was going to allow anything to happen to his kid. The hunter had meant what he'd said before, Nero was his. And if there was one universal truth about demon kind, it was that they didn't take kindly to people touching things that were theirs. Somehow, Dante just needed to get Nero to understand that.
…long ass chapter. This chapter is 21 friggin pages long! Woot!
Please review with your favorite days!
Next time: There is paranoia all around, Patty accidentally causes the apocalypse, Nero takes a stroll through Hell and Dante loses his temper.