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Summary
Kyrie thought the whole thing was hilarious.
"It's free stuff, Nero," she said, rolling her eyes as she cut the packaging off a new roll of socks that had been left on the kitchen table that morning. "We're not going to say no to free stuff."
"You don't know where my father got those socks!" he argued.
"They have a receipt."
"He probably bought them with stolen money," Nero said. "Put those down, Kyrie. Those are blood socks. If my father thinks he can buy my affection with eight dollar blood socks, he is sorely mistaken."
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Bookmark Notes:
"I'll live," Nero said. "I don't actually need you to be my father."
Vergil stared resolutely out of the yard, stone-still. "I know."
Nero bit his lip. Shit, he always does this. "But I like it when you try," he blurted out, ignoring the blush spreading across his cheeks.
Vergil glanced over. "Dante mentioned that the volume of gifts may have started to alarm you."
Fuck it. "The gifts are fine, but it'd be nice if you stuck around too."
"Oh," Vergil said. He didn't say anything else, but he looked like he was almost smiling. "I can bring pizza again."
"Call first," Nero said. "Call anytime, Da - old man."
Vergil was properly smiling now.
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Bookmark Notes:
devil delivered