Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Ouch, son of a-” Nico continued cursing as she brought up her arm.

The most recent material was more trouble than it was worth--about on par for demons though; A long, bloody gash ran along her forearm, dripping thin lines of red over her tattoos. Grumbling, she left her workshop area and went to grab materials to clean it up.

Partway through her usual routine, Nero came in.

Nico continued wrapping her arm, but from the corner of her eye she watched as Nero’s face lifted a bit, as though he was scenting the area. Funny, it was the little things she noticed, just small tells which pointed towards the fact he wasn’t all human--though no one would see them if they didn’t already know. With all the time she spent with the hunter, Nico immediately noticed when his brow furrowed in concern.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” she said, cutting off whatever he might have thought. “It’s just a scratch. I’ve handled more of ‘em than you have demons since I was a kid.”

Nero snorted and flopped down into a seat across from her. “I doubt that.” But he looked appeased.

“By the way,” she said, then paused to tie off the bandage. Nero silently lent her a hand, and she offered him a nod; Didn’t need too much praise going to that ego. “Next time you bring in one of those-” she hooked her thumb over her shoulder, pointing to her workshop, “-make sure it’s dead.”

“What? Since when have I brought you anything alive?”

Nero pulled himself up and sauntered over to her workstation. Reaching over, he pulled up a long, serrated empusa claw; Along the severed joint, small red capsules--previously dry--pulsed red with fresh blood.

“Since that thing took a bite out of me,” Nico said, waving her arm around for emphasis. “Now if you- put that down!”

Springing up, Nico made a grab for the claw, just missing as Nero held it over his head. She reached for it several more times, but her height put her at a distinct disadvantage. Stupid, tall sasquatches. Even pressing herself right up against him and standing on her toes wasn’t enough to reach it.

“Hey, I thought you just said this was the reason you’re hurt?” Despite the mischievous smile on Nero’s face, the sincerity and worry was obvious in his voice.

“I jus’ said to make sure it’s dead, not to steal it away.”

“So I’m killing it. Just-” Nico slapped him as he went to squeeze it, the exoskeleton beginning to crack. He raised his brows and deadpanned, “Ouch.”

“Give that back before you ruin it, you bonehead.” Finally, finally Nero lowered it enough for Nico to snatch it away. Carefully, of course.

Nero scratched at his neck. “Well. If you think it’s alright-”

“‘Course it is. I don’t make the same mistakes twice.”

“Then why bother telling me to ‘make sure they’re dead’ in the first place?” Nero grumped, arms crossed.

Nico snorted and pushed him out of the way so she could get back to her workbench. Securing the arm in a vice, she grabbed a hammer wither her good hand. “Because that’s your job, ain’t it? But if you want something done right-”

She brought the hammer down with a vicious slam, the red pustules bursting beneath it. The claw twitched once before stilling.

Nico turned to the hunter, triumphant. With a smaller grin on his face, Nero sighed and flopped down on the couch.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Hey, be in awe of the wisdom before you, huh?” Nico released the claw and began gathering more tools. “It’s because of my efforts and sacrifices you get those finely weaponed arms.”

“I got it,” Nero said flippantly.

“Then make it easier on me. Good quality materials that are dead.”

“I guess I can do that. I’d be worried otherwise.” Nero’s voice sounded so accommodating, Nico had to turn and look at him. A smile still played on his lips, but Nico knew a brat when she saw one. Sure enough, he followed up with, “I mean if you really don’t make the same mistakes, then why does your driving still suck-”

Nico threw the hammer at him, grinning to herself when Nero cursed.

Chapter Text

A bang woke Nico from her light doze. Her head jerked up as she blinked rapidly, trying to bring everything into focus. When the sounds repeated again, followed by some familiar shouts, Nico just groaned and worked out the kink in her neck. Sleeping in the driver’s seat was pretty stupid, considering the couch behind her, but she had only meant to rest for a bit. Her latest pack of cigarettes sat untouched next to her, so she grabbed one and her lighter and headed outside.

