A drunkard's tale

by Kazrell

Summary:

Dante gets drunk to avoid his internal struggles and drags a stranger with him.

Chapter 1

The smell of gunpowder felt a little bit stronger than usual when Dante woke up, lying on his unusually comfortable old bed. He stretched his arms and let go a little grunt, all without caring to open his eyes - he didn't feel like getting up just yet.

 

Something that had been touching his body moved. Weirded out, he opened his eyes.

 

—I see you're finally awake —a soft voice spoke nearby.

 

Dante focused his sight. A person of around his age was now sitting on the side of his bed - he figured they must've slept tight close for him to feel his side quickly cool down by the person's absence.

 

—You got really drunk last night —the person continued, calmly but slightly bothered—. It looks like something about me felt familiar to you and you kept hugging me. It was getting late, so I brought you home - thankfully you lived nearby. The thing is, you held me tight and I couldn't let go. So. Yeah. 

 

Dante took a good look at them. Fair-skinned, white hair, blue eyes. Quite familiar, yes. But it was evident they were radically different outside of those general things. He got up to their level, stared at their face a little bit more to fully process their soft features, and proceeded to smell their hair. He was a bit too close.

 

—You smell of gunpowder. That's what felt familiar about you. Mind telling me why a babe like you smells so much of gunpowder?

 

—Don't call me that.

 

—Tell me your name then. 

 

Raiden just wanted to leave. This whole experience had been strange, his thoughts were confusing, and this guy was making things awkward.

 

—Guess it's time for me to go home.

 

He stood up, stretched his body a little bit —he hadn't had a lot of free movement since last night after all—, and left the bedroom. Even though he had already seen the strange decorations when they got there, the shapes were easier to recognize now under sunlight. He wondered why there were so many creepy medieval-ish weapons hanging around, and only now noticed the gun collection. Was this guy one of those mentally unstable weapon collectionists? The ones who try to get their hands on weapons used in horrendous crimes, presumably demonized ones, from ancient times?

 

He heard the quick crack of the stairs following after him - it was Dante. The hangover man had gotten behind, distracted by the small bits of Raiden's arms and waist he had been able to see during those stretches right before distancing from him. He had tried to unfold his clothes a little before following his trail, wondering about the strange tattoos.

 

—You're hot as hell —Dante blatantly stated—. And I'd know about that.

 

Raiden silently stared at him for a few seconds before turning around to reach out for the door's handle. Dante did a few small jumps to finish cutting out the distance and extended his arm to impede his unexpected visitor to leave.

 

—Hey, hold on a sec. Haven't even told me your name. How am I supposed to thank you?

 

Raiden turned his face just enough for them to look at each other. Their height difference was a bit too evident right now.

 

—You don't have to.

 

—I want to.

 

—Don't. 

 

—Babe, c'mon. I don't get brought home by a cutie who also spends an all-nighter with me that often…

 

—Let me leave.

 

—Ugh. Fine —he removed his arm, disappointed—. Name's Dante, by the way. Better remember it.

 

The mysterious person left the building quietly.

 

Chapter 2

Summary:

Dante's thoughts under the rain are interrupted.

Rainy days were tough for him. He had never been scared of thunderstorms, but he had developed a negative association with rain because of the painful reunion with his brother. He usually tried to drown those feelings —oh, the irony— with his loud music, but today was one of those days in which he needed to just. Be there. Under it.

Dante tried to empty his mind, paying close attention to the sounds and rhythms of the water droplets falling over and over again. He didn't know how long he had been there, but at some point he stopped feeling them impact against his body - he looked at his hand, trying to see them in action, but they really weren't after all. It was still raining, it was undeniable. He lifted his face and saw a black shape over him, a white spot next to him - the mysterious guy from the other day.

 

—Are you dumb? 

 

—Huh?? —Dante replied, caught off-guard and bothered. 

 

—Why are you sitting there?

 

—It's none of your business, babe.

 

Raiden decided to ignore him acting childish.

 

—You could've gone under the buildings to cover from the rain, you know? You're all wet.

 

—Well, are you gonna tell me about the guns if I answer you?

