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It was hot.
Hair clung to my face and lips, a haphazard attempt to absorb the moister that threatened to fall below my brow.
Even Vergil, for all of his poise, was weighed by the wave that baked the room. Slicking his hair back- again- a huff escaped his nose while we both watch the stubborn silver strands fall back into his eyes.
None of it was fair if anyone asked me. Fortuna, despite all of its praise for its ‘diverse’ climate, was sickly humid year round.
After finally scrounging enough change for a decent room this time, I’d think we get a working AC. Something to combat the curling air and faint smell of mildew.
At least the shitty motel we just left had one. Even if the cursed thing spoke tongues over us as the night fell.
At the time, I thought it’d be funny to bet Vergil five dollars if it’d fall on us while we were sleeping. He didn’t take it but I don’t think he slept last night either.
“Hey V,”
“No,”
I squint at him, “I hadn’t even said anything.
Vergil never even cast a glance away from cleansing the demonic blade. Even if demon blood corroded away, he swore the dust still affected the Yamato.
Finally, he spoke. “You’re running out of money yes?”
Yeah,
“Then we cannot afford to go anywhere else.”
For all the statements simplicity, I couldn’t help the scowl that soured my features. I prop my head on my hand, all too over watching spots swirl in the yellowing ceiling. And instead, like a lost dog I find myself watching Vergil again, sitting crossed on the- sure to be scratchy- floor.
“I think the issue is that I am running out of money.”
It’s not like I had any validity to complain. I knew Vergil didn’t have anything either. Before we even traveled alongside each other, it was clear he’d come to the island with just that sword and the clothes on his back.
The kind of guy who can get by,
With just himself.
At least, he’s always been pretty clear about that.
I fall back onto the mattress.
“Hey,”
A strand of Vergil’s hair fell into his face, he didn’t move to fix it, or answer. So, I looked away. The constellations of the popcorn ceiling not lost upon the itch of under-stimulation.
“Since we’re both…you know, miserable in the heat and probably won’t sleep anyway,” I pause before continuing.
“Let’s… you know?”
Now, Vergil was a quiet man by all means. But never so frozen before.
Finally he looked up, and I could feel it. And he knew I could feel it.
That look. Not the ‘tempted by careless desire’ type of look, no.
The one that made me crack a smile.
The ‘Are you stupid?’ look.
Narrowed blue eyes and mouth agape trying to form something in between a question and an accusation.
And man, those blue eyes. Like a white snake trapped in ice, but that never fully described how ethereal they were to me.
“No- No I don’t know.”
“I’m not going to try to convince you. Just asking….” I glance away. “Since we’ve kissed before.” Right, the kiss.
Vergil shakes his head as if taken aback. He liked living in a reality where it never happened.
He takes a breath in, sheathing the katana. “You initiated it.”
“…”
Something in me pulled taut and I hated the way it seemed to ring in the room.
I turn away from him, the room too warm for me to comfortably pull up the blankets and hold myself the way I needed it.
“You’re right. Sorry.”
Silence breathed between us, but that was okay. Relief in the end of a conversation that didn’t know how to do anything else but dig.
Finally, Vergil spoke softly. “Are you okay with…Should we be sleeping in the same bed tonight?”
I wave him off with a laugh, “You make me sound like a pervert.” Though it landed quieter than I meant it to.
“It’s not like that.” For someone so stoic you can just hear the pout in his voice.
“I know, I know. Honestly? I’m okay so, whatever you want.” I did ask him after all. I feel like this conversation should be the other way around.
Turning slightly to gauge Vergils expression, he tilts his head, “I’m fine here.” standing from his spot on the floor.
I blink.
“Here, as in you’re sleeping on the floor?”
“In the bed.” Like it was obvious.
But it wasn’t. My lips quirk, “My bad. I’ll never ask for clarification again, my prince.”
He turned his nose up at the teasing which only proved my point. He was definitely a rich kid before all of…this.
Vergil slid off his coat like he had nothing to show for it but- if I hadn’t suggested anything earlier, I would’ve now.
Of course he had defined arms, all the man did was fight and train and fight again.
Resting my head on my fist, I watch him gently fold his coat. The shuffle of cloth a temporary reprieve from the endless hum of what ever electricity managed to crawl up our room. The flickering light could only be noticed on the divots of his pale skin and the stark shadows of his features. The only proof I wasn’t imaging the sound.
I turn the lights off.
Unlike the coat, he’d never leave the yamato behind. Vergil taking it with him as he saunters towards the bed.
I never expected the thing to leave his side in the first place. I like to think of it like a teddy bear, definitely not cute and snuggly, but at least Vergil no longer uses it to divide what ever sleeping quarters we had to share over our travels.
Instead, placing it beside the wall on his side before- well, he didn’t slide under the covers. It was too hot for that.
He just laid on top of the sheets, and turned away.
But he was awake.
And of course I was awake too. Every breath I took felt stolen by the feverish air, too heavy and never enough.
The dip in the bed, the quiet rise and fall, the disgusting addition of his own sickly heat near pressed against my back which I didn’t hate, but was actively suffocating from.
…
“I wasn’t joking…earlier. By the way.”
Watching the dark sky bleed between the cracks of the blinds.
I felt him shift in the bed but he never turned.
“I know.”
