Chapter Text
When he opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was a ceiling he knew all too well. Nero was lying on a soft bed, surrounded by familiar smells that wrapped around him like a blanket.
He’d been brought back to the shop. Or Dante’s room, the one he’d shamelessly claimed for himself not long ago, to be more precise. The curtains were slightly drawn, letting warm sunlight spill into the room.
He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a dry, raspy sound with no real meaning. His lips felt cracked, with a faint metallic tang on his tongue. He tried to swallow, but his throat rubbed dryly. But miraculously, the ever-present itch in his lungs that had clung to him for the past few months had dulled to a faint whisper. He barely noticed it until he was paying attention.
The room was empty. He tried to sit up, only to realize his limbs felt boneless, like someone had drained the strength right out of him. Someone outside must have heard his stirring, and the door creaked open a moment later.
It was Dante.
He wasn’t wearing his signature red leather coat. Instead, he had a dark grey worn-out cotton shirt with sleeves shoved carelessly past his elbows, exposing the strong forearms. The silver hair that had been wild and shoulder-length had really been cut short and styled rather nicely. If not for the fine lines etched at the corners of his eyes, Nero might have thought he’d somehow traveled back four years in time.
He tugged absently at his own hair, now almost grown back to its former length, and watched Dante set a bowl and a glass of water on the nightstand.
The older man propped up the pillow behind Nero’s head, helping the weakened young hunter sit up and lean back against it. His palm was warm through the thin fabric of Nero’s clothes.
“Morning, sleeping beauty. Here, have some water.”
Nero didn’t answer. He just took the glass in silence. Damn, he hadn’t expected to be so weak he could barely hold a cup. With a soft hiss of frustration, Nero quickly used both hands to hold it steady.
Was this a dream? A sweet hallucination before death? He was afraid that saying anything might shatter it. Only when the cool, sweet water slid down his throat did he finally feel something close to reborn.
After a few sips, he waved his hand and set the glass back down. Dante said nothing, simply sitting in the nearby chair, picking up the small bowl, scooping a spoonful, and holding it to Nero’s lips.
…What???
Nero stared at him. The two of them remained locked in a silent standoff, eyes fixed on each other.
In the end, it was Nero who broke first. With faked nonchalance, he joked, “Never thought that I’d see the day the legendary devil hunter would spoon-feed me. I’m honored, really.”
He wanted to continue, but caught sight of Dante’s expression and promptly shut his mouth. Dante had never worn such a serious, cold look before. For a second, it made him seem almost like a stranger. The older man pulled his hand back. The spoon clinked against the bowl with a crisp sound as he let it drop.
“Do you have any idea how long you’ve been out?”
“…”
When Nero stayed silent, the older man kept going, his voice growing louder with each word. “Five days. And that’s not counting the two you went missing. Do you know how worried we were? When I found you…” His voice cracked, and he clenched his fists. “I almost lost you.”
Dante was always laid-back, always smirking, always treating life like one big joke. Nero had rarely seen him like this—his emotions laid bare, raw and unfiltered.
Nero opened his mouth, wanting to say something, anything, but no sound came out.
Seeing him struggle, Dante took a deep breath, visibly forcing himself to calm down. He scooped up another spoonful of the potion and held it out again.
This time, Nero didn’t protest. He obediently took the spoon and swallowed the strange, reddish-brown liquid. The moment it touched his tongue, Nero’s face contorted.
It was bitter. So fucking bitter. And sour. And astringent enough that it made his tongue go numb. On top of that, there was an all-too-familiar metallic tang that nearly made him gag.
His first instinct was to spit the awful thing out. But Dante, clearly expecting it, was already holding up a warning hand. The young man could only choke it down, face scrunched like he’d just chewed on the world’s most sour lemon. Seeing that expression, Dante finally cracked a smile, the cold edge in his face easing just a bit.
“You’ve gotta drink every last drop of this stuff,” he said with a laugh, “Three times a day—for three whole days.” He even held up three fingers, just to make sure the message sank in.
Nero looked like he was about to launch out of bed in horror.