Just as she suspected, Nero was leaping around, fighting against Shadow and Griffon while their invoker stood at the side of the van.

“Good afternoon, Nico.” V tilted his head in her direction before focusing back on the battle.

Nico grunted back and lit her little vice, taking a couple puffs before asking, “Can’t he train without making it sound like a murder scene?” Narrowly dodging a slashing attack from Shadow, Nero laughed in a way that might have sounded unhinged in anyone else. “Or a creepy fun house?”

V smirked, pulling open his usual book and flipping it open. “It’s seems to be our burden to be surrounded by those who enjoy speaking.”

As if confirming this, Griffon swooped down at Nero from behind, cackling as he just managed to clip the back of the hunter’s head with his wing. “Pay attention bricks-for-brains!”

Griffon screeched and wheeled out of the way as Nero shot his devil breaker at him. The Punch Line model stayed locked on Griffon, giving Nero the ability to deliver a powerful combo to Shadow, stalemating the panther.

“What was that you big-mouthed chicken?” Nero held up his arm to allow the breaker to connect again.

“That maybe you should keep your battle skills sharp, since clearly you don’t have anything in the smarts department.”

Nero aimed at the demon bird with his gun, firing off shots as Griffon dived and swooped around the space, alternating between heckling and cawing in terror when a shot got too close.

“Like you’re one to talk bird brain.”

“Ha!” Griffon used a brief lull in shots to aim a few strikes of lightning at Nero. The hunter rolled out of the way and came up shooting. “Think what you want. I’ve never met someone too stupid to know when to give up.”

His squawk as a shot hit him made a smirk curve over Nero’s face. “Oh, I’m sorry you’ve never seen a mirror.”

“Ohoho, big boy thinks he’s funny. You--”

“Griffon,” V called in a reprimanding tone, “This is meant to be a test of martial prowess, not a competition of purposeless insults.”

“C’mon V,” Griffon whined.

V kept his expression deadpan, even as Shadow left stalemate, ready to fight again.

Nico shook her head and stamped out her cigarette beneath her boot. “You’re all a bunch of blockheads,” she declared, ignoring V’s offended huff. “You better be done measuring dicks in an hour, or I’m leaving without you.”

She snickered to herself as protests followed her into the van.

Chapter Text

The nightmare started as it always did, and he twisted in his sleep, unable to stop it.

Swords clanging, swift strikes and parries, two styles meeting and clashing just like the brothers who wielded the weapons. Eventually, the swords move even faster, an impossible blur to any humans, and even to most demons; The final result being a pocket of open air within the rain until a split second later, it falls around them.

He needs to wake up. He can’t watch this again, can’t see the look on his face.

Their blades collide, grinding against each other as they match their strengths. Until, with a slight widening of eyes, Rebellion goes spinning away.

No, no he can’t-

Blood. A sword sliding through skin, and two pairs of identical eyes lock as Dante is pierced through.

He can’t stand the expression on his face, can’t stand how it makes his heart clench in pain in a way it didn’t- couldn’t, the first time this happened.

Without his will, he opens his mouth to speak the words he always does, “Foolishness Dante. Foolishness.”

With a deep gasp, he woke, the betrayal on Dante’s face dancing before his eyes with each blink. The room was quiet and dark, vaguely familiar shapes made menacing in the shadows of night. Holding still allowed his heart to calm and remember where he is.

A large desk, a jukebox, a noisy fan whirring overhead, and snores from the man sitting behind the desk. Devil May Cry; Dante’s shop.

A small laugh, wavering and desperate floated through the air. He was alive. Of course he was. But still…

“I never believed seeing you would bring back such…” Horrors re-lived? Despair and sorrow for past actions? “Memories.”

Because they were memories, V thought, even if they weren’t entirely his.

“Is this what you were incapable of feeling?” V murmured to himself. “Did your pride and lust for power truly overshadow your own emotions?”

