Work Text:
The bar smelled of stale draft beer and floor cleaner. It was barely two in the afternoon, so the place was empty except for the three of them in the corner booth. Dante sat with his scuffed red leather coat thrown over the back of the vinyl seat, his white hair messy from the ride over, a half-empty mug of cheap lager in his grip.
Leon sat across from him with his arms crossed, cool and unamused. Next to him, Danny was busy building a tower out of cardboard coasters, aggressively chewing on a plastic straw she’d stolen from the service station.
"Alright, let's have it," Leon leaned his elbows on the wood table. "You wanted to talk away from her, which means you either screwed up or you're about to ask for something. Did you total the bike again?"
"The bike's fine," Dante mumbled. He didn't look up from his beer, his thumb tracing the condensation on the glass. The usual lazy smirk was missing. He just stared at the wet wood of the table, looking uncharacteristically grounded. "But you two are about to be officially stuck with me. I'm locking it down. I'm buying her a ring."
Danny’s plastic straw shot straight out of her mouth. She let out a cackling shriek that made the bartender look up from his newspaper, slamming both hands onto the table. "I knew it! Is this a legal union or a hostage situation, Dante?"
Dante gave her a flat look, then turned back to Leon. "I’m getting the band this week. I'm telling you two because you're her blood, but I'm not here asking for a permission slip. It's happening."
Leon let out a short laugh, shaking his head as he looked at Dante's faded black shirt and the worn leather of his cuffs. "You're buying a ring. With what capital, Dante? Morrison told me your electric bill is three weeks past due. What are you proposing with? A Ring-Pop?"
"Hey, don't knock it," Danny chimed in, leaning over the table. "She’s so gone for him she’d say yes if he twisted a greasy pipe cleaner around her finger. She has zero standards when it comes to this giant idiot."
"I don't care," Leon's tone sharpened as he focused on Dante. "She deserves a real ring, Dante. A proper one. And we both know you don't have the cash for it right now."
Dante’s jaw tightened. He opened his mouth to make a defensive joke, but Leon cut him off by reaching into his jacket. He pulled out a clean bank card and slid it across the wood, letting it snap against Dante's beer mug.
"It’s a loan," Leon said. "No interest, but you pay me back the second your next major commission clears. Now finish your beer. We’re going across the street."
Ten minutes later, Dante was experiencing a level of pure panic he hadn't felt since his last trip to the underworld.
The jewelry store was silent, smelling of expensive department store perfume under the glare of the display lights. The clerk behind the counter took one look at Dante’s heavy riding boots and grease-stained sleeve and immediately braced herself. Dante stood in front of the cases with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, looking like a caged animal.
Danny pressed her face right against the glass, smudging the surface. "Look at these. Ugh, no, wait… Nevermind. Too boring."
Dante leaned down, squinting at a delicate band with a modest, clear stone. He looked at the white price tag hooked to the velvet pad and felt his stomach drop. "Jesus," he muttered, his voice a rough whisper. "Are those numbers real? Is that a phone number or a price?"
"Welcome to the real world, big guy," Leon murmured from behind his shoulder, enjoying the absolute agony on Dante's face.
Dante’s eyes bypassed the diamond displays entirely, wandering toward the back corner of the case where the colored gemstones were kept. His gaze stopped on a vintage, heavy platinum band. Set deep into the center of the metal was a raw, deep blood-red ruby. It wasn't flashy or delicate, but it looked solid. Heavy. It looked like something that could survive living in a shop full of weapons and daily chaos.
It was the exact shade of the coat he’d worn through decades of warfare. He pointed a finger at the glass. "That one."
Danny leaned in, squinting at the red stone before letting out a low hum of approval. She slapped Dante hard on the shoulder. "Oh, that is perfect. It looks like a drop of demon blood. She’s going to love it."
"It's corundum," Leon noted, leaning in to look at the stone's specs. "Second hardest stone next to a diamond. It won't scratch when she's dealing with your mess." He looked up at Dante, his expression finally softening. "Good choice."
Dante let out a long breath, his shoulders dropping as Leon handed the card to the clerk. Dante watched the small box get packed into a paper bag, a genuine smile breaking through his stress. He was broke, and he was officially in debt to his future brother-in-law, but looking at the red stone, he knew it was the best contract he’d ever signed.
The bag was tucked securely into the deep interior pocket of Dante’s coat as the three of them stepped back onto the damp pavement. The sky was getting darker, the air smelling of incoming rain. Dante stopped by his bike, pulling his coat up to his chin to protect the box from the mist.
"Alright," Leon nodded, sliding his hands into his pockets. "You have the ring. How are you actually going to do it? Please tell me you aren't just going to toss it at her across the kitchen table."
Dante shrugged one shoulder, his keys jingling. "I figured we'd get some pizza, watch a movie. I'll hand it over. Simple."
