Mistletoe Mayhem: A Christmas Dare
At three o'clock on Christmas afternoon, snowflakes drifted gently through the air, dusting streets and rooftops. The alleys shimmered with neon lights, festive decorations, and glowing "Merry Christmas" signs, capturing the spirit of the season. Crowds thronged the streets, jostling for space—some staking out spots for the evening parade, others bustling to finish last-minute shopping for gifts and treats.
Amid the holiday chaos, a man in a crimson coat emerged from a grocery store, a small brown package slung over his shoulder. With his tousled silver hair and imposing presence, he might have been mistaken for a modern-day Santa Claus. Yet, this 'Santa' was anything but traditional—tall and lean, with no jolly belly or flowing white beard. Instead, a massive sword rested on his back, hinting at a far less cheerful mission.
"Give me a break, it's so damn crowded," muttered Dante, as he maneuvered his way through the crowd, careful not to bump into or step on anyone's feet. "Instead of lounging around in my own place, I have to come out and buy all this useless crap..." He sighed, finally breaking free from the throng of people. Just a few more steps and he'd be back at the shop.
Standing in front of Devil May Cry, he dug into his pocket for the office keys. Before he could unlock the door, a familiar voice cut through the crisp air.
"Surprised to see you out and about."
Turning, Dante smirked as Lady stepped into view. Her mismatched eyes gleamed, her cheeks rosy from the cold. The black turtleneck under her leather jacket and snug jeans gave her a look of effortless cool.
"Well, when the host's got a crowd to feed, he's gotta make an effort, right?" His tone dripped with mockery, but his eyes darted to the four pizza boxes stacked in her arms.
"And you?" he asked. "Didn't you say you had an urgent job and couldn't celebrate with us today?"
"I canceled it," Lady sighed. "Guess my fee was too steep for them." She stepped closer, glancing at the shop door. "Anyway, I've got way too much pizza for one person, so I thought I'd share it with you. What do you say, Dante?" A sly smile played on her lips.
He chuckled. "As long as none of those pizzas have olives or pineapple, you're welcome to join the party, sweetheart." With that, he unlocked the door and held it open for Lady to enter Devil May Cry.
Inside, the warmth of the heater greeted them, melting away the cold from their faces. Dante placed his package on his desk and hung his red coat on his usual chair. Lady, meanwhile, took in the strange decorations around the shop—flickering Christmas lights, Dante's collection of weapons, and even grotesque demon trophies hung in place of traditional ornaments or bells. Her expression was a mix of intrigue and mild horror.
"Did you decorate this place yourself?"
"Sure did," Dante replied, spreading his arms wide with a grin. "Finished it this morning. Pretty awesome, huh?"
"Awesome?" Lady scoffed. More like a war zone disguised as Christmas."
"It's called style," Dante said, unbothered. "How many people can say they've got demon heads as Christmas decorations?"
Lady shook her head. "What about the tree?"
Dante blinked. "Oh, right. The tree." He clapped his hands. "Hold on, I'll grab one."
Before she could protest, he marched out and returned five minutes later, dragging a massive pine tree dusted with snow.
"Got it!" Dante announced triumphantly.
Lady shot to her feet. "Why is it so huge? Where did you even find that?"
"Roadside," he said, setting it upright. "Plenty of trees, but this one had the best vibe."
"You idiot! No one decorates with a tree this big indoors!"
Dante scratched his head, unfazed. "Not a problem. I'll just trim it down with Rebellion."
Lady crossed her arms, exasperated. "Do you ever invest in anything? It's Christmas, for crying out loud."
He smirked. "Can't afford to. Someone doesn't pay me enough."
"Dante…" Lady growled, her patience hanging by a thread.
"You two can't be in the same room without arguing, can you?" A playful, feminine voice teased from the doorway.
Dante and Lady turned to see Trish standing there, her sharp features an uncanny echo of Dante's mother. Clad in a sleek black coat that flared to her ankles, she exuded elegance and danger. In one hand, she held a bottle of wine, her grin as mischievous as ever.
"It's freezing out here! Move aside and let us in already," she quipped, brushing past them with a flourish.
Dante smirked and crossed his arms. "About time you showed up." His grin widened as he spotted the group trailing behind her: Nero, Kyrie, Nico, and Morrison, all bundled against the cold and carrying festive treats. Dante swung the door open wider, ushering them into the warmth of Devil May Cry.
"And where's him?" Dante asked, jerking his chin toward Nero.
Nero rolled his eyes, shrugging off his navy coat and hanging Kyrie's alongside it. "The old man refused to come. Said the party wasn't his thing. Knowing him, he's probably holed up in a bookstore until Christmas is over."
Dante let out an exaggerated sigh, half amused. "Figures. Always the lone wolf, that guy. Still acting like he's the tragic hero of his own story."
