Chapter Text
Vergil sat hunched in the corner, his intense gaze locked onto his book's weathered, yellowed pages. Vergil's stoic expression might have spoken of engagement with his reading session to an untrained observer. But Dante, having spent countless years alongside his brother through their fleeting childhood, battles and grueling trials in the abyss of Hell, had studied Vergil's mannerisms all too well. The devil hunter couldn’t shake the feeling that Vergil’s mind was tethered to one person—Nero.
Since their return, it had become increasingly apparent that Nero went out of his way to avoid Vergil during his occasional visits. The younger twin couldn’t help but observe the subtle shift in his nephew whenever Vergil entered the room; his gaze would dart away nervously or lower to look at something on the floor. Then again, Nero always seemed to find some convenient excuse to make a hasty exit whenever Vergil got closer, whether it was a sudden need to answer a phone call or a seeming task from Nico that required his attention. A part of Dante could understand the turmoil churning within his nephew. Hell, if he were told that the very same man responsible for severing his arm was also his long-lost father, he wasn’t entirely sure how he would react either.
With a resigned sigh, Dante gingerly pushed himself up from the worn leather couch, the soft fabric creaking under his shifting weight. Sunlight filtered through the dusty window, casting a warm glow over the cluttered office, where stacked magazines, files and books leaned against one another like weary travellers. The faint aroma of gunpower mingled with the subtle richness of leather-bound tomes, creating a clear testament to Vergil and Dante’s residence in the office.
Dante made his way across the room, each step echoing softly against the wooden floorboards until he reached his brother, Vergil. The elder twin sat in a shadowed corner, motionless, his intense gaze seemingly fixed on the delicate pages of the voluminous book before him.
"Come on," Dante sighed, leaning forward with a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You're killing my mood here. And I just got comfortable." He gestured at his boots disregarded on the floor and yesterday's pizza box barely visible underneath them.
At the sound of Dante’s voice, Vergil's piercing, icy blue eyes flickered upward, momentarily breaking his gaze from the book in his hands. His face remained impassive, despite a rare glimpse of something beneath his stoic exterior. "I hardly think that is any of your concern," he replied, his tone coolly measured.
Dante rolled his eyes dramatically as he threw himself down into the chair opposite with a distinct lack of grace. "Come on, Vergil, cut the crap. I know something is eating at you ." His gaze sharpened, an unmistakable slant of intuition crossing his features. "And I have a feeling it has to do with someone's particular kid, eh?"
Vergil's expression hardened like ice, and he subconsciously tightened his grip on the book’s worn leather cover. "Nero's behavior is... curious, I will admit. But I fail to see how that is any of your business," he countered.
Dante let out a low whistle. "You know what your problem is? You're thinking about this way too hard and beating yourself up. And believe me," he added with a wry grin, "coming from me, that's saying something.
Vergil's brow knitted tightly, his piercing gaze locked onto the book's pages resting precariously in his lap . "I'm not 'beating myself up' over anything, Dante," he retorted, his tone clipped. "I'm simply trying to comprehend the situation from a distance."
Dante couldn't help but chuckle, the sound echoing with a hint of irony, devoid of real laughter. "Oh, come on, Verge. I know you better than that," he replied, leaning forward, his expression shifting to one of earnest concern. “I get it – Nero's emotional, and you two have... well, uh, history. But he’s still your kid, Vergil. He deserves a shot at knowing his old man."
Vergil's jaw tightened, the muscle in his cheek twitching slightly as he wrestled with his thoughts. "I am not worthy to be called his father."
Sensing the moment's weight, Dante replied in a softer tone than usual. "Hey, come on, don’t sell yourself short. You might come off as a brooding, short-tempered asshole, but remember the time you spent with him as V? You two managed to connect. That means there’s something likeable in there… somewhere.”
The elder twin shot Dante a withering look, his blue eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and vulnerability that he rarely showed. However, the tension in his shoulders began to soften, and he let out a resigned sigh, his expression still a mask of stoicism. "He would not want to spend time with me, not like this," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Dante's brow furrowed at Vergil's words. "What do you mean, 'not like this'? You think the kid's still holding a grudge or something?” Dante leaned back, gripping his hair in frustration. "Damn it, Vergil, you can't just turn tail and hide. The kid’s likely a bundle of nerves and wants you to make the first move." He paused, his expression softening as he took in his brother’s crestfallen face. "Look, you’ve done some shitty things, I admit. But that doesn't mean you can't at least try to put out an olive branch, eh?"
Vergil's fingers tightened around the spine of the weathered book he clutched, his knuckles turning an alarming shade of white. "And what if he rejects me, Dante?" The words escaped his lips with uncharacteristic vulnerability. "What if he wants nothing to do with the man who…" His voice faltered, trailing off into an oppressive silence.
A sly, mischievous grin crept across Dante's face, illuminating his features with a spark of mischievousness that was all too familiar. "Well then, it’s a good thing you’ve got me to help you out, huh?" The devil quipped.
