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They had an actual night off. Like, real off—not "wait for the demon portal to finish" off. So, of course, Trish had demanded they go out. Somewhere with lighting that wasn't flickering neon and a floor that didn't smell like blood or gunpowder.
The place was surprisingly nice. Low lights. Clean bar. Live music. People laughing without screaming.
Lady had traded her usual gear for black jeans, boots with real heels, and a red silk tank that made Dante forget how to breathe for a second when she walked out. She didn't usually dress up—didn't need to—but when she did, it was like watching a weapon get forged into jewelry. Beautiful. Dangerous. More refined but just as sharp.
She and Trish had gone to the counter for the second round of drinks. Trish was already flirting with the bartender.
Meanwhile, back at the table, Dante was leaning back in his chair with a whiskey glass in one hand and an expression Nero immediately recognized as some dumb impulsive idea is about to happen.
"Don't do it," Nero said preemptively.
"Do what?" Dante asked innocently.
"That look. You're about to do something. I can feel it."
Vergil, nursing something dark and ancient-looking, didn't even glance up. "I would advise against it, but you are going to do it anyway."
Dante didn't listen. He took one last sip like a man enjoying his last drink.
He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted across the bar:
"HEY, LADY—"
She turned her head, eyebrow already raised in warning.
"I LOVE YOU!"
The entire bar went silent for two seconds.
Trish quickly put distance between her and Lady, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire but enjoying the flair. Nico spit her drink and shouted "DANTE WHAT THE F—" while Nero tried to disappear into his jacket. Vergil just muttered, "Gods preserve us," and took another slow sip.
Lady just… froze.
The tray in her hands trembled slightly. Her mouth opened. Closed.
She wanted to kill him. There were no weapons on her. She wanted to throw the tray, drinks and all, at his stupid, beautiful, reckless face. She wanted to scream. She wanted to disappear. Her ears were on fire.
But then she looked at him.
And her hands didn't move.
Dante wasn't smirking now.
He looked—
Happy. Soft. Exposed.
A little stupid, a lot in love.
Like a man who couldn't believe he finally got to say it out loud in front of everyone who mattered. Not for the show. Not to be dramatic. Just because he meant it, and for once, he wasn't going to hide it.
Lady's stomach flipped.
The tray stopped shaking.
Her jaw clenched. Her throat burned.
She took a breath, stepped forward, and shouted back, voice cracking only a little:
"ME TOO, YOU IDIOT!"
Half the bar cheered. The rest kept watching like they were at a goddamn soap opera.
Nico actually stood up to clap. Nero put his head on the table and questioned what he had done to deserve such a fucked up family. Vergil muttered something about penance and drank.
Dante?
He laughed. One of those full-body, bright-red, delighted laughs. Like she'd just hit him in the heart with a missile and he loved it.
She walked back to the table and shoved the tray at him with the faintest glint in her eye.
"You're so lucky I didn't have a gun," she muttered.
"I'd let you blow me up if it meant I got to hear you say that again," he said, grinning as he caught the tray.
She rolled her eyes and took her beer without a word.