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“My whole life—I dedicated my entire fucking life to protecting this city and these people! Is it too much to ask for a little kindness from them?” Dante barked out, slamming a hand down on his desk. His voice was loud in the otherwise silent shop.
Nero kept quiet as his uncle continued, not wanting to be a part of his little meltdown or whatever it was he was witnessing. So he sat on the old leather couch and mindlessly played some video game, the controller in his hand barely fucking worked but hey, he’d make do.
Patty had been visiting not too long ago, coming without letting her mother know beforehand, causing a very upset Nina to drop by and give her daughter an earful. As well as throw the devil hunter a few annoyed remarks, mostly stuff about being irresponsible.
Dante probably should’ve checked in with Nina before letting her daughter come over, but he wasn’t thrilled at the idea of enduring a tense and awful conversation with the woman. And how was he supposed to know Patty didn’t tell her she was going there? The older Lowell was overly cautious of Dante’s very existence, which he knew why, he was a half-devil after all. But he had never wanted anything but safety and happiness for the young blonde girl, treating her as though she were his own nestling.
Why couldn’t the older Lowell understand that? Her side eyes and snide comments were unwarranted and just plain rude as well.
Nero wasn’t surprised his uncle was pissed, but he never really said it out loud until now. Maybe that’s why the younger hunter merely tuned out the older one, his uncle never talked about his feelings or anything. This situation was uncharted territory for the young quarter-devil.
“She always looks at me like she wants to throw her drink in my face, but all I’ve ever done was help her!” His words slurred a little, he wasn’t necessarily hammered but by no means was he sober. More often than not lately he was a little inebriated, or very inebriated.
The younger was displeased with his uncle's booze dependency, but why should he have to lecture a grown ass man on something like that?
“How many more times do I have to get fuckin’ crucified before she treats me like I'm not going to murder her daughter?” He paused to laugh dryly before adding; “It's surprising she even lets Patty come the few times she does.”
“Hmm.” Nero hummed non-committally, only half listening. He grimaced as his character died for maybe the fifth time now.
Deciding the game was no longer enjoyable and he was bored, the quarter-devil hauled himself up from the couch. Crossing the office to his uncle who was currently sitting in his desk chair, feet kicked up on the desk and head leaning back. His hand, hanging over the side of the chair, still gripped a half empty whiskey bottle.
The younger of the two came up beside the desk and glanced down, a few more bottles littered the floor by the older. His expression shifted to one of slight annoyance with a click of his tongue.
“Alright, that's enough of that. I don't feel like dragging your wasted ass up the stairs.” He scolded lightly, reaching down to pry the liquor from the half-devil’s hand.
“No, no it's fine. Just lemme finish this one.” Dante drawled out, his speech noticeably more muddled and slow. His hand moving sluggishly to avoid Nero’s.
“Give me the damn bottle Dante.” He grumbled. His patience was usually short, but even more so with his uncle. Not to mention when he's drunk out of his mind as well.
“Since when were you so responsible?” The older asked with a quirk of his brow and a playful smile.
“Since I got to my lazy uncle's house and now have to be the responsible one since he won’t.” Nero glared down, his pupils thinning to an almost slit shape.
Dante’s smirk fell away and he glanced down, Nero took the chance and snatched the bottle away. The older one didn’t say anything.
Deciding that going upstairs would be too much of a hassle, Nero dragged his uncle to the couch instead. The half-devil collapsed onto the cushions with a thud and a quiet grunt.
“Go to sleep.” The younger hunter instructed, throwing a blanket he found on the floor over the couch. It probably wasn’t clean, but you’d be lucky to find anything clean in the shop.
Nero leaned against the back of the couch while Dante adjusted his position to be more comfortable, he debated if he should say something to the intoxicated man. After a long stretch of silence, it was the older hunter who spoke first.
“I’m sorry.” His words were slurred but also tinged with sadness.
“For?” Nero questioned, raising an eyebrow.
“Complaining, and making you deal with me when I drink.” Dante dragged a hand down his face tiredly, eyes growing heavy.
“It’s fine.” The other replied dryly.
“It’s not though, you’re a kid and I’m supposed to be the adult here. I shouldn’t be whining about shit like this to you.” He paused, gaze drifting up and eventually landing on the ceiling fan. Watching it spin around and around as his inebriated brain tried to form complete sentences. “Besides, I shouldn’t complain about it at all. I get why Nina pretty much despises me, I’m a demon. I’m dangerous and she just wants her kid to be safe. Patty would probably be a lot better off if she stopped visiting me, she could focus on school and being with her mom.”
Nero sighed, watching his uncle ramble on with slurred speech. They never really talked like this, the half-devil would normally rather get stabbed again than admit his issues, and his nephew wasn’t a whole lot better. But with alcohol loosening his tongue and a lot of pent-up annoyance, it just seemed to flood out tonight.
“She might be, but she would also miss you a whole lot.” Nero said with a mostly flat tone, he’s never been the best at comforting people, but he figured he should at least say something.
“She’d get over it, she’s barely known me for a full year.” Dante draped an arm over his eyes and yawned. “I’m so sick and tired of all of this.”
Silence enveloped the room once again, Nero watched as Dante visibly grew more sleepy. His body going mostly lax and his face softening, eyes still covered by his arm. With a deep exhale, Nero pushed himself off the back of the couch and turned the shop’s lights off, pausing at the bottom of the stairs to speak one last time.
“Just get some sleep, Dante.” He muttered. Then strode quickly up the steps to go sleep in the spare bedroom.
° ° °
When dawn broke the next morning and Nero made his way into the kitchen for some coffee, he found his uncle getting a glass of water and likely dealing with a shitty headache. He certainly looked like he wasn’t feeling great, messy hair and tired expression clearly visible in the light.
But neither spoke about the previous night’s conversation, Dante’s ramblings and drunken admissions were not something either wanted to bring up. So instead, it would stay as a memory of a moment of vulnerability that only the quarter-devil and his uncle knew of.