Work Text:
It was exactly seven on Sunday evening when Vergil warped to Devil May Cry after a more exhausting day than usual at work. There had been a lot of people coming to his little bookstore for some strange reason, and the half-demon wasn't used to that kind of rush. He could deal with crowds of demons attacking him and needing to deal with them with a few precise sword strikes, but customers were a different matter. Either way, at least it had been a profitable day, with a lot more books sold than he had expected, and he was going to make it even better by taking a few hours to manage the money at Devil May Cry.
Dante wasn't around, apparently, seeing how quiet the place was, but that wasn't exactly surprising. His brother accepted missions even late at night if demons were involved and he felt like it. So Vergil simply decided to take advantage of the silence to start working, settling at the desk they had given him so he could keep things in order without needing to deal with Dante's mess. The agency was doing much better ever since Vergil had stopped Dante from accepting weird stuff as payment. Sometimes he had to intervene and go get the payment himself because his brother was hopeless, but overall the place was good, better than before at least. They had electricity, heating and hot water, that was already something.
Vergil got to work for a good hour before Dante came back, tottering into the building on uneasy legs and absolutely reeking of alcohol. The older twin stared at his brother with disdain. Seriously? When it wasn't pizza, it was beer? Foolish man. Could he not keep money in his pockets, ever?
"Brother! You're there!" Dante exclaimed in a giddy voice, grinning widely as he collapsed on the closest couch.
"Yes, more than you are, evidently," the older twin retorted with a growl, not turning around.
"Vergil..."
He could hear the pout. It would have been cute on his little brother when they were six or seven, but they were almost forty-four, so it wasn't. Wait, was that right? They were forty-two when they had left Hell, they had turned forty-three about two months later, and- no, they were already forty-four, close to forty-five. Damn. Thinking about his age made him feel a lot older than his body was telling him.
Either way, Dante had no right to pout like a child, and even less to cling to him like he had gotten up to do while Vergil was lost in thought.
"Dante, let me go this instant," he warned in a low voice.
"But, Vergil... we never spend good brother-to-brother time," Dante whined, words slurred for the most part. "You're always hiding away and you only ever visit for work..."
Fair enough, that was true, but it absolutely did not mean that his brother could turn into a leech and threaten to make this ridiculous office chair fall back. Vergil gritted his teeth, aware that trying to reason with a drunk Dante was like trying to stop Nero from swearing up a storm when he got angry: pretty much impossible.
"You certainly do not let me know that you would like me to stay longer, usually," he opted to say, repressing the mighty need to smack his brother-turned-parasite in the face.
"I invite you to stay for longer! Like- like, for dinner!"
"You always eat pizza, Dante."
"But it's good! And it's like us, it heals itself when you cut it!"
"... that is what happens with melted cheese," Vergil sighed, wondering why he wasn't just ignoring his imbecile of a twin.
"No! That's the power of pizza!"
Vergil twitched, and suddenly Dante was on the floor before either of them even noticed the older twin moving. Dante looked so deeply hurt - his feelings, not his body - that Vergil almost felt bad about this. He stood, looking at his brother, who was still on his back on the floor.
"Don't stab me," Dante suddenly breathed out, eyes unfocused but his body still somewhat expressing tension.
Vergil looked at his hands and noticed that he had summoned the Yamato out of its cane disguise without even thinking about it. He sighed and hid it again.
"I won't."
"It hurt, you know. When you stabbed me with the Rebellion."
Dante curled up on the floor, seemingly not very aware of how dusty it was. Vergil sat back and picked up some papers that fell when he threw Dante off.
"As should any wound," he replied, resigned to having to deal with a drunk idiot.
"No! I got stabbed other times too. But that one really hurt."
"Dante, that was your own Devil Arm. Of course it hurt."
"I don't mean it that way!"
Vergil took a mental note to lower Dante's cut of the agency's profits. If he had enough leftover money to get that drunk, that meant he didn't need it to survive. Hybrids like them were incredibly hard to get drunk, after all, so Dante had probably downed half the bar before coming back.
"I meant that you're my brother and you tried to kill me," the younger twin explained in a softer voice.
Dante had the excuse that he was a drunk mess. Vergil, however, was entirely sober and he had no intention to say anything potentially embarrassing. Dante being drunk didn't mean that he wouldn't remember this. So Vergil wouldn't tell him that it had never been about killing him, only defeating him.
"..."
