Work Text:
<.......>
Standing there, all alone in their room, planning on washing off all the dirt and grime off their body after their usual weekly walk through the Mirror Dungeon... Dante couldn't help but wonder: why was it always so hard for them to undress?
Even the thought of simply taking their gloves off had their stomach turn for their first days on the bus. Overall, back then they were overwhelmed with so many other uncomfortable thoughts and feelings, they didn't think much of their body aside from the obvious — the inorganic head replacing what they might've once had. Or what their other self might've had. Who's to say it was their other self? For all they know, they and the previous owner of "their" body might be completely unrelated.
Dante has to actively stop themselves from questioning their "self" sometimes. Back when they were dealing with that Monolith thingy in District 20, something, not sure what, went wrong — did their clock head overheat or was it something more serious? Their memories of that moment aren't the clearest, but the burning sensation of their head going up in flames with tons of questions and past thoughts flowing through their mind was the closest Dante had ever gotten to suffocation.
So... they're well aware of the reason for their dislike of showing skin. At least they think so.
Dante takes off their coat just fine and throws it onto their work table, all tidy and organized since the executive manager hadn't started going through today's paperwork yet. Slowly, they peel off their gloves, trying their best not to focus on the sight of their cold, naked hands covered in the faintest of scars — those belonging to either their past self or passed down from their Sinners in need of daily revivals and healing.
Next come their socks, then their shirt and tie, then their pants— they don't dwindle on the rest of the process of undressing themselves, hurrying off to their personal bathroom and into a shower.
The water is cold, which doesn't bother them one bit as their neutral body temperature seems to match that of a home plant basking in the winter sun, that is to say it is below the organic average. Their head, on the other hand, seems to feel warmer due to all the mechanisms and uhh... Golden Bough related stuff going on inside of it, it literally releases flames out into the air and has a bomb inside. Would it rust anytime soon, by the way? Probably not, Dante is sure, at least from what they'd learned about prosthetics in the City, they're sure theirs must be of good enough quality.
Thinking on and on about these small things, Dante does their best to keep themself away from perceiving their physical form any further as they wash all their filth of skin away. Under copious amounts of white foam and soap it's almost as if nothing is even there...
———
<...Unrelated, but I have another question.>
With their usual consultation done and after some unsuccessful attempts at getting any info about the company's next stop from Faust, Dante thought it would be a good idea to finally talk to her about this. Or, well, try to. Their undercover mission back at the casino in the Backstreets of Nest J wasn't that bad (in terms of Dante having to give up their coat for an oversized colorful shirt... not in terms of how well the mission itself went), but, recently, during their travels through La Manchaland, there were some bloodfiends that requested everyone to put on costumes or, at the very least, anything fancier than their dull work uniforms. Perhaps, in the near future, they'll really have to have a change of clothes while away from the Mephistopheles, and...
The horrors! The Kurokumo Clan identities' outfits are so revealing! Some other identities' too... Just how crazy can outfits get here in the City!? Just the thought of wearing something like that has Dante shiver in fear, as if they're going up against a never before seen abnormality and not some flimsy pieces of cloth they have to put over their skin.
“Go on.” Faust nodded, face as cold as ever in contrast to the way her conversation partner was shuffling in their chair.
<How do I... say this? Umm...> Dante played around with their fingers, the layer of gloves covering them providing much less comfort all of the sudden. They lowered their head slightly. <Recently— not really, but as of late I've been... I felt like something is wrong. With me.>
“Psychological contamination?”
<No, no! I... hope not?>
“Hm. If it is something on a deeper level, then dealing with it should be more troublesome.”
<Sorry... But I might as well talk about it before it gets worse or something happens, you know?>
“I see you are in a healthy state of mind.” Faust gave her manager a small smile, as if to reward them for speaking up. “Then it might be fine.”
Phew...
“So what is it that's bothering you?”
<...My body.>
“Your head.”
<My body.> Their ticking came out louder and clearer than before. <All of it but my head, really.>
<The clock is just... it's me, it feels like what I am, but my hands and legs and all in between feels... off, foreign, I guess.>
“...I see.” Faust closed her eyes. Dante knows what that means, and they rairse their head up again in hope, but, sadly, to their disappointment, she opens them up again with a frown. “There is no information available on that matter at the moment.”
