Chapter Text
All Dante knew was that one second, he was strolling down the streets, whistling a tune under his breath, with one hand cradling his head and his elbow pointed outwards. The next, some little kid came shooting towards him. It took one second to register that the slice of pizza that had previously taken up residence in his right hand had now vacated the premises. Instinctively, his pizza hand shot out, grabbing the kid and hoisting him up by the back of his shirt.
"Hey!" The thief protested, squirming in Dante's grip.
He hadn't meant to be so rough. His shirt was just the only thing he could reach, and the kid was unexpectedly light—too light, probably. He was no expert, but he was not sure a kid this age should weigh as much as a small puppy. The thief was eye level with him, and he fixed Dante with a nasty glare.
"Let me go!" He demanded, kicking out at nothing. His shoes had probably been white once. They looked as though that's been passed down at least three generations. They were coated in mud and ratty as all hell. He wasn't wearing socks.
"Would love to, kiddo, but you've got something that belongs to me. Isn't a man's pizza considered sacred anymore?"
The kid shook his head, knocking his hood loose a little and giving Dante a glance at his long white bangs. "Don't know what you're talking about."
He was a shit liar. The missing slice was clearly stuffed in the pocket of his blue jacket, guarded on both sides by his hands that had been stuck in there with it. But as the kiddo squirmed, the material of his shirt rode up and Dante could practically count the ribs. He lowered the boy a little, relenting.
"You know what, keep it."
"I said I don't - what?" The kid's blue eyes narrowed with distrust and he scowled at Dante again. Or, no, that wasn't quite right. That would imply that the kid ever stopped glaring. "You were real attached to it a second ago. You just gonna let it go now?"
"Sure," Dante shrugged. "You look like you could use it more than me. You're awful scrawny, you know that?"
"I'm not scrawny!" The kid practically snarled. "Not like it's any of your business anyway!"
"Not true. You're a fan of pepperoni with no olives too?" Dante said calmly.
The people of Redgrave moved past the scene, quite used to a ruckus, even at this time of day. Normally, Dante would've still been asleep, but he'd had an unusually early job to look after. The slice of pizza had been a celebration of a job well done, just something to tide him over until he got home. The sea of people parted around them, not stopping to watch what must've been quite the sight.
"What's it to you?" The kid scowled.
"Well, that makes us fellow men of good taste. And it would be a shame to see that good taste go to waste."
"You're a weirdo, you know that?" The thief said. He'd stopped struggling though.
"And, as a fellow man of taste," Dante continued unperturbed, "I got a couple of pizzas back home. Pepperoni, no olives, extra cheese. Don't think I could finish both of them by myself, you want some more?"
That was a lie. Dante could've finished them both in a heartbeat.
The kid's eyes noticeably lit up at the mention of food, but he quickly schooled his expression. He seemed to think it over for a few moments. He scrutinised Dante's face carefully, mulling it over, though the prospect of free grub seemed to win out.
"No funny business though, alright?"
"No funny business," Dante agreed. He finally put the kid down, half expecting him to bolt. Even the boy seemed to wonder why he himself was sticking around.
"That's exactly what someone up to no good would say, though," the kid mumbled as if to himself. He still didn't run though.
"My shop's this way," he said, motioning over with his chin. "Pizza's waiting for us there."
Dante spied the kid unpocketing the pizza out of his peripheral. It was covered in lint and had a bite taken out of it, courtesy of Dante himself, but the kid relished it anyway. He ate as they walked and the kid must've been half starved from how quickly he wolfed it down and then mournfully licked his fingers. The boy couldn't have been much more than seven. Shit, Dante's heart ached just thinking about it.
The two of them wound their way down the cobbled streets in silence. The kid was pretty quick on his feet despite his appearance, easily able to keep up with Dante's long strides. Dante wondered how long he'd been out on the streets, he seemed to know them like an old friend. The pizza thief got warier as the roads thinned out and the crowd got sparser but didn't say anything, not until they got to the front doors.
"We're here," Dante announced, taking his keys out of his pocket and slotting the right one into the front door.
The boy stayed back as Dante unlocked and entered the shop, glancing behind him to ensure the door didn't close behind him. With his long legs and uneasy eyes, the little guy looked like a startled deer, especially with how ready he obviously was to run at a moment's notice. Something in the hard glare told Dante he wouldn't appreciate the comparison, though.
Dante gestured at the two boxes on the table, sweeping his arms wide in their general direction. "Pizza, just like I promised."
The kid just watched him until Dante shrugged and opened one of the boxes. He began tucking in, luxuriating in the rich, stringy cheese and the heavenly smell of pizza grease. Even then, the thief seemed hesitant. He took a slice cautiously and chewed slowly. He was looking around like he kept expecting to drop dead. He kept glancing back, checking that the front door was open and that he wasn't about to be trapped. He didn't join Dante on the couch, opting to stand instead.
As they ate though, the kid seemed to relax a little. Near the end, he was even leaning slightly against the wall. Dante telegraphed his movements and it seemed to put the boy at ease. It was hard for him, Dante was so used to moving first and thinking later, but he found himself willing to do anything to put the kid at ease.
Not fifteen minutes later, the boxes lay empty. "Hey, not bad. Not a lot of people can keep up with me," Dante said with a grin.
The kid didn't smile back, but Dante hadn't been expecting him to. He glanced back, then stood, dusting off his hands on his faded pants. "Thanks," the pizza thief mumbled quietly. He couldn't quite look at Dante.
Dante offered him a million-dollar smile anyway. "Anytime. My door's always open, alright?" He offered.
The boy didn't reply, just ambled out of the shop with some hesitancy, as though he didn't quite want to leave.
As the doors shut behind him, Dante had a feeling he'd see the kid again.