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Vergil wakes with the inherent sense something is wrong. Normally, said feeling is accompanied by the intense instinct to reach for the Yamato, but his situation doesn't involve danger. He sits up in bed, choking back a stiff groan. He doesn't recall falling asleep, nor does he recall doing so while angled awkwardly on top of his arm. Vergil sleeps on his back most nights, rarely sleeping on his side save for the rare times when his stomach refuses to settle.
Presently, he feels a deep ache in his chest, suspiciously placed in his breastbone. Did someone stab him again? If Vergil listens, he can tell it's raining outside, so a few aches aren't foreign to him, but the placement of said aches.... He's used to headaches and migraines, none such bodily reminders of his trauma.
At his core, he feels the intense heat of demonic power, but it's different. The power there is immense, indominatable, and unerringly devoted. It's incredibly familiar in a way, but not one he's ever felt from the inside. Not his. He senses the pull of Rebellion like a siren's call, twined with the Sparda within.
This is not his body.
Vergil snaps to his feet, cursing all the entities he can think of who might've had the power to achieve this result. He rubs his chest, a deep frown etching his- Dante's features. Every breath seems heavier in this body, fuller and unmeasured. It appears muscle memory has remained Dante's despite Vergil's untimely and unwelcome arrival in his sibling's body.
He shamelessly makes for the bathroom, washing Dante's hair in the sink and scrubbing any skin he can reach with a washcloth.
Vergil might even do laundry in plain view of Lady and Trish just to see the looks on their faces. And clean up his own damn pizza boxes. Except... that deplorable aching pressure in his chest makes the thought of unnecessary work unthinkable. The rest of him agrees. Even just cleaning up was exhausting.
Is this why Dante is so lethargic at times?
He follows his unfamiliar instincts down to the office space and he sits in his brother's usual spot. Blue eyes slide to the top drawer of Dante's desk. A soft and painful smile crosses his face when he looks upon the visage of their mother. She would be glad to know he and Dante reunited.
Vergil opens the drawer, allowing muscle memory to push his fingers into the back. He tugs out a piece of leather. It's a glove. But why does the ache in his chest feel lessened because of a glove?
Vergil reclines, slouching in the seat more than he'd ever allow himself to in his own body and clutching his comfort item close to his heart. He could easily fall asleep here, ignore his ridiculous situation and simply exist in his little brother's space. Well.... He had wondered what it would be like if their positions were switched.
The door clicks open and in strolls Lady like she owns the place. "Hey, Dante. Gotta tell you about-. Oh." She glances at her phone. "I forgot what day it was."
"It's fine." Vergil answers, the words softer than he'd intended.
"You want me to call your brother? I know he's on a job, but it probably wouldn't hurt for him to take a break considering the occasion."
Surprise coils through Vergil. Of all the things he'd have thought Lady would've mentioned, he was not one of them. He shakes his head, staring down at the glove in his hand. Did her response have something to do with this? Were his pains not entirely caused by the rain?
Slim fingers brush his long hair to the side, and he finds his usual urge to shy away entirely absent. Lady touches his forehead. "You're feverish. When was the last time you ate something, Dante?"
Vergil doesn't dare look at her lest he give himself away, and he definitely doesn't answer the question. He can tell by the empty state of Dante's stomach, it's been a while. Dante eats all the time when Vergil is home, so why such a difference now? And since when did Lady care more about Dante's eating habits than his debts? What's so important about today?
"If Vergil knew you were this quiet around this time, he'd be worried."
He already is worried.
Lady huffs, taking his silence as an answer. "You're always so stubborn. I know he's an ass to everyone else, but if you just told him why you were upset, he'd understand."
His fingers clench tighter around the glove. He recognizes the defensiveness rising in Dante's shoulders because it's so very similar to his own. And it's odd he's getting upset, because he agrees with her. Why don't Dante's instincts?
"I know." Vergil murmurs. Speaking any louder or even arguing at all would take too much energy.
"Then why don't you just talk to him?"
That was a good question. Why hadn't Dante called? It wouldn't be the first time his little brother did so while he was working, and while Vergil always does so begrudgingly, he always comes back. From what Lady's saying, it's as though Dante doesn't quite grasp Vergil's priorities.
