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Soft moonlight splayed through the windows, lying softly on Dante’s bed. The devil hunter slept peacefully, belly down, face smushed against the pillow, snoring softly. It was all well and good until someone’s grating voice broke through his sleep.
“Dante. Dante, wake up.”
Dante’s breath hitched as he blearily opened his eyes and mumbled in acknowledgement. His brother, Vergil, was currently standing next to his bed, donning his baby blue pyjamas that Dante had jokingly picked up from a thrift store when they had returned from Hell and were obviously in need of more clothes. Honestly, he really was just missing the little pyjama hat, Ha.
Vergil stared at him, his typical annoyance evident. He jerked his sword skyward and jabbed the Yamato’s scabbard against the younger’s belly, earning a slight yelp from him. Dante was wearing nothing but some lounge pants, but it's not as if a shirt would have gained him any protection from his brother’s ire. “Ah! What’s got your panties in a twist? It’s like… two in the morning”. Dante mumbled, sleep still evident in his voice.
“It’s…There is a commotion downstairs. I think it’s Nero.” Vergil ended his sentence in a whisper. Dante’s senses quickly sharpened when he understood what Vergil was saying - a quick nod towards the door, and his ears could pick up someone downstairs murmuring in a hurried, worried manner. His demonic senses extended further; it was a woman - Nico?
He studied his brother’s face for a moment - if Nero was in trouble, why didn’t Vergil go and take care of his own concerns? But Dante knew why and concluded rather quickly, as he knew his brother better than anyone else. His brother’s relationship with his own son was strained; a topic that obviously concluded as quickly as it started. Dante understood Vergil cared for his son, but had a stick too far shoved up his ass that even a step in any direction that showed emotional vulnerability was deemed worse than death.
Well, he knew he didn’t have all night to unpack that with his brother. So the younger devil decided to shimmy off the bed and head downstairs. Leaving his brother behind in the room.
As Dante neared the base of the stairs, he had gained three pieces of knowledge: 1.) It was four in the morning, not two, 2.) The person’s hurried murmuring he had heard was Nico. Who was in the restroom, and 3.) The ‘commotion’ Vergil had registered was Nero heaving rather badly in the bathroom.
Dante neared the bathroom calmly, his nose wrinkled in concern as he took in the smell of sick.
“You see, I tell you, you need to listen ta’ me when I shout to cover your six! I’m doin’ it to help ya not kill ya”, Nico’s chastised in a whisper. Nico didn’t realise Dante was behind her, his presence making her jump and yelp.
“D-Dante! I didn’t see ya there, I didn’t mean to wake ya up, see your dumbass nephew here got poisoned, an’ now he’s experiencing the ramifications of his actions”, Nico explained, hands on her hips, her voice now at full volume.
As Nico explained, Dante let his gaze settle on Nero’s condition; he was hunched over the toilet, sweat glistening on his skin, panting heavily. He looked pale; only wearing the ratty white shirt he wore under his usual outfit and his black cargo pants, he was barefoot, his feet dirty, most definitely from stepping out of the van in a hurry to get to the bathroom. He looked quite delirious; the kid's glazed eyes registered Dante, but didn’t seem too lucid to react properly. Poor kid, Dante thought.
“He woke me up, making up a whole commotion getting out of the van, I tell ya, sometimes I don’t know what to do-” Dante interrupted her, Nico’s eyes going wide when she registered the devil’s hands on her shoulders. Nico’s exhaustion was obvious to the devil hunter; Nico being human meant she needed a good night’s sleep, so it was best to get this situation wrapped up.
“Alright, Nico, you’re gonna help me with something.” Dante wasn’t speaking with urgency, but through the years, you learn how to wrangle people into a sense of calm. “In the back of the office, in the kitchen’s closet, I have a box with some vials in it. Get me the yellow one, okay?”
Nico stared back at Dante, surprised at Dante’s direct demeanor. “Uh-y-yea! O-ok, on it”, the mechanic stammered as she stumbled away back into the kitchen, almost slipping with how little friction the wooden floors offered.
Dante made his way next to Nero’s trembling form. He kneeled next to the other hunter, smoothing a hand over the kid’s back. “Rough night?” Dante chuckled - leave it to him to try to inject levity into any situation. Nero looked awful, upon closer inspection. His forehead was shiny with sweat, his body felt too hot to touch; it was obvious some sort of poison had gotten into his system. Dante’s nose caught it before his eyes settled on a couple of small gaping holes on Nero’s right forearm, like something had bitten him or clawed him. The lacerations looked purple and grotesque, turning the skin around them inflamed and puffy.
