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The Yamato cleaves the demon before him with ease. There’s a pause before the damned creature falls apart in a spray of blood, having frozen like it had to register that it had been killed.
Vergil doesn’t have the time to think about it before he’s going to the next demon.
It’s been like this for weeks.
Small groups of demons, making their way in packs on the outskirts of town. Not enough to do real damage, but enough to scare the people living there.
Vergil straightens, looking around them. Dante pants heavily, leaning against his twin, nearly putting him off balance. To get a rise of out Vergil, certainly. But he doesn’t have the energy to take the bait, sheathing his sword quickly.
The pair is surrounded by the corpses of a dozen demons of varying types and sizes.
“Shit, that was fun,” Dante laughs out, peeling away from Vergil to crouch before one of the corpses. He seems to be poking around for something.
Vergil barely hears him, unable to tear his gaze away from the bloodbath before him. The smell is rank in his nose. He can hear his heart beating in his ears. His stomach is roiling.
Hand flying up to his mouth, he stumbles away, gagging before throwing up at the base of a nearby tree just feet away from the carnage.
“Vergil? Oh fuck,” Vergil hears vaguely from behind him as he finishes heaving, leaning heavily against the tree. A hand is on his shoulder, but as he shudders, he can’t bring himself to try and shrug it off. “You good?”
Dante looks worried. There’s no trace of the disgust that Vergil thought he’d be showing. Even so, it’s irritating.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his glove, Vergil lets out a low growl before snapping, “I’m fine.”
Dante snorts. “Didn’t know a little bit of demon guts was enough to make you hurl. Thought you were used to this kind of thing.”
“I don’t *hurl* at the sight of it,” Vergil snaps back. As he straightens, he rubs at his belly, hoping his body was done betraying him. His hand is right on the Yamato as he stalks away, ignoring the way the slain demons begin to disintegrate, and with it, the smell. “As I told you, I’m fine.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Dante jogs to catch up with his brother, his sword resting on his shoulder. There’s a shit eating grin on his face, not quite hidden by his hair. “Thinking we should grab pizza on the way home?”
“If you insist.”
Vergil can tell that Dante is worried after he’s sick several more times that week. The way he’s had to disentangle himself from his brother to bolt for the bathroom. He’s waved off Dante each time, reluctantly accepting the water left on the counter for him.
“You’re not sick are you?” Dante says from where he’s leaning against the bathroom door. He’s thrown on a pair of boxers, much to Vergil’s relief. Seeing his brother naked right now would be too much for him.
Glaring up at his younger twin, Vergil tries to shoo him away after leaning his head back on the rim of the toilet with a groan. He has felt off, granted. But he’s fine. His voice is hoarse when he speaks. “I’m fine. Stop asking me that.”
He tries not to think about the last time he’d been this sick. It’s been well over twenty years since then.
When he’d been-
Vergil has to stop that line of thought. Forces it back down in his fucked up mind. It’s not that. It can’t be. It wouldn’t be good, not now. That’s something that cannot happen.
Never mind the fact that he and his twin have been fucking like rabbits since they returned from the underworld. Something about trauma bonding, maybe. They’d only had each other after the Qliphoth.
Sitting up straight, Vergil pushes himself upright, washing his mouth out and spitting the soiled water into the sink as he flushes the toilet. The thoughts are coming back, unbidden.
It’s all very similar to when he’d been pregnant with Nero, all those years ago.
Pregnant.
Vergil inhales, pushing past a questioning Dante and falling heavily into bed.
“You gonna tell me what’s up with you?”
“Mn.”
Vergil ignores Dante in favor of reading his book, even when the man sits heavily on the other end of the couch. The furniture creaks beneath his added weight, whining when the man turns, swinging his feet up to where they rest against Vergil. “Do you mind?”
“Nope,” Dante says cheerfully. The grin on his face tells Vergil that this is on purpose. He knows how to get under his skin. “My place, my couch.”
He doesn’t want to talk about his maybe revelation from the morning. Vergil would rather die than do that. Poor choice of words, he thinks with an internal wince.
“Maybe later,” Vergil says eventually. He turns to the next page of the book, fully aware that he hadn’t absorbed a single word on the previous one. “I need to think.”
Dante seems to accept that answer, though he can see the man frown as he crosses his arms out of the corner of his eyes. The man isn’t stupid, as much as Vergil likes to tell him he is. An absurd man who gets on his nerves? Absolutely.
But never stupid.