Vergil's gaze narrowed as he studied his twin, a wary, guarded expression settling on his face. The deep furrow of his brow spoke volumes of the trepidation coiling within him. "What are you suggesting, Dante?" he inquired.
Dante settled into the worn, faded cushions of the seat, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he glanced at his brother. “Do you remember what we used to do as kids?” he teased, his eyes twinkling with nostalgia.
Vergil's face contorted into one of absolute revulsion, his lip curling in disdain. He pierced Dante with a sharp, contemptuous gaze that seemed to dismiss the very notion. “Absolutely not, Dante,” he retorted, his voice dripping with irritation. “I will not engage in such a ridiculous charade,” he spat.
Unfazed Dante's face spread with a wider grin. “Aw, come on, Vergil.” He urged. “This could be the perfect chance to connect with the kid.”
Vergil, however, was far from convinced. He scoffed, his brow furrowing deeply, creating a shadow over his sharp features. "I hardly think dressing up as a complete baffoon is an appropriate way to connect with Nero," he replied, his tone dripping with condescension, as if he looked down upon the very idea.
Ignoring the insult, Dante raised his hands in a placating gesture, his earnest expression softening just a touch. "Look, I know it’s crazy," he said, his eyes searching Vergil’s face for understanding, "but just hear me out, okay? Maybe, just maybe, this could be a way to get him to let his guard down a little?”
Vergil's jaw tightened, his grip on the book tightening as he considered Dante's proposal. The idea of donning his brother's signature attire and mannerisms made his skin crawl, but the underlying logic was... not entirely without merit. "And what, pray tell, do you suggest I do?" Vergil asked, his tone laced with a reluctant curiosity. "Parade around, spouting your incessant quips and making a spectacle of myself?"
Dante's grin widened, sensing his brother's weakening resolve. "Nah, nothing quite that extreme. Nothing Nero hasn't seen his ‘dear old uncle’ do before, right?"
Vergil's lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line, his grip tightening on the arm of the couch. "And you believe this... childish game of yours will accomplish that? How, exactly?"
Dante leaned forward, his expression earnest. "Look, Vergil, I know it's not your usual style, but sometimes you gotta meet people where they're at, you know?" He paused, a hint of seriousness creeping into his tone. "It might help to try and understand him more up close before you approach him as… well, you."
Vergil's brow furrowed, his gaze contemplative as he mulled over Dante's words. "And you truly believe this... impersonation will not drive him further away?" he asked reluctantly.
"Hey, I call 'em like I see 'em," Dante replied with a shrug. "But come on, just give it a shot. What's the worst that could happen?"
Vergil shot his younger brother another withering glare, his expression hardening. "I do not seek to take part in any of your foolishness," he stated flatly, his tone brooking no argument.
Undeterred, Dante leaned back against the couch, his grin widening. "Damn, I didn't peg you to be such a coward, Verge," he taunted, a teasing lilt to his voice. Vergil's eyes narrowed, anger flaring at Dante's taunting words. His jaw tightened, the muscles visibly clenching as he worked to rein in a childish retort.
Sensing he was pushing the right buttons, Dante continued, his tone deceptively casual. "Guess that bet is off the table, then," he shrugged, sighing dramatically as he rose from his seat.
Vergil blinked in confusion, his brow furrowing in wariness and curiosity. "Bet?" he questioned, the word rolling off his tongue with a hint of reluctance.
Dante flashed him a roguish grin, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Aw, come on, Verge. You know the one – the winner gets to call the shots for a whole week," he explained, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Vergil's jaw tightened, his grip on the book in his hand unconsciously tightening. "And what, pray tell, would the loser have to do?" he asked, the curiosity in his voice barely concealed.
Dante's grin widened, sensing his brother's faltering resolve. "Oh, you know... the usual – do whatever I tell 'em, go along with my brilliant schemes, that sort of thing," he shrugged, his tone nonchalant. "No big deal."
Vergil's expression darkened, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes. "And you believe I would stoop to such childish antics?" he huffed.
Dante's smirk widened as he caught that familiar glint in his brother's eye - the one that always showed up right before Vergil did something particularly stupid in the name of pride. "Tell you what," he drawled, spinning Ebony lazily on one finger. "You get the office. All yours. No pizza takeouts, no rock music, just you and your poetry books for a whole week."
Vergil's posture shifted - subtle, but Dante knew that look. "Very well," he said, voice cooling to that irritatingly proper tone he used when he thought he had the upper hand. "But in return, you will follow my instructions. Precisely. Without your usual... improvisations."
"Aw, what's wrong, Vergil? Worried I might actually make your plan work better?" Dante caught Ebony mid-spin and holstered it with a flourish. "But fine - I'll play nice. Your show, your rules."
Vergil scoffed, though the slight upturn of his mouth betrayed his amusement. "The day I require your 'improvements' is the day I willingly eat that grease-laden excuse for food you call dinner." He stood, one hand resting on Yamato's hilt. "Now, shall we begin?"
