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"Sparda!"
Vergil flinched when he heard his mother's voice from the doorway, wrapping himself tighter in the blankets he'd burrowed under in hopes that maybe she hadn't yet noticed him under there. Hopes that were immediately dashed when her frantic footsteps approached the bed and her weight settled in next to his.
"Vergil? Did you do this?" She asked, softly as if she hadn't taken Dante's side yet again earlier that morning.
He didn't answer, instead he pressed his face into his pillow and clenched his eyes shut. Maybe she'd think he was asleep and leave him alone.
"Well, would you look at that," his father's voice entered the room, unmoving from the entrance yet feeling even heavier in his presence. "A little young to already be making your own nests, aren't you, son?"
"I'm not young," Vergil snapped back before he remembered his 'pretend to be asleep' plan. "I'm older than Dante." His mother's words, from earlier. When she had once again scolded him for the fight that Dante had started.
"Indeed," His father agreed as he stepped into the room.
Vergil couldn't see them under the collection of blankets and toys he'd stacked on top of himself, but he could feel his mother blindly patting his pile in search of him while his father stood over her. His gaze surely pierced straight through the layers directly at where Vergil was hidden away without a word.
Curling up tight around himself, Vergil tried to will himself smaller. A quiet warble escaped his throat as his mother's hand managed to locate him from within the pile, and his face heated up from embarrassment as he tried to swallow it back down.
"It's a fine nest," his father said. "If not a little small. But it should just be just right for you and your brother."
"Dante's not allowed in!" Vergil said, wiggling away from his mom. "Not until he gives me back my book!"
"Vergil," his mother started, another scolding on the tip of her tongue before she was interrupted by a heavy weight dropping down on Vergil's other side.
"It is quite small," his father repeated. His chest rumbled into Vergil's back, trapping Vergil between his parents. "If you wish for your mother and I to join you next time, you should consider our size in your construction."
Vergil scowled to himself. He didn't think it was too small– he was sure he built it the right size. But... his parents were far too large.
"And, if you don't want Dante to join you, perhaps it might be better to build it in your own bed instead of his."
"He stole my book. I stole his bed," Vergil said, quick to justify his perfectly logical reasoning for building a nest on top of Dante's bed.
"Vergil, what have I told you about sharing with your brother?" His mother cut in. Instinctively, Vergil pressed closer to his father.
"It's mine," he grumbled weakly.
His father just chuckled. "I see." A strong arm fell over Vergil, wrapping him in a sense of security. "Devils don't build nests for themselves, Vergil. They build them for those they want to share with."
"I don't want to share with Dante," Vergil said, his voice quiet. "He takes everything."
"Even if he gives you your book back?" His father asked, and Vergil bit his lip without answering. The arm tightened around him. "Well, we'll have to make due with the smaller space for now. We don't want a perfectly good nest to go to waste, do we?"
His mother sighed, and then lifted her legs onto the bed and situated herself on the other side of Vergil. Sandwiched between his parents, Vergil felt himself calm down. He leaned into the rumbling purr of his father and felt his eyes droop closed against his will.
Later, after Dante gave Vergil back the book and apologized, Vergil let him rest in the nest as well. His father had been right; it was the perfect size for the two of them.
-
Vergil had only ever built one nest in his life, long ago as a child. He never had any reason to do so after the attack on their home, since his brief reunions with Dante had always been cut short or threw them into situations where nesting had been the furthest thing from his mind.
So when he had transported them to Dante's shop after however long they had spent in the underworld, he had no idea how to respond to the large nest that had greeted them atop of Dante's bed.
"Huh. Look at that," Dante said, his weight supported entirely by Vergil as he also blinked dumbly at the sight ahead of them. "The kid built a nest."
The culprit was easy enough to identify. The room smelled entirely of Nero and Dante, with the latter's scent being more stale despite its prevalence. There were other scents mixed in, both familiar but forgettable and unfamiliar but regrettable, but they were nowhere near as strong as the boy's.
Nero did, in fact, build a nest. Vergil wasn't sure if he was more surprised or impressed.
Dante lifted away from Vergil, somehow finding the reserves of his strength as he dragged himself over to the nest and promptly threw himself into it. Vergil bristled in secondhand offense at the action– Dante was covered in his, Vergil's, and an ungodly assortment of many other demons' blood. In less than a second, he already dirtied what was supposed to be a place of rest and security.
But then Dante melted into the bed with a drawn out sigh, and Vergil supposed they could worry about that later.
