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Vergil wipes the table down as a babbling baby chews on her toy. Her white hair is swept back as well as he can manage, children all quite finicky as he has learned.
He’s got stubble, his face filled out just the slightest. He’s still unbreakably gorgeous, the curve of his face has softened, a healthy sheen to him. All the results of years of sleeping on a real bed, next to a lover to his chest. Not the Yamato, but the soft breaths and hushed conversation of another.
He holds his grandchild Eva with this soft fondness unbefitting of a man once so angry. Although his words are harsh and he barks out his feelings, there is grace in how he murmurs to her.
Vergil takes her little hand that reaches for him, kissing her knuckles like she is the queen. She laughs and he smiles lightly. She is indeed.
His own joints are not as smooth and flawless, worn hands with the slightest of arthritis. He spends mornings with a cup of tea, warming these old talons to begin his little tasks.
He asks kindly of his grandchild to stay put, words unheeded to her playful nature.
When he turns to take her from her seat, you have already come to take her into your own arms. He admires you, the same gaze from years before.
You are not as lithe as you used to be, hair beginning to gray at the roots. She touches your face, your crow’s feet deepening with each endearing laugh. Those dimples adorned with dainty lines steal his heart every time.
In his mind, there is regret. Regret to have not seen you hold a child you and he could have raised. Regret to not have held his own son the way you do so perfectly to your grandchild. Regret that the deferment of his own humanity has cost him years to have led up to a life where he may have loved you for longer.
Fear that either you or he will die before he has fully loved you. Fear that time will not be kind to the forever he wants with you.
It’s chased away by how Eva makes grabby hands at his presence. You huff at her favoritism, Vergil smug to your faked displeasure. He asks of Eva if he is more loved, and she gives an answer that is lost to the two of you. It fades when you joke that you must joust with her to win over his heart. It fades when Vergil claims he has enough heart for all of you. It is gone by the light of your eyes, twinkling like the first time he saw you.
You will always be as you are to Vergil, regardless of what happens. He doesn’t want to think about what will happen for once. More so he cares about what is happening now.
Now he must serenade his darling little girl.
You watch Vergil dance in place, swaying with a pudgy hand in his. She gurgles as he hums a tune, a song familiar to you two lovers and now to her.
All things end, including you and him. But it is not of Vergil’s concern.
All things have begun, such as the years, the months, the days he can spend with his family.
Before it will die, it will live.
Vergil has no qualms against that.