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Rasp. Purr. Rasp. Purr.
More quiet rasping. More quiet purring.
A shuffle of a blanket, a squeak from a very baby demon. A responding grunt from another very baby demon. More shuffling as the grubs (the very baby grubs) fought for leverage over the others fat little body. Rumbles of protest as the elder managed to wrangle the younger to lay somewhat under him, what with both his arm and leg thrown over his twin, and his stupidly pudgy hand tangled in downy white fuzz growing faster than his own.
That’s how Eva found them. A deceptively cute mess of limbs and blanket and tiny pink tongues grooming each other the same way Sparda always did to them.
(The first time Eva had caught Sparda doing this, she had a fleeting thought that she would genuinely burst into flames at the sight.
Sparda, the big bad Sparda, the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda, that one, with two infants held close to his chest and propped up on a chair with bent knees, was dragging his tongue over their faces in languid strokes. A low croon to his nestlings in his throat, chasing their twisted expressions and holding them gently by the back of their heads so he could clean them as thoroughly as he saw fit.
“What are you doing?” Eva had asked after a moment of silence. Her heart absolutely throbbed with fondness which only grew stronger with each weak chirrup and click from her babies.
Sparda grumbled his reply in Abyssal, a little broken from the interrupting croon and flick of his tongue. All Eva really caught of it was what she thought translated to “Nestlings clean,” and “Teach, for strength.”
For all Eva’s knowledge on demons, this topic had left her stumped for a long few weeks. Sparda contributed nothing except confusing her more in this time.
Her eventual conclusion was that demons were cats. Just bigger, scarier, and maybe a little bit meaner.)
This rang true on a number of occasions. Like right now. Especially right now.
While Vergil mussed with the lanugo on Dante’s head, Dante made peace with licking at Vergil's neck. An exchange of scents, of cleaning, of bonding.
…Sort of. Eva would say Dante was more drooling onto his brother then letting it slide down onto the mattress beneath them and then, belatedly, licking his neck as opposed to cleaning. But Vergil didn't seem to mind.
She couldn't help but coo softly, taking deliberately quiet steps towards the cot. After a few moments of watching and listening to baby babble, she reached down and gently pried the blanket -which had somehow migrated to almost engulf Vergil's head- away from the infant's nose to prevent. You know. Death. By asphyxiation. As much as the tots annoyed her with their screaming and their tantrums and their sleepless nights she’d rather keep them alive and well.
Sparda wouldn't take kindly to finding out she'd allow death to befall his “Heirs” either. That was also a reason. A very good reason.
“Sorry, little one.” She said, hushed and honeyed, as Vergil scrunched his nose and ceased his grooming at the disruption. A quick rush of air from his nose told Eva the little bugger had just hissed at her. Or tried to. He hadn't learned how to be big and scary with it yet. She doubts he ever will.
His stubby arms clutched Dante again with all his newborn strength and Eva had to keep herself from squealing at the sight.
“I won't take him,” she continued, voice light and airy as she reached in again to gently run the back of her pointer finger over her oldest sons smooth cheek. “Just moving your cover. Need to breathe properly, hm? Keep you safe.”
Fussy little thing. He relaxed after a minute and gave one last lick to Dante's head before shifting, letting go of the snowy hair of his brothers, and cooing up at Eva. Big blue eyes met soft green.
“What is it, sweetheart?” Eva was crouched next to the cot, now, looking through the small gaps in the side. She pushed a finger in to tickle Vergil's side and elicit a high squeal and giggle.
Vergil, in true baby fashion, gurgled up at her. He unwrapped himself from Dante and held his arms as high as he could manage towards his mother. A very pathetic whine sounded from him and Eva could do nothing but picture him as a helpless kitten mewing for attention.
Dante stirred at the loss of warmth from his twins arms around his body, keening low and disgruntled at the boy. His little face was nothing but a moue of annoyance.
Vergil gurgled again, louder this time. Hungry.
Dante keened again, more upset this time. Colder.
