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Bright summer sunlight streamed through the windows of Devil May Cry, making Dante squint. Sprawled across the couch by the window, he lazily rolled onto his side and buried his face in Vergil's brand new pale blue robe, giving it a content little nuzzle. Well, to be more accurate, this was the robe he'd secretly slipped into the shopping cart while Vergil had been filling it with nothing but navy blue and black clothes. Maybe the sun in the Underworld couldn't tan people, or maybe Vergil had simply spent twenty fewer years under the sun than he had. Either way, his twin brother's skin was noticeably fairer, and just like Dante had imagined, pale blue looked ridiculously good on him.
"Keep squirming and you're going to end up on the floor." Without so much as changing his expression, Vergil lightly rapped the thick hardcover resting in his hands against the white head in his lap. The solid thunk of the book and Dante's muffled grunt sounded at the same time. Still absorbed in his reading, Vergil spared one second wondering whether his idiot little brother's skull was empty or full of water.
The harmless little knock suddenly gave the bored Dante an idea. He sat bolt upright, nudged aside the arm holding Vergil's book, and met the increasingly unimpressed stare across from him. "Verg, let's switch places. How about you sit on me and read? Like when we were kids."
Vergil let out a quiet, frosty chuckle. "When exactly did I ever sit on you to read?"
"I'm one hundred percent sure you did," Dante replied with a shameless grin, still comfortably planted in Vergil's lap.
The next second, a blue Summoned Sword punched through Dante's dark gray T-shirt and the old circular dartboard behind it, pinning him neatly to the opposite wall. Bull's-eye.
"I'm not you." Vergil calmly turned another page. The dartboard's tiny hook and the thin gray fabric clearly weren't designed to support a six-foot-three half-demon, so with perfect timing, Dante crashed onto the floor the moment Vergil finished flipping the page.
"I swear it happened... I think it was Halloween," Dante muttered as he reached behind his back, fumbling with the dartboard stuck to him like a turtle shell. After struggling for a while without any luck, he gave up and peeled off his shirt instead. Vergil glanced up, his gaze lingering on Dante's well-built chest for a brief moment, unconsciously recalling just how nice it felt to touch, before lowering his eyes back to his book.
"Unless you want me spending every last cent we've got on new clothes, Verg," Dante said, holding up the poor T-shirt now decorated with a glowing blue sword and an ancient dartboard riddled with holes. It looked so artistically destroyed it probably belonged in one of Patty's fashion magazines. "I'm pretty sure this was my last T-shirt, so maybe don't do that again."
"Then perhaps you should learn how to mend your clothes," Vergil replied without looking up, "or make yourself useful and take a few more jobs that actually pay." He placed unmistakable emphasis on actually pay.
"All right, all right. I'm going." Dante casually tossed the ruined shirt onto the weapon rack as he headed upstairs. "Hey, wanna come to the amusement park with your little brother? The client's getting us in for free."
"No. You'll be back for dinner?" Vergil asked without lifting his eyes from the page.
Halfway up the stairs, Dante leaned over the railing with a grin bright enough to light the room. "Yep. Haven't met anybody who's got what it takes to stop me from having dinner with His Majesty the Demon King."
His Majesty the Demon King shifted through several positions on the couch until the sunlight spilling across the pages turned from bright gold to warm orange. Only then did he graciously set his book aside, head into the kitchen, tie on the utterly stupid strawberry-print apron, and attempt the sixty-fifth recipe in his cookbook. Whether half-demons could actually get fat from too many calories was anyone's guess, but retired Demon King Vergil had no intention of letting his little brother eat pizza every day until he turned into a pudgy middle-aged man. By now, his cooking was almost on par with the girlfriend of the son he had an admittedly awkward relationship with.
