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Dante's in the middle of flipping his pillow over a third time when he hears a sharp knock at the door of his issued bedroom. He glances blearily at the alarm clock on the bedside table. The green glow reads 03:00. He’s not exactly expecting guests.
"What is it?" he shouts, not bothering to get up. The walls down here were made of thick concrete anyways, he probably wasn't bothering anyone.
”May I come in?" Vergil’s muffled voice calls out through the steel reinforced door, candid as ever.
"Yeah, sure," Dante grunts out, pushing himself up by the elbows into some semblance of alertness. By the time Vergil's shut the door behind himself, he’s sitting up with his legs over the edge of the mattress. “Not like I was getting any sleep anyways."
Vergil takes a few steps to stand in front of him, head tilted inquisitively. "I just wanted to check in on you, to see if you were doing okay. Is the room to your liking?"
Dante scoffs and rolls his eyes. "The room's fine, Vergil. Beats my dirty old trailer any day." His eyes dart around the room, trying to land anywhere except forward.
Vergil gives him a curious expression and invites himself to sit down next to the slouching Nephilim. It’s a little closer than Dante is used to, but it doesn’t throw him off. Vergil’s his brother after all.
Brother. Dante has a brother. It’s been one hell of a day.
"If you’d like, you could have my room." The offer, though appreciated, feels hollow on both their parts. They both know Dante wouldn’t take it even if he really wanted to.
"And give this up? No thank you." The fatigue wins out and Dante lets himself fall back on the bed, Vergil be damned. He drapes a tired arm over his eyes to block out the dim emergency lights that were always, always on in this damned building. Letting out a weary sigh, he allows his body to sink deeper into the mattress.
“Room's fine, Verge. I’m serious. Thanks. I’ve slept in worse places–"
"I can feel your restlessness, Dante."
What Dante feels is Vergil shifting, moving to lie down next to him. He feels a pair of eyes staring at his face, leaving tingly pinpricks over his cheekbone. "Oh yeah? What gave it away?" Dante would put more effort into jeering if he wasn’t so exhausted. He takes his arm off his face but pointedly keeps his eyes closed. The emergency lights titter and dance amid the darkness behind his eyelids.
"Not like that, brother." Vergil lets out an amused chuff. "I mean I can feel it. Could sense it from a mile away. As the only two Nephilim alive, and as siblings, we are graced with a connection nobody else has." His voice is soft as he slips his hand into Dante's and interlaces their fingers.
“Ever since you regained your memories, I've been acutely aware of it. I’d read about Nephilim bonds in occult books, but I never truly knew how it would feel until today," Vergil continues, awe in his voice like he hasn't really gotten over it yet. "I can sense when you're wounded, Dante. When you're suffering. When you're tired. Even when we're not in the same space."
Dante lets out a hum, letting Vergil squeeze his hand gently as if they were little kids again. He'd be lying if he said he didn't appreciate it.
"Sounds like a shit deal," his lips quirk up at the sides, "I get stabbed way more than you do."
"Fortunately, through this same connection," Vergil lifts their intertwined fingers and gently brings the back of his older brother's hand to his lips, "we can also assist each other by sharing base comforts. Do you feel it, Dante?"
"Mm yeah,” Dante mumbles, mildly stunned by the sudden affection, “I can feel it."
His head finally turns to face Vergil, heavy-lidded eyes locked onto his brother’s lips and where they meet the skin of his knuckles, clean and fresh from recent healing. He feels Vergil's warm breath on his hand. Feels the callused skin of Vergil's palm against his own. Feels the dip in the mattress where Vergil's laid down next to him. Feels Vergil and his presence, on some higher plane of consciousness, if that’s even possible.
Vergil's eyes crinkle as he gives him a knowing smile, as if he knows that Dante doesn’t really understand what he’s talking about. It’s the smuggest expression Dante has seen on his face all day. If he were anybody else, Dante would've reveled in punching his lights out. As it is, Dante just wants to smooth out his laugh lines with his fingers.
"We can soothe each other, just from physical touch alone," he explains, dropping their hands back onto the mattress. "Isn’t it amazing? That we can find solace in one another in such a profound way."
Ah. That explains Dante’s sudden onslaught of sleepiness. Only now does he realize there’s been a bone-deep sense of calm that’s been spreading throughout his entire body from the moment Vergil walked past the door.
"Yeah," he interrupts himself with a big yawn, "that's pretty cool." He turns his body to face Vergil, letting his eyes close again. His limbs feel sleep-heavy, but he doesn’t let go of their hands. Vergil is beaming at him like he's done something, pride and affection flowing freely between their shared bond. It's almost a little too much.
Whatever this is, he'll unpack it in the morning. He knows now why Vergil visited him tonight. They’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.
"G’night, Vergil," he murmurs, already drifting off.
"Good night, brother. Sleep well."