 

The demon hunter stood up and picked the umbrella from him, so as to be able to stand straight right in front of him. Raiden sighed subtly - he had hoped it wouldn't have been brought up again. He had only wanted to help the guy, but it was getting weirder by the second. This guy didn't look trustworthy.

 

—Smells are stronger when there's higher humidity, ya see? —he continued after being met with nothing but silence—. I can smell the blood too. Mind telling me now…?

 

Raiden didn't know how to react. It couldn't have been so much as a coincidence after all, could it?

 

—You're crazy.

 

—Yeah, I am. Crazy for you. You're stunning, babe. You always look kinda angsty and it's adorable.

 

—...

 

—It's even cuter when I catch you off-guard like just now and you react like that, y’know? —Raiden looked to the side, his body growing tense—. I can see you blushing.

 

—I'm leaving —he said, already taking the first step towards the rain.

 

—Hey, hey —Dante stopped him, holding his clothes—. Aren't you supposed to dislike rain?

 

—What…?

 

—You're a cute little kitty. Cats don't like water.

 

—...It's obvious you're fine after all. I shouldn't have bothered.

 

The taller one let go a small chuckle. He was in a better mood after encountering him.

 

—Let me thank you. I'll do whatever you want me to.

 

Raiden thought for a few seconds.

 

—Kneel.

 

—Fine-

 

—Nevermind.

 

—What?

 

—You were too eager to accept that. I don't want you to.

 

—Babe, you really are driving me crazy.

 

—I already told you not to thank me. I was trying to make you refuse to do what I asked.

 

—I'd do anything for you.

 

The shorter one tried to repress his emotions. He knew the weirdo was just messing with him, but hearing someone say something like that to him still managed to cause a reaction. He quickly grabbed his umbrella back and tried to release it from the other man's grip. He just wanted to leave. That's what he always does.

 

—Hey! —Dante raised his arm, putting the umbrella out of reach from his companion—. What's up with you now?

 

—I need to go.

 

—Let me invite you to some food and then I'll give you your umbrella back.

 

—Are you being serious? —he asked, increasingly annoyed.

 

—Very. Oh, and your name too. You don't seem to like me calling you babe, but you're not giving me an alternative either.

 

Raiden took his time to think about it. By the looks of it, it was gonna be inevitable to come across this guy yet another time. He didn't know yet, but they weren't living too far from each other. And he was proving to be extremely annoying if he felt like it.

 

—...Jack.

 

—Oh —he chuckled—, I hit the jackpot.

 

—I'm in a hurry, Dante.

 

—Aw, but you do remember my name as well. What a sweetie. Do you like hotdogs? That'll be quick.

 

Raiden vaguely nodded and followed his lead towards a small business with hand painted lettering on the glass. Based on the way many clients talked with the bartenders, Raiden figured it was Italian. They all seemed to know Dante and talked to him in said language, making him unable to understand anything that wasn't similar enough to Spanish. He stood there in silence, observing the big guy do his nonchalant thing. They sat at a small round table while they waited for the food.

 

—What's so important that you need to leave me, Jack?

 

It felt a bit… strange to be called by his real name. Raiden was too used to receiving alternative names. He could've lied, given him a fake name - he didn't trust him enough, or didn't want to, so why did he say Jack…?

 

—It's none of your business.

 

—Oh, not this again. Are you gonna avoid all of my questions? You know I'll do the same. 

 

—Fine by me.

 

—Ugh —the taller complained—. You really are a kitty. Avoidant and only nice on your terms.

 

Fabrizzio, the owner, brought them their food - two medium-sized hotdogs covered with potatoes, pepper and some spice-covered vegetables. They were accompanied with two lemonade drinks.

He talked some more with Dante, who looked at him with a smile but didn't seem like he was listening or understanding what he was being told.

 

—Buon appetito. 

 

—Thank you, Fab.

 

The taller man took his gloves off —he was trying to look a little bit more polite—, covered his hotdog with ketchup and invited Raiden to do the same with either that or any of the other sauces lying on the table. 

It looked good. Really good. Smelled awesome. He put a bit of sauce on it and took a bite. He was greeted by a strong, tasty flavor. Dante stared at him, pleased to see he liked it.

