Doubt
Rated M for language, violence and sexual themes. Unrequited Dante x Lady, eventually Dante x Nero. Set post-DMC4. I obviously don't own DMC or any of its characters, 'cause then there'd be canon femslash and a lot more swearing, lol.
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Chapter Eleven: Things Eternal
Nero slammed his fist into the wall, sending plaster flying. He'd managed to repress the howl of fury that threatened to escape his throat, and just barely stopped himself from completely trashing his bedroom. No need to act like a complete psycho, even if you are one. Fuck. The teen hit the wall once more, willing himself to calm down. He collapsed on his rumpled bed sheets, watching the cuts on the knuckles of his human hand slowly close. He didn't know how long he stayed there, but the droplets of blood were long dried to powder before he climbed to his feet.
He dreaded the time when he'd have to face Dante again. It would be hard enough to look at Lady, but her reaction to his situation wasn't entirely unexpected. Her loyalties were ultimately with humanity, and he knew without asking that if he became a threat to humans, she would destroy him. The fact that they'd been friends, or that this wasn't his fault, would not affect her decision. Nero understood that. He believed that he could forgive her for it. It wasn't as though it would be personal, if it was Lady that put an end to his madness.
If it was Dante though, he'd be pissed. If Dante spent three months hitting on him and then shot him the moment things went completely bad, Nero would drag himself out of Hell to put the bastard in his place. Get a grip. You're not to that point yet. And neither are they. There's still time to figure this out. It was running out though. Nero knew his episodes were getting increasingly violent and longer in length. His friends would eventually have to deal with him, one way or another. At least they waited to have a reason to get rid of you. Unlike Credo…
The ex-Knight heaved a sigh, scratching the dried blood off his hands. He dropped his damp towel and picked through the clean laundry that had been carelessly tossed on his bed. He never folded anything. Ever. Nero tugged on boxers and jeans, and was pulling a faded black tank top over his head when he heard the door to his room open. He didn't bother turning to look at Dante, instead picking up a blue hoodie to wear. Nero had one arm into it when he realized there was a large slice in the fabric, its edges darkened and melted as though it'd been cut with a blade glowing white hot. Alastor. Of course.
"What do you want?" He snarled at the half-devil, who'd apparently changed his mind about leaving Nero alone. The teen dropped the damaged garment to the floor and kicked it towards the garbage can. He refused to look at Dante, instead rummaging through the clean clothes for something else to wear. He heard footsteps approach him, Dante's heavy boots scuffing across the wooden floor. Nero found a red hoodie, yanked it on, and whirled in time to see Dante eyeing his choice appreciatively.
Nero scowled at him, but Dante seemed indifferent. The tall man took a step back, his pale eyes roaming Nero's lanky frame. The guy just never stopped. He was always watching him, touching him; Nero was more than tired of it. Dante never gave any indication that he wanted anything more from Nero than a quick fuck. That's not true. He's your friend. He's tried to help you. He let you live here, he finds you jobs, he stayed with you when you were sick. You owe him big time. Nero gulped a bit at the last thought, quickly pushing it out of his mind. He glared at Dante, realizing he'd asked the older man the same question before. It still hadn't been answered.
Dante ran a hand through his snowy hair. For all his earlier ogling, he looked concerned as he gazed at the teen. Nero met his glance with a hard stare, waiting for the hunter to speak. He noticed that Dante had his guns with him, and wondered if he would be finished off then and there. Like the slayer, Nero could survive getting shot. But he'd never been shot in the head before, and if it was done execution-style, through the base of his skull, he knew he'd never heal in time. Even with devil-blood, his body could only take so much punishment before it gave up on him.
Dante followed Nero's gaze to the pistols, and the teen saw his eyes widen for a second. "Kid, I'm not gonna shoot you, if that's what you're wondering. I mean, even Lady-"
"I heard what you guys discussed," Nero blurted, annoyed that the hunter would lie about something like this. If they did decide to kill him, he'd want to know beforehand. There was no dignity in being shot unawares, like some poor beast sent to slaughter. The youth took a step closer to Dante, not noticing the anguished look on the other man's face. "I get it. I'm dangerous, a hazard to innocent people. Fuck, you don't have to pretend that you won't take care of the problem. I mean, if you could off your own brother, then you shouldn't have any trouble-"
The back of Nero's head connected with the floor so hard he saw stars. Dante clenched his hands in the collar of Nero's hoodie, his full weight resting on the teen's chest. The older man's eyes were stony, and he glowered down at the ex-Knight. Nero gasped for air, his bare feet sliding across the floor, unable to gain purchase. Dante straddled the youth's upper body, pinning Nero's arms beneath him. Nero struggled, but he couldn't find any leverage to flip the heavier man off of him. He managed to sink the claws of his devilbringer into Dante's thigh, but the slayer ignored him.
