Chapter Text
Vergil faintly hears his twin's elatedly deranged laughter above him, underscored by the riff of an electric guitar and the screeching of bats. He tilts his head to listen closer. The humm of static and the wet sounds of demons being killed joins all the rest of the noise. One of them has found Nevan. By the sound of the commotion, it is probably the younger one. His own Dante doesn't quite sound like such a raving lunatic any more.
That means he is close to his target. Excellent. Time to speed this up. He dispatches the annoying Empusa pests yapping at his heels, the sharp edge of the Yamato cutting clean enough to keep the spray of blood and viscera to a minimum. Vergil may very much enjoy the way Dante always ends up bathed in questionable fluids when he is having proper fun in a fight, but that does not mean he likes it as much when he ends up drenched himself.
The demons of this level easily taken care of, he disdainfully eyes the stairs at the back of the room, then flicks his eyes up to the stone ceiling. No need to take the long way around, especially if a more direct approach means he does not have to deal with the hassle of the bottom feeders pestering him along the way. The Yamato hums eagerly in his hand when he rubs his thumb along her Tsuba. She always loves to cut and is not particularly discerning about what, be it organic matter or cursed stone.
Two floors up and Vergil can smell faint traces of fresh, clean soap hanging in the air. An unusual smell to find in this infernal tower, certainly. Then he registers what he is seeing.
He blinks.
Unfathomably, he has managed to forget that Dante ran around shirtless in the tower back then. A glaring oversight on his part, clearly. He remembers vaguely sneering at his brother's carelessness and puting it out of his mind as inconsequential, not bothering to wonder why. Dante wore the amulet, displayed proudly on his chest, that was all that mattered to Vergil back then.
Now he eyes the slightly curly hair, the vast expanse of bare skin and the remnants of a freshly clean smell steadily getting subsumed by blood and viscera, and acknowledges to himself that he was a right fool as a teenager. Though, no matter how unappreciative his past self was of what was right in front of his nose, there is still the question of why Dante forewent a shirt at all.
Vergil thinks about his brother. Past and present.
Comes to the logical conclusion possible.
Most porbably, Dante was in the shower or just fresh out when Arkham and his lackeys came to goad him to the tower, and simply didn't bother himself to grab a shirt on his way. Because of course he didn't.
Coat? Oh, absolutely.
Amulet? Of course.
Shirt? To paraphrase his lovely twin: nah.
It would certainly make perfect sense to his brother to wander around enemy territory without proper clothing, after all. Vergil supposes he should count himself lucky that Dante bothered to wear pants. Knowing his brother, especially so at this age, that could have been entirely optional. He sighs and smiles helplessly in fond exasperation.
Though, perhaps this whole debacle would have been quite effectively derailed if Dante didn't and simply strutted around in his coat and boots. Surely not even Vergil's past fool self would have been able to resist his twin's incredible legs on full display. They are a work of art, after all.
Still. Vergil feels the need to shake his brother until at least a little bit of sense falls out. Traipsing around an infernal sealing tower like this lacking even the basic portection fo clothing is just careless. How he managed to so completely forgot how utterly unhinged Dante was as a teenager is baffling, to say the least. Especially in contrast to his own Dante, who has mellowed out rather more than Vergil realised or indeed appreciated, it seems.
He can't say he welcomes the reminder, as he watches his twin surf a downed fury down the corridor to the next staircase, having dealt with all the demons on this level while Vergil tarried. His brother is eating a pizza slice dripping with oil, clearly taken from the suspiciously stained box he has cradled in his left arm, a pleased hum muffled around the bite in his mouth.
They are in the middle of Temen Ni Gru.
Vergil knows there is no pizza in Temen Ni Gru.
He also knows that Dante did not bring any pizza to the tower the first time around. There is no reason for his actions to have changed this time around, since Vergil and his own brother have only arrived after everyone else involved entered the tower already.
Where did he get the pizza and why is the box so stained.
It's marginally distressing, letting his imagination run rampant over all the possibilities. Vergil is by no means a germaphobe. He ate whatever was in front of him during his time spent in hell, after all, and even now he is certainly not very picky with food. Still. That box looks supremely unappetizing the way it is dripping heaven knows what. Even to Vergil's, as his twin so loves to call it, unusually ravenous and indiscerning appetite. He tries to put it out of his mind. Dante made it to fourty without him there to fret, even if only god knows how. It can't be as bad as he imagines. Surely.
