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Vergil could feel his brother’s gaze on him. It followed him when he had his back on him, it caressed his profile when he looked aside, and it lulled him to sleep when he closed his eyes.
At first, he thought it was suspicion. It’d be foolish of Dante not to keep a close eye on him after all, but those bright eyes that followed his movements and drank up his presence didn’t raise his guard. When Vergil challenged his brother with his own gaze Dante held it, the emotion flickering in his eyes light, almost curious. Like Dante was trying to puzzle something out, and Vergil wasn’t quite sure what.
“Thinking is so very uncharacteristic of you, brother.” Vergil finally breached the topic in the idle silence they sat in. His eyes were closed, his head resting at the lip of the tub he was relaxing in, but he could still feel his brother’s fleeting glances. Dante was sitting in the corner of the room, cleaning his sword slowly, methodically, but every so often his eyes darted towards Vergil.
Relaxing was not something that came easy to Vergil, especially not in this realm. Every so often he could feel the hairs on his nape raise, an uncaring gaze trained on him. He knew it was an illusion, nothing but tricks of the mind. But that primal part of him that coward like a wounded beast thought differently. The time after he fell from Temen-ni-gru was a blur he couldn’t quite remember, but it left claw marks across his psyche. The incisions ran deep and oozed with black nightmares.
A wry smile tugged at his lips. How very ironic. His misguided attempts to never be weak again had landed him squarely in the hands of the King of Hell, and he had smashed Vergil to pieces.
Well, maybe this little act of foolishness hadn't been prompted by self-preservation exactly. This one he had his arrogance to thank for. Perhaps he had a bit more in common with his brother than he was willing to admit?
“Yeah,” Dante’s voice was quiet, but Vergil still caught the notes of wry amusement. “I’ve been trying to shake the habit, but a guy can slip.”
Vergil looked at his brother. It wasn’t like Dante to agree with his jibe.
His twin didn’t meet his eyes and instead kept them firmly on the weapon he was working on. The blade gleamed, smooth and sharp now, catching the light of the fire that danced just a few steps away from where Vergil was lounging in the tub. They’d taken shelter in an abandoned manor in the demon world. Most of it was gone, destroyed by time, but the grounds held ancient magic. Whoever the owner had been, they had been powerful. Vergil could appreciate their strength in the remnants of magic imbibed in broken wards. It hadn’t taken much for him to restore them, giving Dante and him shelter from the elements of this realm. It should have been enough for him to relax and breathe.
“You should persist. Self-improvement is a worthy goal,” Vergil said, trying to keep his voice light.
“And here I thought you don’t believe in me,” Dante quipped back and Vergil frowned. He knew his brother was only jesting, but the very thought didn’t sit right with him.
“How can I not, brother, when I’ve seen your obstinacy? It truly is a force to be reckoned with.”
“Careful there, you make my heart flutter when you say sugary nonsense like that. Brother.”
Vergil’s breath hitched ever so slightly. Dante hadn’t left his side since their battle at the top of the Qliphoth, even beating him to the jump, ensuring they remained together. Since then, they’d fought side by side, sparred, quipped, reminisced, and Dante hadn’t stopped testing his boundaries. He’d been dancing around Vergil’s hard-fought walls, pushing, retreating, confirming the very solidity of him. Trust his brother to always greedily demand more.
What makes me human will keep my heart safe.
Vergil closed his eyes, resting his head back on the cold copper tub. It had taken splitting himself in two for the thought to crystallise, and yet, somehow, that had been the easy part. Actually, living by it was a whole different matter. It was only his determination that allowed him to silence what remained of his misguided convictions and reach out.
“You know better than anyone that blood and guts aren’t to my taste.”
It wasn’t really an answer to the unspoken question, but if Dante wanted to cross that particular line, he’d have to square up and chin up. Both things that had never been difficult for his brother, always full of bravado even if he ultimately fell flat on his behind.
“Are you telling me I stink, Verge? Because—” Dante stood up and sniffed himself theatrically. “Yeah. Maybe I do, but I was busy recovering from my brother bitch slapping me into oblivion for a month and exterminating the world’s thirstiest weed.”
Perhaps Dante had a point when he put the situation like that, but Vergil wasn't about to whip himself over this. Maybe for raising said thirstiest weed in the first place, but the memory of V sacrificing what little demonic power held him together to save the unfortunate souls caught in the city was still fresh in his memory.
“I suppose it is also my fault that your water bill wasn’t paid prior?” Vergil responded instead. Morrison had shared with him, with V, same difference, that particular detail and he wasn’t about to allow the full responsibility for his brother’s sorry state to sit squarely on his shoulders.
“It can be.” Dante replied lightly, taking a step closer. “How much baggage do you have time to unpack?”
That particular sentiment caught his attention, and Vergil finally opened his eyes to look at Dante. His brother was standing by the tub, a hand casually resting on the warm metal by his knee. Something warm slid through his veins as he realised they were still dancing around this particular line. He should have known that his brother wouldn’t let it go so easily. But Dante had gotten much better at covering himself, he had learned to hide behind an easy smile and a cracking joke. A shallow pond in the moonlight. The surface remained smooth and undisturbed while demons danced underneath.