Danny let out a dramatic groan, throwing her head back. "Boring! Absolute trash. If you give my sister a ring over a greasy cardboard box, I am going to set your mattress on fire, Dante. She deserves a proper proposal. A story she can remember when she's old."
"I don't do stories, kid," Dante muttered, swinging his long leg over the seat of the motorcycle. "I do jobs."
"You're going to do this right," Leon agreed, his voice level but firm. "She’s been through a lot this year. She needs her family around her for this. Our mom needs to be there."
Danny’s eyes went wide, that familiar, feral grin spreading across her face. "Oh, I have it. We throw a get-together. A massive ruse. We tell her we're celebrating something completely stupid so she doesn't suspect anything."
Dante squinted at her through his bangs. "Like what?"
"I don't know, we'll tell her Nero won the lottery in Fortuna," Danny cackled, hopping from one foot to the other. "But everyone has to be there. Mom, obviously. Nero and Kyrie. We'll even make your creepy twin show up. When the timing is perfect, when she thinks it's just a regular, chaotic family dinner, you drop to one knee and you ask her. In front of everyone."
Dante stayed quiet for a long second, the mechanical thrum of the city traffic filling the silence. He looked down at the front of his coat where the small velvet box was resting against his chest. The idea of doing something so public made the back of his neck hot, but looking at Leon’s serious expression and Danny’s unhinged enthusiasm, he knew they were right. She deserved the noise. She deserved to have her people there to see it.
"Fine," Dante's voice dropped low as he gripped the throttle. "As long as Vergil doesn't stab Nero with a fork halfway through dinner."
The Devil May Cry office had been violently scrubbed down for the occasion. The old desks were pushed against the brick walls to make room for a long folding table loaded with aluminum trays of local barbecue, paper plates, and a galvanized tub full of ice and beer.
The lottery excuse was so flimsy you could see right through it—Nero didn't even buy tickets—but looking around the crowded room, you knew something much larger was off.
You leaned against the old jukebox, a paper plate of potato salad in your hand, watching Dante. He was standing by the pool table, talking to Leon. Usually, Dante would be leaning back, loud, laughing, and gesturing with a slice of pizza. Right now, his posture was rigid. He had his hands shoved so deep into his pockets that the leather was strained, and he’d been nursing the exact same bottle of dark ale for forty-five minutes. When he accidentally dropped a plastic bottle cap onto the floor, he jumped like a flash grenade had gone off.
Dante was terrified.
"Hey. Earth to bright eyes."
Nico’s voice cut through your thoughts. She stepped up beside you, exhaling a thick cloud of vanillin smoke from her electronic cigarette. "You're staring at the big guy like he's a suspect," she chuckled, though her eyes shot toward the pool table a little too quickly.
"He's hiding something," you said, lowering your voice as Trish and Lady drifted over. Trish was sipping a gin and tonic, looking effortless in her black leather, while Lady stood with her arms crossed, her mismatched eyes scanning the room. "Have any of you noticed how weird he’s being? He barely even touched the ribs. Leon asked him a question and Dante just blinked at him."
Trish let out a smooth laugh, her blue eyes gleaming with an amusement she wasn't quite hiding. "Maybe the old age is finally catching up to his brain cells."
"He's just got a lot on his plate," Lady added. Her voice was entirely too level. "Morrison’s been riding him about a big contract out east. Don't overthink it."
"Hell, darlin', he's probably just throwin' a silent tantrum because nobody bought strawberry sundaes," Nico chimed in. "Don't go sweatin' it."
You stared the three of them down. Nico was deflecting, Lady was being overly defensive, and Trish looked like she was watching a prime-time comedy special. They all knew something.
Before you could press them, a sharp silence radiated from the far corner of the room near the back exit. Vergil was sitting perfectly upright in Dante’s old leather desk chair, his arms crossed tightly. He looked like an aristocratic statue placed in a garage sale. And right in his personal space was Danny, leaning over the armrest, aggressively eating a celery stick right next to his ear.
"So, Verg," Danny sang out, her voice carrying across the room. "You're being real quiet over here. Real mysterious. You got a secret? Is it a crime? Did you commit a crime today?"
Vergil didn't turn his head. The muscle in his cheek was twitching. "If you do not remove your fruit from my immediate vicinity," his voice was seething hatred, "I will ensure you spend the remainder of this assembly looking for your fingers on the floor."
"It's a vegetable, Elsa," Danny snapped back, completely unbothered. She took another loud crunch of the celery, pointing the green stalk right at his chest. "And honestly, with an attitude like that? You really need to let it go. Blow off some steam."
From across the room, Nero let out a loud groan. Kyrie was right beside him, gently putting a hand on his arm to keep him from interfering. "Danny, leave Vergil the hell alone before he actually puts you through a wall," Nero called out.
Your mother was sitting alone on the vinyl couch, quietly sipping her tea, watching the chaos with a soft, knowing smile that only made you more suspicious.
