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They don't remember when it started. But it was okay, they were used to not remembering, and whatever it was this time, at least it wasn't unpleasant. They, however, vaguely remember how it started. At least bits of it.
–
Dante had been talking to the Sinners about mundane, day-to-day stuff. They wanted to know how the Sinners were doing, especially with how much they'd complain about their rations and not getting proper sleep due to having to stay in the bus most of the nights. Dante could sense that Vergilius was alert of the conversation but didn't move from his seat, always glancing at Charon, with a fondness in his eyes which was absolutely foreign to every other denizen of the Mephistopheles. The manager assured their Sinners that they'd try their best to communicate their issues with their guide, which was met with a plethora of eye-rolls and "good luck with that"s. But Dante was determined, they already had the 'no' and might as well try and see if they had any luck. At the end of the day, their job was to look after the twelve Sinners, and since they had no say in it, they may as well try their hardest to be a good manager.
Dante took their pen and notepad from their back pocket and walked to Vergilius, confidently sitting next to him (while still always a bit anxious deep inside, the man was, after all, a Color Fixer and a really intimidating one at that too). Vergilius looked at them, brow twitching slightly while squinting a little, at least the menacing glow wasn't there yet .
"Any reason why you'd come all the way here, Dante?" Ah, his voice still made Dante feel like they misbehaved in some way, it was like a primal instinct that told them to flee. But they were strong! They were determined to let their Sinners be heard!
Dante started scribbling on their notepad, back straight, trying to display a confident aura, as if to let the tone of voice they wanted to communicate show through their actions instead.
[The Sinners have complaints about their working conditions, and I personally agree that the lack of a proper meal and a night of sleep will negatively impact their productivity and success rate while retrieving the boughs]
Dante held the notepad up to Vergilius' face, letting a <hmph!> That only they (and the Sinners who were pretending not to eavesdrop) could hear.
Vergilius squinted even harder at the words on the paper, the faint glow appearing for a couple seconds, making Dante's shoulders get tense, but then flinching when the guide got closer, their thigh touching the other's.
"You are aware, manager, that we have to make all of this work on a tight budget, right?" Dante's shoulders slumped, and they got back to scribbling, now Vergilius looking over their shoulder, causing them to scratch out and start a bunch of sentences from the beginning again.
[Can't we at least try and provide them with a proper meal and lodging once a week?]
Vergilius clicked his tongue, running a hand through his hair in defeated irritation at the manager's earnest insistence.
"I can't promise anything, go back to your seat"
And Dante did as instructed, now carrying themselves with a quasi victorious aura, giving the sinners a thumbs up, almost convinced that their words actually reached their guide, who was back to his normal sulking while checking at their next stop's information, a hand resting on his side, right where Dante was seated seconds ago. Dante ticked to themselves and tilted their clock, kind of amused and curious at the same time, without realizing that they themselves were unconsciously touching the leg that was pressed against their guide until then.
–
Dante would occasionally go back to sit next to Vergilius to be able to "talk" to him without needing Faust as a translator, Dante appreciated her but she couldn't convey the true tone of their words properly. The guide would always get closer to them to be able to read in real time to make the conversation flow more naturally, and Dante was getting used to it, not flinching at the vague touch anymore.
–
They also recalled another instance. When them and the Sinners got back to the Mephistopheles, Vergilius already ready to lecture them when Dante noticed a stray thread on Vergilius' shirt's collar, and they instinctively walked to him to pluck it off, grazing his neck with their fingers accidentally, now making the guide flinch, causing Dante to jump away and a couple Sinners to gasp.
"What are you waiting for? Go back to your seats"
The Sinners quickly scrambled off, Dante stayed awkwardly looking at Vergilius, who had a hand on the side of his neck, right where Dante accidentally touched him, glaring at them, but yet again, the menacing glow on his eyes was missing.
"That was also directed to you, Dante"
Dante bowed their head apologetically while going back to their seat, nervously stammering in an arrhythmic tick-tocking when they heard Vergilius sigh loudly before telling Charon to start the bus.
–
It was late at night, Dante found themselves restless, it would happen from time to time, the whole of the weight of twelve lives put on their shoulders as soon as they (from their perspective) came to be was crushing. They shifted on their seat uncomfortably, trying to find a position that would be less awkward to at least try and rest, when they glanced to the side, seeing that their guide was also wide awake, looking out of the window, a hand under his chin, seemingly deep in thought. Before Dante could realize it, they were already sitting next to their guide again, a hand reaching to move his hair behind his ear, and surprised at Vergilius not even flinching, but just turning his gaze to them.
"Do you need anything?"
Dante shook their clock no.
<Can't sleep>
Vergilius let out a low hum at the ticking.
"Can't sleep, huh?" Ah, sometimes it did feel like he also could understand them. "I'm not a great conversation partner, Dante, you should go back to your seat"
Dante shook his head no again, planting themselves where they were, there was something about Vergilius' disposition that seemed… Sad… They felt compelled to stay on his side for a bit longer.
Vergilius clicked his tongue, looking away again.
"Do whatever, then…"
Dante patted their lap almost happily, before bumping his side to Vergilius', clock resting on his shoulder.
"Don't get too comfortable, manager"
And with that, Dante jumped away, sitting straight again.
–
They found themselves still sitting straight, groggily waking up, slightly disoriented when noticing that they clearly weren't on their regular seat, and freezing at the weight against them. Vergilius was asleep, arms crossed, head resting on Dante's shoulder, but still frowning. Was there ever a time when his expression relaxed? Anyways, that wasn't important at that moment, Dante had to go back to their seat but were terrified at the idea of waking up the human equivalent of a really grumpy old cat that was basically keeping them pinned in place by both his physical weight and metaphorically heavy aura.