"You shouldn't talk about things that you don't understand," Dante hissed. "If you would stop being such a blind, fucking idiot for a minute, you'd know I'm trying to help you." The half-devil's eyes flickered red for a moment, but he quickly regained control. "You're pissing me off, Nero, and I can't even be sure if it's entirely your fault."
Nero snorted contemptuously. "You can say whatever you like, Dante. You know how this is going to end." Dante looked, well, he wasn't quite sure how Dante looked at his words, although deeply unhappy might've been a good guess. Nero felt his annoyance draining away, only to have it replaced with resignation. He glanced away from the hunter, trying not to feel betrayed when he so obviously hadn't been. Yet, his mind supplied. They haven't betrayed you yet.
The youth sighed, feeling Dante shift his weight so that he wasn't completely crushing Nero's lungs. He let his claws slide out of the slayer's skin, warm blood still coating the talons. Nero waited, completely unsure of where this was going. Dante was angry, he got that much, but the hunter's words still confused him. Of course all of this was Nero's fault. Who else's would it be? He was the one who'd lost his mind, who consistently picked fights, who couldn't reciprocate the trust that others gave him so willingly. He was the one who was messed up here, and even enraged, Dante should know that.
Nero felt the slayer's grip loosen, and a moment later callused hands were cupping his face. Great. He can't just let it be a simple fight. He's always gotta try something. He'll just keep pestering me until I submit, or I'm too messed up in the head to care. Nero squirmed beneath the half-devil, methodically working his hands free. So why not just give in? You probably will anyway, eventually.
"Kid?" Dante was watching him warily, and Nero wondered how long he'd been lost in his thoughts. Enough time had passed to concern the slayer, apparently, as Dante had one hand resting lightly on Ebony. Graceful fingers were sliding along the leather holster. Nero's irritation was back in a second.
"Not gonna shoot me, huh? Get off, asshole. I don't have time for this shit, in case you haven't noticed." Nero managed to pull his devilbringer free and swiped at Dante's face with his claws. The slayer leaned back to avoid the talons, then lunged forward to capture Nero's demonic arm and pin it to the floor. The teen snarled, starting to thrash again.
"Nero," Dante began. "Listen to me."
"Why, so you can tell more lies? Do you think I'm so stupid I don't know-"
"Kid, I-"
"If I let you fuck me, will you leave me the hell alone?" Nero wasn't quite sure that he'd meant to say that, but he was now too pissed off to care. He wanted to get this over and done with. There was no point in trying to delay the inevitable. He'd always known Dante would throw him away eventually.
"Shit. Nero, I…" Dante's voice faded to nothingness, and Nero felt a sick jolt of satisfaction at finally managing to make the loud-mouthed devil hunter speechless. His gaze slid to Dante's face, noting that the slayer wasn't returning his glare. Dante wasn't even looking at him at all; the man's too-pale eyes were fixed on the floor beside Nero. The hunter's jaw clenched, and Nero watched his throat move as he swallowed. Dante made no move to get up, and Nero drew in a shaky breath.
"That's what you want, isn't it? To screw me before I lose my mind completely and you can't stomach the thought of it anymore?"
Dante hit him abruptly, the force of the blow knocking Nero's head back into the floor once more. The teen tasted blood in his mouth, his ears ringing. He sneered up at the older man, unable to read the expression on Dante's face. He could see a flicker of red in the slayer's eyes again, but it seemed like Dante was fighting the urge to beat him senseless.
"So go ahead, Dante. I owe you this much, at the very least." Nero's head snapped to the side as Dante's fist found his jaw. The slayer had leaned back to punch to teen, and Nero was able to free his other arm. He grabbed the front of Dante's shirt, yanking him forward. With the hunter's weight no longer pinning him awkwardly, he had enough leverage to flip them both over.
Or at least, to make the attempt. Dante followed his motion forward, overpowering the teen with brute strength. Nero found himself immobilized again, this time with Dante's forearm bruising his throat. He growled at the man, his breath cut off too much to curse Dante out verbally.
Ice-blue eyes met his own darker ones, and Dante leaned in closer. His words were warm in Nero's ear. "Is that really what you think of me, kid? Do you think that I would ever make that kind of demand, of anyone?" There was something slightly accusatory about the half-devil's voice. Nero turned away as best he could. Dante had a valid point, and as Nero regained more control over his thoughts and emotions, he realized he believed the other man. Not that it made Dante any less of a slut.