 

Even though he had said he was in a hurry and Fabrizzio had shown up surprisingly fast, Raiden wanted to eat slowly and enjoy every bit of it. Dante knew he was bluffing, so he didn't bring it up - he wanted to keep the company for as long as he could. They both finished their food and relaxed their bodies on their chairs.

 

—Oh.

 

—Hm?

 

Dante bent forward and extended his arm, recollecting a bit of sauce next to Raiden's mouth and intentionally touched his lips with his finger. He then licked it clean.

They seemed soft…, his lips.

He shook the thought and reached for the umbrella he had accommodated right behind his leg, just far enough for its owner not to pick it up unless given to him.

 

—There you go, bab-. Jack. All yours. You're free to leave this horrendous jail I've caged you in —he dramatized his gestures to show he was messing around—. Thanks again for the help.

 

Raiden slightly nodded, received the umbrella and got up. He glanced at the empty plates the hotdogs were brought on, looked at Dante, and nodded again as a thank you. He left the place just as quietly as the other time, now free to torture himself with unwanted thoughts.

 

Chapter 3

Summary:

Raiden thinks about last night.

The red-coated man was… strange. He had shown up next to him that night at the bar with two glasses on each hand —he still didn't know how he could do that so carelessly—, stinking of sweet drinks. Dante never really looked at him, just his back. He had started muttering something he didn't understand and the next thing he knew, he was being hugged.

He had tried not to care about it - it was obvious he was dealing with something to be so out of his mind with alcohol, and Raiden was about to leave anyway, but then the mumbling started to sound like crying, and he felt something humid on his back. Tears.

Raiden felt uncomfortable - he didn't know the guy, he was being hugged, cried on, and he didn't know how to console him. He contorted within the wide arms surrounding him and tried to hug him back —isn't that what the drunk man was trying to achieve?—, but it only made it easier for the taller man to tighten his grip over his smaller frame. The crying wasn't louder, but it seemed more painful.

 

—V…r…il… —the drunk man kept repeating a name, but Raiden couldn't figure it out.

 

—Hey, uhm —he tried to grab his attention, made sure to keep a gentle tone to his voice—. Maybe it's time to head home, don't you think?

 

—Home… —his captor repeated. It seemed he stopped crying, but his voice was still broken and hard to understand.

 

—Can you make it home by yourself?

 

Raiden didn't think he could, but asked regardless.

 

—Not going anywhere without you…

 

—Alright. We'll head home together. But let go of me.

 

—I'm never letting go of you —he sounded painfully adamant about it—. Not this time.

 

“This time…?”, Raiden wondered. He didn't want to get involved.

 

—...Fine. Just… Hold my hand or whatever. I need to be able to move. Okay?

 

Dante released Raiden and looked downwards, his sight blurred by the tears on his eyes and the alcohol in his body.

 

—Where's your hand…?

 

Raiden put his hand right in front of the man's, who then held it carefully tight. He stood up and waited for Dante to do the same, slowly guiding him through the place. Based on how the barman acted, Dante was a regular client and assumed they knew each other, so Raiden took advantage of that to find out where the man lived - pretty close. Just a short walk. Good.

He had never experienced something so… mundane before. Much less with a stranger. He peeked at the taller man, curious about his appearance.

 

—My head hurts —Dante mumbled, his other hand massaging his forehead.

 

—Of course it does —he reprimanded him—. You drank too much.

 

—Oh, shut up.

 

Did the man still think he was somebody else? He still had his eyes either closed or fixed on the ground, as if it helped him keep some equilibrium.

 

Raiden reached the place: “Devil May Cry” written with neon red lights, like the barman described. Unmistakable. He asked for the keys and the stranger complained about “always having to do that”, and that he “should stop bossing him around and use his own key instead”.

 

—I lost the key —Raiden lied.

 

—See? Was it so hard to admit? You had to give me orders instead. You can use mine. It's under that brick over there —Dante pointed to a broken brick in the wall.

 

Raiden sighed. Had he been a different person, it would've been too easy to steal everything from the man. He wouldn't be surprised he hadn't already been robbed before if he kept the key in such a place. He got it following his instructions and opened the door, shutting it close after Dante came inside - just in case. He took a look around in an attempt to find the dormitory.