He wouldn't say anything to that. His mad search for power had made him lose Dante for so long. But they were there now, existing in the same room without fighting, and that was progress.
"You know, Vergil, I was really scared when mother was killed, trying to find you. I thought you were dead too. And then you weren't, but you were different."
Impossible to focus on work with his brother babbling like a whiny brat on the floor right next to him. Vergil put his papers down with a sigh and turned, looking at Dante.
"Everyone changes, little brother," he said, too tired to argue.
"But you changed more! Power this and strength that-"
"Dante, you're really drunk. You should go to bed."
"And then you just-!" He flailed his arms around in some kind of gesture of unknown meaning. "-drama-queened your way to the Underworld and got your ass kicked by Mundus!"
"Dante."
Vergil's voice was cold, filled with warning, filled with threat. That wasn't a part of his life he wanted to remember. Even with Griffon, Shadow and Nightmare gone, there were still nights when he dreamed that he was a slave again, a puppet with no free will, a prisoner of his own body. Almost a decade of having no control over his own life. And then the pain of being defeated by Dante, and the long, long years of trying to free himself, now that Mundus wasn't there to maintain his influence on him. He had emerged weakened, the only thing he could feel being the Yamato's presence, calling for him.
"We will not discuss this," he ended up saying.
"I thought I killed you!"
The older twin lowered his gaze. Fine. Perhaps that had been a harsh trial for both of them. Dante somehow managed to roll and get up to jab a finger in Vergil's chest. He was still wobbly, but his overall stance was a little firmer than before.
"After the attack, I spent years thinking you were dead," he said slowly. "Then you were there, not dead, but corrupted by a demonic lust for power. Then I thought I had lost you for good in the Underworld. Except that you weren't done for. Next thing I know, I defeat Mundus' pawn, only to find out that it was you! I was certain I had committed fratricide. And then- then you're back again, entirely demonic, and my contract is to kill you."
All fight left him at once, and he stumbled his way back to the couch, leaving Vergil on his own.
"At least you're there now," he mumbled, closing his eyes, "and you're not as terrible as- OW!"
He groaned at the Summoned Sword that was now firmly planted into his chest. It disappeared after a few seconds, Vergil sighing.
"Go to bed, Dante."
"You didn't pay attention to-"
"Dante."
"All right, all right. Geez."
Dante curled up on the couch, which made his brother stand up.
"You will not sleep there. You have a bed upstairs."
"Hmmm too far..."
Vergil grabbed him by an arm and forced him up. Somehow, he managed to get his twin in bed, sighing once that was accomplished. No need to try and make him change clothes. Vergil knew it wasn't worth it. He was about to head out when Dante spoke again.
"Vergil?"
The older twin stopped. There was some silence, just long enough that he wondered if Dante had fallen asleep, at least until he heard his brother's voice again.
"Thanks for not being gone."
He fell entirely silent after that, and Vergil went back downstairs, his mind running wild with everything Dante had thrown at him. He got to work, finishing what he was doing before being interrupted by Dante, then got up, the Yamato in hand, ready to create a portal.
He could go home. But the next day was a Monday, and he closed his store on Mondays, so...
Might as well stay for the night.
***
"Vergil? What the hell are you doing on my couch?"
The older twin rolled his eyes, a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. Okay, he had definitely not missed that mocking tone. Maybe drunk Dante was easier to deal with, after all.
"What do I look like I'm doing?"
"Reading a boring book and drinking crappy leaf water."
"It's called tea, Dante, and this book was on your desk."
Vergil touched the pages, noticing the typical little hints that a book had been read multiple times.
"Vingt mille lieues sous les mers, by Jules Verne. I did not expect you to know other languages, seeing your only basic grasp of English."
"Don't tell Nero."
That caused Vergil to glance up at his twin, who had pushed aside his usual carefree front. He looked a little scared that Vergil would ruin his cover. Of course his brother was more than what he showed others.
They both were.
"Were you actually drunk yesterday?" he chose to ask instead of dwelling too much on Dante's hidden side.
"Yeah, of course!"
Blatant lie, and he could see it now. Dante hadn't been that drunk. But Vergil had a little smile. His brother had wanted an excuse to be overly honest with him. He'd pretend like he didn't notice the lie.
"I see."
"Wanna go out and have pizza?"
"No."
He threw a credit card at Dante.
"Just order some. I'll pay."
There was a large, stupidly happy grin on Dante's face, but Vergil, for once, didn't really mind.