Dante shrugged with an innocent expression. “Hey, if you don’t cooperate and Trish flips her lid, I’m not getting in her way.”
Nero blinked. Trish? Come to think of it… he hadn’t seen her in a while. Not since he got sick.
“Not just Trish,” Dante added. “Lady too. They’re both pissed. You scared the hell out of them—collapsing right under their noses like that.”
Nero lowered his head. His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, “…What exactly happened to me?”
“To put it simply,” Dante explained, “you were parasitized by a plant-type demon. This kind used to show up only in the underworld, and normally their hosts were exclusively demons.” He paused, watching Nero closely. “Once you inhale their spores, they start proliferating inside you. As they grow, petals or branches will emerge and compel the host to seek out someone they adore. Then, during mating, they transfer into the new host and continue reproducing. Demons usually don’t stick to one partner anyway, so—”
Boom. Nero’s ears practically exploded with heat, turning bright red as blood rushed up, and his brain promptly stopped processing anything else. All he heard was adore, mate, echoing over and over in his head like a spell. Face burning, he blurted out flusteredly, “Who the hell adores you?!”
The air seemed to freeze. Slowly, he looked up, only to find Dante having a knowing grinning, eyebrows waggling suggestively.
“I heard—”
“You heard nothing. NOTHING.” Nero cut in sharply.
“Really? That’s strange. I could’ve sworn someone just said he adores me…”
“You’re hearing things, you old bastard! If anything, someone definitely said he hate you!”
“Ouch. That hurts,” Dante said, feigning a dramatic clutch at his chest, “So he hates me, huh? I must’ve misunderstood. I mean, when I came back and found someone had been sleeping in my bed for who knows how long, with my pillow—wearing my clothes, no less. So I figured he had a thing for me. But now I get it. It’s the pillow he loves. Hates me, but loves my pillow. That it?”
He fixed Nero with a stare so intense it felt like a brand. Nero could barely handle the heat in those blue eyes. He instinctively looked away, shifting his gaze down to Dante’s lips. Just like what he used to do four years ago.
He licked his own lips before he could stop himself. Not knowing what else to do, Nero snatched the bowl from Dante’s hand and gulped down the potion in a few swallows. Strange taste be damned.
The moment the potion was gone, he scrambled to change the subject, “Great weather today, huh? …Wait, no. I mean, uh, this potion… it’s kinda weird. What’s in it? Some…herbs?”
Dante played along, choosing not to call him out. He folded his arms and leaned back in the chair.
“Yeah. Trish and Vergil gathered the ingredients from the Underworld.”
Nero stiffened. His brows drew together, “…Vergil?”
The door to the room was still open, and Nero didn’t sense any movement of another half-demon in the building. No sounds, no footsteps. Vergil wasn’t here? But Nero was sure he saw him that day…
Dante chuckled, reading Nero’s unspoken question like an open book. “Once you were stable, he left to handle some... loose ends.” The young man’s thumb brushed absentmindedly over the rim of the empty potion bowl before putting it down. Seeing this, Dante added, “Don’t let that icy act fool you. He was pacing holes in the floor those first two nights. But good luck getting him to admit it. No offence, but he’s kind of a dinosaur these days. Gotta twenty-plus years to catch up on. I’m thinking we might even need to find him his own place soon…”
Nero listened to Dante ramble for a while before cutting in: “…He’s not staying here?”
“Huh? Sure, he’s crashing here for now. But come on, does this place look like it can house three full-grown men comfortably? You think I’m gonna make him sleep on the couch forever? And just because we’re twins doesn’t mean we’re about to share a bed like we’re six. Hell, we used to fight over that even back then. As for you,” He shot Nero a meaningful glance, voice became softer, “You’ve got options. Fortuna. Here. Or his place, once he gets one. Wherever you feel like it, these are all your home. Not to brag, but I really don’t think he can beat me when it comes to you. He even admitted it himself, back then thought you were mine—”
“Can’t I be yours?”
The question dropped like a bombshell. They locked eyes again. This time, Nero didn’t look away. His gaze was steady, a kind of raw courage shining through.
Dante exhaled slowly. “I thought you were gonna take that to your grave.”