Dante felt like swallowing loudly and nervously, but lacked the parts to be able to do so, before reaching a hand up, gently touching their guide's cheek, trying to wake him up in the gentlest way they could, but they were immediately met with that burning hot, intensely red gaze, making them freeze on the spot, but soon calming down when they saw a look of recognition on Vergilius' face, who sighed and put a hand over Dante's, nuzzling against it, probably still half asleep, before sitting straight.
Dante understood what they had to do before Vergilius even opened his mouth to speak, they got up and went back to their seat, in complete silence, their hand tingling where their guide had touched it.
What the hell was that about?
–
They'd go on about their daily routines as usual, the whole going out to do the odd jobs or getting fuel for Mephistopheles in-between hunting for the boughs, and then getting back to the bus awaiting a strongly worded scolding from Vergilius, no matter how good their performance was.
But when everything got quiet it was different, Dante would go sit next to Vergilius again, who would now openly rest against them, Dante slowly getting bolder and bolder, placing their arm around Vergilius' shoulders and absentmindedly poking at his earring, earning murderous side glances from the guide, but Dante now knew they didn't mean much, Vergilius' bark was always worse than his bite when it was about them.
"Dante, are you perhaps a child or a bird that you're so easily entertained by shiny things?"
Dante just hummed, turning their head to look at him.
"You're impossible"
And just like that he'd fall asleep, Dante's urge to massage his furrowed brow getting stronger and stronger each passing day.
–
Sometimes, when getting off the bus, Vergilius would stop them after all the sinners were gone, holding their hand in his, cold eyes on the area where theirs should be.
"Do not disappoint me, manager"
He'd uncharacteristically gently caress the back of Dante's gloved hand with his thumb before letting go, and Dante would nervously follow the Sinners, feeling Charon's eyes on them.
They would hold that hand over their chest until Rodion would inevitably pull them in for a cheery side hug to force them to walk faster.
–
They could confidently say that the guide liked them a little, or at least their hands. Every second of pretended privacy had the man seeking for the manager's warmth, wordlessly holding their hand, eyes scanning the clipboard he carried with him at all times, and Dante glancing every now and then at the side of his face, surprisingly long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks.
They were so used to the heavy, scary aura that they never stopped to truly look at him, handsome was the word, Dante just knew that if they had their original head, they'd be blushing for sure.
–
Vergilius slowly got more comfortable with sending Charon off with Faust to let them check in at the lodging, he trusted she'd have enough common sense to keep the girl safe for a couple of minutes, excusing himself by saying he needed to take a call or arrange some last minute expedients to send back.
White lies.
As soon as he saw the last of the Sinners disappear behind the main door of the building, he'd turn his full attention to Dante, looking no short from a mountain lion about to pounce on a helpless rabbit.
But he'd just embrace them, as if to steal all their body heat away from them, slumping his form to rest his head on Dante's shoulder, nuzzling the side of their neck and making them ring out a little laughter. It tickled, but it wasn't unpleasant. The first time was surprising and their heart raced like if they had run a full marathon, but now they were getting used to the odd behavior.
"If you say a thing about this I'll rip that fancy clock off your neck"
Probably pure talk, but they weren't as dumb to let the Sinners know about this, why would they even need to know?
Dante would try to embrace Vergilius back, but be promptly stopped, it was the same dance every single time. Vergilius would hold their arm and force it between them, pressing Dante's hand against his face, Dante tracing the lines of his cheekbone and jaw with their fingertips, gently, gentler than anyone would have ever treated the Red Gaze.
Vergilius took that hand and pressed a kiss on the back of it, sighing before taking off their glove.
Dante's hands were already covered in multiple marks, fading bite marks, light bruising, they were always hidden under the black gloves anyways, so it's not like anyone would ask questions.
It always made them shiver slightly to feel Vergilius' own rough and calloused hands against their exposed skin, and they couldn't help but turn their head away when the guide kissed the palm of their hand, to then trace a path with the tip of his tongue all the way up their index finger, which he took in his mouth and bit lightly, before sucking on it.
Dante let themselves go limp and Vergilius took that as a sign to sit them down, while continuing the sloppy, maybe too wet, maybe too hot kiss on the manager's hand. They closed their eyes, or at least the equivalent of them, and let themselves get lost on the sensation, middle finger joining the other, finally getting a grasp on themselves and twisting them, pressing them against the guide's tongue, whimpering at the urge to replace those fingers with their own tongue but being met with the harsh reality they were in, so they had to compromise, they put their all on the mocking of a passionate kiss they were sharing, hoping that was enough for the other to understand their thoughts.
He didn't let go, he didn't let go until Dante's whole hand was covered in fresh marks over the older ones, then using Dante's own coat to wipe it off, staying in that embrace for a bit longer.
It was their warmth, wasn't it? The man needed it like one needs air, and Dante wouldn't complain and provide it.
"Close the Mephistopheles and turn on the security features when you leave" He'd let out in that low raspy voice, leaving them behind, sitting dumbfounded.
When would they get the courage to ask for more? They buried their clock in their hands, now suddenly embarrassed and a bit regretful.
What if they hated Vergilius when their original memories were back?
How would they even act when the time to part ways would come?
Maybe they'd find a way to prolong the trip, maybe they didn't need their head back just yet.
But it would be so damn convenient to have it back.
They left the bus, following the instructions Vergilius had left, musing a little while walking to the inn.
What if they knocked on Vergilius' door later that night?