If his situation this morning wasn't already so surreal, he might've told Lady who he was, but as it is, he's not prepared to deal with both Dante's odd habits and Lady's shouting.
"Fine. If you're still here when I get back tonight, I'm calling Vergil."
If Vergil were, in fact, Dante, the threat might've been funnier. As it is, he wonders what kind of double standard it is to consider himself both a comfort and a warning.
Lady leaves him in the silence of the Devil May Cry office, the door slamming a little louder than necessary.
More than likely, unless Dante's consciousness is asleep while Vergil is controlling his body, Dante is in Vergil's anyway. He'll be along via the Yamato once he realizes something is going on. It's... nice, in a way, to know that Lady was trying to look out for Dante, even going so far as to not badger him about a job when something else was clearly on his mind. But Vergil isn't fond of the way she's always sniffing around for money, even if half the time it does seem like an inside joke between them.
Vergil looks down at the glove in his grip. "What is going on with you, Dante?"
He's jolted from his musings by the phone ringing. No one in their right mind calls this early in the morning on a Saturday. But... things are already more than a little strange this morning. On the off chance Dante decided to call rather than show up, Vergil answers.
"Devil May-"
"Thank fuck! Dante, you gotta help me. I don't know what the hell happened, but- "
Vergil's mouth drops open at the panicked sound of his own voice on the other end of the line, and Dante certainly wouldn't panic. His brother is obnoxiously blasé about weird situations. Someone who would panic, on the other hand, is his son. "Nero?"
"Yes, it's me, but listen. I don't know what the fuck you two did, but I'm in my father's fucking body! I have a headache so bad, I can barely see straight. "
Concern flickers through him. "You have a migraine, Nero. If you can manage, you may use the Yamato to cut a portal to the shop, but be careful of the void in between. If you lose focus, it's easy to get lost."
"You want me to cut a portal?"
"Seeing as you're the only one present, yes."
Nero pauses, silence falling between them for long moments until his son speaks again. "Dad? "
"Unfortunately."
"Wait, that means Dante is in my body! He's gonna wake up next to Kyrie and freak the fuck out of her." He stops, a rather painful-sounding groan echoing over the phone. "Damn it. My skull feels like someone's taking an icepick to it."
Vergil nods understandingly, though Nero can't see it. "An unfortunate side-effect of lowered air pressure from the rain."
"Fuck, no wonder you're so irritable when the weather's bad."
"I've come to a similar conclusion. Although, Dante's does appear to be borne of a strange combination of today's specific date and the current weather conditions. Despite being perfectly healthy, I've hardly the energy to do much of anything."
Nero hums. "What's up with today's date?"
Vergil taps a finger on the table, eyes falling on the glove in his grip. "I had much the same question. I would've asked Lady when she was here if she wouldn't have immediately turned on me when I explained the situation. No doubt she'd think I was up to something, and it would be a waste of time trying to tell her otherwise."
"I can see where you'd want to avoid that until you knew how to fix this- Shit." Nero hisses in pain. "How the hell do you put up with this without painkillers?"
"Practice. There are ways to minimize the pain. Based on my short experience in Dante's body, the things I routinely do should provide a measure of relief." Vergil considers. "Do you know how to make tea?"
Nero manages a laugh. "Dad, I'm in the middle of nowhere. You were on a job, remember?"
"Ah." Vergil frowns. He doesn't, in fact, remember. He recalls leaving late last night to take said job seeing as Dante was asleep when Morrison called, but past that, he has no memory. "You will have to use the Yamato."
"I don't know how to cut portals."
"You possessed the Yamato for five years." Vergil answers, confusion curling through him. The Yamato sings for Nero, just like for Vergil. He pushes the thought away when he hears Nero make another noise of pain. "You'll want to be standing for your first time. Are you well enough to do so?"
Nero hums in agreement, but he doesn't sound as sure as Vergil thinks he'd like to.
"Do you have her in hand?"
"Uh huh."
Vergil nods to himself. "Good. Draw her." He listens to Nero fumble with his phone, carefully figuring his way around handling both it and the Yamato. "Now visualize. The more detailed the image of your destination, the more accurate your place of arrival."
