Work Text:
Devil May Cry is my go-to place whenever I have spare time. I like the atmosphere there: the stuffy studio apartment feel, the antique jukebox tucked away with some drum and guitar, and just how, overall, times seem to go by faster whenever I’m there.
And it’s definitely not because of Dante.
The double door of the shop closes with a loud thud behind me, and I adjust the goggles resting on top of my head as the change to the warmer temperature washes over. Mhm, that's just another thing that always makes me come back here.
“Hey, Babe. Long time no see.”
That white-haired man sitting in the middle of the room grins and looks up at me from whatever he was doing.
“We met yesterday. Stop trying to act cool.” I roll my eyes and sit down on the table that his chair is in front of, looking down at the pizza he has sitting out in the open. “Pepperoni?”
He just nods as he puts his feet on the table, resting them right beside my hips. “Before you ask about any demons, unfortunately for you, still no call today.” Dante glances at the silent rotary phone on the table. “Buuut if I ever have something, I’ll tell you first,” he pauses for a second deliberately, and I raise my eyebrow, “after all, you’re my only babe.”
Damn it. I try not to let his mushy, cheesy words affect me, but I still feel the heat rising on my nape. We’re only friends—well, friends with benefits—and the thought of him actually putting meaning behind those words sends shivers up my spine, and I don’t know if it’s the good or the bad kind.
“Yuck,” I jeer half-jokingly and roll my eyes. “One of these days, I’ll stop coming over if you keep doing that.”
But he doesn’t look perturbed even for a second, preferring to bite back with a flash of a grin.
“Oh? You really want to escape from our lovey-dovey time, Sweetheart~?”
The heat now rises to my cheeks as I suddenly remember our last time. I ignore him to grab a slice of pizza before munching on it without saying anything, and that only seems to amuse him more. Dante stands up from his chair and throws a glance back at me, his eyes glimmering.
“Well, let’s just chill a bit,” he said, “I’ll turn on the jukebox.”
As he walks off to the machine on the side of the room, I huff in annoyance. I often come to Devil May Cry when I have free time. Sometimes for the food, sometimes for the atmosphere, sometimes for the music, but never for Dante. Definitely not .