Work Text:
The mail arrives through a slot in the door. Envelopes cascade onto the floor haphazardly, mingling with the last three days worth of mail. Some of the older ones have boot marks across them.
Dante glances from his desk at the noise, then lays his head back again and shuts his eyes. It's nap time. He'll get it later, he thinks for approximately the 30th time this week. He's about to drift off again when the front door to his office swings open. Grunting, he lifts his head again to look.
It's Nero who's intruding on Dante's peace this time. Oh well, it could be worse. It could be a demon, or Vergil, or Patty . At least with his nephew there's the potential to have some fun; preferably the sweaty and naked kind.
“Seriously?” Nero sighs at the litter on the floor.
Dante watches Nero stoop down to pick up all the scattered envelopes. Such a good kid, Dante thinks, even if Nero is muttering scattered insults under his breath. Diligently, Nero makes sure he picks up every single scrap before rising and approaching Dante’s desk.
“You’ve got some bills here.” Nero mutters as he looks through the stack in his hand.
“Pass.” Dante waves his hand dismissively in the air.
Nero shakes his head, giving a huffy laugh as he tosses a couple envelopes aside and then flips through some more. “More bills…”
“Pass.”
“An overdue bill.”
“What color is it?”
“Uh, yellow?”
“Pass.”
Nero rolls his eyes as he sets that one with the rest. “Next is… a lingerie catalogue? And… The swimsuit issue of… Muscle Enthusiast… Monthly?…What the fu-”
“You can put those in the inbox.” Dante interrupts Nero’s sputtering with a grin.
Nero huffs again and flings the magazines across the desk. They land quite hard against Dante’s chest with a slap. Good enough.
“And last you got,” Nero squints at the final paper in his hand, ”Some ad for Little Jimmy’s Ice Cream Parlor…”
Dante sits straight up, his magazines sliding off his body and fluttering noisily to the floor. “Gimme.”
“Really?” Nero replies with an exasperated sort of smile.
Dante just sticks his hand out and wriggles his fingers expectantly. Nero leans in and hands the advertisement over.
It’s a mess of color and illustration about the size of a postcard. The shop’s name is written out in a loopy sort of font that Dante is familiar with because he’s a regular patron. There is a long line of cartoonish children dancing around the card, each wearing party hats and carrying balloons. The text lower on the card is an invitation exclaiming that the reader should stop in for a complementary small birthday treat.
“Well then, I know where I’m going for lunch!” Dante announces.
“You can’t just eat ice cream as a meal .” Nero scoffs at him as Dante gets to his feet.
“Sure I can!” Dante replies, stretching and feeling some of his joints pop and creak from having sat so long. “Plus my punch card only needs one more stamp. That means I can have two sundaes.”
Considering for a moment, Dante thinks that he could invite Nero out too. Maybe give the kid a reward that doesn’t involve his dick for once? It’d probably be a nice surprise for him…
Nah.
“Alright, I’m out!” Dante says as he rounds his desk. “I’ve got a birthday party to treat myself to.”
He walks past Nero closely so that he can take a swing with his palm and slap his nephew right across the ass. Dante grins as Nero tenses immediately. He can nearly feel the air crackle with Nero’s rage.
“It’s not even your birthday, asshole!” Nero shouts just as Dante steps outside and then pulls the door closed behind him.
+++
Little Jimmy’s is just like any other ice cream parlor. It’s bright and cute and has that distinctive smell of sugar, fruit, and industrial bleach. The person behind the counter is just like most food service workers, too; eternally suffering and terminally tired-looking but still forcing their best attempt at a smile as Dante approaches.
Dante slaps the free ice cream ad down on the counter, grinning. The worker glances at the ad, then at Dante, then back down. Then they roll their eyes and shuffle off to start scooping. Good, they remember him and his one-and-only favorite strawberry sundae. If Dante had enough spare change he would certainly consider dropping it in the tip jar.
Once he has his treat, Dante happily takes it to a table near one of the large and sunny windows near the front of the store. He picks up the plastic spoon sticking out of the top. It’s… small. Probably not too small for the size of the sundae or the average customer, but way too small for the enormous horking bites Dante wants to take. Sighing, he licks the ice cream off it then flings it at the trash can near the door. It bounces off the side of the claw machine next to the can and then flips inside. Nice.
After he goes to the counter to get a bigger spoon, Dante finally sits down to eat. The sundae is smaller than what he usually orders. But it’s also free, which makes it that much more delicious.