<No access?>
“I'm afraid not.”
<Well, that's... to be expected.> Dante shrugged. <It's alright, I understand.>
“Are there any more details you can share about your condition? If it does bother you significantly.”
<Oh! I guess... the most important thing I wanted to mention is that I'm especially uncomfortable with showing my skin? Err... like—>
Faust, eyes thin, stared at Dante's shirt collar, raised up as far as it could go and tight enough to choke a man.
“...Faust had assumed so.”
Alllllright then.
<I was just worried if—>
“There is nothing to worry about. Faust is sure.”
Alright. Then...
“Is there anything else?”
<Nope. Thank you for today, Faust.>
Maybe it's not as bad as Dante thinks. Really, why are they worrying so much about something so personal? Even then, feeling bad about their body isn't the end of the world!
———
Oh, but it feels as though someone's eyes are always piercing right through them.
To say Dante feels naked under their guide's gaze would be an understatement. Really, it's like their skin was peeled off along with their neat uniform — to be so intensely observed by the Red Gaze would mean certain death, and yet, the 10th Sinner is an exception to that blood-written rule.
About to move back to the bus corridor after sending off the rest of the Sinners to rest not too long ago, with Outis dutifully standing outside the bus for night patrol like always, Dante felt Vergilius's eyes on them again. Facing away from the man, their nonexistent eyes losing themselves in the depths of the endless corridor ahead, the clockheaded manager's shoulders trembled. Perhaps that was only due to the bus's engine rumbling just under them, maybe it's because of all the bumps in the road the bus is driving past... But they're not moving, are they? And Charon should be sleeping already...
Or maybe it's because Vergilius is staring right at the place where their neck connects with their head.
For some reason, the fact— no, they don't actually know if he's looking where they think he does, but... just the idea of that hypothesis being true, it makes something turn in their stomach. And, oh Wings, they meant it in a good way. In the best way possible, even. They haven't felt like this before.
...How long were they standing there, by the way?
They heard Vergilius shuffle behind them, now calmly sitting in his seat like nothing had ever happened. The strange feeling was gone.
And Dante, completely silent, left just like that. The tension in the air followed them right until they'd reached their room. Why did he make them feel like this!?
They were sure both of them felt weird about moments like these. One side doesn't speak up about their feelings like, ever, and the other is literally unable to do so, not without passing their words over through Faust or...
Right! The PDA! How didn't they think about this!? Just pretend that this whole time they didn't use it to talk to Vergilius was them just not thinking about it and not simply being too nervous to try and speak to him first...!
Now... they're curious. Ohhh, this will finally get them killed, won't it?
———
Today, a date that should be marked for the history books, they decided to be a little cheeky and loosen up their collar a bit, just enough to reveal half of their neck — that's basically asking for trouble! Thankfully no one actually noticed the subtle change, or at least they didn't think much of it. Dante did their best to hold back from shrieking at the feeling of wind hitting their exposed neck all of the sudden, but other than that it was surprisingly... chill.
And just like that, quite underwhelmingly, the time has come.
<Hold on, Outis,> Said woman was about to head over to the front seats like always, until her manager stopped her in her tracks with their voice alone. They sounded surprisingly... soft?
She turned around to face them almost immediately. “—Yes, Manager?”
<Go take a break, I'll take on the night patrol this time.>
Before she could immediately reply with "But—" followed up by whatever reason she might've come up with on the spot for why Dante needs to take a break instead actually, Outis bit her tongue with a defeated sigh. “...As you wish.”
Didn't even ask why they're doing this tonight? Wow, what great character development.
“However,”
Damn it.
Just as Dante was about to switch to defense mode like they always do against Outis and her passionate puppy loyalty, the Sinner grabbed them by the front of their shirt, way too suddenly for them to register what she was actually doing.
“Please keep yourself... your uniform, rather, more appropriate, Manager.”
...AH. She fixed their collar and tie! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! THEIR PLAN! IT'S RUINED! THEY'RE ABSOLUTELY NOT GOING TO LOOSEN THEM UP AGAIN!! ARGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!
Shit shit shit shit shit shit—
...She left. Well, now they're... alone, again. With Vergilius not too far away, reading something and occasionally glancing up at the clockhead ticking rapidly like an oven timer. Just like that, they're back to square one, and their time is limited, since Vergilius is off night patrol and he can just go ahead and leave whenever he wants to. And they'll actually have to take on the night patrol themselves now for absolutely no reason!!
