Work Text:
The kitchen door was closing behind you as you set the empty tray on the counter, preparing to build Dante his second strawberry sundae of the afternoon.
Dante leaned back in his desk chair, hands linked behind his head, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. "Extra strawberries, sweetheart!" he called out cheerfully.
The second the door swung shut, Nero slammed his mug onto the workbench.
"Knock it the hell off, Dante," Nero growled, turning around with a dark scowl.
Dante blinked, lowering one hand to look at his nephew. "What's your problem, kid? She offered."
"Because she's nice!" Nero barked, taking a step toward the desk, his eyes flashing with genuine annoyance. "You're taking advantage of her. She's been running back and forth bringing you pizza, soda, and ice cream for two hours while you sit on your ass!"
Dante raised an eyebrow, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Hey, if she wants to pamper the boss, who am I to stop her?"
"She's not your servant!" Nero yelled, his voice echoing off the high ceilings of the office. "I am not going to sit here and watch you treat my future wife like a damn waitress!"
The shop went dead quiet.
Nero's breath hitched in his throat.
Dante didn't say a word. He slowly brought his chair down until all four legs hit the floor. Leaning his elbows on the desk, he rested his chin in his hands, his smirk widening until it covered his whole face.
Nero stood frozen in the middle of the room. The blood rushed out of his face, only to come roaring back in a furious blush that spread straight down his neck into the collar of his shirt.
"Future wife, huh?" Dante murmured smoothly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Shut up," Nero squeaked out, his voice cracking on the high note.
"Did I miss a chapter?" Dante asked, tilting his head with a low chuckle. "Should I start picking out my best man suit, or are you just daydreaming over there, kid?"
"I said shut up, old man!" Nero hissed, rubbing the back of his neck aggressively, his face burning like a furnace. "It just came out, alright?! Don't you dare say a word to her!"
"Hey, my lips are sealed," Dante said, raising both hands in fake innocence.
The kitchen door pushed open.
You walked back into the room holding a tall glass dish stacked high with vanilla ice cream, strawberry syrup, whipped cream, and three strawberries on top.
"Okay, Dante, here's your—" You stopped in your tracks, glancing between the two of them.
Nero was standing rigid near the workbench, his face so red he looked ready to explode, staring intently at the floor. Dante was sitting behind his desk, wearing the biggest, most insufferable grin you had ever seen on a human being.
You blinked, looking back and forth between them. "Did I miss something?"
Dante accepted the sundae from your hands with a smooth flourish, leaning back in his chair and taking a massive bite.
"Not a thing, sweetheart," Dante said, his voice dripping with mischief as he gestured toward Nero with his spoon. "Just telling the kid he better treat you right. You know... keep a girl this good around, you might just end up stuck with her forever."
Nero choked on his own breath. "Dante!" he yelled, his voice hitting a register it had never reached before.
He grabbed his leather jacket off the back of a stool, shoved his arms through the sleeves, and marched straight toward the front door without making eye contact with you once.
"I'm going to check the van," Nero barked, his hand slamming against the door handle. "Don't follow me!"
The front door slammed shut, sending a loud shudder through the glass panels. Outside, the wind whipped against the pavement, but inside, the only sound left was Dante quietly choking on a spoonful of strawberry ice cream.
You turned on your heel, setting your hands flat on Dante's desk and leaning directly into his space.
"Spill it," you demanded, narrowing your eyes. "What did he say?"
Dante held up his spoon in a mock gesture of defense. "Hey, my lips are sealed, sweetheart. Professional code. Nephew-uncle confidentiality."
"Dante," your voice dropped into a stern warning. "His face was redder than your coat. What happened right before I brought this sundae out?"
Dante held out for a grand total of five seconds. He let out a long, dramatic sigh, resting his elbows on the desk as that insufferably, massive smirk spread across his face.
"Look," Dante sighed, taking another slow bite of ice cream. "The kid got defensive. Yelled at me at the top of his lungs."
"Yelled what?"
Dante leaned forward, winking at you. "Said he wasn't going to sit here and watch me treat his future wife like a waitress."
You froze. The stern look on your face completely melted away. "His... what?"
"Future wife," Dante repeated, chuckling softly under his breath. "Those exact words. Right out of his mouth."