Vergil carried two steaming plates, creamy clam pasta and shrimp in red wine tomato sauce, over to the new dining table. The old pool table had been pushed into a corner to make room for it. Dante hadn't complained in the slightest. Compared to playing pool by himself, he much preferred sprawling all over the brother he'd finally gotten back after more than twenty years apart. Just as Vergil finished setting out the cutlery, the front door of the shop swung open with impeccable timing, as if someone had deliberately waited until dinner was ready to avoid helping in the kitchen. But instead of the Dante who had gone out wearing Vergil's clothes on purpose, what greeted him was an enormous fluffy white bear radiating pure idiocy. More specifically, it was his idiot little brother in a white bear mascot suit.
"Hey, Verg. Look. Remember now?" The scruffy middle-aged man cheerfully waved a giant bear paw, then casually pulled out a chair and plopped down at the table, his big round fuzzy bear butt completely swallowing the elegant vintage leather chair beneath him.
"That thing isn't going to fit in the washing machine. Take it off before you eat." Vergil stared for a moment at the enormous bear head topped with a pink ribbon before the corners of his mouth betrayed him with the faintest smile. "Don't tell me this is what you got paid after wasting an entire day."
"Course not. It's the free work uniform. Gets dirty, you just throw it away." Dante propped up the bear's oversized chin with one fluffy paw, leaned across the table, and gazed lovingly into Vergil's half-lidded eyes. "I'm just a poor little bear who doesn't know how to use forks or knives. Baby Verg's gotta feed me."
"Then don't eat. You can starve until you learn how to use utensils, foolish bear." Vergil lifted one long leg and gave Dante a firm kick in the knee. It felt about as satisfying as kicking a giant pillow. Dante rocked backward from the impact, caught hold of the oversized bear head, and wobbled upright again.
"I remembered right. It was Halloween when we were six." Dante pulled off the mascot head and the bear paws, tossing them onto the couch and revealing a mess of sweat-soaked white hair. "Mom bought us two white bear suits just like this one. You refused to wear yours and insisted on cutting eyeholes into a bedsheet so you could be a ghost. My bedsheet, by the way. You were such a little menace."
"And you refused to wear anything else for an entire week. Father ended up giving you quite the lecture." Vergil took the seat across from him.
"That's not the point. The point is, you spent that whole week sitting in my lap while you read. You obviously loved it when I wore it." Looking thoroughly pleased with himself, Dante speared a shrimp with his fork, popped it into his mouth, and kept talking around it.
"Hmph. I was leaning against you, not sitting on you. Stop making things up." Vergil snorted.
Seeing Vergil in a good mood, Dante got up, put a record on the turntable, then sat back down. Soft, sultry jazz drifted across the dining room as the two of them chatted lazily about their childhood, one memory leading to another, until both plates were empty. Dante eventually wandered over to the couch, slid down onto the floor with his back against it, spread his arms wide, tilted his head back, and looked up at Vergil expectantly.
"You should be washing the dishes." Looking down at the oversized lump of Dante on the floor, Vergil picked up a napkin and elegantly dabbed at the corners of his mouth.
"Come on, Verg. The mood's perfect." Dante pulled the bear paws and mascot head back on, then patted his fluffy chest. "I'll do the dishes later. C'mere."
Vergil stood there in silence for a moment before walking over. He picked up the book lying on the couch, sat down with his back to Dante, and leaned against him, sinking comfortably into the thick white fur. Resting the book across his knees, his entire posture relaxed. As long as I ignore the fact that this bear smells like cream sauce and tomatoes, this isn't bad at all, he thought, turning another page. After a while, he let himself slide down a little farther until his head came to rest against the bear's soft chest.
A deeply satisfied smile spread across Dante's face. He rested his cheek against the back of Vergil's head, his restless bear paws wrapping around Vergil's firm waist over the pale blue robe. The words on the page slowly dissolved into cheerful, dancing gibberish before his eyes. It wasn't long before Dante drifted off with Vergil still tucked safely in his arms. At some point the record stopped spinning, the book slipped from Vergil's lap, and the two of them fell asleep together.
"Ha!" The little white bear tiptoed up behind the adorable little ghost, planted one foot on the white bedsheet trailing across the floor, and let out what he thought was a terrifying roar.