Okay, calm down, Dante... Look. At him. And speak.
Anything.
..........
<Hey babygirl.>
“...What is it?”
They like to be a bit silly sometimes, if you couldn't notice.
Vergilius turned to them, hearing them tick-tock in his direction. Dante noticed how his eyes immediately went down to check on their collar for a split second before coming back to rest on their clock face. They shivered, in- sigh in a good way.
Carefully, hands shaking, Dante took their PDA out of one of their coat pockets. Vergilius sighed at the sight.
“What's got you so bothered in the evening?”
The natural roughness of his voice made Dante's tremor potency rise. <Err- uh- oh, right.>
[It's just a bit cold out here :)]
Oh Wings, they could see Vergilius's face visibly twitch at the little smiley face. Or maybe he was just surprised they were speaking to him all of the sudden. “...So that's why you keep your collar so tight all the time, huh?”
Eeek, he noticed it after all!
[Yeah. I loosened it up today since I felt it got a bit too hot actually, but]
“Couldn't you just... take off your coat?”
...Reasonable response.
[Nah, I'm too used to it, what's wrong with loosening my collar once in a while? It wasn't *that* hot sooooooo]
“....”
A... surprisingly deep sigh left Vergilius's nose as he put a hand over his mouth and turned away. The smallest bit of heat had stained his grey expression with red.
<...Vergilius?>
“Dante. You're supposed to be on the lookout for the night.”
<Vergiiiiiiilius?>
“Dante.”
Oh, they really shouldn't be feeling like this when Vergilius can break off his chains at any time — if he barks, he's sure to bite eventually. But teasing their big angry dog is surprisingly fun...
[I noticed you were looking at my neck pretty often. Why is that?]
“So you revealed more of it on purpose?”
Vergilius stood up from his seat, threateningly so. Uh oh.
Dante nervously backed away, thankfully they could safely keep their gaze down on their PDA as they typed. [I wouldn't say it was on purpose, I was just curious, that's all!]
“That's what "on purpose" means, Dante.” The other forcefully raised their head back up with a hand gripping the lower edge of their clock. His grip was so tight Dante's nervous system had malfunctioned and they could feel his fingers there, on their head, brushing against the metal. “...You think I can't see through your bullshit? Or is it more of you feeling all sure of yourself just because your "face" has nothing to tell?”
Dante ticked idly, hands frozen in place — frozen under the faint red light coming from above. It wasn't his usual glare, they were quick to notice, it's as if the color was... diluted, somewhat.
“Don't think you can toy around with your guide like that, Dante.” He let them go eventually, yet kept his hands held in fists, seeing Dante's chest rise and fall like they were out of breath as they were clutching onto their chest and clock. The tense atmosphere calmed down over time as the distance between the two coworkers increased. Vergilius was now the one facing away from the other. “You're getting too used to being unprofessional.”
<Eh...>
“Looks like those nice "consultations" you lot are having loosened you up quite a bit. The Sinners might each have their own worms in their heads, but I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be the reasonable one.”
<...Then stop looking at my neck like that, you- weirdo!!>
Walking away, Vergilius couldn't help but grimace at Dante's sudden loudness. Dante did notice the way he twitched, but they felt way too agitated all of the sudden to try and run after the man.
<Ugh, just why do you... make me feel like this?>
<It's your fault, don't you know!? You... pervert!>
<You tease... Just be honest with me already! Like my body? Want something? Just take it! As if I can do anything — I'm just your useful company asset, that's all!>
<Just... a thing!>
<A clock, for speaking out loud!>
<.........>
Vergilius stood in place, let his ears be abused with meaningless noise that slowly returned to the familiar calm, soft ticking. Whatever it was that they were saying, he perhaps thought it would be better for them to let it out in his presence. He almost wished he had the freedom to let his emotions take hold of him like that too.
“...You done?”
After a moment of complete, heavy silence, Dante nodded. Some loose cogs and gears inside their head shook around as they moved their head up and down.
“I... apologize for my unprofessionalism as well.”
Unprofessionalism, huh. Well, at least he somewhat admited it.
———
Dante couldn't sleep.