But of course, V knew the answer to that.

If Vergil had felt the things V was feeling in his stead, he might not have taken such drastic actions. Perhaps he could have asked for his brother’s help in his true form, not as some shambling piece of his former self.

V thought to curse his devil counterpart for only a split second before he recalled his own decisions. Yes, if Vergil’s stubborn pride and fear came from only his devil half, then V would have been able to tell Dante who he truly was; Yet he held the knowledge close to his chest, still wary, still untrusting.

Dante continued to snore in the background, magazine over his face, and Morrison hadn’t returned with either of Dante’s hunting companions, so V lay himself back down.

Rest would be in short supply once they began their assault on the Qliphoth. Despite all the good reasons to conserve energy, V couldn’t talk himself back into sleep. He couldn’t face that nightmare again.

So he stared at the ceiling fan, whirring around and around, thinking.

He thought of Vergil and Dante, he thought of his own lies, and he thought of dispelling them. And for one small moment, peeking through the pain, he thought of Dante showing him a true, joyful smile, rather than the false thing which only masked the betrayal lurking in his eyes.

Foolishness.

Chapter Text

“Danteee!”

Said man’s eyes shot open just in time to see a small, excitable child falling straight for his face. An ‘oof’ left his mouth, the force surprisingly effective at driving the air from him. Still, he’d had worse wounds, so he smiled through the bruise and ruffled the hair of the kid who had landed on him, pushing him down enough to talk.

“What are you doing up, kid?”

A pout formed on the boy’s face. “It’s one!” he protested.

“In the morning…?” Dante yawned.

“No!” The child smacked both his hands on Dante’s chest. “The afternoon! Wake up! I had breakfast all by myself!”

“Yeah yeah yeah, calm down kid-”

“Nero!”

“-And quit yelling. I’m up.”

Nero kept his pout, but allowed himself to be carried to the kitchen before wiggling down.

“Macaroni,” he said delightedly, sounding like a demand.

“Ahhh, kid-”

“Nero, old man!”

“-Can’t we just order pizza?”

“No. You promised. I let you sleep past breakfast because you were tired, and I ate cereal.” Nero said it like it was a huge hardship and extremely generous of him.

Dante snorted, feeling soft from sleep. “I appreciate it.”

Once he’d dodged another hair ruffle from Dante, Nero grabbed the boxed mac and cheese and grabbed the other ingredients. Dante followed his instructions, feeling a little bossed around, but the kid kept bouncing on his toes and smiling, and even when Nero spilled cheese over the stove, the casual warmth never left the atmosphere of the kitchen.

They finished the meal with only a little more mess, then settled back onto the couch, Dante with a beer and Nero with a cup of the lemonade he’d insisted on buying. It was a simple thing, and almost quiet thing, but Nero smiled at him with melted cheese on his cheek, real joy in his eyes, and Dante laughed.

Predictably, Nero tried to hit Dante and wipe his cheek at the same time, calling him a stupid old man. Dante just laughed harder.

He’d never thought he’d have a kid. Well, a nephew. His lifestyle meant he was away at night, up late killing demons, and when he wasn’t money was tight. All the same, Nero smiled more recently than when they had first met, and Dante counted that as a win.

When Nero tackled him off the couch, Dante wrapped his arms around him, bringing his nephew to the ground while protecting him from any bumps. As Nero struggled to hit him, growling playfully, Dante squeezed tight, wondering.

Maybe he could have a family again.

Chapter Text

Nero’s dreams were never sensical. Just like--probably--every other human on the planet, they meandered through various fleeting thoughts and had an on-and-off relationship with reality.

This one, though, crashed through his mind and invaded the waking world.

After plopping down on the couch in Dante’s office and immediately falling asleep--post mission clean up be damned--he had dreamed of a dance party. The description was perhaps a bit lenient, as Lady had been shooting off fireworks from her bazooka, and Kyrie had been showering everyone she passed with edible confetti, but Dante had definitely been dancing.