Nero takes an uneasy breath. "It's hard to think."
"I know, but I cannot help you from where you are."
"Okay. I'm visualizing, but nothing's happening."
Vergil contains a bemused smile even though Nero isn't present to be offended by it. "It's about will, Nero. Feed your power into her, your desire to return, even your pain. You will feel her resonate, a deep hum within your core."
"Ooh, that feels nice."
"Cut."
"I'm gonna hang up now."
A dry chuckle falls from Vergil's mouth when he hears the portal open outside the shop. He gets up to make tea, pleased that Dante's fatigue faded when Nero was in trouble. Moving around doesn't seem like such a chore as it might've even five minutes ago. Vergil still clutches the single glove to his chest, unsure why, but taking comfort in it all the same.
The door opens and in stumbles Nero in Vergil's own body, drenched in rainwater. "Dad?"
How odd to hear such a word from his own lips. "In the kitchen."
Nero enters, leaning against any surface within reach with one hand and keeping the other pressed against his head. Vergil turns, eyes falling on his son – sort of – in surprise. The ease with which he offers Nero a hug doesn't belong entirely to him. Nero practically falls into his chest. For once, Vergil hardly minds getting wet.
"You made it on the first attempt. Well done."
His son hums at the praise, but he seems more distracted with melting into Vergil's chest. Or Dante's. This is going to get confusing rather quickly.
"The tea will be ready soon."
Nero nods, allowing Vergil to steer him out into the office and to the couch. "I'm realizing you keep a lot of warm fuzzy feelings bundled up in here." He murmurs, making a circling motion in front of his chest. After wincing, he says, "If I ever wondered what you thought about your brother, I don't anymore. You love him a fuckin' lot. Just seeing his face, even knowing you're in there, helped. His aura feels warmer, too. Can taste it. It's harder to pick up in my own body, but it's like a blaze in yours."
Vergil thinks to be embarrassed, but the signs of said embarrassment don't rise in Dante's shoulders or neck. Dante never has been shy with his affection. "Of course. We're twins, and far more sensitive to demonic presences."
"Head still hurts." Nero smooths his hand through his hair in a very Vergil-esque manner. "Ow."
The smile on Vergil's lips comes easily. "I'll get your tea. Stay."
Nero tips his head towards the ceiling, closing his eyes. "I really, really want to slouch into the couch cushions, but I don't think your body knows how. You really do just feel better sitting straight, huh?"
"Lay down. Slouching is an unhealthy habit."
"Those words coming out of Dante's mouth is really weird, by the way. Not that being in someone else's body doesn't take the fucking cake. You seem to be taking this as just another Tuesday." Nero grumbles a bit, and when Vergil returns, he's managed to successfully tilt himself against the armrest in a way that looks completely unusual in Vergil's body. He appears distinctly uncomfortable.
Vergil huffs. "And how does that feel?"
"Like I'm a crinkled candy wrapper." Nero drags himself back into a sitting position, tension visibly falling out of his frame. "Can't believe there are people who have natural good posture. I sure as hell don't."
"I've noticed." Vergil chuckles, handing Nero his tea. "Drink slowly with as deep of breaths as you can manage."
Nero quietly thanks him, huddling under the blanket Vergil spreads over him. Gratitude shines in his eyes, quiet and meaningful in a way Vergil never knew. "What about your, or... uh, Dante's body. Feeling any better?"
"Helping you seems to take priority over any existing exhaustion." The ache in his chest, on the other hand....
"That's good." Nero answers. He takes a sip of his tea, motioning with one finger toward the door. "Yamato is over there if you wanted to go get Dante." He pauses. "You know, she feels really different in your hands. Like she's... softer. Trying to take care of you. It's kinda sweet, you know? For a sword."
Vergil picks up the Yamato, Devil Sword Dante within him buzzing with anticipation. Yamato tremors in expectation, responding to the soft call of her sister sword. She feels different in Dante's hands, just as she had in his own for Nero. He removes her from her saya , reveling in the way her song broadens, deepens, the tone lower as though her edge is already clashing with that of another blade. Devil Sword Dante purrs alongside his inner demon. Restless energy builds in his chest.
No wonder Dante always wanted to play as a child.
