Chapter Text
Dante has done an incredible number of impossible things throughout his lifetime. He's stopped an impending apocalypse, fought off a power-hungry, crazed man looking to take Sparda's power, and been one of the only people to stare up the barrel of Kalina Ann and live. He'd done all of this before his twentieth birthday. Giving up simply wasn't in his blood. However, everything pales in comparison to the process of raising his nephew, and this just might be the closest thing to defeat he'd ever tasted. Because he'd faced down Vergil time and time again, he'd had his older brother beat the crap out of him his entire life, had Verge leave him for dead: Dante's pooling blood mixing with the rain water beneath him. But that was a piece of cake compared to his overprotective-dad-rage and his quest to give Nero the childhood they never got to have. Vergil's all-consuming, aggressive parental love is equal parts annoying and endearing. Demon hunting is easy, but raising Nero is a whole different ballgame.
Case in point: the doors of Devil May Cry slam open to reveal Vergil with his son in tow. His twin honestly looks pissed and Nero must know it, too, because there's a defiant, haughty look on his little face that's just so much like his father's. He can't help but smile at the thought. Eva's favourite line when her boys had drained all the patience out of her was "you know, one day you're going to have a child just like you!". And maybe she really had been magic, because she'd definitely manifested exactly that for her eldest son. It's hard to read Vergil, since all his emotions are expressed through subtle quirks of the eyebrow or the slightest downturn of his lips, but Nero and Dante have had enough practice. It wouldn't be obvious to anyone else that his older brother is annoyed, but with his usual stick-up-the-ass posture having been replaced with a slight hunch, it might as well have been a glaring red sign. With fireworks. In other words, Dante's little sibling instincts are practically begging him to tease Vergil, to push all of his buttons in the way only Dante could manage.
He moves his legs down from their propped position on his desk and stretches them. He then leans down and massages away a twinge in his calf. "You're home early," he addresses to his brother and nephew. He doesn't look up as he speaks from his hunched position under his desk. It had to have been making Mr. Manner's blood boil.
"Nero," he says through clenched teeth. "Got into a fight at school today. He was sent home early."
"Oh, hey, cool. Did you win?" Dante asks with a grin.
Nero looks up at his uncle hesitantly, then sniffs and wipes his nose with a sleeve. He mumbles out a soft "yeah".
"Good job, buddy!" He extends his hand out for a high-five.
Vergil stares at him like he's ten seconds away from blowing a gasket. "Not helpful, Dante. "
He lowers his arm again. Nero offers Dante a small smile when his father isn't looking.
Vergil begins pacing. It's definitely a rare occasion to his his older brother so animated. "He's been suspended for two weeks and the school year has barely even started," he continues.
The last part of that statement is directed at his son with a glare. It had been quite the ordeal to get the kid's shit in order to apply for schools. Morrison'd had to forge a lot of paperwork. Officially, he was Nero Redgrave, because it was a lot easier to just incorporate Dante's existing alias rather than start from scratch. He wished he could've picked out an embarrassing name for his older brother, but Vergil'd had something incognito picked out already. William Redgrave, no doubt using his favourite author as inspiration. His twin is such a dork.
"Credo started it," Nero protests quietly.
Vergil spins around quickly and fixes him with such a stern look, "I don't care who started it, Nero. You know better and I am incredibly disappointed in you. " He then turns to Dante and folds his arms across his chest. "Furthermore, I think your sparring sessions need to stop."
"What?" They say simultaneously, both voices equally indignant.
"Dad, that's not fair!" He'd dropped the whole 'papa' thing not long after he'd started school. None of the other kids his age called their fathers that and Nero had been desperate to fit in, not wanting yet another thing to set him apart from his peers.
"Once your suspension is over and you prove to me that you can behave, we can discuss the matter further. As for now, you clearly can't handle it. "
It's bullshit, honestly. Their Sparda bloodline has painted a giant target on their backs their entire lives and Nero is no doubt going to experience the same thing. Their mock fighting session provided the kid with self-defense skills that would no doubt come in handy later. He needed to be able to protect himself. But Dante knows better than to argue with Vergil when he's in dad mode, so he lets it slide.
"Do you have any homework?" Vergil asks Nero.
The kid is silent for a bit, as if weighing out his options. He must decide that he's in enough trouble as is and that he doesn't want to stir up anymore by lying, because he finally nods.
"Then I suggest you go and finish it," Vergil says sternly.
Nero thumps up the stairs and Dante can practically feel the storm cloud hovering over his little head. His room has changed a bit now that he's old enough to have a say in the decor. No longer is it a snobby little place that was dripping with Vergil's tastes. It had been transformed into an actual little boy's bedroom, filled with toys and posters. They watch him go and once he's disappeared around the corner, Vergil rubs a hand over his face with a sigh.
"What am I going to do with him," he says. "He's already far enough behind with his work."
"What? But the kiddo's so smart!"
Vergil nods, licking his lips nervously. "He is," he agrees. "But he is also exceptionally stubborn and refuses to sit still long enough to learn unless he finds the topic interesting. Which, more often that not, he claims the work bores him to death."
Dante laces his fingers over the back of his head, sticking his elbows out on either side of him. He leans back in his chair and yawns like a big silver cat.
"So then make it interesting! You've always loved a challenge, bro. Here's one right now!"
"I- I suppose you're right," he says haltingly, as though the admittance physically hurts him.
Which, knowing Vergil, it probably does.
"He's so much like you, Dante. It's like dealing with a seven-year-old you all over again," Vergil groans.
"Yeah, well, who better to handle him than you? You're used to dealing with my shit. "
"Unfortunately."
Dante laughs at that and stands to clap his brother on the shoulder. "Lady as well. And, hell guess I know how to handle myself too. You're not alone in this, Vergil. You have our help."
And it's truly a testament to how much Vergil has changed, because he accepts the offered help with a nod.