A sudden, warm heat bloomed in your chest. You straightened up, crossing your arms as the weight of those words settled in.
Dante gestured toward the front door with his spoon. "Now go easy on him out there. He looked like he was about to jump out of his skin."
"Oh, I'm not going easy on him at all," you murmured, turning on your heel and heading out toward the garage bay.
The air in the garage was cool, smelling heavily of motor oil and damp concrete. Nero was crouched by the rear tire of the DMC van, furiously turning a lug wrench against a bolt that was already completely tight. He was muttering curses under his breath, his neck and the tips of his ears still glowing a deep, vibrant red.
The moment your shoes clicked against the floor, Nero stiffened. He didn't turn around.
"I told you not to follow me!" Nero barked at the tire, his voice straining. "I'm busy! The rear axle is loose!"
You didn't answer right away. You casually strolled over, leaning your shoulder against the side of the van, crossing your arms as you looked down at him.
"Funny," you said softly. "Didn't know you fixed axles with a lug wrench."
Nero's hand froze on the tool. He slowly let out a defeated breath, refusing to raise his head. "What do you want?"
"Well," you began, tilting your head, "Dante and I were just finishing up our ice cream, and he mentioned you've been doing some long-term planning."
Nero dropped the wrench with a deafening clatter against the concrete.
His head snapped up so fast you heard his neck pop. His blue eyes were wide with pure panic, his face instantly flushing back to a dark crimson.
"He lied!" Nero shouted, scrambling to his feet so fast he nearly tripped over his own boots. "Whatever that old bastard told you, he made it up! He's messing with you!"
You didn't flinch. You stepped a little closer into his personal space, watching the sheer panic in his posture.
"He said you called me your future wife," you said quietly.
Nero's entire train of thought came to a screeching halt.
He opened his mouth to deny it, but no sound came out. His mouth worked uselessly before he slammed both hands over his face, letting out a low, muffled groan of utter humiliation.
"I'm going to kill him," Nero muttered into his palms, his voice desperate. "I am literally going to murder him."
You reached up, gently taking hold of his wrists and pulling his hands away from his face. His cheeks were burning hot beneath your fingers, his eyes searching yours with raw vulnerability.
"Is it true?" you asked softly.
Nero swallowed hard. All his defensive posturing stripped away, leaving only the honest, protective grit that made him who he was. He didn't pull his hands away from yours.
"Yeah," Nero grumbled, his voice dropping into a quiet rasp. "Yeah, it's true. Now stop teasing me about it."
"I'm not teasing you, Nero," you murmured, taking one step closer until your shoes brushed against his.
Nero blinked, his breath catching in his chest. His eyes locked onto yours, searching your expression for any trace of a joke, but finding only quiet warmth.
"Look," Nero said, his voice dropping as he squared his shoulders. He didn't look flustered anymore; he just looked fiercely resolute. "I said it because I meant it. I'm not taking it back."
He slid one hand out of your grip, reaching up to rest his palm against the back of your neck, his fingers tangling lightly into your hair. His thumb brushed over your chin, warm and steady.
"I've thought about it since the day you moved into the shop," Nero muttered, looking straight into your eyes with that unapologetic, stubborn intensity that was entirely his own. "I don't play around with that kind of shit. So, if you're gonna stick around here, you better get used to the idea."
A soft laugh escaped your lips, your heart doing a sudden flip in your chest. You couldn't resist. You threw your free hand dramatically across your forehead, placing your other palm over your heart as you looked up at him with pure melodrama.
"Alas!" you declared, pitching your voice into a grand, stage-worthy cry. "Woe is me, for my soul hath been utterly ensnared by a fierce, wrench-wielding lord!"
Nero’s jaw went slack. He stared down at you before letting out a loud, miserable groan.
"Oh, my god, stop," Nero muttered, grabbing your wrist and yanking you straight into his chest before you could finish the line.
His arms wrapped around you like an iron vise, trapping your hands against his jacket as he buried his burning face straight into the side of your neck.
"Doubt thou the stars are fire—" you tried to continue against his shoulder, holding back a giggle.
"Shut up," Nero grumbled, though his chest rumbled with quiet chuckles against yours. He squeezed you tighter, his fingers digging into the back of your shirt as he muttered into your skin, "You are a complete nightmare. I hate how much I love you."