Nero’s brain supplied him with something vaguely similar to the Michael Jackson-inspired monstrosity Dante had whipped out when first granted the Faust hat.

Then Nero’s brain recognized that music was reaching his flesh-and-blood ears, not just playing in his dream. So he opened his eyes. He immediately regretted it.

Near the jukebox, Dante stood with his hands apart, rocking his hips back and forth to the beat before launching into several more moves. Nero couldn’t tear his eyes away as he watched his uncle spin, strut, and at times thrust parts of his body to the rhythm of the music.

What the fuck was happening?

“Oh, kid.” Dante grinned, but didn’t stop moving. “You awake?”

Nero didn’t know. And maybe he didn’t want to know. He laid his head back down, ignoring whatever Dante was saying, and tried to go back to sleep. Maybe his dreams would stay in his head if he woke up a second time.

Chapter Text

As soon as Nero entered the Devil May Cry, a burst of sound startled him. Hand on the handle of Red Queen, he blinked at the room. Dante leaned against his desk, four empty party poppers in his hand and a smug grin on his face. Kyrie stood in the middle of the room, hands held together excitedly, Nico sitting beside her and cackling. Even Lady and Trish lounged around the pool table, more subtly amused.

Before Nero could say so much as ‘what the fuck,’ Kyrie bounced on the balls of her feet, declaring, “Happy Birthday Nero!”

Nero blinked. “It- Kyrie, it isn’t my birthday.”

But all she did was giggle. “I know, silly. But we missed it, so…”

“So lighten up, kid.” Nero caught the hat Dante chucked at him and glared. “Better late, right?”

Lady scoffed, but didn’t refute his statement. Instead she said, “We’ve got pizza, and that’s about it. You know it’s all he orders.” Dante shrugged, not the least chagrined.

Nero finished entering the room and accepted a hug from Kyrie.

“Really,” he said, softer while she squeezed him, “was this necessary?”

“Absolutely,” she said.

“Yeah, couldn’t resist the chance to embarrass the baby hunter,” Nico added on.

Dante sauntered over and took the paper party hat from Nero, plopping it on his head and tucking the string under his chin. Nero almost growled, but when Kyrie fixed it with a pleased hum, he sighed and left it.

Nero searched the room once more, noticing an absence. He wasn't surprised Morrison couldn't make it. The man was probably the only person in the group who worked regularly. Still…

“Where's-?” Nero cut off his question with a strangled sound, the answer walking right into the room.

Vergil appeared from the small kitchen area, a cake in hand, wearing a gaudy pink apron with looping red writing which read ‘kiss the cook’. Nero was 100% sure it belonged to Dante--though the reason escaped him. Vergil wore an expression that was simultaneously bland and daring anyone to comment.

Nero put a hand to his mouth, but some weren’t so generous, Lady and Nico laughing aloud. Kyrie saved Nero from snickering himself when she turned to the elder Sparda.

“Oh, Mister Vergil, you’re finished.” She began clearing out a spot on the nearest table, presumably for the cake. The cake Nero’s eyes were now stuck on as he lowered his hand.

It wasn’t anything fancy, but a sharp orange smell mixed with the sweetness of the sugar glaze, and Nero’s mouth was already watering. Vergil was clearly watching him out of the corner of his eye, saying nothing.

“You-” Nero swallowed. “You made…?”

After setting the cake down, Vergil let out a sharp breath through his nose. “It is nothing but following precise directions. Even a child could do it, which explains why my brother is incapable.”

Nero ignored the expected whining from his uncle, eyes flitting back and forth between the cake--which was obviously for him--and Vergil, who gracefully removed the ridiculous apron and folded it into a neat square.

He had never thought to question Vergil’s ability to bake--the half-demon picked up on nearly any skill he set his mind to learning. But, Nero hadn’t thought he would. Not for this. Maybe… maybe not for him.

Yet Vergil did. The evidence sat right on the table, taunting Nero with its scent.