The elder twin's face set into a disapproving frown at the current state of his brother’s bedroom. The younger twin had effectively ransacked his entire wardrobe, creating a chaotic pile of leather jackets, denim, and what Vergil would categorize as exceptionally tacky accessories. Crossing his arms over his chest, Vergil felt a twinge of irritation as he surveyed the mess before him. "Dante, I believe a swine would have a cleaner sty than your room," he remarked, his tone laced with a hint of exasperation.
Undeterred, Dante grinned unrepentantly, sifting through the jumbled heap of clothes. "Aw, come on, live a little!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with unbridled enthusiasm. "This is all part of the experience."
Vergil sighed, his brow furrowing in a clear expression of disapproval. “Surely there is a more efficient way to select appropriate attire." He stated firmly, gesturing towards the disarray surrounding them.
Dante chuckled, unfazed by Vergil's criticism. "Relax, I know what I'm doing," he assured. With a flourish, he plucked a pair of tight-fitting black jeans and a long red leather duster jacket from the pile and tossed them towards his brother. "Here, try this on," he said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
Vergil caught the garments with a practised hand, his brow arching sceptically as he eyed the ensemble. "Dante, this is hardly appropriate for a formal gathering," he pointed out, his tone laced with a hint of exasperation. "I hardly think Nero would appreciate my arrival in such... flamboyant attire."
Dante's grin only widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "That's the point, Verge," he countered a gleam of excitement in his gaze. "We're gonna show up and wow 'em with some smoking sexy style. Trust me, it'll be epic."
Vergil felt the beginnings of a headache forming behind his temples as he contemplated his brother's proposal. "Dante, I hardly think-" he began, only to be cut off by the younger twin's enthusiastic insistence.
Dante, grinning impishly, continued to rummage through the pile, his enthusiasm undimmed. "Trust me. This look is perfect," he assured a devious smirk on his face. "Besides, you gotta look the part if you want Nero to buy it." He paused, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Or I could put you in that jacket if these aren't to your taste."
Vergil shuddered at the memory of watching his brother parading in that flashy, strap-adorned coat. The thought of wearing it himself was enough to make his stomach internally lurch in disgust. "I will take part in no such ridicule," he stated firmly, his expression resolute. "I will not subject myself to such... ostentatious attire."
Dante chuckled, unfazed by Vergil's adamant refusal. "Alright, alright, no need to get on your high horse about style, Mr. Ascot," he teased, tossing a black vest towards his brother. "This is perfect for the job."
With great reluctance, Vergil began to undress, folding his clothes neatly in a pile away from the chaos of Dante's mess. He carefully slipped into the uncharacteristically casual attire, his movements precise and measured. As he tugged on the tight-fitting jeans, Vergil couldn't help but grimace at the way the denim clung to his legs.
Once the jacket and vest were in place, Vergil took a moment to inspect himself in the mirror. To his surprise, the ensemble had a certain... flair to it. The tailored cut of the vest accentuated his broad shoulders, while the sleek leather of the jacket lent an air of effortless sophistication. Feeling the weight of Dante's expectant gaze, Vergil scrutinised his reflection, his fingers tracing the jacket's lapels. "This is... tolerable," he conceded, his voice betraying a hint of reluctant approval.
Dante's face split into a triumphant grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "See, Verge? I told you I know what I'm doing," he exclaimed, circling Vergil like a predator sizing up its prey. "Just needs a few... finishing touches."
Vergil tensed, bracing himself for the onslaught of his brother’s over-the-top style suggestions that were sure to come. "Dante, I believe we agreed to refrain from anything too superfluous," he reminded his brother, his voice laced with a warning.
The devil hunter grinned before gesturing towards Vergil’s slicked-back hair. “ Hey, hey, wasn’t gonna suggest anything too ‘me’, just the hair, that’s all.”
With a resigned sigh, Vergil ran his fingers through his hair, trying to balance Dante's carefree style . The result was slightly disheveled yet still somewhat polished. He took one last look in the mirror; his brow furrowed at the sight. The image staring back at him was undeniably Dante - from the tousled hair to the casual, almost rakish ensemble.
Vergil's jaw tightened at the ghostly sight of his brother’s countenance. A part of Vergil was tempted to break the image, throw off his brother’s clothes and return to the identity he had maintained so well over the years- the resentment and contempt becoming all too painful for the sake of some inane bet. Yet, amidst the chaos of his mind, there was an odd feeling that the elder twin didn’t know how to describe – feelings so foreign and human that he had buried them deep within the recesses of his mind.
The younger twin’s whistle broke off his thoughts, and Vergil turned to face his brother, the vehemence in his eyes tempered by a glimmer of apprehension. "Damn, Verge, you clean up nice," Dante said, circling him approvingly. "I gotta hand it to you; you're really pullin' off the 'rugged charm' look."
Vergil raised an eyebrow, a flicker of uncertainty passing across his features.
Dante chuckled. "Trust me, you’re gonna knock the socks off the kid," he assured. "You just gotta jump through a few hoops before that, eh?"
Vergil tensed, a faint sense of trepidation rising within him. Dante's grin widened, and Vergil couldn't help but feel a twinge of foreboding. Whatever his brother had planned, it was sure to be... unconventional.