Nero laughed, though Kyrie gave his arm a gentle nudge, silently reminding him it was his father they were talking about.
"Forget him," Dante said with a dismissive wave. "Alright, everyone—except the ladies—help me tackle this tree so we can start the party!"
Morrison, already making himself at home with a bottle of whiskey, raised a hand. "You and the kid can handle the tree. Old guys like me are better off enjoying a drink while supervising."
"Yeah, yeah," Dante chuckled, rolling his eyes before turning to Nero.
"Nice... decorating skills you've got here," Nero remarked, eyeing the chaotic office decor.
"Totally," Nico chimed in, her laugh cutting through the room.
"See? Even they get it, Lady!" Dante declared with a triumphant grin.
Lady shook her head, unimpressed but unwilling to burst his bubble. She joined Trish and Kyrie in the kitchen to set the table, leaving Dante, Nero snd Nico to wrestle with the enormous Christmas tree in the corner. The sounds of laughter and cheerful banter filled the office as the festive chaos began.
The sky had darkened, and snow fell heavier, blanketing the streets in a quiet chill. Festive lights on houses and along the streets flickered in colorful competition.
"Alright, this is as good as it gets," Nero declared, hands on his hips as he surveyed the pine tree they had wrestled into shape. Mismatched ornaments and flickering lights gave it a chaotic charm.
"Not bad, Nero," Dante said, arms crossed in approval. "But we're missing one thing—the star!" He rummaged through a bag on the desk and triumphantly produced a glittering golden star. "Took me ages to get this. Here, finish it up." He tossed it to Nero, who climbed the ladder and secured it atop the tree.
"At last, your masterpiece is complete," Lady teased from the bar, a whiskey glass in hand. Her tone hinted she'd had a bit too much to drink. "Though I don't see any mistletoe—either at the entrance or inside."
Dante smirked, unfazed. "You think I'd forget that? Christmas without mistletoe? Not a chance." He pulled two sprigs of vibrant green mistletoe from the same bag. One went on the office doorframe, the other above his desk. "Happy now?"
"Thrilled," Lady quipped, sticking her tongue out before turning back to her drink with a laugh.
Dante shook his head, amused. She just loved pushing his buttons. "I don't care if anyone hates my decorating. As long as I'm happy, that's all that matters," he said, brushing his hands on his jeans. Then his grin widened. "Now, it's pizza time! And no one's touching that last box—got it?"
At last, the Devil May Cry Christmas party was underway. To be fair, Dante had been one of the loudest voices against hosting it in his office. Socializing wasn't exactly his strong suit, and it had been ages since he'd organized anything remotely festive.
"Shame Patty couldn't make it," Trish mused, swirling her wine. "She might've brought some life to the party."
Dante, mid-bite of his beloved pepperoni pizza, shook his head. "More like chaos," he said, flopping onto the office's only couch. "Spending Christmas Eve with her family instead of us? That's how it should be."
Trish smiled knowingly. "Fair enough. Besides, she'd probably roast you alive over those decorations."
"Give me a break," Dante chuckled, brushing her off. "I've got enough to handle with Lady's snark." He shot a glance toward the bar, where Lady nursed her drink, seemingly oblivious to their conversation.
Small mercies, he thought.
"Looks like the whiskey's hitting her," Trish remarked, nodding toward Lady as she downed her glass like it was water.
Dante arched a brow. "That explains the silence. All this over one job? What's her deal?"
Trish sank onto the sofa beside him. "You know Lady. She mentioned she's been saving up to move again, tight budget and all."
"Again?" Dante smirked. "Let me guess. Another dumb demon followed her home and trashed the place?"
Lady whipped her head around, glaring daggers at him, but stayed silent. Instead, she turned back to her whiskey, clearly choosing to ignore him.
"Looks like I'll need to make a run for more drinks soon. Lady's almost emptied the last bottle," Morrison said, adjusting the silk hat on his head as he made his way to the door. "By the way, the parade's about to start. You kids wanna check it out?" he added, addressing Nero, Kyrie, and Nico.
Nero arched an eyebrow. "You mean us, old man?" The young devil hunter looked up from the poker game he was playing with Kyrie and Nico on Dante's desk.
"You're the youngest ones here, aren't you?" Morrison chuckled. "Besides, I need someone to help carry the drinks back."
"Let's go, Nero. It's not every day we get to see a Christmas parade," Kyrie said, nodding toward her boyfriend. Dressed in a cream-colored turtleneck, she turned to Nico. "You want to see it too, right?"
"Hell yeah, I do!" Nico chimed in, already pulling on a rust-colored coat. "It's been ages since I've seen one." She grabbed Nero's arm, teaming up with Kyrie to drag him to his feet despite his protests.
"Alright, alright," Nero sighed in defeat.