They moved to their left, moved to their right, on their back, on their stomach, repeated all the same with their head now lying on the opposite side of the bed... Faust said they could occasionally have trouble falling asleep due to some reasons beyond their understanding related to magnetic waves or resonance with certain outside forces, but they were sure it wasn't anything like that. If that were the case, their head would be ringing, or they would hear some faint white noise in their... ears? No, it was different.
They didn't dare take off their LCB uniform, not even their coat. Sleeping in your work clothes isn't easy, that's for sure, but they didn't want to see it. Their body. Someone's body.
Their chest was rising, then falling, over and over again. The sight was mesmerizing. Even though they weren't breathing, their body... was. Maybe the sight was quite alluring for Vergilius as well.
Ah...
They sat up. Trying to sleep was of no use now. They don't feel tired, really. Their clock can't get fatigued, can it?
Their body can, however. But it wasn't much trouble. It stings a bit, but it's nothing compared to the pain it takes on every day to bring Sinners back to life.
Now... what to do?
Dante immediately thinks of preparing some documents ahead of time, maybe cleaning up their desk again or sorting through the books in their office, but their body thinks differently. Instead, it gets out of bed and immediately heads in the direction of the bathroom. Oh no, you don't...!
Busting the door open, Dante immediately lowers their head, but their hands— their body's hands— the hands grasp it and pull it up, not like Vergilius would, it was more akin to the way one of those Nagel und Hammer followers — Guido, was it? — grasped it, uncaring for the contents inside and set on making it creak and snap satisfyingly in their hands. They were now facing their worst enemy at moments like these — a mirror.
Tick... Tick... Tick... Tick...
Now, a question for no one but themself: Which part of them was more useful? The head that stores all the important mechanisms inside, the one that finds all the Golden Boughs Limbus Company is so after and does all the magic to rewind death... or their body that takes on all the pain that comes with it? One that once belonged to someone greater? One that keeps their head up and running, feeding it with its remaining nutrients to the point it's all thin and sickly?
To the outsiders, this might seem like a symbiotic relationship between an organism and a prosthetic. Dante isn't shy to admit that they're a parasite exploiting someone else's living body, a body that takes all of the Sinners by the hand and pulls them forward despite all the hardships they encounter, so caring and loving, hugging whoever needs it and petting others' backs at their worst moments.
<Hngh-?!>
The hands moved down to grasp at their— the body's neck instead.
No, they mustn't cut the tie, not yet-
They can feel their pulse quicken under the pressure of their gloved fingers, a moment of clarity pausing their movements before they could block their airways.
They'll find their head first. Won't it be better to help their body find its real host before anything? Vergilius mentioned they were some bigwig once. Losing someone important like that won't do any good... They wouldn't want him to lose someone close just because of their selfishness. Were they ever close to each other? Dante has no real way of knowing, knowing how quiet Vergilius is in regards to his past. But...
With how he was looking at their neck, as if desperately hoping to see the person beyond what Dante is right now, they're sure their body had once meant something more to him.
But Dante is just... Dante. Somehow, repeating that fact makes their stomach drop, and that feeling is, like the heat they had once felt, theirs and theirs alone.
Ah... they can feel their head overheating again, uh ohhh...
It hurts... but it ain't that bad, their body... the body has felt worse back in the day, even literally physically melting at some point...
Some cool water should do the trick! Just gotta waddle over to the shower, let one of the hands grasp onto the right handle and...
Ahhhh, absolute bliss. They can feel the flames on top of their head calm down again, getting weaker and weaker. The icy water taps at the back of their head so nicely as they lie there, face down... the water soaks into their clothes, almost makes them feel like a living sponge... It's peaceful, they can almost not feel their body anymore, hopefully it can't feel their head either.
They don't even notice their vision going completely black as they let the shower continue to rain down on them and the just as inorganic and cold floor.
———
Soft sea waves caress the lower part of their body. Meanwhile, the fresh, salty wind of the seaside brushes against their cold back. The hot summer sun shining up there, at its very zenith, tries its best to warm up their soaked clothes weighing down on their weak frame, yet those are way too thick to let any heat pass through.
“Dante...”
Dante. That's their name, right? Ah, yes... The one and only Executive Manager of the LCB, as far as they can remember.
“Dante!”