You set your paper plate down on the jukebox, your patience officially wearing thin. You started walking directly toward the pool table.
Dante saw you coming. The panic that flashed through his eyes was instantaneous. He immediately looked at Leon for an escape route, but your brother just stepped back, crossed his arms, and gave him a single, merciless nod.
You stepped directly into his space, your feet stopping an inch from his. Without a word, you reached up and firmly pulled the condensation-slick beer bottle right out of his grip, setting it down hard on the edge of the pool table behind him.
"Cut the crap, Dante," you spat, your voice steady but unyielding. "You’ve been acting weird since before anyone got here. You haven't touched the food, you're jumping at shadows, and I know you're hiding something. What's going on?"
The shop went quiet. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the entire room had completely frozen. Nico’s vape was hovering inches from her mouth. Nero was staring openly from the folding table. Even Vergil had slowly turned his head away from Danny’s celery stick, his icy eyes fixed entirely on his twin.
Realizing you had an audience, you softened your posture. You shifted closer, lowering your voice to a private whisper, and reached out to wrap your fingers around his forearm. The leather of his coat was cool beneath your palm, but the muscle underneath was rigid as iron. "Hey," you murmured, looking into his eyes. "Talk to me. It’s not like you to be this way. Are you okay?"
Dante looked down at your hand on his sleeve. He reached into the deep pocket of his coat. His fingers wrapped around a small velvet box, and before you could process the movement, he took a slow, deliberate breath and let his knees hit the scuffed floor, looking up at you.
Your hands flew to your hips, your jaw tightening as a hot flush of defensive anger hit you. "Stand the hell up, Dante," You snapped, your voice cracking slightly in the quiet. "It's not funny. Cut the crap, seriously."
Dante didn't move. He didn't drop a punchline. He just held the box steady, his blue eyes fixed entirely on yours, completely bare.
The confirmation hit the room like a live wire.
Danny let out a piercing, unhinged shriek that cut through the office like a siren. She lunged sideways, grabbing a fistful of Nero’s hoodie and shaking him with enough force to rattle his teeth. "He's not joking! Oh my god, look at his face, the old man is actually doing it!"
"Get off me—Jesus, look out!" Nero shouted, stumbling backward under her weight until his hip hit the folding table. An aluminum tray of ribs groaned, sliding two inches and sloshing barbecue sauce over the paper cloth. Nico let out a loud, raspy holler, throwing her hands in the air and aggressively hammering her palm against the side of the jukebox until the glass buzzed. Even Lady's plastic cup hit the floor, ice cubes skittering in every direction as she and Trish started talking over each other.
The shop went from a tense freeze to a chaotic roar of cross-talk in less than three seconds. It was loud. Completely obscuring the man on the floor.
"Silence."
The word wasn't shouted. It was delivered in a tone that sliced through the noise like a razor blade.
The office went completely silent. Danny instantly froze in place, her hands still glued to Nero’s sleeve. Vergil slowly stood up from the leather desk chair in the corner, his posture straight as a spire.
"Hold your tongues," Vergil commanded, his voice level and smooth. "Every one of you is a mindless distraction. Let him finish."
Vergil shifted his gaze slightly, his eyes landing on you for a brief fraction of a second. The harsh, dismissive edge completely vanished from his expression, replaced by a quiet, solemn look of approval.
Dante cleared his throat, looking over at his twin. He gave Vergil a single nod of gratitude. The quiet in the shop was absolute now. You could hear the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.
Dante looked back to you, the velvet box resting between you both. He took a slow breath, his blue eyes entirely bare.
"I don't have a slick speech," Dante's voice scraped through the quiet. "My life is a mess, and it’s probably always going to be loud. But I don’t want a clean break anymore. I want to come back here, to this exact room, and know you’re waiting."
He popped the latch on the box. Under the neon lights of the shop, the blood-red ruby gleamed against the polished platinum band. It was heavy and dark.
"I want the house, I want the bills, and I want the quiet nights," Dante whispered, looking right up into your face. "I want all of it, as long as I'm coming home to you. Marry me."
Your eyes grew wide, staring at Dante. He was watching you with a soft, intensely worried expression.
A sudden, breathless laugh escaped your lips, a final tear spilling over your lashes as you stared at your wonderful, ridiculous future husband.
"Yes," you whispered, grinning through the wetness in your eyes as you squeezed his hands. "Yes, you insane man. Get up."
The shop absolutely exploded. Danny let out a sharp, cracked laugh, jumping clean over the back of the vinyl couch to throw her arms around your mother. Nico started barking with laughter, aggressively slapping her knee, while Lady and Trish (Lady having refilled her spilt drink) clinked their glasses together with matching, smug grins. Leon gave a crooked smirk, nodding at you and holding up his beer in a silent toast.
Dante let out a sigh of relief, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. He caught you by the waist and lifted you right off the floor, burying his face into the side of your neck as the chaotic noise of your family filled the room.