“I feel like shit”, Nero croaked out, spit drooling down his chin. Dante lifted his hand to grab a couple of plies of tissue from the roll, tucking them into a small wad and proceeded to firmly clean Nero’s face for him. He knew it was bad when the kid didn’t even protest the act. Any other time, the devil hunter knew he would have gotten punched in the nose for his troubles.
It seemed like Nero’s body had finally given up churning all the contents of his stomach, so Dante settled on scooting closer to the wall opposite the toilet, dragging Nero to do the same, and sat against the cool bathroom wall, draping an arm around the kid’s shoulder for stability.
The light from the cheap overhead bulb bathed the bathroom in a blue glow, a glow that lay heavy over Nero’s eyelids. Despite the coolness of the bathroom floor, Dante could feel the heat emanating from Nero; he could feel the slight tremors racking through the kid, whatever poison in his system leaving a malaise in its wake. Nico shouldn’t take too long getting that vile.
“You know, it took me a little while to avoid hits during hunts. I remember getting stabbed and jabbed even when I was confident nothing was gonna get me”, Dante joked, wanting to balm the obvious shame the kid was feeling over this whole ordeal.
Nero didn’t seem too eager to be quelled, as he coughed, “Bet you never had to deal with this”
Dante whistled, “You couldn’t even imagine”, reminiscing on a moment here he left his guard down to take a bite out of his pizza, only to get stabbed six ways to Sunday.
“I feel like an idiot”, the kid whispered, defeated.
This wasn’t the first time Nero had gotten hurt during a hunt; sometimes a cut here and there, sometimes a little impalment for not paying attention, other times just getting jostled around when it’s unavoidable; nothing a little demonic blood couldn’t fix. Poison, however, was tough to get; not all demons used that as an attack, if anything, maybe a defensive mechanism. Nero really got the lottery tonight, encountering a demon capable of that. The older hunter jostled him a bit in sympathy as he heard Nico’s hurried footsteps approaching the bathroom.
“This is the right one, right? Got a lot of boxes, makes me think you’re selling other things here”, Nico jittered, pushing her glasses up, as she bent over and passed the yellow vile to Dante.
“Thanks, Nico, I’ll take it from here, go get your beauty sleep”
Nico looked a bit flustered, but turned around to hide her blush, “A-alrighty, goodnight, Mr. Dante! A-and take care of the idiot, I kinda need him to pay the bills.” Nico left, the door to the agency squeaking shut.
Dante withdrew his arm from Nero’s form, taking the vial in hand, and using his teeth to uncork it. The liquid smelled awful. Too strong of some sort of garlic, and switched his gaze to Nero, who probably already got a whiff of the strong smell, as he didn’t look too fazed at the prospect of drinking that.
“Com’on down the hatch”, Dante gestured with his hands to come closer. He grasped Nero by the shoulder, who was too weak to wrestle away. The older hunter brought a gentle but firm hand behind the boy's head and, without much fanfare, tipped the vial's contents past his lips. There wasn’t much liquid to ingest in the first place, but enough to make anyone gag. Before Nero even considered regurgitating the medicine, Dante placed a hand over his mouth roughly, giving him no choice but to swallow the disgusting substance.
Dante retrieved his hand away, leaving Nero to cough and gag at the bitter taste of the medicine and the indignation behind Dante’s treatment. “That's disgusting, huh? Don’t remember it tasting that bad,” he pondered outloud. Nero scowled at him, “Yeah, why don’t you try getting a taste of that if you’re so curious. Tasted like socks and some shit.” The antidote seems to be working; his skin was already taking on some color.
Dante smiled at Nero’s antics, heaving himself upright from the floor, catching Nero’s hand to bring him up with unsteady legs. The ugly gashes on his arm were slowly lightening up, but it was obvious there was still some residual weakness in his veins.
“Alright, you wanna take my bed? I don’t mind spending the night on the couch”, Dante gruffed.
“Nah, I’ll take the couch, it’s no big deal”, the kid grunted, his eyelids falling heavy. “Well, if you say so”, Dante gave his shoulder a light-hearted squeeze and shuffled towards the stairs “Night, kid”
Dante stopped by the base of the stairs to watch Nero slowly make his way and plop on the couch, his body going lax the minute it went horizontal. The older hunter smiled, something warm settling in his tired body, and pushed himself to ascend the stairs towards his room.
The lobby of the agency found silence once more; moonlight settled on the wooden floors. Not before long, Nero’s breathing evened out.
On the staircase, once threaded by Dante as he ascended the stairs, was now occupied by a pair of legs, donning blue satin.
The next morning, the youngest hunter awoke to a feeling of clarity; the poison of last night had finally left his system. He became aware of a blanket covering him, which he didn’t recall draping over himself.