The gathering was in full swing. Nero weaved his way through the throng of people towards the kitchen. So many were there for him, they'd come all the way from Redgrave and beyond just to celebrate his awakening. Beer tabs were popped and chatter buzzed around him. It was nice, really, but he was a lot like his old man. The socialisation was a little too much for him after three weeks of not using his voice, which was still a little scratchy from disuse.

He finally made it towards the eye of the proverbial storm and just as he'd expected, Kyrie was there. His place of solace. She was tending to the sinkful of dishes with her back to him. Nero wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to her hair. "Nero," she smiled as she turned towards him. "Shouldn't you be talking to your guests?"

God, but she was beautiful. Three weeks without being able to look at her, and now he couldn't stop staring. "And leave you all alone with Dante? What kind of boyfriend would I be if I tortured you like that?"

"Nero!" She scolded half-heartedly, batting at his bicep with her hand. But she was smiling up at him.

The man in question was busy scarfing down pizza from a plate that sat on the counter next to him. Kyrie had set aside a special one without olives just for him. "I'm frankly wounded, kid. " He didn't bother to swallow, just talked with his mouth full of food. Sometimes, Nero really regretted being able to use his eyes again. Dante was responsible for almost all of these occasions.

"Gross!" He complained as he extricated himself from his girlfriend. "Finish your food first before you talk. You're a fucking animal!"

Dante turned to Kyrie with fake hurt, "all I get is abuse."

"Yeah, because you freaking deserve it!" Nero retorted.

Dante grinned at him as he finished off the last of the pizza in his mouth. Then, with a glint in his eye, he grabbed the next slice and chewed with exaggeration, being sure to keep his mouth as wide as possible.

Nero groaned. "Can we kick him out yet?"

"He's family," Kyrie said.

Dante loped over to Nero and patted his hand against his nephew's shoulder. "Yup, which means there's no getting rid of me." He hadn't even wiped his fingers first, the absolute savage. He'd gotten grease all over Nero's shirt and it'd been intentional, judging from the smug expression on his face.

"You're the worst, you know that?"

"Real glad I've got you to tell me that again, kid." He sounded like he meant it, too. It was rare for Dante to get all sentimental, so Nero accepted it with a quiet nod. Better not make too big a deal out of it.

He added it to the tally: another silent declaration that the lone orphan kid had grown up to be loved. Lady and Trish burst into what was quickly becoming a little gathering of their own.

Lady offered Nero a smile. "It's good to see you back in action, kid."

Trish gave a gentle squeeze to his arm, a silent affirmation that she shared the sentiment. That was two more points. Kyrie showed her gratitude to have Nero back everyday, and their brats couldn't get enough of him. Even Carlo had gotten more chatty in his presence. He was almost forming full sentences now, though he mainly stuck to using as few words as possible.

He bathed in the banter of Dante and his friends, happy to simply be there to watch as the three of them bickered. Not long after, Nico discovered the impromptu little meeting. She barged in, fully intent on being as loud as usual.

"Thought you'd be here, Nero," she drawled. "Followed the smell of little bitch and it led me right to ya!"

He gave her an unimpressed look, but she ignored it. She only alternated between sipping the beer held in her left hand, and sucking in the smoke of her cigarette from her right. Nero waved away the cloud of nicotine that seemed to follow her everywhere.

"Speaking of which," she looked up at him with her shit-eatingest grin yet. "I told you comas are for little bitches. That's three whole weeks of that shit, Nero."

He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall next to her. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

"Yeah, and you like me anyway. What does that say about you, huh?"

The party died down and guests slowly began to leave. It'd been an amazing day filled with soaking in the presence of his loved ones. Only one more person was needed to escalate it to perfect.

"He's on the roof," Dante said, as though reading his thoughts. "Never been much for people."

Nero nodded his thanks and Dante returned to telling Nico wild stories about his glory days. His uncle went overboard with his hand movements and his face lit up as he spun what was most likely a greatly exaggerated tale. Uncle... When had that term become less weird to him, he wondered. Now, Nero could use it in his mind without balking at all. Probably about the same time that he'd been able to comfortably think of Vergil as his father, he mused.

Vergil was standing against the far edge of the roof, leaning his arms the concrete wall the skirted along the sides. The tails of his coat whipped in the same wind that ruffled his hair. Vergil did not look real in that moment but Nero slid next to him anyway. He gave a slight incline of his head to acknowledge his son's presence, but did not drag his gaze away from the horizon. Nero would have thought it rude before, as just one of the many ways that Vergil made other people feel small. But no, it wasn't that deep. It was just sort of how Vergil was and Nero had come to accept him for the father that he was, rather than agonising over what could have been. They were both quiet for a while, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was nice, actually.

"I, uh, read that book you gave me."

"Oh?"

"Can I be honest?"

"I've never known you to be anything else," Vergil said quietly. But it wasn't the insult it could have been. Instead, it was tentatively affectionate.

"I mean the pictures were nice, I guess, but Blake used a lot of words and I don't get what he's saying most of the time."

Vergil laughed a little and it was soft. It wasn't mocking, it was simply amused. "I could explain them to you sometime, if you'd like."

Nero smiled and mimicked his father's position, with his hands leaning over the concrete and his back straight. He'd compared the man to a glacier, once. Cold and unknowable, with icy walls that kept people at a distance. But Nero felt that was no longer true. No, Vergil was more like a gentle breeze: so understated that it was easily missed, but quite refreshing once one took the time to notice. Because his father's love was not a fiery, all-encompassing thing but Vergil loved him and that was enough.

"Yeah?" Nero said. "I'd like that."