Archive of Our Own

It wasn’t every day that Nero could enjoy a quiet moment at the shop.

The building was rarely this silent, what with his father and uncles' constant bickering and the foot traffic always peddling through the office.

With Dante off on another hunt, having left earlier this morning, and his unofficial aunts away doing who knows what, he figured it’d be a while until the place felt as lively as usual. Slouching on the couch, his small form barely took up any room as his short legs stretched along the cushions.

He stared up at the ceiling, counting the dents and small tears in the plaster, as he thought. There wasn’t much to see, the dank streetlights outside only illuminating a small chunk of the pealing paint.

Hmm, what to do.

His father had run out a while ago to deal with a small nest of demons not too far from here. Apparently, they’d been terrorizing a gang of dock workers all week.

“I'll be just a moment.” Hpmh, just a moment, he’d said. Nero should’ve been asleep by now, 9:00 PM having come and gone long ago. It’d been like…three hours already. Nero was so bored, he wouldn’t be surprised if his brain started melting out of his ears from lack of use.

He wished his dad were here. The man always had ideas for keeping Nero busy and occupied, whether it was a new strategy game or trying to play-fight his doppelganger. The small quarter-devil never got even close to beating him, but it was a heck of a lot of fun chasing down the phantom form regardless.

Shifting his legs to dangle off the side of the pillowed seating, an idea suddenly struck him. It’s not like he was doing anything other than just lying around here, so…maybe it would be a good time to go hang out in his hiding spot— there was no one around to follow or snoop on him.

It was deep into the night, too, way past his bedtime, so the stars should be big and bright out right about now.

With a big grin and a burst of energy, he hopped up onto his feet, dashing over to the big shop doors to press his ear to the old wood. He took a quick listen, checking for any sounds of his father or uncles’ usual boot crunching, before shooting towards the stairs leading up to the second floor.

Passing by the bedrooms, he made a quick pitstop into his own to grab his favorite blanket, a worn-out and soft old thing Vergil had given to him, and one of his pillows. It was a little tricky trying to climb the tall ladder down the hall that led up to the roof landing with his blanket and pillow stuffed under his arms, but eventually he was able to get up with slow effort.

Sticking a piece of old newspaper under the latch, he carefully closed the little hatch door behind him and made his way to the large, empty area of the roof that wasn't taken over by wire antennas and air ducts. He couldn’t stop another wide grin as he looked up. Just as he thought, the sky was open and clear tonight. Stars and dustings of other forms of the unknown dotted the darkness above him as they glittered across the horizon.

Looking eastward, he could even see bits of the ocean if he squinted hard enough. Nero couldn’t sense his father or uncle from up here, not from this distance at least. He’d still need a few more years of practice to better hone his demonic instincts. It was frustrating, to say the least, not to be as powerful or cool-headed as his father. He wanted to make him proud, after all.

Uncle Dante said he was already making a lot of progress, but it was easy for him to say, being as strong and well-versed in battle and devil magic as he was.

Heaving out a big sigh, the young devil laid his blanket and pillow down on the cleanest piece of cement he could find, swiping away small rocks and any bits of debris that could pinch at him from under the fabric. Lying down, he placed his folded arms under his head, taking in the smattering of constellations he could see and remember the names of. Vergil had taught him a few when he’d asked, curious about space and fixated on the meanings behind what the names meant.

Sometimes, Nero liked to imagine one of those stars was his mom. Maybe her soul, looking down on him, watching over him and his dad. Vergil didn’t like to talk about her much, ready to steer the conversation to different pastures when even a lick of her was brought up. Kind of made it hard to know her in that regard, but Nero didn’t like stepping over his dad’s emotional boundaries. Lady told him those were very important to respect, and he’d rather not hear an earful from her if he ever decided to step over that line.

He quite enjoyed having his ears, thank you very much.

The young devil spent a good amount of time gazing. Watching the sky and thinking of the future as small comets flew past. Nero’s eyes had just followed the end of Draco’s tail when he finally heard soft crunching approaching him.

“What are you doing up here, little one?” His father’s gentle timber called as the crunching grew closer. Nero’s gaze never left the sky as he answered.

“Just watching.” The view was suddenly blocked as his dad’s form hovered above him, his features calm and ever stoic, but curious.

“Watching?” Nero nodded, lifting his thin arm to point upwards beyond his father’s head. Vergil stood up straight to follow the boy’s direction, taking in the vast open space above them, speckled with starlight. “Mm, I see.”

It was silent for a moment between them, no words needed to explain why the small part-devil enjoyed being up here. Vergil surely understood, but Nero did have one question.