The ghost rolled his pale gray eye visible through the sheet, then gave it a sharp tug. The little bear, still standing on the fabric, stumbled forward and crashed right into the ghost. The two little troublemakers tumbled into a heap. The bear flipped up the bedsheet, burrowed underneath it, and trapped the ghost in a big, fluffy bear hug.
"Dante! Let go!" Little Vergil punched Little Dante several times with all his might. Every punch landed squarely in soft stuffing.
"Hahahahahahaha! Verg's so weak! That doesn't hurt at all!" Little Dante laughed so hard he nearly toppled over.
Little Vergil glared, grabbed Dante's chubby cheeks, and pulled hard. Little Dante let out a muffled whine, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth that refused to stay shut until it dripped onto Vergil's hand. Making a face, Little Vergil immediately let go. Sensing victory, Little Dante buried the oversized bear head against Vergil's chest, enthusiastically smearing slobber all over his clean white shirt. Hidden beneath the bedsheet, the two brothers wrestled until both of them were sweaty and out of breath.
Vergil opened his eyes as a bead of sweat rolled from his forehead into the corner of one eye. Wiping his face, he glanced up at the ceiling fan doing its very best and accomplishing very little. He pried the furry arms wrapped around his waist loose and began wondering whether he ought to take a job himself so they could afford an air conditioner. Dante woke a moment later, dizzy, parched, and feeling thoroughly overheated. Stubbornly, he wrapped his arms back around Vergil's waist, then, still half asleep, lowered his head in search of a kiss. If he'd been an ordinary human, he probably would've had heatstroke by now.
"Get up, idiot." Faced with a giant bear face suddenly filling his vision, Vergil drove an elbow firmly into Dante. Dante winced, released him in bewilderment, and briefly wondered whether Vergil had just punched a hole straight through the mascot suit.
"Mm... Verg... is it morning already?" Dante blinked up blankly at Vergil as he climbed out of his arms, completely unable to understand why his brother had such a violent case of morning grumpiness.
Vergil grabbed the enormous pink ribbon that was somehow even bigger than Dante's face and yanked upward in one ruthless motion, ripping the giant bear head clean off and tossing it aside. Then he flipped Dante over by the shoulder, tugged open the zipper running down the back of the costume, and peeled his sweat-soaked little brother out of the bear suit. Dante stayed sprawled over the limp costume for a moment to recover before pushing himself to his feet with the couch. Stretching lazily, he shook his damp white hair from side to side like a freshly bathed Samoyed. Behind him, Vergil frowned, instinctively took half a step back, and raised a hand to shield his face from the flying droplets.
"I knew you liked this." Dante turned around, slung an arm over Vergil's shoulders, and tried to steal back the kiss he'd been interrupted from getting. Instead, Vergil caught him by the jaw and kissed him hard. The shared moisture eased Dante's dehydration just enough to make him realize how much thirstier it had actually made him.
"Wash the dishes before I finish my shower," Vergil said after finally pulling away, breathing just a little harder than before.
"Huh? What dishes... Oh... right." Dante sighed in resignation, gathered up the plates, and shuffled toward the kitchen. Pausing in the doorway, he looked back and called up the stairs to Vergil, who was already halfway to the second floor. "How about we take the cute little bear to the dry cleaners tomorrow? Wanna come with me?"
"Sure." Vergil paused for a brief moment before continuing upstairs. "We'll buy an air conditioner while we're out."
"Great idea. Hey, Verg, does that make it a date?" Dante shot a wink at the back of his brother's head.
Vergil didn't answer. The only reply was a quiet chuckle and the steady rhythm of his footsteps fading upstairs. Dante stood there listening for a moment, and thought he could hear cicadas singing outside as well. The first summer after Vergil came home... it really was a good one. Humming happily to himself, Dante wandered into the kitchen with the goofiest grin on his face, turned on the faucet, and took a long drink before finally getting around to washing the dishes.