 

—Where's your bedroom?

 

—You know where it is! Same as yours!

 

—Ugh.

 

The shorter man walked all over the place, with the stranger still glued to his hand, and eventually found it upstairs. Raiden tried his best to convince him to lay in bed and go to sleep, but even though the man was ready to lay down, he still refused to liberate him.

 

Raiden figured he must've thought he was his brother or a close relative, based on what he said earlier. Gave it a try.

 

—I can't sleep with you anymore. There's only one bed and we're grown-ups.

 

—Mh… —it looked like he put a thought to it, and released Raiden's hand.

 

Dante made himself comfortable in bed, held the pillow with his hands, and tried to sleep. He looked like a huge exhausted puppy.

Raiden stood still, as if moving would trap him again. Once he thought Dante fell asleep —which didn't take too long—, he felt safe enough to sit on the bed for a second to reorganize his thoughts.

 

He needed a smoke.

 

Where had he put them…? He had told himself he had quit, but this was a bit too much for him to deal with. He had an easier time fighting for his life rather than socializing as a regular person. Where are they…? Did he forget them at the bar…?

 

—Great… —he mumbled to himself.

 

Raiden stood up, ready to leave. He checked on Dante one last time, and it was only then he noticed the cigarette box was in his hand.

 

—How the-...

 

He quietly grunted in frustration and extended his body in an attempt to retrieve it without waking the man up. Unfortunately for him, the stranger had different plans for him: he turned around and, noticing something warm nearby, he surrounded it with his arms and held it tight. Dante didn't remember the fur of his plush to be so long and soft, nor its body to be so big or have any heat at all, but he liked it. He made himself comfortable in the hug and whatever half-awaken conscience he still had, fell now completely asleep.

 

Raiden was trapped.

 

Chapter 4

Summary:

Dante goes home and finds a surprise.

Once Dante left Fabrizio's business, he took a walk around the block before heading home. The rain had stopped and his mood wasn't so dark anymore. Now that he had some food in his stomach, he had the impression his brain was retrieving some very blurry memories from the night he got too drunk. Everything felt like a fever dream, and maybe it had been. He still couldn't figure out how Jack had ended up in his bed, and by the way he acted it was unlikely anything… unusual had happened that night. Jack seemed rather straightforward when he wasn't dodging questions.

 

Now that he thought about it… why was he acting so insistently flirty with him…? He liked to push buttons, but there was something slightly different this time. He paid too much attention to the shorter man's physical features, was a bit bolder than usual at times, and felt disappointed Jack had told him his name because then he no longer had the excuse to keep on calling him babe. Oh, he also extended his already endless debt just so he could have some sort of casual date with him and would do so again anytime.

 

He wasn't dumb. He could see he was particularly interested in Jack, but the question was why him, why now.

…Maybe he liked being rejected and avoided. He never had issues with flirting - usually his difficulties were to keep the limits uncrossed on his companion's part. Jack was doing the exact opposite of that. He was trying to keep him at an arm's length - something Dante was an expert at. But it was now him who wanted to get closer. He wanted to get closer because he knew Jack wouldn't let him.

 

—I'm such a mess… —he muttered to himself.

 

The shop's key was, of course, where he always left it. He opened the door and went straight to his bedroom to get some dry clothes. He saw a small box of cigarettes on the ground and he figured they must be Jack's - it had been very quiet lately in terms of not just demons, but also stupid immature teens trying to get their hands on some flashy weapon. He put the box on his nightstand, not really sure what to do with it.

…Jack didn't look much like a smoker to him, and certainly didn't smell of tobacco - maybe he only smoked every once in a while, or maybe Jack was keeping it for someone else…?

Once he stopped divagating and picking up his clothes from the slightly maladjusted wardrobe —he had found it thrown out in the street many months ago and had been procrastinating fixing the problem since then—, he walked towards the bathroom.

 

Although the shop had a considerable size and so did the upper floor, his bathroom felt… Claustrophobic, in a way. It was as if he had made sure to use every possible corner of the small room to fill it with junk.