“How’d you find me?” Nero asked, curious as to how anyone, especially his dad, had figured out his secret spot. He swore he’d been careful about keeping the roof hush-hush. Vergil didn’t look down, but Nero could see the slight tilt of his lips, hinting at a small smile.

“You are not as sneaky as you believe yourself to be, my little prince.” Nero huffed at the playful teasing. “But I commend you for being able to hide such a place under your uncle’s nose.” His father did take that moment to look down again at his prone form. “He may appear to be aloof, but I promise you he is much more vigilant than you think.”

Nero’s head tilted to the side against his pillow, contemplating the man’s words, but he was interrupted by the sound of soft scuffling before his dad’s tall form sat beside his blanket, crossing his long legs to apparently join him.

The Yamato was placed carefully between them, humming with content as her aura encased them like a soothing hug, low and thrumming. It reminded Nero of the times when his father would hold and carry him, back when he was much younger. He can still remember the deep purrs and rumbles of Vergil’s demonic tones that would always lull him into an easy sleep on those nights when slumber would evade his small body.

The man didn’t do that much anymore, considering Nero was older and mature enough to have no need of such trivial childish comforts. At least, that’s what Nero had assumed after his dad had stopped offering.

Nowadays, the only time even a small demonic chirp escaped his father’s impenetrable facade was to growl at Dante whenever his uncle decided to be relatively more annoying than usual. That, or in the grateful moments when all of his makeshift family spent time together, when Nero caught the low vibration of a soothing rumble coming from his father’s chest. It was kind of funny seeing Vergil try to rein it in, but he liked it when his dad felt content and calm enough to relax.

They allowed the silence to settle around them, undisturbed and comforting.

A light wind had begun to flow along the rooftop. It caught along Nero’s old blanket, ruffling the fabric and causing a slight shiver to travel along his limbs. He tried to hold back the tremors that rattled his body, but he knew his dad had probably already caught on.

Turning his head to catch a glimpse, he wasn’t surprised to see Vergil’s sharp eyes already looking at him, observing his turmoil. He knew their time up here would come to an end if the man deemed his safety to be inhibited due to just a tiny bit of wind.

But…he didn’t want to go yet.

“Just a little longer?” He asked, using the blues of his eyes to hopefully encourage his father to agree. “Please?” It always worked on his uncle. No matter how hard the man tried to resist, there was no escaping Nero’s, as Lady would dub them, “puppy-eyes”.

Vergil’s stare didn’t linger after that, no doubt finding it just as hard to resist his son's adorably pleading face. But as the man looked back up to take in the constellations, Nero knew he’d already won as his father’s features relaxed.

“Alright, but only for a bit longer.” Nero couldn’t help his large grin as his father looked back down at him. “I do not wish to see you freeze to death. Understood?” Nero nodded, unable to quench the joy sparking under his skin.

“Thanks, Dad.” He muttered quietly, a little shy in his appreciation, but he knew Vergil could hear him. A hum of thanks answered at the same time Nero’s blanket, with him atop, was pulled carefully closer to where his father sat. He could feel the boiling heat of the man’s body temperature rolling off of him in waves, most likely due to his demonic core pulsing with a low spark of energy. The heat encased him fully, surrounding his frigid form, and it felt comforting, a relieved little sigh leaving his lungs as he settled down.

Young blue orbs took in the stars, counting each little glitter that caught his eye. He wondered…if maybe Vergil would answer the one question lingering in his mind.

“Hey, Dad?” It was cautious and hesitant, but he oh-so-desperately wanted to know. “What was…mom like?”

The question had an immediate effect, his father’s already statue still form freezing at his words. He could see the man take a brief glance down before turning his gaze away, the quiet around them taking over once more. It had settled for so long, Nero was almost sure his question would go unanswered, and he’d once again be left in the dark about the one parent he’d never gotten to meet.

However, he heard the tell-tale sign of a throat being cleared as his father spoke, smooth and sure.

“Your mother was…interesting.” Nero sat up then, crossing his legs to sit beside Vergil as he continued. “She was curious, stubbornly so. About me. About the world.”

Nero hadn’t had the privilege of knowing his dad that long, only having been found at the Fortuna orphanage a handful of years ago, but even he could see the change in Vergil’s eyes. A look of longing, of regret, and sorrow.

“I remember she enjoyed reading, writing notes. She would jot down bits of poetry that sprang into her mind on random occasions.” He made a fiddling gesture with his hand. “She would always tease me over my choice of author. She claimed his writing form dull and basic. I would have to disagree.” A soft, low laugh left his lips before settling once more into a saddened line.