They both got what they wanted, in the end. Eva fed Vergil and tucked Dante back under his fluffy blanket. Then, she sat Vergil back with her other little devil, and watched them both curl close again.
—-
Dante had been crying for the better part of an hour now.
Vergil, ever the sympathetic brother, was seriously considering mushing the heel of his shoe into his twins nose to shut him up.
Maybe stuff his mouth full of olives so he couldn’t talk, either, while he was at it.
But it was his own fault! Dante knew he shouldn’t have been out hunting birds and squirrels and scavenging for the biggest loot to bring back! Eva wasn’t particularly fond of the mud and various sticks he trailed through the mansions hallways and as supportive as Sparda was towards their demonic instincts, he’d told them on multiple occasions to stop hunting the wildlife. It was becoming a really bad habit.
Sparda had lectured them about it more than a dozen times by now. Vergil had almost memorised it word for word, since the old demon never freaking changed how he said it. And, just to add to Dante's chagrin, he'd repeat it back to the younger cambion every time he caught him chasing a small animal when they were outside.
Vergil was very tempted to go and rehearse this to Dante as soon as possible given the reason he was crying. But…
Something in the back of Vergil's mind niggled, looming behind the thoughts of Dante being a silly fool. A feeling– no, an instinct he didn’t fully understand, vying for his attention. He didn’t understand why it was there, what purpose it served, only that it wanted Dante to cease his weeping and for Vergil to be the one to soothe his kins distress.
So that's how he ended up on the wardrobe floor beside his twin, tongue pulling over Dante’s long white hair, with his little brother tucked safely between his spread legs. His chest rumbled with a purr that sounded more like a faulty car engine than anything.
(Vergil had asked Sparda, once, why he and Dante didn’t purr the same deep and throaty way he did. Apparently it’s because they were half human, meaning they had a more limited vocal range. Their voice boxes were different and their laryngeal muscles just.. Didn’t cooperate with certain things.
It’s also why they couldn’t speak Abyssal properly. Not that they couldn’t speak it at all, but their pronunciation of some dialects were way off. They couldn’t create the right sounds- purrs, chirps, clicks.
(This was especially true for Vergil. He didn’t understand what would yet come of it, but even now at his big age of 7, it annoyed him how Dante excelled in demon speak more than he.))
Dante was chirping softly up at him, holding one of Vergil's arms to his chest. His hearty cries had since turned to the occasional whimper and sharp inhale . The sounds he made vaguely reminded Vergil of the hedgehogs he’d found and recorded with Father’s ancient camera one time. They squeaked the same way. He mentally filed away that information for another time.
“Are you done?” Vergil had asked, pulling back from Dante’s head. He brought his free hand up to remove one of the hairs that’d gotten stuck on his tongue during the grooming. It wasn’t as gross as it usually was– his twins hair was soft and fluffy for a change, freshly washed. The only way Vergil ever actually, willingly went to share tongues with his brother.
A sniffle answered him. And then Dante wiped his runny nose with his sleeve like a witless moron.
…Welp, Vergil's instincts weren’t screaming at him anymore. And that was disgusting. He wouldn’t condone the possibility of being slimed on by a bogey-streaked clothing item.
“Grody, brother.” Vergil would be lying if he said he hadn’t been itching for a reason to use that word out loud ever since he found it in one of his books.
A push forward, and Vergil removed himself from the position he was in behind Dante. He sneered in thinly veiled disgust at his younger brother and the snotty mess of a halfbreed stared right back.
“Stop using big words. Doesn’t make you look smart.” Came Dante’s very witty response. His voice was a bit wet but he didn’t look like he was going to cry again, so Vergil counted that as him attending to big brother duties as he should have and, more importantly, with success.
“You’re just stupid.”
“No I’m not! You’re just bein’ a big nerd with all your big nerd words!”
And for that, Dante got kicked in the side as Vergil strode past.
For that, Vergil got tripped as Dante grabbed one of his ankles and yanked it back as hard as he could.
..And for all of that, after it had escalated into a tussle that shed more than a few drops of blood over the carpet, they both got yelled at by Eva.