Dante left his clothes fall to the ground as he undressed his way inside. He still had clothes from about… 5 showers ago lying around, but he couldn't get himself to clean the mess a little bit. After all, he lived alone. He didn't just invite anyone over either. Why bother then?

 

The sound of the rusty faucet didn't annoy him anymore. He had given up on fixing it a long time ago, the same way he did with many other things around the house. What bothered him, however, was realizing the water had been cut. Again.

He let go a frustrated grunt, insulted himself for not checking it first, and closed the faucet. Not so long after that, the tanned man heard a noise coming from below - great. He went to the nearest window and opened it just enough to see if he was about to be robbed because of his debts.

 

—Jack!

 

Raiden heard a familiar voice calling him nearby, but… It didn't sound like its owner was behind the door he had knocked a few seconds ago with no response. He looked around a bit before lifting his head towards the second floor.

 

…and there he was.

 

…naked…?

 

—Babe! —Dante forgot not to call him that, as he saw the light at the end of the tunnel—. Can I take a shower at your place?

 

—Wh… —he tried to understand the situation, but failed.

 

—I'll take that as a yes —the taller man smiled at him and quickly went inside.

 

Dante dressed up back again, put his clean clothes in a small bag —it was a marketing gift of some business he came across during one of his missions, he didn't even know what it sold but he only cared about the bag's functionality anyway—, and picked up the small cigarette box from his bedroom before jumping from above towards the entrance.

 

—Here's your stuff —the taller man smirked at Raiden as he went out and presented the cigarette box.

 

—...Thank you. What were you saying about-

 

—What you heard. Since you owe me one for keeping it safe.

 

Raiden looked at him with incredulity. Dante kept smiling, like a dog waiting for a treat.

 

—You stole it to begin with.

 

—Really? I don't remember doing that —he gesticulated as if he had done it on purpose, but he truly had no memory of such a thing—. So, you live where exactly…?

 

Raiden didn't want to take him there. He had no reason to. The man in front of him was being too comfortable with whatever their strange relationship was, considering how little they knew each other. But…

He had seen the tan line.

 

—Why do you tan? —the shorter one asked, his mind too busy with confusing questions and making an effort to find a believable excuse, to realize what he had just said.

 

Dante was caught off-guard. It was visible in his expression, but luckily for him his companion didn't notice. Usually he was the one causing that, so it took him a second to react.

 

—You wanna try it? —the taller one replied, sounding just as full of himself as any other time—. I could help you with the suntan cream…

 

—I… what?

 

—What?

 

—...what's in that bag? —he tried to change the subject, not only to ignore whatever Dante meant, but also to actually know what they were talking about. 

 

—Clean clothes. To dress after I shower. At your house. So... After you.

 

Raiden sighed. It seemed completely useless to try to avoid the red-coated man. Everytime they were close to each other he found himself in a strange situation that was nothing like his past experiences. His training hadn't included any of this, but he excelled at following instructions and he concluded doing so would end up being the easier path, so he let go a little grumpy grunt of resignation and led Dante to his house.

 

Chapter 5

The overall appearance wasn't what one would describe as “pretty”, but Dante made the effort to find a way to compliment the old facade of Raiden's apartment. The halls were rather small and so were the doors —at least for someone of his size—, forcing him to bend a little to enter Jack's home.

 

—Your house is so tiny —he complained, observing every inch of the interior in hopes of gathering more information about its inhabitant.

 

—You're just too big —he replied, not bothering to turn around.

 

—Aw, and here I was hoping you liked taller guys… —Dante murmured, his mind still fully occupied with the task at hand.

 

Raiden stood still for a moment, estranged. He turned around this time to look at Dante —who was too busy inspecting all the empty white walls—, thought about it really quickly, and concluded it was still one of his jokes.

…but they were being so damn frequent, and he was spitting them out like nothing, and smiling at him so much…, that he was starting to doubt.

 

—Is this the bathroom? —the demon hunter asked, about to open the door that led to his companion's bedroom.

 

—No —Raiden replied, his voice harshly cold as he stopped his hand—. It's over there —he added, signaling it with his head.