“And…she would have loved you. In all forms of adoration that I know exist.” Nero’s eyes widened. This was the most his dad had ever shared about her.

“If I had⎯” He cut himself off, taking a long, drawn-out breath. “Perhaps, if I had been there for you, for her,” The man looked down at Nero then, the shared blue hue of their orbs meeting. “You may have been able to meet her, to have her here…in life.”

The words sent a lump forming down Nero’s throat and deep into his chest. An ache so cutting he couldn’t deny the tears welling up in his eyes.

Of course, Vergil saw. Of course, his features all but softened at his child's sorrow, but regardless of the pain Nero felt, he didn’t blame him. He didn’t blame the man for all he’d done. He understood, in a way, after Dante had explained it all to him, after he’d been found and brought into the family.

Vergil just wanted to protect them. From demons, from fear, from loss. The young devil could never blame his father for wanting to protect the only people that he had left. Nero would do the same, had done the same for the other orphans he’d lived with.

And for Kyrie.

How could Vergil ever think his child would blame him for that?

“I don’t…I don’t blame you, Dad.” His voice trembled, shaky in its delivery as he fought to hold back tears. “I think,” He contemplated his words carefully. “I think she just wanted you to be happy.” A few tears managed to escape as he spoke, rolling down the young pudge of his cheeks and landing on his blanket below.

“I miss her…I never even met my mom, and I miss her.” It was no use holding back the flow of his anguish now. “But it’s okay because⎯because I have you.”

It was quiet again, but it didn’t feel as heavy or as stagnant as it once had. Vergil’s soft tone cut through it only a moment later.

“And Dante.” Nero’s head tilted in confusion. “For as pugnacious to the contrary as he may seem, you have Dante. And, I suppose, his ever-present foolishness as well.”

A short, sudden giggle burst from Nero’s lungs as he sniffled. “Yeah, and Uncle Dante too, I guess.” He rubbed at his eyes, trying to staunch the flow of tears. “Even when he is being kind of annoying.” That had Vergil joining him in his found humor, his lower chuckle accompanying Nero’s own childish tone. The man reached out slowly, using a soft knuckle to wipe away a few straying tears from the boy's cheek before ruffling back the silky strands of his silver hair.

The loud, boastful sounds of a job well done could suddenly be heard from the alleyway below, leading to the shop’s front entrance. Likely, Dante, along with Lady and Trish, having returned from the hunt he’d left for earlier.

“I do think it may be time to head downstairs,” Vergil deduced, standing and brushing off dust from his pants and coat. "Seeing as it is quite late, I would like to get started on some sort of dinner for you. Although I have no doubt your uncle will be whining for his horrid, greasy choice of a favored meal.” That earned the man another short giggle from Nero as he stood to join him, grabbing his pillow and blanket.

He barely had time to gather up his belongings, however, as he was suddenly lifted into the air to settle snugly in his father’s arms, supported and safe in Vergil’s clutches. Slipping the little blanket and pillow beneath one arm and the Yamato in the other, Vergil held him close, careful to support his weight as the man made his way towards the lip of the building, ready to jump off and, apparently, ready to give Nero a little glimpse of the fun his dad rarely cared to indulge in.

“Hang on tightly, Nero.” The man said, taking one step to rest it atop the short edge surrounding the entirety of the roof.

Wrapping his arms around his dad’s neck, he nuzzled his little face into the collar of Vergil’s coat. The warmth there provided a close comfort Nero hadn’t realized he’d been craving ever since they’d discussed his mom. Taking a lungful of air, he prepared himself for the rush of gravity, but not before he murmured out a precious few words of adoration.

“Thanks, Dad. I…I love you.” He said against the worn leather of his father’s coat. He felt the stiffness of Vergil’s form before he was pulled away a tad from his hiding place. The young devil was a bit too shy to look at him after what he said, but there was no reason to doubt his intentions as he responded.

“And I love you, little one.” It was said with an intended seriousness, a tone Nero knew meant a deep truth when it came to his father.

He couldn’t help the wide grinning smile that took over his little face at the words, even as his father leaned to press the most adoring of kisses to his forehead to give physique to the care he held in his heart for the boy in his arms.

“Now, let us instill terror into your uncle’s heart.” A dastardly teasing smirk worked its way into the words said, and Nero knew Dante was in for it as he snuggled once more into his embrace.

With their hearts full and sorrows quenched, the duo leaped from the roof, together and joyful.