“It’s later, you gonna spill?” Dante never knows when to give up, much to Vergil’s annoyance. “I’m assuming you’re not dying. You’re a stubborn jackass but you wouldn’t hide that.”
Vergil sighs. “It’s not life or death, no.” Technically. He’s thought about it all day. His irritability, the sickness in the mornings. And Vergil hasn’t told Dante, but he’s been waking up with various aches in his body. Every single thing is like it had been the first time.
All the signs point to there being a little life growing inside his belly as they speak.
He’d almost broken when Nero had come over earlier in the day. The way the kid regarded him carefully. Vergil couldn’t blame him, not after he’d taken his arm and done what he had.
But they’re getting there.
Dante scoots closer to Vergil, draping an arm over him, not quite pulling him in closer.
Dante’s skin is impossibly warm against his. It makes him suck in a breath, closing his eyes. Despite him pushing earlier, Dante doesn’t press him for an answer now. It’s just the two of them here in this room, facing each other. Vergil can take his time, he thinks.
Somehow Dante was good at that when he needed to be; making people feel comfortable and safe with him.
Vergil hates it, almost. Decides differently when he remembers that the man does care for him, despite years of thinking otherwise.
Inhaling, Vergil debates his next words. He’s already decided that Dante won’t be angry or upset. That man has too much love for those around him. It shows in his eyes now, the way he looks worried, his eyes roaming over Vergil’s face like he might figure it out on his own just by looking at him.
“I-” Vergil pauses, almost put off by the way Dante’s eyes seem to brighten. He hates this, he hates the simple act of telling someone what’s wrong. Not since he was a child has he done this. “As you know; I’ve been sick in the mornings.”
Dante nods slowly. To his credit, he doesn’t interrupt this time.
“There’s been a few more things, but,” Vergil trails off. His hand falls to his belly, where it still lays flat, the muscle there not betraying a thing about his theory. “It’s about the same as last time.”
“Last time?” Dante asks when Vergil doesn’t elaborate. His brow furrows.
Vergil’s voice just barely squeaks out his next words. “When I was pregnant with Nero.”
The silence that follows his words is thick. Dante stares back at him for a long moment, forcing Vergil to try and find anywhere to look but at him. It’s already a big thing to think about, him being pregnant. He can almost hear the gears turning in Dante’s skull.
“Wait, you mean-” Dante shoots upright, staring down at where Vergil’s hand rests over his belly. Like a baby bump might just spontaneously appear. There’s no evidence from his pregnancy with Nero, time and his healing powers combined hiding it all.
“Pregnant?” Dante says weakly. “You’re shitting me, right?”
Vergil huffs. “When have I ever actually lied to you lately?” He slaps at Dante’s shoulder. He should’ve known that Dante wouldn’t take him seriously. Doesn’t matter that the man is always balls deep in his cunt, he’s always so reckless-
“Yeah, no I get that I just. Pregnant?” Dante is echoing himself now. There’s a certain look on his face. “You’re sure?”
“I wouldn’t be telling you if I wasn’t,” Vergil says bitterly. The conversation isn’t going exactly how he wanted it to go. Dante wasn’t supposed to question it. The Dante in his mind had been excited, scooping him up and hugging him in excitement, even as Vergil protested it.
“Shit.”
“Yes.”
Dante looks shocked for a moment before his face morphs into something more akin to excitement. “I’m gonna be a dad?”
“Not if you keep this up,” Vergil mutters. He’s ready to kill his brother already. Shifting onto his back, Vergil stares up at the ceiling, his hand still resting where he’s sure their baby is. Dante’s hand hesitantly joins his as he lays down beside him.
“A baby,” Dante says. Eyes still wide, he thumbs at Vergil’s hand. It’s too damn soft for who they are.
Part of Vergil thinks they should be horrified. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t possibly enticed by the idea of getting a chance to be a parent. Even if it’s with his dumbass brother. There really isn’t anyone else he’d want to do this with, still.
“A baby,” Vergil agrees eventually, yelping when he’s suddenly pulled close. He bristles for a moment, indignant at the way Dante seems to be more handsy than usual. But eventually he melts against him, curling there.
It’s hard to remember that he’s allowed to let himself be cared for and held.
“God I love you,” Dante breathes out, his breath tickling at Vergil’s skin. He’s once again so damn hot against him, his entire being enveloping him, taking up his whole world.
Vergil lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. He hides his face against Dante’s bare chest.
“Love you too,” comes the muffled response.