“Unlike someone,” Nero said, with a flash of challenge. “I’m not a coward.”
To his shock, Dante nodded. “You’re right. I was a coward.” He stood up as the chair scraping back, then lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, “If I weren’t such a coward, I should’ve laid my cards on the table four years ago.” Without warning, he pulled Nero into his arms.
Nero’s nose smacked against Dante’s rock-solid chest, hard enough to sting, and his eyes instantly watered.
“I love you, Nero. Maybe I fell for you from the very first moment I saw you. You’re so brilliant, so alive, so damn fierce. I thought if I stayed away, I could suppress what I felt. But then… there you were again, crashing into my life like a hurricane. I’ve spent my whole life trying to stay in control, but the moment you’re near me… I lose all grip.”
Nero buried his face in Dante’s chest, lips trembling. The sudden confession blindsided him, leaving his whole body tingling with shock. His voice cracked, and he bit down hard on his lower lip, managing to choke back the sob clawing up his throat but unable to stop the tears soaking through Dante’s shirt.
He wanted to ask.
If this was all true…
Why did you push me away?
Why did you leave me—?
Nero couldn’t see Dante’s face. He could only hear the weight in his voice, thick with sorrow and regret. “I used to think that I could just play the good uncle for the rest of my life. I really did. But what happened now…? You see, I almost lost you. I thought about telling you everything. I wanted to. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. The moment I saw you holding Yamato, I already had a suspicion. And later, it was confirmed…” He paused for a moment, only to continue bitterly, “Tell me—how was I supposed to tell you my feelings? Not to mention our age gap, we’re blood. I’m your uncle. And for the longest time, I thought I’d killed Vergil with my own hands.”
That broke something in Nero. He wrenched back, tears streaking his cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me?! Why the hell didn’t you tell me anything?! I don’t care about blood ties—I never have before! The ones who raised me were my foster parents, Credo, and Kyrie! Why—” His voice choked again, “Why didn’t you…”
But even as he spoke, he knew the answer. If their positions were reversed, would he have been able to say it out loud? And just now, Dante had admitted it. I almost killed Vergil. That unknowing truth alone was a gut punch. Nero murmured, dazed. “…You still haven’t told me everything.”
Dante cradled his face, thumbs brushing away tears. “From today, I’ll tell you the whole past stories.With every single detail.”
He leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to Nero’s forehead. Startled, Nero jerked back instinctively, “Don’t—The parasite was still…”
“Don’t worry,” Dante said softly, brushing his lips against Nero’s. It was just a light kiss, with no deeper intimacy, but it still stole Nero’s breath away. The emotional overwhelm gave way to bone-deep exhaustion, and Nero’s eyelids grew impossibly heavy.
Dante helped him lie down and tucked the blanket up to his chest. “Get some rest. The potion already has sedatives in it, and you need to regain your strength.”
He was ready to get up, but a hand clutched at the corner of his clothes, tight and stubborn.
“…Stay…” Nero slurred.
“I will, Nero. I will.”
As sleep pulled Nero under, the last thing anchoring him to consciousness was that strong, warm hand wrapped securely around his.
“…Hey, one more thing. Why didn’t you come back here that day?”
“…Shut the fuck up!!!”
Over the next three days, Dante kept his promise. Aside from brewing potion, washing up and necessary meals, he stayed glued to Nero’s side. Most of the time, they lay curled up together in bed. Dante was the big spoon, Nero the little one, their bodies slotting together like puzzle pieces.
Like a candy given to coax a child into taking their medicine, Dante would reward Nero with a kiss every time the boy grimaced and pinched his nose to choke down the disgusting brew. Then, holding him close, he would begin to share his stories from the past. From a childhood bathed in sunlight but cut short by blood and fire, to the drifting years of hunting demons, until the brutal reunion with Vergil. And then, the rising of Temen-ni-gru. How he met Lady. What happened atop the tower. Years went by. Trish’s sudden arrival, her face a dagger to his heart. The Mallet Island. Nelo Angelo. Mundus’ defeat, and decades of silence. Finally, the whispers of Yamato’s whereabouts.