Vergil approached more slowly, examining the finer details that hadn't yet been ruined from Dante's haphazard invasion. It was made up mostly of Dante's things. Bedding, clothes, even old towels and what may have been a curtain once. The rest were Nero's– or, at least, smelled more prominently of Nero. There were a few articles of women's clothing as well as a few stuffed toys that... well, he supposed they could belong to his son, and if so then Vergil would have to learn to accept his child's quirky interests. But he could also smell other scents on such things, so it was more likely that Nero had mixed in the belongings of his own loved ones into the nest.
Everything was weaved together with artful intention. No one scent completely drowned out the others, instead the boy somehow managed to figure out a way to amplify those that were weaker. Vergil could pick up traces of Fortuna from the pile, as well as, surprisingly, Red Grave. The former made sense, but he found himself growing curious about the latter. Had the boy gone back? Vergil couldn’t see anything immediately identifiable from his home town, and yet…
But there was one scent Vergil was unable to find anywhere in the nest. He stood by the bed, staring down at it with a growing sense of dread as his father's words from so long ago crossed his mind.
'Devils build nests for those they want to share them with.'
The nest was heavy with Dante's scent. Full of Dante's belongings. It was clear who Nero had made the nest for. And it was clear who it wasn't for.
He turned to leave the room, feeling like an unwanted intruder on sacred ground. But he didn't get further than half a step when Dante's hand suddenly enclosed around his wrist and yanked him back.
A loud growl tore from Vergil's throat as he found himself abruptly dragged into the nest and destroying it even more than Dante had. He could already feel Nero's scent clinging onto him, exchanging his own smell onto the bedding that would surely agitate his son upon his return. But before he could tear away, a heavy weight rolled onto his leg to keep him pinned in place. Vergil had no idea where his brother had found such strength when Vergil had half carried him here not thirty minutes prior.
"Don't leave," Dante said, his broken voice causing Vergil to pause in his flailing attempt to escape.
Dante had always been far more human than Vergil, so it was no surprise that his brother couldn't understand the meaning of the nest or why it was made. He likely just saw it as another thing to take. Just like how he did when they were kids–
No. This nest was made for Dante. In this specific case, this was Dante's to take. Not Vergil’s.
"I cannot stay here, Dante," Vergil said, strained. "I am not welcome."
"Sure you are. It's my room."
"It is Nero's nest."
Dante let out an annoyed huff. "Yeah. Just like his old man, building a nest in someone else's bed.” He somehow grew impossibly heavier on Vergil’s leg. “If he doesn't like it, then he should have built it somewhere else."
Of course Dante didn't understand the significance. Vergil's chest ached for his poor child, having such a dumbass for an uncle.
Vergil moved to push himself up when his fingers hit something rigid amongst the soft fabrics, his skin prickling at the contact. Looking down to identify the object, he was surprised to see a familiar leather bound book with a distinct embossed V on his cover nestled between one of Dante's pillows and a shirt that smelled freshly of Nero. Moving slowly, gingerly, he jostled the book from its spot and picked it up. Nero's scent covered it, completely disguising the fact that it was once Vergil's. It was surprisingly more worn than Vergil had last remembered it. Taken care of, to be sure, but... well read. Well loved.
When the book was suddenly plucked out of his hands, Vergil had to hold himself back from ripping Dante’s hands off in retaliation and dirtying the nest even further than he'd already had.
"Ah, so it was this?" Dante said as he pressed the book to his face and inhaled loudly. "I was wondering how he managed to get your scent mixed in. Didn't know you left him something before we left."
Swiping the book back and holding it protectively to his chest, Vergil glared at Dante. "You're speaking nonsense again, brother," he said, demonic tone echoing in his voice in warning to not touch his things.
"And what nonsense is that?"
"My scent is not present. It smells of Nero, now."
Dante lifted his head and stared at Vergil in a way that may be mistaken as pity. Vergil glared back at him, squaring his shoulders and trying his best to appear bigger despite his leg still being firmly trapped under his brother's body.
"I feel bad for Nero, having such a dumbass for a dad," Dante said after a moment, and Vergil's skin crawled at the exact phrasing he had thought about Dante not minutes prior. "Just calm down and relax. He's not going to get mad that you're in his nest."
Vergil opened his mouth to protest, but the existence of the book in his arms contradicted any possible argument he could make. Even if it no longer smelled of him, he couldn't deny that it was still part of the nest. That... may have meant something.
Dropping back down with a heavy sigh, Dante mumbled something about deserving a well earned rest. He grabbed at the shirt that had been previously swaddling the poetry book and nuzzled into it, a goofy smile spreading across his face. Vergil watched in silent interest as Dante further relaxed and immediately fell asleep. Vergil envied his brother in that regard, being able to fall asleep so easily when his own slumber was sure to be restless.
With little choice but to remain while his leg was still trapped, Vergil returned his attention back to the nest. It was... larger from within than it was looking down from above. Large enough to fit several adult men– or perhaps more accurately, three fully triggered devils.