"Yes." Vergil says finally. "She has always taken care of me. The Yamato was my only companion almost my entire life, my only refuge." The resplendent hum from her edge fills the air as he opens a portal to Nero's home. "I shall return shortly. If your migraine worsens, lay down with something supporting your neck."
"You're a mother hen."
Vergil shrugs. "You're my nestling."
He steps through the gateway before Nero can respond, knocking on the front door rather insistently and tucking his singular glove into his pants pocket. He vaguely notes it's midday in Fortuna. Julio, Nero's oldest foster child, opens the door looking tired despite the afternoon hour.
"Uncle Dante? What are you doing here?"
"I need to see Kyrie." he answers, hoping the urgency of the situation is easier to pick out in Dante's voice than his own. "There is a pressing matter that requires her attention."
Julio yawns, seemingly used to strange appearances. "Okay. You can come inside if you want."
"Thank you."
He waits patiently for Kyrie to arrive. She's dressed in a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt, apparently having something of a 'lazy Saturday,' as Dante calls it. But with Dante, every day could be one.
"Kyrie."
"Dante. It's good to-"
Vergil shakes his head. "I'm... unsure how to explain my present situation, but I am not Dante. I am Vergil. This is his body, and while I thought Dante would be in mine, I was mistaken."
Kyrie frowns. "How do you know that?"
"Because Nero is in it. And that implies...."
The copper-haired woman holds her composure remarkably well, but even she can't help a horrified glance upstairs. "He's been asleep all day. I thought he was coming down with a cold."
"I'll retrieve him. We'll return to the office and figure out what to do." Vergil places his hands on her shoulders. The action belongs more to Dante than Vergil, but the reassurance is likely good for Kyrie. "We will fix this, and you will get him back. You have my word."
"Thank you, and thank you for telling me." Kyrie murmurs, still a bit surprised.
Vergil takes the stairs up to the bedroom, hardly remembering to greet Carlo when he slips out of the upstairs bathroom. This day does not have him in good form, and things would be a lot simpler if it were just he and Dante involved. He quietly opens the door, finding the form of his son curled on his side. His first instinct within Dante's body is to wake him with a gentle hand and an easy smile, but Vergil knows it's his little brother asleep.
And yet.... He observes a tender warmth in Dante's core for this boy, and playfulness befitting an uncle.
"Dante." Vergil says, a smile tipping his lips. "You truly are a sentimental fool."
"Jus' like my big brother." he grumbles from the bed, not even bothering to open his eyes. "What's up? Why're you in here? Thought you were on a job out... somewhere else."
Vergil frowns. Lady said today was an occasion worthy of Dante's, or rather his, silence. The fact that Dante has such moods and that he's still in bed at noon seem to be decent reasons for concern. "For starters, you're currently lounging in my son's body, and if you'd bothered to look up, you would know that, to my own irritation, I am in yours."
Dante-within-Nero's-body snaps upright, apathy for the world abandoned. "What?" He stares, wide-eyed, at his own body standing before him. "Oh. Shit."
"An unfortunately reasonable reaction. Put pants on and then we shall return to the office. Nero is waiting."
"Nero. In your body?"
"Yes."
Dante hops off the bed, tugging on the first semi-clean pair of jeans he finds. "We should be grateful the kid doesn't sleep in the nude. That'd be awkward as all hell."
"Better that you slept in, as well, since Nero was certain you were going to scare Kyrie."
"Okay." Dante pats himself down and then glances around. "Uh.... Where's Blue Rose? I'm gonna feel naked if I go without it. He always says he does. Oh.... I do not like that." He pokes at the center of his chest. "Kid's power feels really weird."
"Weird in what way?"
Dante considers. "I dunno. It's there, but it's like... latent. Asleep. Actually, it kinda reminds me of my Trigger when I first got it. Really new and kind of exhausting, but I can tell he's been practicing." He peers up at Vergil. Really far up. "This kid did not get our height genes."
Vergil can't help his smug grin. "You'll live, little brother."
"Shut up."
Sighing, Vergil turns the Yamato in hand and swiftly cuts a portal back to the shop. She holds a pleased note when tilted towards his son's body, her edge gleaming a little brighter. Cheeky, aren't you? You always knew.