For the first time Vergil found himself wondering, what monsters clawed at the back of his brother’s psyche?
“That depends, brother, what kind of comfort are you looking for?”
Dante grinned, a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Ah, maybe you’re right.” He said, paused, eyes fixed on Vergil’s. “Maybe blood and guts just sour the mood.”
Before he could respond Dante’s heavy coat hit the floor.
For a second Vergil stared, mouth ajar on the inhale.
“You’ll catch a fly, Verge.” Dante grinned, reaching back for his henley, and something smug coloured the edges of his smile.
The tip of Vergil’s tongue pressed against his teeth, ready to retort something cutting, but Dante chose that moment to pull on the well-worn fabric. It slid up and over his head, revealing a firm stomach and hard muscles.
The top joined the coat, but Vergil didn’t notice. He couldn’t look away from his brother’s insolent grin. Something soft and timid thrilled in the pit of his stomach. Something he had forgotten he could feel.
Maybe he wouldn’t mind crossing this particular line after all.
Then sheer surprise stole his voice.
‘I’ll go scrub.” Dante said, grabbing the bucket of hot water. “See if we can come up with something that’s more to your taste.”
Instead of staking his victory, Dante turned on his heels and left Vergil all alone. Left him with the final choice.
Vergil’s heart did something funny in his chest at the realisation. The brother Vergil remembered didn’t have the self-control to whet his appetite and leave him to chew over his desires. No, that Dante would be joining him in the tub right about now.
Vergil licked his lips at the thought. The crux of the matter was however, that he wouldn’t deny Dante. Not now, not back then. He never could.
The door creaked open, and Dante peered inside the room. Their eyes met, and held for a long second, before his brother could find his smooth bravado again.
He didn’t have to worry. Vergil already couldn’t look away. Not when water dripped down Dante’s neck and trickled down his chest. He had to refuse the urge to lick his lips. Dante made quite an appealing picture, casually strolling towards him, dripping wet and naked, safe for the sheet that he’d found in the bedroom, one of the few remaining rooms still standing. It framed his chest, guiding the eye lower, towards the hidden parts of him that Vergil suddenly wanted to unwrap.
“Is this acceptable, brother?” Dante asked, his lips stretching into a grin as he caught the unmissable spark of interest in his brother’s eyes.
“Better.” Vergil agreed easily. Dante had somehow managed to scrub away the smell of fresh death and stale sweat that had been clinging to him. Vergil could only smell warm clean skin and traces of sulphur. It’d take more than water to wash away the touch of the demonic world. “You’re going to get cold.”
“Awww,” Dante cooed, stepping closer. “Worried about me, Verge? I can sit by the fire.”
Vergil felt something wry tug at his lips. So it was his turn to square up and chin up? He supposed it was only fair.
“The water is still warm.” He found himself saying, the words rolling off his tongue surprisingly easy. The invitation unspoken, but clear.
Dante made a satisfied little noise at the back of his throat, crossing the rest of the distance between them, and sitting on the edge of the tub.
There it was again, that curious light in his brother’s eyes, as they caressed his face and slipped down to his mouth. The lines between Dante’s eyebrows deepened, taking them right back to where this conversation had started.
“I’m here.” Vergil reassured, shooting in the dark. His brother had always been easy to read, but whatever thought was playing between those ears, Vergil wasn’t privy to it.
“I know.” Dante exhaled, hand cupping Vergil’s face. “I just… this will take some getting used to, you know?”
He supposed you couldn’t rewrite decades in the span of weeks. It’d take longer than that for Dante to trust he wouldn’t disappear on a grim whim. Vergil couldn’t blame him. He was still finding his feet in his newfound resolve to be by his brother’s side.
It was easier than he could have ever imagined.
“I am here.” He repeated, leaning into the palm of his brother’s hand. “I am not going anywhere.”
“I’ll hold you to that, there’s no getting away from me anymore.” Dante said, fingers twitching against Vergil’s cheek.
“You’ll keep me forever then?” Vergil replied, and something in his chest quivered. He’d meant the words as a jest, but his uncertainty had coloured them with seriousness he hadn’t meant to betray.
“For as long as I breathe.” Dante swore and there was a look in his eyes that told Vergil this was a threat, not a promise. His heart revelled with shameless delight all the same.
“I’ll have to see to it then.” Vergil said airily, pulling back to lie in the warm water.
Dante laughed in giddy surprise at his response, sound echoing off the old stone walls. “Are you sure you’re not a succubus angling for a bite? Don’t get me wrong, my brother could charm the pants off anyone with unspoken suggestions, but he was never this warm, and you certainly don’t look like him.”
Vergil frowned at that last part, not quite understanding where his brother was going with in.
“You haven’t noticed yet, have you?”
Dante snorted at his confusion, and because his brother was always inclined towards chaos, he pulled the tray on which he had gathered oils for Vergil to use with mocking tenderness. The bottles clattered but landed safely on the chair underneath.