"We'll be back later, Dante," Morrison called over his shoulder as he stepped out with the trio. Dante raised a beer bottle in acknowledgment, watching them leave.
With Morrison and the younger crew gone, the three remaining Devil Hunters settled in to chat about Christmas gifts.
"You've got to be kidding me, Dante," Trish said, feigning exasperation. "I went out of my way to pick gifts for you and Lady, and you didn't even bother getting us anything?"
"I didn't forget!" Dante protested, raising his hands in mock surrender. "It's just... women's gifts are tricky, you know? Jewelry, makeup—that kind of stuff. I have zero clue about any of it."
Trish arched a skeptical brow. "Oh, sure. You overthought it. It's not because you're broke, right?"
"I'm serious!" Dante replied, his tone softening into a sheepish murmur. "Next time, I swear. I'll make it up to both of you."
Trish studied him for a beat, then sighed. "Fine, Dante. I'll let it slide this time." Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a small gift and handed it to him. "Merry Christmas, partner."
Dante blinked, momentarily surprised, before a smile tugged at his lips. He peeked inside the bag to find a CD packed with hard rock and metal tracks—his favorites. "Whoa! Thanks, Trish! This is perfect. You've got great taste."
"Someone had to save your ears from listening to the same old tracks on repeat," she quipped, heading back to the bar and reclaiming her seat next to Lady. With a smirk, she turned to her friend. "So, Lady, did you get Dante anything?"
"Me?" Lady raised an eyebrow, clearly tipsy as she attempted to pour the last drop of whiskey into her glass. She tapped her temple in mock thought, then shrugged. "Nope. If he didn't get me anything, why should I bother?"
Dante's face fell, as if he'd just been dealt a low blow.
Trish burst into laughter. "You two are something else, I swear."
Despite feeling a little let down, Dante couldn't resist poking back at Lady. "If that's how you feel, Lady, I've got a proposal for you." He leaned back on the couch, crossing his legs like someone with a plan too mischievous to be trusted.
"A proposal?" Lady swiveled her barstool to face him, suspicion written all over her face. "This isn't some kind of gamble, is it?"
"Not exactly. It's simple, and I think you'll like it." He sipped his beer, his smirk maddeningly smug. "But honestly, I don't think you've got the guts to take me up on it."
Lady rolled her eyes, her patience wearing thin. "Just get to the point, Dante."
He gestured to the mistletoe hanging above his desk. "Kiss me under the mistletoe tonight, and I'll work for you for a whole week. No cut, no pay. We'll call it even for Christmas. Deal?"
Trish's eyes widened, struggling to stifle her laughter. Of all the reckless things Dante could suggest, this had to take the cake.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
Lady stared at him, her expression questioning his sanity. Did you seriously just say that? Do you honestly think I'd kiss a half-demon like you?
"Well?" Dante pressed, trying to hide his growing unease. He hadn't expected her to take the suggestion seriously. Why had he even brought it up? The atmosphere? The booze? What was he thinking?
Lady let out a heavy sigh, standing from her stool with her whiskey glass in hand. She walked to the desk, yanked the mistletoe off the wall, and gripped it tightly. Both Dante and Trish watched, puzzled by her sudden determination.
After finishing her drink, Lady set the empty glass on the desk and strode toward Dante. Her face was flushed—likely from the whiskey, though maybe from irritation too. She stopped in front of him, raising the mistletoe above their heads and meeting his eyes with a piercing gaze.
"Uh, Lady?" Dante managed, his voice unsteady as he glanced at the mistletoe above.
"One week," she said, her voice low and tinged with whiskey. "No complaints."
Before Dante could react, Lady grabbed the collar of his Henley and yanked him closer.
"Wait—Lady! Hold up—!" he blurted, his voice tinged with panic.
She didn't. Without a word, she closed her eyes and kissed him.
Yes, kissed him.
For the first time, Lady kissed Dante
He froze, his mind going blank as the reality sank in. This wasn't a dream or some reckless fantasy—it was happening. Her lips were warm, soft, and achingly close, making everything else fade to nothing.
It was... incredible.
The kiss was slow and deliberate. Just as Dante started to respond, his hands instinctively drifting toward her waist, she pulled back. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips a delicate shade of red.
"Your first job starts tomorrow," she murmured, tossing the mistletoe aside. Without waiting for a reply, she sank onto the couch and promptly fell asleep.
Dante sat there, dumbfounded, his face burning. He glanced at her slumbering form and muttered to himself, "She kissed me... and then passed out?"
Trish, who had been watching from the sidelines, finally burst out laughing. "One kiss, and you're already fried, Romeo?" she teased, doubling over. "Too bad I didn't snap a picture—this would've been gold!"
Groaning, Dante buried his face in his hands, trying to calm his racing heart. It wasn't like he'd never been kissed before, but this... this was different. The emotions bubbling inside him were unlike anything he'd felt before.