Dante glances at his older brother, still getting used to seeing himself when doing so. Vergil understands all too well. "I think I've got some strong headache medicine somewhere around the place. I know it doesn't work on you, but we might have some placebo effect going for us if we don't tell him that."
Vergil shoots his sibling a look.
"What? You think I'm blind? I know what you look like when your head hurts."
"But you bought headache medicine, despite knowing it doesn't work."
Dante shrugs, glancing away and brushing at his nose. It's an action produced by Nero's habits, but it makes Vergil feel better all the same. His chuckle is low and hearty, one of the few things he and Dante share in voice. Their laughter is entirely different, but soft sounds are another matter entirely.
"Foolishness, Dante."
Dante smirks, scratching the back of his head and stepping through the portal. "Foolishness."
Vergil steps through after him, pausing on the other side when he sees his own body curled on the couch. Nero loosely clutches his head, eyes squeezed closed and the cup of tea before him empty.
"Kid, you awake?" Dante whispers, crouching beside him and adjusting the edge of the blanket.
Nero doesn't move, but he makes a small noise of assent.
It's odd for Vergil to watch. There's a certain dissonance in knowing he's beholding an image of his son caring for him all the while understanding it's really Dante looking after Nero. But Vergil longs anyway.
Nero cracks his eyes open, his gaze falling on his own young and concerned face. He opens his mouth with a shaky breath, foreign emotion in his eyes. "Oh. Dad...."
Vergil moves, easily crouching beside the couch. He finds himself moving to card his fingers through Nero's hair – his own hair – before he knows he's doing so. Nero presses into his hand, the barest hint of a smile tipping at his lips. "I am here, Nero."
"I felt... what you feel about me. When you see me."
"Oh?"
Nero nods, but the movement is minuscule. "S' a confusing jumble. Taking me a bit to sort through."
Vergil isn't sure he likes that, but there isn't much he can do about it. He needs to focus on ignoring the oppressive feeling in Dante's chest, so it's no surprise Nero would look for a way to ignore his migraine. If he learns something he doesn't like from Vergil's inner turmoil, Vergil will deal with it.
Speaking of that pressure....
"Dante."
Dante turns, focusing those innocent younger eyes on Vergil. "Yeah?"
"Lady was here earlier and she spoke of today being some kind of occasion. From context, I assume it's not a pleasant one, but it may provide some reasoning for our current predicament."
His little brother is not fond of the question. The defensive twist of his lips and hiking of his shoulders produces an interesting response in Vergil's core. Is that... amusement? Well, Dante does enjoy getting a rise out of Nero. Vergil would normally assume Nero's expression meant anger, but his sibling seems to have different connotation for such a look.
"It's not important."
"You forget, Dante." Vergil presses his hand against his chest. "You may lie to me, but your heart cannot. The weight of this day is not lost on me, even if I don't know why."
Dante huffs. "Not even in my body for a day and you're already calling me on shit."
Vergil rests a hand on his shoulder, no less astonished each time at the ease with which his brother will instinctually reach out. He's not afraid to touch, not afraid of any lines Vergil might imagine between them. "Dante.... You may tell me these things. If there is something upsetting you-"
"Just leave it."
Vergil reaches into his pocket, producing the glove that brought him comfort for reasons unknown. "Is this occasion the reason this item dulls the ache in your chest?"
Dante frowns, lips thinning. "Why do you have that?"
"I allowed myself to follow your residual motivations and they told me to hold this."
The tension between them has Nero sitting up, a grimace flashing across his face. "Please, don't start fighting over a glove. There's no way I can break you two up with my head pounding like this, and I'd really like to have a body to come back to by the time this fuckery is over."
Dante stares at the floor like there's something there besides wood and old blood stains. "It's not just a glove."
Vergil waits. Patience is something that belongs entirely to him. Nero seems torn, knowing it's not his place to push but also wanting answers. Regret burns through Vergil, the feeling tracing into a worn groove near his collar. Regret in regards to Nero is nothing new to Dante, it would seem.
"It's... a reminder. To hold on to what matters."
The elder twin glances down, taking his first real look at it. Dante's instincts had pushed him to hold the glove, but he never really looked at it. Dante didn't need to because he knew every inch.