The youth relaxed, and Dante must've felt it, because he rolled off Nero and sat on the floor beside him, leaning against the bed. The man stretched out his long legs, his boots clunking heavily on the floor. Dante looked almost exasperated; Nero had seen a similar expression on his face when he was trying to collect their payment from clients who'd reneged on the deal. Nero heaved himself up to sit cross-legged nearby, rubbing at his throat.
"No. That's not what I think of you," he began awkwardly. "I know you don't coerce people into your bed. I mean hell, it's not like you need to," Nero muttered, thinking of the parade of lovers the half-devil entertained. Or, had entertained. When was the last time the hunter brought someone home with him? The teen tucked that idea aside to think about later. He scratched at his nose, a bit embarrassed at the whole situation now that he wasn't completely infuriated.
"But you do think I'll kill you, if I have to?" Dante asked, tugging Ivory out of her holster and sliding the clip from the bottom of the pistol. He carefully set the weapon and rounds on the floor and reached for Ebony to repeat the process. Nero couldn't decide how to interpret the actions. Unloading a gun didn't make it harmless; he'd watched Dante fieldstrip and reassemble the spiral rifle in less than a minute. Popping a clip back in only took a second.
"Yeah. But I'm right about that, aren't I?" Nero responded quietly, feeling the last of his anger slipping away. He clutched at it compulsively, but with another glance at the slayer, it glided away like a drift of smoke.
Dante sighed, watching Nero thoughtfully. "Yes. But," the half-devil seemed to be searching for words, "you'll know. I wouldn't just… shoot you in the dark, or something."
"Unless I'm completely beyond all comprehension," Nero was glad he didn't sound petulant anymore. He needed to grow the fuck up and deal with this, while he was thinking clearly.
Dante seemed to suppress a wince at the teen's words. A tiny movement of the slayer's shoulders was the only indication of it, but to Nero it showed up all the same. The ex-Knight searched the hunter's face, trying to read the other man. Pointless, he decided, you'll never figure him out. After a long moment, Dante appeared to give up on finding an appropriate response to the youth's words and acquiesced with a dip of his head.
"Get Lady to do it." The half-devil startled a bit at Nero's words, but nodded assent again without question. He doesn't want to do it himself, the teen realized, feeling a rush of warmth at the thought. Nero watched as Dante drew his legs in, shuffling closer to him. He didn't pull away, even when the half-devil was nearly leaning over him and the sudden irrational thought that Dante was going to hit him again appeared in his mind. The teen dropped his gaze to the floor, watching his talons click against the wooden boards.
At first, he didn't even register that a warm mouth was pressing against his own. Dante kissed him quickly and chastely, pulling away slightly before Nero's brain kicked into gear. The teen began shaking his head in protest even as he inadvertently wetted his lips.
"You can't do this to me," Nero began, even as Dante moved closer again. He lifted his fists, planning to clock the slayer a good one, but Dante caught his hands and yanked him forward. Nero had to follow to keep his balance, and suddenly found himself on Dante's lap, pressed firmly against the hunter. Dante released his arms, and Nero grasped the older man's shoulders, intending to push him away. The most appropriate response here would be to hit the old pervert, and demand to be left the hell alone. Nero hooked his claws into Dante's shirt and drew back his fist.
Warm, callused hands slid under his layers of clothing, rubbing his back soothingly. Nero felt his resolve falter, and fought the urge to melt into the touch. "You can't do this," he repeated, sounding far less authoritative than he'd intended. "You can't-" he muttered, finding Dante's lips on his once more. The kisses were a little different this time, soft touches pressed to his mouth and jaw. Nero turned his face away, resting his head on Dante's shoulder. "Don't," he murmured softly.
Dante chuckled, which Nero felt more than heard. "Why are you still on my lap then? I'm getting mixed messages here, kid." The ex-Knight felt himself flush, but realized Dante was right. The slayer wasn't holding him in place; he was free to leave. What is wrong with you? Get off of him. Punch him while you're at it. Nero sighed. He didn't want to move. He liked the feel of Dante's hands. Of course you do, idiot. Lots of people probably do. Nero shook the thoughts away. He felt Dante nuzzle at his throat, and a hot tongue slid slickly over his skin.
"You'd better not be thinking you owe me this, kid. If I find out that's the case, I'll…" Dante let the threat trail off unvoiced.
"It isn't," Nero muttered, refusing to look at the hunter. He knew his words would just bring that smug smirk to Dante's face, and then he really would punch the slayer. Dante would throw him away when he was finished with him, but Nero figured that he'd probably be bat-fuck crazy by that point anyway. And in the meantime, if those hands were making him feel better, then he'd be foolish to push them away. Yeah, what a great plan for the future, the teen thought bitterly. At least it won't have to last very long.
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