That voice calling them out is familiar too. It's Vergilius, they're sure, it doesn't sound like anyone else. Though he sounds oddly softer, lighter, almost like he did back at—
One of those Mirror Worlds.
Oh, how couldn't they have realized this sooner? Is their clock broken again or something? Ugh, crap, they don't want to go through this again, especially after yesterday's...-
“...Dante.” Said clockhead felt their guide — or whoever he is is to them in this Mirror World, really — sit down near them, crouching, his shadow cast over them and spilled over some of the sand just under them. His clothes looked... fancy, even if they're all torn and muddy, his red cape was especially eye-catching. “Finally. Didn't think I'd find you.”
They couldn't raise their head up even if they wanted to, so they gave the man a quick peace sign to show them they're alive.
And he laughed. Oh, he laughed...! The way it reverberated in his chest and involuntarily jumped out of his mouth was just so adorable. “It is... still you, after all.”
Still them? In... what way?
“Can you not get up?”
Nuh uh. They put their hand down powerlessly to prove their point.
“Alright... fine. I suppose helping the poor prince was always my calling.”
P...Prince!?
Before Dante could try and make some sort of loud confused sound at the sudden... t-that, Vergilius took their head into his rugged, dry, scarred yet caring hands. He lifted it up, brushing off the sand stuck to their golden clock hands and dial as he did so. The sight clearly made him feel... off, at least speaking by the way his brows furrowed.
“So... this is what they did to you? I... suppose no one will recognize you like that, at least those that were mainly after you won't...”
<...Huh?>
“Have you lost your... voice as well?”
“Do you remember the fall of the Family of Stars? A nod or a shake of your head will do.”
He was... Ah, well, of course they don't remember anything, how would they? They're... not a prince of any kind.
Who are they, again?
Are they really "Dante"?
This body may be the Dante he's talking about, the one he's so worried about—
But the clock?
The clock?
“Faust is partially at fault for not noticing the issue sooner. They have approached me a week prior to this incident.”
“So what? Tell me what's the problem already.”
“I'm afraid the issue at hand is deeply personal, anyone other than—”
“Can the person who's hands are busy digging around their head's gears and wiring right now not know what's going on? Tell me.”
...It seems that Dante is almost back to their reality. Well, at least the jump isn't too sudden this time, they're sort of used to it... though their vision and hearing is still somewhat blurry and muffled after they'd sorta drowned themselves back at that Mirror World to get back, whoops. They can make out words and shapes just fine, but they really have to focus to make sense of anything, and they're pretty out of it at the moment...
“Dante, they're... suffering from a certain body disorder.”
“Explain, please.”
“Their body isn't necessarily rejecting their prosthetic like it most commonly is for cases like these, rather, it is the opposite. They have commented on how they feel uncomfortable revealing their body, so it is most likely that...”
“...Huh...”
“...Faust has initially dismissed the issue as a common side effect of the use of prosthetics, but it must be some deeper issue that needs to be looked into. If self-destructive behavior such as this repeats in the future, however, it will be a greater cause for concern.”
“Well, I'm well concerned enough already...”
For how long have they been... out, like this? If Vergilius is genuinely worried about them, then how are the Sinners doing out there?! Oh gosh, they should've thought about this before handling themself so carelessly!
“Please do not concern yourself about this, Faust will handle everything after you are done with fixing their head.”
“Easier said than done... Shouldn't you be the one fixing them, genius?”
“Faust is busy with management of the Mephistopheles, as was said.”
Some very light, hesitant knocking could be heard in the distance, probably coming from the door to Dante's office.
“Miss Faust...? It's been, uhh... an hour already, is Dante better, or...?”
...Followed up by very loud knocking right after, as if someone was knocking on it with their foot.
“You have promised to notify us on the Executive Manager's well-being just as any significant change occurs! Are you two just sitting your asses off?!”
“...I will leave to manage the situation outside.”
“Good luck with that, I guess...”
The way he's carefully moving his hands inside them... Learning from their previous less than stellar experience with their clock malfunctioning, it seems, Vergilius handled them much more carefully this time. Dante somewhat wished they were fully lucid right now so they could feel his every touch, which is, again, weird after how much they'd suffered at these same hands pulling and twisting their oversensitive wires one day.