Hopefully.
Vergil allows himself another sigh. Dante picked it up off the dirt infested floor, didn't he. Probably had it delivered, because his twin absolutely would call for a pizza in the middle of a demon invasion. And in the panic of said invasion it landed on the disgusting floor, from where Dante simply picked it up to eat anyway.
At least the food is still in a box. Small mercies.
Vergil loves his twin so much it hurts. He also wants to throttle him sometimes.
That pizza needs to be destroyed as soon as possible. He will not tolerate his twin eating this atrocity any longer than he has to. No, it has to go. Which, knowing Dante, is going to be a chore and a half, no matter the age he is currently at. There will be a fight if Vergil tries to take it. After all, little can motivate Dante more than a pizza.
Well. That problem can be solved easily enough.
He draws the Yamato and in one smooth motion annihilates the nightmarish thing, box and all. He sheates her again on the backstroke.
The loud squack is immediate and widely outraged, Dante whipping around and drawing Ebony and Ivory in the same move. Vergil has to sidestep a veritable hail of bullets with a touch of teleportation. Even this young Dante is fast with his guns.
In answer his twin skillfully turns his momentum to pinpoint Vergil's new position, facing him fully now. The battered fury beneath his feet makes a last cracking noise and falls apart under the strain. Dante smoothly steps off the dissolving carcass without loosing momentum, guns still unwaveringly trained on Vergil. He isn't shooting any more, now that he has gotten a good look at the attacker of his precious pizza.
Vergil lifts an expectant eyebrow, waiting for realisation to set in properly. The barely woken demon in Dante noticeably perks up at having its twin so close, reaching out instinctively. Vergil humms deep in his chest to calm down the agitated juvenile, and marvels a little at how young this twin of his is. Dante's stance falters, guns actually dipping minimally before he belatedly steadies them again.
Unfortunate to see him already awake. Vergil would have preferred to shield this Dante from the painful fight with his twin and the stabbing he once thought to be the best way to simultaneously awaken his brother's demon and keep Dante down long enough to be able to open their father's seal without his interference. All Vergil can do now is offer comfort to the well concealed hurt he can see so clearly with the benefit of hindsight. His twin, contrary and contradictory as he can be, does not take too well to the open show of affection, bristling like a wet cat. Vergil has to swallow a fond grin, lest it make it even worse.
"Who are you supposed to be, huh? You aren't Vergil," Dante drawls, suspicious and confused in equal parts.
No doubt he would not hesitate to rip anyone else apart for daring to impersonate his twin, especially so after what happened with Gilver. Thankfully even freshly awakened, Dante has already adapted to his demonic instincts and therefore easily recognizes Vergil, no matter the inconsistencies. Having to fight him, while satisfying as all fights with his brother are, would be counterproductive right now. This Dante has already been at odds with his twin often enough for today.
Vergil smiles and it's at least a little bit to see the way his twin twitches at the expression. The way his eyes widen in confusion is so satisfying Vergil can't help himself. "I am, merely not the one that belongs here."
"Uhu, sure. Feel like actually making sense now, you cryptid wannabe?"
Vergil's smile widens, showing his teeth in an expression straight from Dante himself, and steps closer until he is just on the boundaries of Dante's personal space. He let's out another purr, sinking more into demonic mannerisms. His twin falters again, clearly stuggling with the way his own demon is reacting. His chest gives a few instinctual purrs back before he gets it under control. The face he makes at his own noise is priceless, Vergil wishes he thought to bring a camera.
"My Dante and I, we are on a little field trip through time and dimensions. As a threat to coming of age again," he finally answers, explaining absolutely nothing, of course. Sometimes his twin needs a bit of his own medicine, after all.
But true to form, Dante recovers admirably from his instincts going places he is not used to and fires back with double the speed. Because he must have the last word, always. "The hell? That's even more crazy than this stupid tower monument to your cock."
Vergil blinks, startled, and after a baffled second makes the very conscious decision not to engage with that.
It takes too long. The way a wide, gleeful smile crawls over Dante's face tells him his twin has already smelled the blood in the water.
Before he can pounce, Vergil quickly steps forward, right up against him until their cloaks brush against each other. It successfully derails this Dante, who very clearly doesn't know how to handle sudden breaches into his personal space that don't involve violence or strangers trying to get into his pants.
