RATING: G
# OF WORDS: 240 or more.
SUMMARY: Dante is sick. Vergil has to play doctor.
NOTES: I got sick, I got my brother sick, and my mother sick as well. So, yeah. XD;
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, obviously. :P
Cough. Sneeze. Dry heave. Low moan.
Vergil could hear them across the hall, from his place in the kitchen. He sighed to himself and continued making hot tea and soup for his brother. Finishing, he placed them on a tray and walked carefully to Dante's biohazard room. Being the more educated of the two, or how Dante would say, "being the smart ass", Vergil wore his cravat over his nose and mouth before entering.
The atmosphere alone was suffocating and overall, nasty. It was dark but not enough to make Vergil grope for the light switch. Dante would have thrown some sharp or blunt object at him anyway. Putting the tray on a nearby bed cabinet, Vergil poked his twin's shoulder, in a vain attempt to wake him up. Surprisingly, Dante just slowly opened his eyes and glared at his older brother. Vergil wasn't fazed at all and simply gestured to the tray he brought.
With that done, he turned around and walked to Dante's door, wanting to escape the foul aura of illness. But before he could, he heard a faint murmur from the bed. A faint smile spread across his lips and he closed the door.
"Thanks, V." said Dante.