 

Dante looked at him straight in the eyes for a few seconds, trying to understand his sudden change of humor and, acting like he hadn't noticed anything, he followed his gesture and opened the proper door. 

 

—Is there a towel you could lend me? I didn't bring mine.

 

—Use whichever you want —Raiden sounded like his regular self now—. They're all clean.

 

—Thank you, babe.

 

Dante smiled at him, quickly entering the bathroom to set everything up and closing the door before Jack had the chance to complain about him continuing to call him like that. 

 

Raiden sighed. He brought out the box of cigarettes and took a good look at them.

 

…it wasn't a lie - feeling awkward when Dante referred to him as babe was true. He wasn't used to it.

…but he also preferred it to being called by his name. He never felt too connected to it, and most of his life he had been referred to by other names anyway. Ones that fitted him more. Like… White Devil.

 

But he couldn't just ask Dante to call him that way and not find himself forced to give an explanation, if only not to ridicule himself. He liked babe better, but he refused to mention it.

…didn't Dante use it again when he was poking out the window? Maybe he didn't even need to do anything after all - the flirty guy would go back to his natural habits and it'd be done.

 

He sat next to the wide window in the small living room and lit a cigarette. He opened it just enough for the smoke to leave his side, and observed the boring, dull cityscape view he had from there. It was an entire neighborhood surrounding the area, and taller buildings hid what would've otherwise been an horizon cut by mountains. 

 

…

 

Although he wasn't one to use a lot of body care products, Dante would've sworn he had roughly twice as many as Jack did. His companion's bathroom —and pretty much everywhere else he had been able to see so far— was rather minimalistic. There were only the most essentials of everything, and they were all cleanly organized. It looked like a hotel, in a way.

He tried to keep things just as clean, taking out the dry clothes, undressing in a corner and putting his still humid ones inside the now empty bag. 

The quantity of bottles was so scarce that he had no issue to know which one did what - back when Trish was still his work partner and roommate, his bathroom had been invaded by things he couldn't even understand the purpose of, and he thought he still had some of them lying around somewhere… But this couldn't be any more straightforward.

 

Oh. Warm water. He had forgotten the last time he had had the chance to use it.

Dante showered himself quickly but thoroughly, as if in fear of running out of water at any moment. He picked the closest black towel and dried his face and hair with it, leaving it around his neck. He then picked another one and dried the rest of his body.

 

Even though everything was clean, he could still smell the blood.

 

He dressed with a little bit of laziness and messy-ed his hair before leaving the bathroom. He exhaled in relaxation and saw Jack sitting a few meters away from him, smoking. “So they were his after all”, he thought to himself. The arrangement of the living room seemed strange and had one too many couches considering what Jack's preferences appeared to be.

Dante's clothes were now more… informal, compared to his previous outfit. He wore a thin black v-neck with short sleeves that was just the right size - tight, but not enough to imprison his body movements. His pants were half red, half black, and went along pretty nicely with the leather shoes he already had.

 

—I'm taking your towels with me, I'll clean them for you.

 

—No need —Raiden answered without moving.

 

—Man, you're one stubborn little kitten… —Dante complained, sitting on the couch parallel to where Jack was.

 

—Quite the one to talk…

 

The shorter man turned his head around with the goal to side-eye him, and was met with a different look on him. Dante's expression was calm, passive in a way but still reflexive. His posture was carelessly relaxed - so much that he had let himself fall down the coach to find a comfortable position, and hadn't noticed his shirt having lifted enough to be exposing part of his waist. His hair wasn't as homogeneously wet as earlier, nor as stylishly brushed as usual - it was just the right amount of both simultaneously, even though Dante hadn't been intentional about it. He looked like a model.

 

Raiden stood still.

He saw the smoke of the cigarette in his mouth and, coming back to his senses, offered the box to his visitor.

 

—Not my style —he politely declined with his hand.

 

Suddenly the dull cityscape was astonishingly interesting to Raiden, so he focused on it once more. Of course it had nothing to do with the recent view of Dante's defined body —or so he told himself—, so he didn't acknowledge the fact that he was letting the now coatless man observe him quietly for as long as he pleased. 