It took Vergil a moment to realise that he was supposed to look at the smooth surface presented to him. It took him even longer to realise that the face staring back at him was his own. For the first time it hit him that he hadn’t actually paused to look at himself since he merged back together.
He didn’t need to. He’d taken one look at Dante’s broad confident jaw, his straight nose, and that shiny forehead that made for a perfect practice target and hadn’t thought twice about it. The only thing that had crossed his mind was the familiar impulse to wipe the infuriating grin off those thin lips, one way or another.
But the face looking back at him was different. The jaw was narrower, the cheekbones higher and his mouth an entirely different shape. The sight should have shocked him, but this body of his had been broken down and reforged so many times that he’d forgotten his original shape. He’d forgotten what he looked like and twisted pieces of memories together in a disjointed puzzle that didn’t quite sum up.
It made sense he supposed, but that didn’t mean he could forgive himself the colour of the eyes staring back at him. Vergil reached out, pulling the lid up slightly, revealing more of the iris. It could easily be a trick of the light, a distortion of the metal, a—
“Hey!” Dante grabbed his hand and Vergil blinked blood away. His nails had elongated without his consent, breaking skin. “What do you think you’re doing?!”
“They’re wrong.” Vergil choked, closing his eyes in an irrational impulse to hide them.
His eyes were not the warm aquamarine currently staring at him with angry concern. Nor the brilliant green his mother had once smiled at him with. Instead, they were arctic cold and frigid grey. Eyes that used to look at him from old family portraits, heavy with expectation. Eyes that had defined not only his being, but his very destiny.
His father’s eyes.
Sparda’s eyes.
Vergil supposed he couldn't begrudge Lady Irony this final joke at his expense. Just when he'd finally given up on his fruitless quest for his father's heritage it caught up with him, branding him permanently, to never forget his misguided stupidity.
Warm fingers tapped at his chin, distracting him from his spiralling thoughts. “Look at me.” Dante said softly, and then again when Vergil took too long. “What? You’re never going to open your eyes again? Trust me to lead you through the demon world?”
Vergil snorted and had to fight the childish urge to do exactly that just to spite Dante, but the grown-up rational part of him knew his brother shouldn’t be trusted to lead a flock of sheep, let alone a sightless half-demon. “I believe that’s my job, Dante.”
“Well, you can’t do it with your eyes closed, can you?” His brother reprimanded gently, and Vergil was rewarded with a soft smile for opening his eyes. “That’s better, isn’t it?”
Dante cupped his face in both his hands, thumbs gently tracing Vergil’s cheekbones. Warm eyes slid down from his eyes, tracing his cheekbones, his nose, his mouth, and lingered. “This looks like you.” His brother murmured, one hand sliding into Vergil’s hair and he forgot how to breathe. Something gentle pierced through him at the soft acceptance of his sins. A paper-thin dagger that dug deep into his ribcage, hungry for his heart. “You look exactly like you’re supposed to.”
“I look like our father.” Vergil spit out, lips twisting at the sour taste of the admission. Trust his brother to bleed him with kindness.
“Our father?” Dante threw his head back and laughed Vergil’s pain down. “Well, congrats, you’ve finally cracked the code to daddy’s bag of goodies.”
Vergil opened his mouth to respond, but the hands that were so lovingly cupping his face suddenly pinched his cheeks hard and pulled. He yelped in surprise, body jerking, but Dante didn’t let go, instead squishing his face together.
Laughter erupted from his brother, loud and ringing. “I missed you, you know?” Dante admitted, finally letting go. Vergil couldn’t say he shared the sentiment right this second. “But this face, it’s not just our dad. I can see our mom in there as well, and if you don’t believe me there’s a living breathing proof upstairs. It’s the cheeks, and that mouth…” His brother’s eyes slid low, voice going lower.
“Narcissus meet Oedipus.” Vergil murmured, his voice catching in his throat under that warm gaze.
“I think we might have just escaped the narcissism allegations with this one, Verg.” Dante replied and then smiled that broad reassuring smile of his that he kept especially for Vergil. “You’re beautiful. You can’t change it. Gotta live with it.”
Vergil felt something approximating a smile tug at his own lips in response. His brother made it oh so difficult to wallow in his regret when he was looking at him like that, like Vergil was the beginning and the end of his world, and nothing he could ever do would break that unshakable bond.
It felt final. Permanent. Eternal.
Warm.
A feeling that Vergil wanted to wrap himself in and surrender his forever to.
He exhaled slowly.
This was new.
He’d rather have his only brother by his side.
V’s words echoed in his mind again, and he knew. He’d always known, deep down.
“I was such a fool.” The words fell off his lips, unbidden. But they were true. They’d lost so much time to his foolishness.
“Hey, you said it.”
Dante reached for him, but Vergil caught his wrist and pressed a soft kiss to the palm of his hand. “Forgive me.” He whispered. “Brother.”
“You make it so hard not to.” Dante responded after a moment, voice rough.
Soft fingers cupped his face again, and Vergil was yanked forward into a kiss that set him ablaze.