Dante's hearing came back to normal once Vergilius had wound them back up and soon their vision cleared as well — he put their face plate back onto their, well, face, looking over their head with the same look of concern they'd only seen him direct at Charon. The sight of him looking down at them like that felt... surreal.
To the point Dante didn't notice themself slip off Vergilius's legs in time to stop themself from stumbling onto the floor.
<Yeowch...>
Their face plate fell off again, not attached properly yet.
“You... okay down there?”
<...I dunno, honestly...?>
“...At least you're awake again. Did you sleepwalk over to the shower or something and slipped?”
<Huh?>
“Forget it.”
Moving down, Vergilius pulled Dante up by one of their hands and picked their face plate back up as he did so. The two sat over a small couch in one corner of the clockheaded manager's office, mostly reserved for the Sinners not in the mood for talking during their consultations. Fits Vergilius pretty well, doesn't it?
“Sit.”
<Already... am.>
“Don't move. Best that you stay quiet too.”
He picked up a screwdriver and a set of small screws. Him putting them in and driving them home on each side of their clock head stung pretty badly, but, again, it's nothing. Rather, Dante let themself melt into one of his hands holding their head and face plate in place — those are surprisingly big, now that they think about it, and those screws they hold inside them even as they work on them are just so, so tiny in comparison...
Weakly raising one of their gloved hands up, Dante wrote a small "thank you" on Vergilius's chest.
His face grimaced at their touch, almost like last time, a bit of air escaping his nose and hitting Dante's face with how close they were. “Don't make my hands slip now.”
"sorry"
“Don't be... I should be holding back better than this.”
"?"
He was done with fixing their face plate in place way too quickly for Dante's liking. His hands retracted away from their head, yet it seems that they couldn't find themselves a place as Vergilius moved them back down and over his lap. Exactly where Dante's head has been situated at minutes ago. “You're surprisingly sensitive.”
"I'm sorry?"
“Your neck. Faust told me you were feeling weird about your skin or body and... all that.”
<Oh...>
“I shouldn't have stared, is what I'm—”
<No, it's...!>
Unable to convey much more through slowly tracing letter by letter onto Vergilius's broad chest, Dante gestured all over the place until they found their PDA lying over their table, connected to a charging cable.
“...Fine, I'll bring it over.”
———
After what felt like forever, Vergilius was finally done reading Dante's long essay on the weird feeling of their body and head going up against each other.
“...So,” He raised his gaze back up onto the clock person busy awkwardly playing with their freshly fixed clock hands like how someone would pick their nose. “About you loosening your collar and that "odd heat that is definitely yours even though—"”
Dante ripped their tablet back out of Vergilius's hands, their whole body language just screaming flustered. [Is *that* the first thing you're gonna ask about?!]
“Faust told me about the rest of your condition. So?”
[...I genuinely have no idea why you looking at me like that makes me feel this way. It's either my neck tingling or... yeah]
“...Why do I have to be the one to tell you this...”
[Tell me what?]
“...Dante-” Vergilius took a deep breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose before looking straight at Dante's clock face. He knew they needed the eye contact even if it may feel a bit awkward from his perspective. “Tell me, and be honest with me here — what do you want me to do?”
Dante's shoulders visibly shrunk. They backed away a bit to keep a safe distance between the two, feeling a drop of sweat make its way down their back. [Tell you what?? Like, what options are there??? You can literally do anything]
“When I'm looking at you like this,” Vergilius raised his hand up. Dante's head titled in its direction, their sight focused on the appendage. Then, he carefully reached it toward their shirt's collar — Dante's chest froze like they'd stopped breathing. “Or when my hands are this close, what would've made that warm feeling inside you burn hotter?”
...Inside them?
This feeling of theirs, stuck in this vessel of someone else's body... Why is it that when Vergilius caresses it like that, gazes over it, it feels as if all is one and their head and body are in pure harmony?
It took extra effort to type their words out.
[i feel weird using this body for my own pleasure]
[like what if someone else took your body and did all kinds of stuff like... that? what would you think?]
“Dante.” He groaned, frustration clear in both his face and voice. “You won't hear me say this ever again, so listen close:”
“It's fine if you feel like this body is something... foreign to you. It's fine to want to hide it, it's only natural to want this comfort. But you shouldn't stand there and do nothing, you are to work around these things and find solutions that work for you. Some people I used to know wore different clothes, got surgeries, changed the way they see themselves... Does me looking at you like this make you feel better? Tell me.”