It is a weakness his own twin shared not so long ago, before he got used to physical displays of affection again. Vergil discovered it when they returned to their childhood and has since ruthlessly used it to win many arguments and fights. To much complaining from his brother, of course. This one, though, does not have the luxury of prolounged exposure, and stutters to a screeching halt, derailed. How terribly endearing.
Time to make it worse.
"Do you not believe me," Vergil infuses his words with all the fond love he feels for his precious twin, "Dante?"
Pale blue eyes twitch in surprise but he does rally admirably quickly, always so quick witted even now. Such a pity, Vergil rather likes him flustered.
"Uh, yeah, sure, whatever. What are you doing here if it's true, huh?"
Dante sounds hilariously mulish and prickly, now that he is on the defense but not willing to actually back up and give ground. Vergil's smile widens.
"Where else would I be but with you?" he asks right back, voice lowering to an intimate whisper, angling his head until his lips are just beside Dante's ear.
He allows his demon to swell, carefully wrapping his energy around his brother in a gentle cocoon. Dante's eyes grow wide, his expression stunned and slightly hunted. The same one he still wears all these years later when Vergil manages to genuinely fluster him with enough compliments and affection. Time to go for the jackpot, as his twin would say.
"I care for you above all else after all, little brother."
Dante's jaw actually drops, his eyes going wide until Vergil can see the whites all around them. He swallows with an audible click of his throat, pink slowly but surely crawling into his cheeks. Watching him so obviously grasp for any kind of flippant response has Vergil grinning widely, fond and terribly amused and all together pleased with himself.
Using the baffled stupor he moves even closer until their chests are flush against each other, bringing his arms up to settle under the red coat, gently caressing the smooth, warm skin at his finger tips. Rapid blinking at the sudden close proximity and touch answers him, a twitch of the hands hesitantly hovering at his sides, a stuttering breath. Vergil's grin turns into a genuine smile at the way Dante's brain so obviously scrambles to get a handle on the situation. Another audible swallow heralds the fetching blush darkening, expanding across the bridge of his nose and into his ears. Vergil so very much needs to kiss those rosy cheeks, wanting to feel the burning warmth hiding in the flushed skin against his lips.
Vergil chuckles and that does seem to finally spark him into action, never content to take Vergil's teasing lying down. Sadly for him Vergil is anticipating that already and knows exactly how to keep him off guard.
"You-," is all Dante manages to get out before he stutters to a stop when Vergil skitters his fingers up his naked back, following the dip of his spine up to brush against his shoulder blades, and rumbles a deep purr against his chest. Dante's wide eyes are satisfyingly transfixed on Vergil's own even while his face burns hotter and hotter. Vergil is starting to feel very proud of himself for managing to fluster his twin this much. That's surely a new record.
He immediately pushes for more.
"Yes, Dante?" Vergil smiles and it's only a little bit mean, mouth so close to those red cheeks there is barely a whisper between them. He can feel the warmth radiating off them. Dante's breath hitches and Vergil eats it up with loving attention, endlessly captivated by everything that is his twin.
"Uh-I-you-"
It is truly delightful to see his outrageously shameless little brother so completely stumped by just a few words and the whisper of a touch. What Vergil has missed out on, by being so blind to anything but his own useless ambitions. Older Dante is far less susceptible to this weakness of his, obviously having clawed some semblance of composure from his maturity. Even if Vergil can still get him red as a tomato if he puts enough effort into it. This easy responsiveness will strain Vergil's control if he lets it. He bridges the gap anyway, presses a gentle, lingering kiss against a burning cheek and then steps back while Dante is still reeling.
One last affectionate look and he turns away towards the stairs to the next floor, knowing Dante will follow him when he recovers. Little brother will want to even the score, after all. Vergil is quite far in the lead now.
"Come along, brother. Before my Dante has all the fun."
"Wha- Hey! Come back here!"
That clearly jump-starts his brain at last. Always needs to have the last word, doesn't he. Well, two can play that game.
"How about no," Vergil volleys back without turning around, amusing himself with imagining the outraged expression it earns him.
He wonders how his Dante has decided to torture the other Vergil and if he is enjoying himself as much. This is certainly a balm on the emotional strain he still feels from seeing his younger self on Mallet island.
"Jokes on you, that was the last slice of pizza. I already ate all the rest!"
Vergil's cheek twitches. Damn him.
Wait.
Why did he still hold onto-
"Don't disrespect the pizza box, you uptight prick!"
There will be a time Vergil will finally trottle his brother and no one will be able to judge him for it.