It was quite simple.
At least, it should've been simple, but Nero had learned that "Vergil" and "simple" were not two words to be used together. At least not in the same sentence. Wait, that's quite wrong. That two words can be in the same sentence if the object of that sentence is Vergil's favorite plastic white chair that she dragged to everywhere she goes. Beach, the bar, the city, the Underworld, and even Heaven. One of her constant traveling companions aside from her Yamato. And the only other thing is tax evasion. His mom is an expert in that.
And the current situation was not at all helping his less than optimal feelings for her. "Mother-"
"Vergil!" She interjected quickly. "Just Vergil. Or Mom. If you called me mother again, I will cut off your other arm."
He sighed, and watched her turn around in the doorway, spending perhaps just a second too long focused on her bare back. She somehow wore a dress. And he and Dante wore a suit. Though for what occasion he couldn't possibly remember now. Infiltration into rich, demon summoning cult maybe?
The zipper at the back of her dress was easy enough for him to do up. It was the accidental brush of pale skin upon pale skin that left both of them shuttering and breathing in deeply. That was certainly problematic. Little did he realize until this moment that something was wrong for both of them.
Oh, but the problem had a very simple solution to it.
He couldn't help himself any longer. He shoved her against the nearest wall. Their eyes met in an understanding. Her lips met his and all logical thought drifted away, lost to touch.