[I was wondering if you tried to look past my weird head and imagine the other me, that's all]
Sigh. “You are only what you make of yourself, Dante. With me, at least. Stop overthinking this. Would you rather I focus on your body or on your head?”
...Are they selfish for immediately wanting both?
That's it — he made them feel whole, that's what the feeling was.
So they wordlessly threw their PDA off to the side and wrapped their arms around their guide's neck, bringing his head lower, closer to their neck. The surprised gasp he let out in the process made them tingle all over again.
“Dan- Dante, I would like some proper communication here...”
<Please.>
“...Grip either of my wrists as tightly as you can in case you want me to stop.”
With one swift movement of his hand, their collar was pulled down. Dante could feel Vergilius's faint smirk as he brushed his lips against their revealed skin— Oh Wings, this was better than anything they might've imagined him doing right now. Their body was twisting itself left and right, squirming all over the already crammed couch, but they made sure to keep their hands firmly in place, lest Vergilius even thinks about stopping.
<A-Ah... Verg—>
He brushed his teeth against them, threatening to bite whenever he begins sucking down on their skin. Why were they enjoying this simple action, really? Is this what some would call being "touch-starved"? Maybe they're just ticklish... though some of the Sinners have tried to forcefully get a laugh out of them like this in the past, and yet this feels different.
Dante hoped Vergilius was enjoying it as much as they were, and, clearly, with the way his hands caressed the rest of their still clothed body, there was nothing to worry about aside from the other raising his head back up suddenly, staring at their face again. A hand crept up to pet the back of their clock head.
“The heat coming from your head is unbearable.” Despite that, he said that with a faint smile. “You're just unbearable in general...”
<I'll... take that as a compliment, I guess.> Dante shrugged. They leaned closer to Vergilius, sitting up, and rubbed their dial against one of his cheeks. Those were much colder in contrast, though that didn't mean they weren't warm, especially with how red they were. <...Hehe.>
“It's only now that I think about it...”
<Hm?> Dante tilted their head. They have already gotten comfortable over Vergilius's lap while he was busy avoiding their face like the plague, looking to the side, at the floor.
“I never saw you so eager before. Maybe only when those Walpurgis Nights came, for whatever reason, but other than that I...”
He... does have a point. It's hard figuring our your sense of self when you're an amnesiac with a clock for a head, let alone figuring out your personal wants and needs. At least Dante can feel themself in a way and hear their own thoughts and have their own opinions, but from the outside, especially to those outside of the Sinners, they are a total mystery — their head is like a mask separating them from the rest of the living world.
But Dante hasn't been the most opinionated, really. Moraly bad things are bad, good helpful things are good — Limbus Company owns them either way, so what's the point of going further than that? Let alone desiring something greater... whatever it is that they already have on their mind was actively used to only tie them to the company further.
Screw it, they want to feel Vergilius against them for as long as they can. That's all they want now. Don't think about the past, don't think about their body, just let the heat wash over them and clear their thoughts until they have to come back to their duties as the Executive Manager again.
Dante landed themselves over one of Vergilius's legs, thighs gripping onto his own. Something urged them to rub against it, and they've immediately melted into the man's arms like he was their one perfect mold. Layers of fabric separated them, but this was never about skin, Dante's borrowed body or Vergilius's past scars.
<Ver...gi...lius...>
“...Dante.” The man looked down at Dante's legs covering his own, then looked up at their face again, the added light of their overheated red flames reflected in his own diluted red irises. The red pair looked concerned. “This is... bad. I don't think your head should be this hot...”
<Just a bit more, just a bit- a bit more...!>
Dante's grip on the other's body grew more desperate as they sped up, selfishly using Vergilius's body as an outlet for their newfound desires while those are fresh and exciting. They were too lost in the heat of the moment to consider anything but themselves— Vergilius didn't push them away though no matter what, rubbing circles into the back of their head and urging them on with a hand over their waist.
A bit more it is, then.
Thankfully, that little was just enough to drain Dante of all their remaining heat and let them fall limp over the other's body with their loudest chime yet. Oh how they both dreamed and dreaded the possibility of Vergilius hearing their embarrassing vocalizations...
