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Dante once again found himself sitting at the bar, desperately in need of a drink to dull the emotions that were tearing him apart. His go-to cure for the old familiar pain of loss. He reached up for a bottle, not really looking at which one he grabbed and just poured a glass. The color and smell told him it was whiskey. He turned the bottle over and read the label.
“Damn.”
It was one of the expensive bottles, but the seal had been broken so might as well use it for what it was made for.
He downed the first glass in a quick gulp and poured another. Tonight hadn’t been bad, but breakups were always hard on him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it coming. Trauma bonding is never a good basis to start a relationship on, and with time they became emotionally dependent on each other in a bad way. He knew it couldn’t last, and so did Lady, but it was a nice comfort to have her in the months following Temen-ni-gru. They gave each other what the other needed, emotional closeness and comfort, but their relationship never truly developed past that. Had they met in a more normal situation it could have been better, healthy, but it seemed fate hadn’t seen fit to stop tormenting them them when the tower crumbled. It wasn’t enough for it to take his brother and her parents, it had taken this too.
The second drink burned as it went down. Lady had made him promise to not drink when he got home, but she had known it was a promise he couldn’t keep. And they both knew she would probably drown her sorrows the same way.
A third and a fourth glass and the light buzz of alcohol was finally setting in. Again, he cursed the waste of a good whiskey, but he couldn’t stop now.
Though he knew it was a bad idea, he tried to imagine what Vergil would say if he could see him like this.
“Some son of Sparda you are. You break up with a girl and you’re drowning your sorrows in alcohol. Pathetic.”
“You’re right, it is pathetic, but you had to go and get yourself killed leaving me with the pain of losing you again. Cut me some slack.”
Another glass went down and but the pain only grew.
“I miss you Verge.”
“Dante, put that back.”
“Aw, come on Vergil. Can’t we celebrate a job well done?” Dante put the bottle of whiskey and two glasses on the desk by the pizza boxes.
“Fine, but only one glass.”
While Vergil’s stoic demeanour could seem cold, but only because he had a very different way of showing that he cares. You just had to know what to look for.
Dante let himself fall into his trusty chair with a satisfied sigh.
“Not putting anything out for the women?” Vergil scolded.
“Nah, I think they’re celebrating on their own tonight. It’s their anniversary.”
“And Nero, Kyrie and Nico are on their way to Fortuna.” Vergil stated with a tiniest hint of disappointment in his voice.
Vergil had come into Nero’s life late with an unfortunate first introduction, but he literally went through hell to get back to his son, and he really tried his best to be a father for his boy. A part of Dante had worried Vergil would not be up for being a father, but when they had returned to the human world, Nero had tried to hand the poetry book back to his father, but Vergil had drawn him into a hug instead. A stiff and awkward hug, but a hug nonetheless. The sight had made all of Dante’s worries disappear.
“Fortuna is their home. If you wanted to see them more often, you could always move there.”
“And you could move to Vie de Marli to see Lucia more often, but we both know that is not going to happen.” Vergil countered. Be it verbal or sword sparring, he was always ready with one.
“I’ve grown too fond of this city to just up and leave, and the Protector clan is important to Lucia.” Dante said with a shrug. ”We see each other now and then, and we often talk on the phone.”
“Yes, I have seen the phone bill.”
“Ouch Verge—”
“I have told you to stop calling me that.”
“—It works for us. I’ll happily pay the phone bill to talk to her. And you should try calling Nero and Kyrie more often.”
“Yes, I should.” Vergil answered noncommittally.
They ate, and Dante noticed Vergil eyeing the bottle.
“It’s good right?” Dante grabbed the it and poured the two of them another glass before Vergil could stop him. “A toast, to us, to the others and a job well done.”
“Yes.” Vergil said, his voice said he was reluctant but Dante could tell he enjoyed it. “To my stupid younger brother, my son, and the others.” He clinked Dante’s glass with his own.
“And a job well done.”
“And a job well done.”