The previous laughter he’d felt in his throat curled up on itself, forming a hard lump he couldn’t swallow down. He blinked rapidly, suddenly unable to look at the food set out, or the simple streamers taped to the second floor railing, or even any of the people gathered around.

He chuckled and placed a hand over his eyes. “Thanks…” he whispered.

And even though he couldn’t get any more out, he had and over-enthusiastic Dante shaking his shoulders in a side-hug, while Nico punched his chest. When Nero pulled his hand away, he caught Lady and Trish giving him nods, smiling and laughing, and Kyrie coming in for another hug.

Nero could barely put on a show of a struggle, especially when his emotions were swamping him, a thick gratefulness washing over him and nearly spilling out of his eyes.

Even Vergil, who stood at the table, appeared affected. A curve at the corner of his mouth, so reminiscent of V, made his whole face softer.

“Happy Birthday,” he mouthed.

It felt a lot like, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Chapter Text

Nero bobbed his head, rubbing a cleaning cloth along Red Queen. The sword was starting to shine again, demon guts cleaned off with focused attention. Nero hadn’t had much time for sitting down and listening to music, but combining it with the time he was taking to check over and care for his weapons was pleasant.

It took a few times for him to realize that the sound just slipping past the music were V trying to get his attention. V sat just in front of him, the invoker’s book placed down on his lap. Nero slipped his headphones down to his neck and raised a brow. “What?”

V’s eyes flicked momentarily to the tiny speakers blasting rock, but Nero was plenty used to the occasional looks he’d gotten from people in Fortuna, so he just waiting until V brought his attention back.

“Are you nearly finished? Nico has said we’ll arrive at our destination soon.”

“Really? Hm. With her driving, I believe it.” Nero chuckled at the indignant “hey,” from the driver’s seat.

“I don’t hear you complaining when I save your asses. Ain’t neither one of you could handle this baby like I do.”

Nero shrugged to himself, not having any real retort to that. Neither he nor V had really driven vehicles before. A sigh brought his attention forward again.

“Regardless,” said V, “We should be prepared when we arrive. The sooner we clear our way to the center, the better.”

“Right, well I’m nearly finished.” Nero barely refrained from rolling his eyes. He’d thought he had grown out of some of his old habits, but V brought out some of his more childish impulses. “Here, try relaxing.”

He tossed his headphones at the invoker, a grin pulling at his mouth when V looked at them with bewilderment and just a little distaste. Holding them between a thumb and two fingers, he brought it closer to his ear, frowning. Nero snorted.

“It’s not gonna bite you, V.”

“It certainly won’t help me ‘relax’ either. What is this?”

“Music,” said Nero, the simple word made nearly a taunt by the amusement hidden in it.

V sighed but didn’t pull the headphones away at least, even if he refused to put them on. “While I… appreciate the thought, it’s not to my tastes.”

Nero shrugged. With all the poetry V seemed to read and recite, he’d known it was a long shot; Which made the slight smirk spreading over his face worrying.

“Ah. I can see why this would appeal to you, however,” he said, smooth and teasing.

What exactly had V meant by that? Frowning, Nero listened closer, the lyrics becoming clear.

I’m a bomb you can’t defuse

Might just accept you’re gonna lose

Can’t turn down, I refuse

To hold back anymore

Nero scratched at his neck. What was wrong with his music? Nico had caught on to their conversation and laughed.

“It really does fit him, don’t it? Listens to them while he’s trainin’. Angry songs for an angry boy-”

“Nico-!”

Nero took back his headphones as Nico howled with laughter, even V looking amused. Still, despite Nero’s reputation for being a hot-head--one he admitted he had earned fairly--he wasn’t actually angry. The teasing was just that, and it actually made him feel a little more at home.

Situating the headphones back over his head, Nero got lost in the music as V and Nico struck up another conversation.

When the night ends it’s not over

We fight through to get closer

Yeah. When the time came, Nero was sure he’d be ready. He had plenty to protect now.