That should’ve ended it, I thought. Even if I didn’t sleep, I could lay here beside him with the little space between us, and watch the sun crawl through the room. Hoping, that would be enough.
But the silence that weighed on us wasn’t the biting frost from earlier. The one I pretended it to be.
Like everything else in this damned motel, it was warm, it was uncomfortable, but it lived in my blood and weighed on my bones.
And it was waiting.
“Can you tell me no, then?” Please.
His breath hitched, before trying to hide in the fall of his normal rhythm- but I heard it.
And he knows that too.
“If you’re doing this because you’re tired, or hot, or trying to distract yourself…then don’t.”
I turn, expecting to see Vergil’s back.
My eyes widen, he’s covering his face with his hands. A man on the brink of exhaustion.
He lays on his back as I can trace the taut in his shoulders, the rise and fall of his chest.
“I’m not.” My pulse stutters.
I reach out.
My hand rest softly on his arm despite any sense screaming at me to turn back, forget about it, go to sleep.
…
“My hands are sweaty.”
He doesn’t move, not from the touch, or the confession.
“The room’s hot.” He answers simply.
I let my hand weigh on his arm, shuffling on my knees to understand this- thing that felt too close to a blades edge.
Sliding my touch down to his palm, I peel it away from his expression.
It was easy to watch those white brows knit together. How he pressed his lips in a line, a sigh escaping his nose.
I press his hand in the sheets, he lets the other fall to his side in an almost begrudging manner I would’ve laughed at if it weren’t for the expecting silence between us.
“Can I…” But the question keeps falling from my mouth, even as he threads his fingers in my hair, tugging me down with him. “Kiss you?”
It was always too late.
There wasn’t any preamble. No soft presses asking for entrance. No, we already knew what that felt like, what we wanted.
And he pulls me in closer like a cord unraveled. Tasting him on my lips, pressed against my tongue, again. Making me yearn for something I never had but almost grasped once.
My other hand presses his side into the bed, practically pinning him, the pressure deepening as I straddle his hips.
The way his deft fingers flexed, entangled, pawing at my scalp. Heat threatens to prickle at my skin but neither of us pull away.
The only air I could tolerate in this forsaken room, I gasp in the kiss, letting my hand thread with his own.
The room was hot. So disgustingly hot, and Vergil pulled his hand away.
I break the kiss. Confused.
My palm echoing with the loss of contact. I lift my gaze to his, searching.
His blue eyes flicked over my own features. His gaze so much like a blizzard, I couldn’t see past the storm.
“Vergil,”
Should it have mattered? Should I have cared?
His breath shakes below me. Finally, “I don’t know how to give this-“
“Do you want this?” I cut him off.
Not cold, not cruel, not even hurt. I can’t be hurt.
“You’re making a mistake,” Vergil cups his hands on my waist, the way one would hold porcelain or glass. But, I can’t read that either.
I let out a sigh, “Talk to me.”
I feel his chest rise in a deep inhale, but I don’t move away. I don’t- I don’t think he wants me to.
“I can’t be-“
“I can’t need this.” He finally finishes.
And the words ring in my ears. My lips press in a thin line, hoping this wasn’t what makes the world stop.
“Right,” I click. “It’s too human for you.” I softly brace my hands against his chest, ready to drag myself off of him.
Vergils grasp tenses, holding me down sternly.
I blink, turning back to face him.
“You’re misunderstanding me,”
Opening my mouth to correct him, he silences any words with my name. His eyes flickering with something like fear and frustration, but holding onto something I just can’t understand.
His hands still hold my waist too hesitant to be firm now, too scared to let go.
“Ok.“ My hands weigh on his chest in absent thought. Eyes trailing the repeating pattern on his vest.
“This isn’t a surrender,” My words more tentative than I want. “For either of us.”
He doesn’t respond, just breathes below my palms. He doesn’t have to.
“I’m not asking you to give yourself to me, to fall apart just- be here I guess-“ That wasn’t right was it? I try again.
“Be here, right where and how you are now.”
Because I can’t ask to be Vergils first choice. Not for commitment, or something to hold onto.
But, I can ask to be by him as is. And I think thats all I wanted anyway.
His calloused palms, pressing against my skin- I didn’t even realize he slipped his hands under my shirt.
Or maybe I did.
Here I was asking the guy to take me, but as soon as he moves I’m stuck frozen. Ears red, trying not to shudder as he traced lines of smoke up my rib cage.
And unclasped my bra.
Vergil was an ass for that. He knew how to hold his hands there, let the action echo in the stage made of sickly heat, a too-small room, and us.
Waiting, watching. He won’t ask me but he is.
I exhale, curling my shirt up and over my shoulders. It was no relief to the heat, if anything Vergil’s gaze prickled at my skin. His hands whispering up my sides.
It was easy for me to sneak my fingers under his vest, unclasping each button until he had to drag his own touch away to shuffle it off.
The dim buzzing light that shun through the tattered blinds drew lines across his defined chest. An expanse I pushed back down- and how he just followed with the feint brush of my hand against his heart makes my stomach curl.
In another time he was a god to me, the son of Sparda. The give of his lips could list off acts of divinities but now, below my tounge was the pulse of a man.
Then I understood, Fortuna doesn’t change people. Like a festering wound the island prods at exposed flesh.
And Vergil Sparda was always this human.