As Dante sat lost in thought, the office door burst open, letting in a swirl of cold air and snow-dusted visitors. Morrison and the teens had returned.
"Back so soon? How was the parade, Nero?" Trish asked, watching Nero gently brush snow from Kyrie's hair.
"Not bad," Nero said with a shrug. "Packed as usual. Oh, and we picked up an extra passenger." He nodded over his shoulder
"Who?" Trish began, her eyes widening as a familiar figure stepped through the doorway. "Well, I'll be damned. Is that Vergil? Where did you find him?"
Vergil, Dante's brother and longtime rival, strode into the room without a word, ignoring Trish's stare.
"Believe it or not, we found him in the crowd watching the parade," Nico laughed.
"I wasn't watching the parade," Vergil retorted coolly, shrugging off his coat. "I was searching for a quiet restaurant. Not that it's any of your concern."
"You're welcome to join us for dinner, Mr. Vergil," Kyrie offered warmly, nudging Nero toward the kitchen. With a reluctant sigh, Nero followed.
Meanwhile, Morrison removed his hat and noticed the mistletoe lying on the floor. His gaze shifted to the couch, where Lady was out cold, and Dante sat with his face buried in his hands, clearly flustered.
"What's the matter, Dante? Cat got your tongue? And Lady—she okay?" Morrison asked, his tone casual but curious.
Dante waved him off without looking up. "Don't worry about it. Just… let me be for a minute."
Trish smirked from her perch against the bar, her voice dripping with amusement. "Looks like the Christmas spirit hit him. Hard."
As dawn unfurled its light over Devil May Cry, a pristine blanket of snow adorned the streets, lending the city an ethereal stillness. The air was sharp with winter's bite, yet the morning carried an undeniable sense of promise, glimmering like frost beneath the rising sun.
Lady woke up on the sofa, groggy and sore. She stretched, yawning, and noticed Dante's familiar red coat draped over her. She looked around the messy office, spotting empty bottles of wine and whiskey on the bar counter and pizza boxes scattered across the spotted Dante at his desk, nursing a cup of black coffee and looking utterly exhausted.
"Morning," he greeted gruffly.
"Where is everyone?" Lady asked, yawning as she stretched.
"Gone. They left last night," he replied tersely, taking another sip of coffee.
"Really? Didn't realize I dozed off." She tilted her head, puzzled as she studied Dante's tired face. His dark circles and sullen expression made him look as if he hadn't slept a wink. "What's up with you? Why do you look like a ghost?"
Dante glared at her, frustration evident in his sharp blue eyes. "You mean to tell me… you don't remember anything about last night?" His voice dropped into a low growl, a mix of disbelief and indignation.
Lady blinked, oblivious. "Last night? What are you talking about?"
Dante's jaw tightened. How could she forget? That kiss had unraveled him, leaving him restless through the night, haunted by its memory. While he lay awake, consumed by the chaos she'd stirred, she slept peacefully, oblivious to the storm she'd left behind.
Of course, she wouldn't remember. She'd been drunk, after all.
What did you expect, Dante?
Maybe it's for the best. This way, things can go back to the way they were.
Even if it's tearing you apart inside.
"You're acting weird. What exactly happened last night?" Lady pressed.
"Forget it. Doesn't matter," he grumbled.
Lady raised an eyebrow at him. "Fine," She stood and walked past him toward the bathroom.
Dante leaned back in his chair, sighing deeply as his gaze followed her. How could he possibly forget?
Freshened up, she checked her watch. "Almost eight. Time flies." Her sharp, mismatched gaze locked onto him. "Meet me at 24th Street. There's a well-known Chinese place. We've got a client meeting."
Dante frowned, his silver brow quirking. "What? I didn't sign up for any jobs today." He sighed, longing for some peace.
Lady crossed her arms. "When did you become so forgetful, old man? We agreed to this last night under the mistletoe, remember?"
"...The mistletoe…" Dante blinked, the memory flooding back. Oh yeah, I did suggest she kiss me under that damn mistletoe. But then it hit him—Wait, does this mean she remembers everything?!
"You… so why—"
"Seven days," she interrupted firmly. "No excuses, no delays, and I'm not paying you a single cent. Got it?" She grabbed her jacket from the sofa, pulling it on as she strode to the door without looking back.
Still, Dante caught the faint blush on her cheeks.
It tugged a smile from him before he could stop it. Quickly covering his mouth, he cleared his throat. "Yeah, yeah, I got it!" he called after her, his voice brimming with restless energy. Downing the last of his coffee, he wiped his mouth, grabbed Rebellion and his twin pistols, and followed her out the door, his grin lingering as he trailed close behind.
One night, one Christmas, and a story they would never speak of again—yet one that would remain etched in their memories forever.
-The End-*