"That glove is twenty-five years old."
Vergil smooths his thumb over to exact cut on the palm, mouth opening in silent understanding. It seems no matter how many times Vergil calls him such, his brother's sentiment remains greater than he'll ever comprehend. The two of them have so little of their past life, so little of one another besides a shared face and time-lost wounds they inflicted on one another, and Dante kept this. This, which would forever remind him of the choice Vergil made to fall into the underworld rather than swallow his pride.
"I should have taken your hand, Dante."
"No shit."
Nero glances between them. "Um.... So, does this have something to do with...," Nero motions between the three of them. "whatever happened here?"
"I don't believe so." Vergil answers. A thought occurs to him. "Nero, when you woke in my body, where, exactly, were you?"
"I dunno. I don't live in Red Grave, but I know I was on top of some roof somewhere. There were a few dead demons around, but most of 'em had ashed already by the time I got moving around." Nero's brow furrows, a familiar look of consternation. "It did smell a bit like magic in the air, though. Do you think something got the jump on you? If that were true, why wouldn't they have used to opportunity to take you out while you were down rather than stuff us into different bodies?"
Vergil hums. "I'm uncertain. The last thing I recall is leaving the shop for the job late last night. In any case, I doubt this was the result they were seeking. I would think some sort of misconducted blood ritual might be worth considering."
With a huff, Dante stands. "If Lady was here, why didn't you ask her about it?"
"Because she would have done more yelling than actively trying to solve the problem. You must be aware by now she has no qualms accusing me of any crime she can fathom."
"Gotcha. Can't believe you let her think you were me."
Vergil snorts. "I almost can't believe it myself, but she did seem rather concerned about you."
"She and Trish will swear up and down they aren't mother hens, but those two wouldn't know the definition of boundaries even if I laid it out for 'em. My business is their business, no matter what I have to say about it. My luck with women always has been pretty rotten, but I guess it's better than them tryin' to kill me."
"One would think."
Dante chuckles. "Yeah. One would." He scratches his head. "I'm gonna go grab some lore books and see if I can't find a fix for whatever the hell this is. You two stay here and stay out of trouble."
Nero rolls his eyes. "Now, I'm really worried. Dante just volunteered for research."
"Har har. Take care of the kid, huh, Verge?"
Vergil nods. "Of course." He sits beside Nero, more awkward in mind than body. "Dante said he had medication for your head if you would like."
"He said it'd work?"
Dante said no such thing, but perhaps, for his son's temporary stay in Vergil's body, attempts should be made. "I'll see if I can't find it for you. Try to relax your body as much as possible. Stiffening up will only make it worse."
Nero nods, his noise of agreement more of a squeak than Vergil has ever heard himself utter. Of course, were he in his own body and Dante offered to help, he likely wouldn't have said anything at all. Vergil gives his arm a squeeze and makes for the bathroom. He rifles around behind the sink mirror until he finds a bottle with a red sticky note on it. "For Verge."
That's all it says—no snide afterthought included.
Years ago, Vergil might've scoffed at the notion of Dante taking care of him in such a way. Now.... He won't say as much, but he's touched by his brother's thoughtfulness. Even knowing such things probably wouldn't work, and even knowing Vergil might be too proud to accept it, Dante bought something to help him.
Idly, he wonders how long ago Dante got it.
Vergil shrugs—Dante's influence, no doubt—and checks the dosage on the back, doubling it for the off chance of it actually having an effect and returning to Nero's side with a glass of water to wash it down. "According to the label, you should feel the effects in around fifteen minutes. You may assume half that with my metabolism."
"Thanks." Nero croaks, peering at the bottle himself.
"You're welcome." Vergil settles on the couch again. "Dante does assist me sometimes with the pain, as well. If you're amenable to it."
Nero hums, shifting sideways on the couch and leaning his head on Vergil's shoulder. He breathes deep and allows Vergil to tug his coat back and start rubbing his neck. Vergil hadn't realized how inflamed his muscles became when he was like this. Nero groans from a mixture of both pain and relief. They sit together in silence, Nero's soft breaths becoming easier with time.
Seeming drowsy, Nero takes a heavy breath. "I get it now. Why you and Dante like to be in close proximity, even if you pretend you don't."