A low whirring sound inside their head was all that remained to fill in the air, along with the slowly calming flames on top of it doing their best to cool down the mechanisms inside and cracking softly in the process.
“...You better hope no one heard that.” Vergilius sighed against the place where one of Dante's ears would probably be on a normal head. Then again, is Dante really Dante without their head?
<...how long have we...?>
“As much as I'd like to sit there with you some more, Faust won't hesitate to use her master key a second time today.”
<Ah...>
“Do you feel better?”
After a moment of hesitation at the sudden question, Dante raised their head off Vergilius's shoulder to nod, only to notice... a red mark over Vergilius's face left from their clock rubbing against it. A burn mark. It didn't look that bad, they're sure it's nothing serious, but it must've stung him quite a bit!
<Y-Your face!> They pointed at it, to which Vergilius seemed to immediately realize what they were talking about, carefully tracing the mark with his cold fingers.
He looked unimpressed. “It's fine.”
<No, it's not!> Dante shook their head as energetically as they could after it was blazing bright like a star minutes ago.
“You didn't hurt me, if that's what you're worried about. If some heated up metal could hurt me, I wouldn't be a Fixer.”
“Has Dante woken up already?”
...Ah, Faust was back. Both the manager and their guide have frozen in place at the icy voice coming from the door all muffled.
“No, they're—”
<I have, actually! Thanks for worrying about me...>
“I knew I heard something.”
“May I enter?”
<I-I would... rather not be seen like this, sorry.>
“Hm... Understood. I apologize. However, it is preferable that you return to the bus before lunchtime. Is Vergilius still with you?”
<Yeah, he helped me out quite a lot, I should be good soon!>
Seems like Faust was content with their answer and has returned back to where she came from. Dante immediately picked their PDA back up and rushed to type.
[I'm much better now, thank you!]
“...That's good to hear. Or... read.” A small laugh escaped Vergilius's dry lips. Dante savored the moment. “Don't tell a soul about this, you hear?”
[I won't!! Why would I ever do that???]
“Of course, you've learned a lot throughout our journey together, Executive Manager.” He pat them on the shoulder, and they jumped, as expected. Noticing their still exposed neck, now covered in faint bite marks and small red bumps, Vergilius took the time to take off their tie and tie it back up again, bringing their appearance back to normal. “I'll go talk with Faust so you can rest a bit more.”
<Wait— I'm okay, hold on!> Dante grabbed the other by the hand all of the sudden.
[Can I do something for you? Like, to make up for... that]
Vergilius raised his brow, then lowered it back with a sigh. “I don't need anything from you, Dante. Seeing more of you is enough for me.”
<W...Wha...?>
Seeing the man finally walk away from their couch, turning away from them as soon as possible, Dante could notice the way his hands shook and trembled, as if hit by a small gust of wind out of nowhere. One of his palms was red just like the mark on his face.
“I get better work results, less shit to deal with after you and the Sinners cause trouble, a loyal manager...” The words sounded strange, mostly because of how off Vergilius's tone sounded, almost like that "loyal manager" was still there in his lap, rubbing against him. “So, just so you know... my office is a much better place for letting you unwind with me.”
...They'll keep this offer in mind in case they need those red eyes to make them whole again. They gave the man the most confident thumbs up they could muster.
Maybe one day Vergilius will tell them this heat they feel next to him is more than just a physical desire, and maybe one day Dante will pull him out of his own hell and have him admit that Charon isn't the only one aboard the bus he sees as family.
———
<Before you go, Faust—>
“Yes, Dante?”
<...Do you think these pajamas look cute on me?>
“Faust has no opinions on such matters.”
<Last time you could at least tell me the colors looked off!>
“You seem to have taken on trying out a lot of outfits these days. Is your condition getting better?”
<Wooooow, aren't you observant...> And maybe not really since she still hadn't caught onto them sneaking into the one and only Red Gaze's office in the middle of the night.
“So?”
<Not really, but I'm managing.>
“Did Hong Lu and/or Rodya pick this for you? The quality of cloth on this particular set of clothing seems to be of better quality than yesterday's. And the fluffiness of it is more... pleasant on the skin.”
<That's good. Also they bought me this cute sleep mask...~>
“Please cease spending company funds so carelessly.”
<My face is just too sharp and scratches—... my pillow.>
“Buying a new pillow would be more effective.”