Dante bared his soul, layer by layer. It was like peeling open old wounds, bleeding afresh in the retelling. Nero found himself speechless. He only clung tighter to Dante. In return, he shared his own story: His life in Fortuna. The meaning of his name. How he met Kyrie and her family. The day his devil bringer first appeared…
Once Nero had recovered some strength, he called the others to let everyone know he was okay. Even though the cause and transmission route had been confirmed, no one besides Dante was allowed inside the office these days, just to be safe.
Nico absolutely ripped him apart over the phone, and even sweet Kyrie nearly broke down in tears while scolding him. “Never scare us like that again.” She sniffled, making Nero dropping into frantic apologies and stammerings.
However, the ladies didn’t chew him out like Dante had made them out to be. Instead, they mothered him with genuine concern about his health.
“If Dante gives you trouble, come find us,” Lady threatened, “I’ll kick his ass.”
Trish gave him careful instructions: “The potion is designed to accelerate the growth of the parasite inside you. When it matures, that’s the time we’ll finish it. You’re probably have to endure the discomfort when that happened. Don’t worry though, Dante knows what to do.”
Warmth spread through Nero’s chest: “Thank you both… Really. I feel a lot better now. I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused you.”
The demoness chuckled gently. “You’re young. Reckless. That’s how it goes. Time will teach you to lean on others.” She paused, thoughtful, “How’s your appetite these days? Dante’s blood alone is enough for your body and energy to recover, but if you do feel like eating…”
“What—?!!” Nero exploded. He hadn’t known that ingredient. If glares could kill, Dante would have died a thousand times. The older man just grinned and shrugged with pure innocence, earning himself a yank by the collar from Nero’s spectral claws. The phone had gone dead somewhere in the middle of the chaos.
When Nero downed his final dose of that heaven-forbidden potion, Dante had finished recounting his entire past. They lay tangled together in bed, Nero’s head pillowed on his chest while Dante’s fingers combed gently through his hair.
“…Are you scared about tomorrow?” Dante asked softly.
Nero shook his head. His messy hair tickled Dante’s neck. “Not if you’re with me.”
“I promise you, Nero.” Dante whispered, “I’ll be right there with you through all of it.”
He had no idea how long he’d been asleep. A familiar itch roused Nero from his slumber. His mind snapped awake in an instant, and his body went rigid. Behind him, Dante stirred too, waking almost immediately.
“Dante, I—”
Before Nero could finish his warning, something began clawing its way up from deep in his chest, as if trying to burst through his body like a seed breaking out of the soil. A fit of violent coughing immediately overtook him.
Dante flicked the lights on and rushed to his side, helping him sit upright.
“Nero, don’t hold back,” he said urgently. “Cough it out. Let it out!”
Nero’s face turned bright red. He couldn’t breathe. Whatever was inside him, this time it felt more real, more alive, more aggressive than ever. He could feel it squirming up through his windpipe, and that sensation alone sent waves of panic through him. Clutching Dante’s shoulders like a lifeline, he used every ounce of strength he had left, pushing with a hoarse, desperate sound as if trying to force the thing out from deep within his lungs. Nausea rolled through his throat as something—definitely not flower petals—pushed its way up through his trachea and past his epiglottis.
Nero gagged and turned his head just in time to spit out the object. The thing slid out smoothly, its thorns scraping against the tender lining of his airway and mouth.
An entire rose. In full bloom. Stem, leaves, and all.
It poked out from between his lips like something out of a surreal dream, beautiful in a way that was almost grotesque. Even witnessing it firsthand, Nero could hardly believe it. That a flower—a fully formed one—could bloom its way out of his airway?
Before he had time to react, Dante gently turned his face back forward.
Nero’s eyes widened in shock.
Dante kissed him right through that fully bloomed rose.
The delicate petals dissolved to ash and vanished between them, and Dante’s lips felt even softer and sweeter than any flower petals. The feeling was intoxicating enough that Nero nearly forgot the coppery taste and the pain in his mouth.