How curious.
He shifted to get into a more comfortable position, leaning his back against the headboard and pulling the Yamato up to rest in the crook of his arm– a habit he picked up after the attack, needing her constant security before he could even consider the possibility of falling asleep. Securing the poetry book firmly to his chest, Vergil slowly allowed himself to relax just a bit surrounded by the scents of his brother and son as he listened to Dante's breathing fill the silence of the room.
Perhaps this wasn't too bad afterall.
-
His father's purring was nostalgic. Sparda was not one to withhold his affection towards his family. Vergil had vivid memories of his father holding his mother from behind while filling the house with his vocal appreciation for her. Sometimes, Vergil would dream of laying across his chest, feeling the soothing vibrations across his small body as he and Dante snuggled into the warmth. His heart always ached when he awoke, alone in a quiet and cold solitude.
This time, however, was different. He was warm, Dante half laying on him, his leg hurt instead of his chest due to the unnatural angle it was pinned in.
And his father's purring hadn't stopped after Vergil regained consciousness.
Vergil's eyes snapped open, instantly meeting another's glowing yellow as the purring came to an abrupt halt. It took a moment to fully wake and shake off the initial scare that was another devil in his presence, and it was only because something in the back of his mind automatically registered the third devil as 'safe' that he didn't draw the Yamato immediately and slice the intruder open for daring to touch Dante while they were both vulnerable.
Thankfully, Vergil's hindbrain was faster than his conscious mind, because it took him a few more seconds to recognize the appearance of his son staring back at him with startled eyes.
Ah. It was just Nero. That was fine, then.
With fingers frozen on top of Dante's head, Nero looked as if Vergil had hunted him down and managed to corner him into a hopeless situation. Laughable, considering Vergil was the one in his nest, but a sliver of doubt began to crawl up Vergil's spine. Perhaps Dante was wrong after all. Perhaps Vergil really was the one invading and wasn't welcome.
As Vergil made to silently excuse himself, Dante growled between them, still asleep yet somehow still able to tell that Vergil was preparing to leave him. His frustratingly perceptive little brother.
Then the purring started back up.
It was instant, hitting Vergil unexpectedly and causing him to immediately put a pause in his plan to escape. His son. His son was purring. Louder than his father's ever was, yet full of the same love and relief that had Vergil's chest buzzing with unfamiliar emotion.
No, not quite right. He startled as he realized that he was also purring alongside Nero. An unconscious response to his son's unexpected affection, received and returned in equal measure. An ability that Vergil had no clue that he could do until then, as he had no reason to do so after losing his family all those decades ago.
And now he felt a sudden desire to hold his son. How... strange.
Instead of indulging in such instinct, he compromised by lowering himself to lay next to Dante. His skin prickled at their proximity, but it did nothing to sate the inexplicable urge to grab Nero and cradle him in his arms. He had to tell himself that Nero was not a child. He was an adult man with his own nest. Vergil was being ridiculous.
Yet Nero was always so full of surprises. In the exact moment that Vergil internally scolded himself, Nero was crawling over Dante with a determined look on his face. Vergil held his breath as Nero wormed his way into the small gap between the two of them. Nero's back pressed against Vergil's chest, rumbling in unadulterated happiness as he slotted in comfortably and nestled in the tight space between them.
This was... unexpected. Vergil blinked dumbly, finding himself unsure of how to respond to the change of situation. Thankfully, Dante had taken it upon himself to act first, shooting his arm over both Nero and Vergil and pulling them into a sudden, tight squeeze. Nero made a happy little warbling noise at Dante’s action, wiggling and rubbing his scent over the two of them in a brazenly possessive claim. Impudent brat.
Vergil stayed still as Nero burrowed his face into Dante's neck while Dante had sought his own refuge in Nero's hair. As they settled into the new position, Dante, as usual, fell back asleep quickly, but Vergil was acutely aware of Nero's consciousness focused on him. Though, the way Nero’s breath would stutter indicated that he was forcing himself to remain awake rather than being naturally so.
A hand lifted, paused, and then found courage as Vergil hesitantly trailed his arm alongside Dante's until it rested across both Dante and Nero’s shoulders. His kin were warm, Vergil thought to himself. The corner of his lips twitched ever so slightly in a threat of a smile.
Nero's purring grew louder when Vergil secured his arm around them both, not fully embracing as Dante had done but just holding them. Vergil hummed, then pressed his own face into the top of Nero's head alongside Dante's. He could feel the creep of his body's exhaustion finally begin to take its toll as he allowed himself to fully relax into the nest with his son and brother, a calm serenity washing over him for the first time since he was a child.
Before he drifted off to sleep, he quietly acknowledged that Nero's nest was indeed the perfect size for the three of them.