No point lying when Nero will see right through him, just as Vergil did Dante. "Oh?"
Nero nods. "That blaze. When you're close like this, it gentles." The way he nestles closer is entirely Nero's own action. "I feel like a fuckin' moth drawn to a flame. S' really nice."
"I am not a moth, Nero."
"Obviously. You resist a lot more than a moth would. You have any idea how much effort it takes to get your body to do anythin' impractical? I've never analyzed this many impulses 'fore acting on them in my life. You think too much."
"Hm."
Nero chuckles. "What? No comment about me thinking too little?"
Vergil shakes his head. "None today. This... out of body experience has been somewhat enlightening, both on Dante's account and my own."
"I'll bet." Nero mumbles, the majority of his weight now slumped against Vergil. The label on that bottle did say something about drowsiness. Perhaps Dante had a point. "Feelin' sleepy. Head still hurts, but... s' not so bad."
"Good."
Nero agrees. "You care if I just fall asleep here?"
Vergil doesn't bother hiding a soft smile. It's not like Nero can see it with his face tucked into Vergil's neck anyway. "If you'd like." He glances out the window to where the first streaks of light are beginning to grace the sky. "Do you want me to wake you if the rain lets up?"
"Sure."
Nero slowly but surely drifts to sleep under his father's watchful eye. Or Dante's, however one wishes to look at it.
Briefly, Nero stirs again. "Forgot."
"Forgot what?"
"To tell you I love you, too."
Vergil in his own body likely would've arched an eyebrow while trying to conceal the way his heart jumped, but in Dante's? The inner flame within his brother's breast turns to brilliant embers, glowing alongside the smile on his face. As is Dante's wont, Vergil presses a kiss into Nero's hair. His little brother almost always does as much when helping Vergil with his migraines, mostly because Vergil is in too much pain to bother growling at him for it.
"That feels real nice." Nero murmurs. "'Specially to you. But you don't gotta be embarrassed."
For a moment, Vergil is confused, but then he remembers Nero has full access to his instinctual responses to Dante's ministrations. It's odd to see himself from Dante's side, and yet not himself at all. He can't deny how the presence of his own soul soothes Dante's, nor the other way around.
"Go back to sleep, Nero."
"'Kay."
Nero presses closer, something Vergil would deny doing but might still do in his own shoes. What a strange day.
Vergil absently cards a hand through Nero's hair, casting his senses upstairs to where he knows Dante is. Much like in his own body, Nero's demonic presence seems smaller and immature. Aside from the connection of his presence to his nephew instead of his son, Nero's essence is the same.
Protectiveness curls through him when Nero, the one in his arms, makes a pained noise in his sleep. Vergil follows Dante's drives, a comforting purr rumbling from his chest.
Nero calms.
Idly, Vergil wonders how often Dante does this for him. How often has Dante looked in on Vergil sleeping and reassured him of his safety without waking him? Judging by the ease with which his actions came, the answer is a lot more than Vergil knows about.
"Yeah, still just as weird as the last time."
"Oh?" Vergil glances up, that trickle of fondness from Dante hitting him again when he sees his son's face.
Dante-within-Nero nods, scratching at his head. "Well, I think I figured out how to swap us back. Pretty easy, all things considered. Just a quick little rune thingy done up in our blood and then we gotta fall asleep. We're already one for three on that second bit."
Vergil nods. "Proceed."
Soon enough, all three Spardas are curled together on the couch, Dante curled against Vergil's back and Nero pressed bodily against his front. Dante's power coils around them, fearsome devotion on the air so strong, Vergil tastes it.
He wondered what it would be like if their positions were switched. And yet, Vergil thinks as he drifts into oblivion, it was the one thing that made him realize he wants more than anything to be safe, and to continue getting to know Nero. It was a bloody path to get where they are, and one wherein he was too blind to see the damage he did. It's too late to go back.
Vergil folds his energy in close, his consciousness slipping back into his own body in a way he hardly notices and yet intimately senses. Perhaps belatedly, Vergil realizes he has what he wanted.
Dante protects and loves him, and both Dante and Nero are his to love and protect.
It's too late to go back, but now?
He doesn't want to.