Then, the kiss deepened. Dante’s tongue slipped into his mouth, one hand gripping the back of Nero’s neck, holding him steady, almost possessively, as he devoured him with fierce, consuming sucking and biting. The sudden intensity left Nero light-headed. He was already oxygen-starved, and this didn’t make it better at all.
Energy cracked beside them. At some point, Dante’s other hand had triggered. The half-demon extended razor sharp claws, slicing Nero’ throat open with ultimate precision. He sliced through the surface, carefully parted the muscle layers, avoided the blood vessels, and then made a clean cut in the trachea. Dante moved like he was performing the most delicate surgery. It was fast, precise, and somehow completely painless. The moment his windpipe opened, Nero experienced the strange sensation of breathing without using his nose or mouth.
Something tried to escape, but had nowhere to run. Dante hooked it easily, trapped it in his palm, then yanked hard. A root-like organism with countless branching tendrils came tearing free. It twisted desperately, trying to break loose, but the half-demon’s blazing flames quickly burned it to nothing.
Nero’s wound healed itself instantly. Dante released him, and he blinked rapidly, gulping down huge breaths. He swallowed experimentally. Perfectly smooth, no foreign sensation, no gritty feeling. He took a deep breath again. No itching, no pain, everything completely normal.
He was finally free.
“It’s over!” Nero cried, elated. He spun toward Dante with pure joy, throwing himself into those waiting arms. “It’s finally over!! I don’t have to cough anymore!” Happy tears spilled over his lashes.
“Good boy, you were so brave, you did amazing, and you were absolutely perfect,” Dante caught him close, murmuring sweet things against his ear, “You are so strong, and you’ve been so strong for me. Bet you would fight beautifully with us when we head down to the underworld, huh?” He winked playfully. “But you know we just want to keep you safe, right? I’m never letting go again. You better get used to it.”
When dawn broke, the first rays of sunlight fell across the lovers lost in passionate kisses.
This time, with no damn demon parasite to worry about.
“How about watching this movie tonight?”
“Ew, your taste is the worst.”
Nero and Dante were sprawled lazily on the couch, the coffee table in front of them buried under pizza boxes and bottles of booze. Dante had his head resting on Nero’s lap, idly flipping channels with the remote. The young man took a swig from his drink, rolled his eyes at the DVD cover in his hand, and tossed it aside. Then he slumped deeper into the sofa, one hand slipping into Dante’s silver hair, absentmindedly rubbing his scalp. The half-demon purred like an oversized cat.
Suddenly, Nero remembered something and couldn’t help but laugh.
Dante tilted his head up. “What?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head, but the grin returned, “I’ve got a secret to tell you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I actually kissed you once right here. Same couch, same spot.” Well, at least he was sitting in the same spot.
Dante pulled a dramatic face—I couldn’t believe I missed our first kiss—and then smirked mysteriously before speaking: “Now I’ve got a secret too. No—wait, make that two.”
“?”
“First, I was drinking tequila that day. Second, you had sipped a strawberry margarita.” He smacked his lips like the taste was still there.
Nero froze. The gears in his brain started turning. What kind of secrets were they? What did that mean? He glanced down and found Dante looking up at him with a glint of mischief in those gray-blue eyes. He pointed to the corner of his mouth, then gave it a slow, deliberate lick.
Click. The gears fit into place. Nero turned red like a crab in a steamer, and it was almost as if steam was rising from his head. “You—!!!”
Still lying across his lap, Dante speaking with a serious tone: “Kid, you’ve really gotta learn to be more careful. You have no idea how to protect yourself. Lucky it was me. If it had been someone else, you might’ve already lost your virginity—”
That smug, old bastard!
Before Nero’s fist could introduce itself and say hi to Dante’s beloved face again, a blue phantom sword came flying through the air, stabbing Dante right in the shoulder, making him leap up with a yelp. A ripple of space energy flared behind them, followed by an icy voice: “Perhaps you should learn defense before lecturing others. Letting your guard down just because you’re home, really?”
“Hey! That was a cheap shot! Totally unfair! Royal Guard—”
Nero covered his face and looked up at the ceiling. The future of the office was going to be... lively as certain.
Better start working hard and save up to buy Vergil a place as soon as possible. He made the vow silently.