Dante takes large and indulgent bites of it, savoring the way the ice cream melts against his tongue and slides down his throat. The strawberry syrup is tangy but sweet; not that shitty grocery store shelf crap that tastes like demon anus. Even the strawberries and whipped cream taste fresh. It’s enough to make him want to moan with unabashed love for the flavor, so he does.
It’s a sundae worth every penny he didn’t spend.
When he’s finished demolishing his totally-counts-as-a-meal ice cream, Dante sits back and gives a satisfied sigh. He’s content enough to just rest there for a few minutes, people-watching out the windows and glancing around at all the cutesy posters hanging on the walls. Then his eyes come to rest on that claw machine by the door again.
Curious, he stands up to take a closer look, taking his empty cup and spoon with him to drop them in the trash. It’s not one of those machines crammed full of stuffed animals. Instead it’s the type with an assortment of hard plastic-y toys and cheap electronic knick-knacks. There’s a sticker near the joystick that exhorts how the machine is a test of skill.
Dante digs around in his right front pocket. Scooping out the contents, he comes up with exactly two twenty-five cent pieces. His savings, such as they are. He glances over to the worker behind the shop’s counter. Then he looks at the tip jar. Then he looks at the coins in his hand.
Then he turns back around and shoves his money into the machine.
It whirls to life with music and flashing lights. Dante grips the joystick and quickly takes a gander at what’s on offer. He’s on a timer, so he decides to go for what looks the easiest: a red yo-yo with little flame stickers on the sides. Cool!
Manipulating the stick deftly, when he’s sure he’s got the claw positioned perfectly he slams his palm down on the drop button. The claw lowers and the music hitches and the lights blink faster and faster. The claw snaps around Dante’s prize and lifts it. Dante gives a prideful whoop and pumps his fist as he watches the claw carry his trophy over and drop it in the little bin at the bottom.
Eager, Dante fishes the yo-yo out and immediately starts playing with it. The basics of it are easy, of course. He flips it up and down a few times with no problem. But he also knows tricks!
Or, well, he used to anyway. Attempting some of them doesn’t come as easily as he’d like. Eventually he ends up having to stop to pull apart a long line of loops and knots in the string.
“I used to be really good at this, I swear!” Dante says to the parlor worker when he notices them staring at him.
They only cast him a doubtful look.
Once he has the tangles out, Dante shoves his finger back through the holdy-hole at the string’s end. More determined than ever to land some sort of trick, Dante flings the yo-yo forward rather violently.
Just in time for someone to walk through the door.
“Dante! There’s someone on the phone f-FUCK!” Nero shouts as the yo-yo collides ruthlessly with his crotch.
Nero collapses immediately to the floor, clutching his hands over his poor, abused groin. Dante watches his nephew roll around and curse and cry - like actual tears cry - in pain.
“Whoops!” Dante cringes apologetically, which only makes Nero’s wheezing, suffering line of curses grow more intense.
Quickly shoving his toy in his jacket pocket (not even bothering to roll up the string or anything because he feels that bad), Dante stoops down next to Nero. He reaches out and pats Nero gently on the head. Nero aggressively bats Dante’s hand away before going back to grip at his battered crotch.
“Hey,” Dante says encouragingly, “Want me to kiss it better?”
“Oh my god,” Nero seethes - now having even more reason to go red in the face, “Fuck you, Dante.”
Dante really does feel bad. Really, really. It’s just Nero’s unfortunate dumbshit luck to walk in just in time for his uncle to nail a jackpot right into his nuts.
Then Dante blinks, remembering something incredibly important.
“Hold that thought,” Dante says as he stands up straight.
He walks over to the shop counter while fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. He opens it, pulls out a card from amongst all the other ice cream parlor and pizza place cards, then slams the one for this place down on the counter. He waits expectantly, but the worker doesn’t stamp it.
“You… You didn’t even buy anything.” They say indignantly.
“The card doesn’t say I have to buy shit,” Dante argues, “It says I can get a stamp every time I visit . I’m visiting!”
The worker heaves a deep sigh not unlike the agonizing whines coming from Nero, who is still writhing around on the floor. Giving up the debate, they pick up the little stamp near the cash register and slam it down on the one empty box remaining on Dante’s card. Dante retrieves it happily. Then he walks quickly back to Nero.
“Hey look!” Dante chirps as he sits cross-legged on the floor next to his nephew’s body. “Nero! Look!”
“Ugh,” Nero grunts and lifts his head to squint at Dante, “What?!”
Dante holds up his card proudly. He grins as Nero takes it with one shaking hand. Nero looks it over in confusion.
“The hell is this?” Nero asks.
Dante makes a joyous finger-guns gesture at his nephew.
“Bingo, baby!”