 

They remained still for some time, the scenario feeling like a painting to strangers' eyes. It was Raiden this time who decided to begin the conversation, turning his head around as he spoke.

 

—Do you have a brother?

 

—A twin —Dante responded, his jaw ever so slightly clenched—. Why? Are you changing me for him? —he joked with a vague smirk on his face.

 

Raiden pretended not to hear.

 

—You thought I was him that night.

 

—Since I gave you an answer, I think it's time you tell me about the gunpowder and the blood.

 

—You don't trust me.

 

Why would he? That had been a stupid response, but he knew it didn't matter what he said. For all Dante cared, he could've started reciting a recipe and the coatless man would've brought him back on track until he answered. 

 

—You don't trust me —the taller man corrected Raiden—. I do. That's why I want to know.

 

Dante stared at him quietly, not a single emotion showing. If anything, there was a subtle tint of curiosity in his face.

 

—You see, babe —he continued talking once he saw Jack wasn't willing to—. I'm a demon hunter. That's why I have all of those weapons at the shop. The blood… —he poked the tip of his nose—. It smells different from human blood. The scent is much stronger, lasts for a longer time. And this place stinks of it.

 

—...I'm a soldier —Raiden confessed after a few seconds—. That's all.

 

Dante tilted his head, like a dog trying to understand what he had just heard. If that was all, then it would be rather easy to get rid of the demons - people only needed to have trained soldiers. The truth however was different. Even an experienced soldier would need help to deal with some of them, and Jack didn't come off as the kind of person to work other than alone. Not only that, but the remaining blood scent he could smell was ten times stronger than what he had ever felt on any other person. The closest thing would be… Trish.

 

He didn't want to, but he felt terribly attracted to Jack, to what his past might have been like, and to how good his abilities must be to have killed so many demons on his own. That meant, however, that he would have to answer the same questions.

 

And he didn't want to.

 

Chapter 6

Summary:

Dante disappears for a while.

Raiden was left confused —more than usual, that is— after he saw Dante stand up and leave with barely any explanation. He had said some vague excuse as he walked towards the entrance - one that was too vague to hide the fact that he wanted to leave, plain and simple.

 

It had been about a week since that, and now Raiden found himself in front of Devil May Cry one more time. He had told himself to avoid the red-coated man as much as he could —something he had proved to be bad at—, but he hadn't seen the demon hunter since then and couldn't deny being concerned about his well-being.

He made sure no eyes were on him when he went closer to the brick after which the shop's key was hidden. It was a bit awkward. There wasn't a global threat for him to be doing this, and it was precisely that lack of danger that bothered him about having to use his highly trained sneaking skills at retrieving a key from the worst hiding spot possible. 

 

—On your way to steal my heart?

 

Raiden quickly turned around by instinct, and just as fast stopped himself from attacking once he confirmed the voice to be Dante's.

Even though he was more than accustomed to seeing pools of blood, it was a little bit shocking to see the taller man —and the sword he was holding— heavily covered in it.

 

—It's not mine, don't worry —he added with a somewhat arrogant smile on his face.

 

All Raiden did was let go a heavy exhalation and loosened his body as he closed his eyes and lowered his head. Although Dante had hoped for something a little bit more dramatic, it was enough for him to know —now for sure— that Jack, at the very least, cared about him. Despite his perpetually grumpy mood.

 

—You were hiding that very well, weren't you? —Dante pointed with his sword at the dagger Jack held. 

 

Raiden ignored him.

 

—Where have you been?

 

—Busy with work —he replied, carelessly—. Looks like you missed me.

 

The red-coated man walked towards Jack, picked the key and opened the door to his shop, inviting him to follow him inside. 

He poorly cleaned the sword with his coat and left it on his desk without bothering to move the items that were already there. A second after that, he tilted his head and gave a side smile to Jack before signaling to the shorter man to follow him upstairs, where he suggested him to lie down on the bed while he took a shower.

 

He didn't care Jack was right behind him, or maybe precisely because of that he started taking clothes off a few meters before he reached the bathroom. He liked showing off. Unlike him, Raiden was more reserved, so he found the wooden floor to be incredibly interesting once he saw Dante take off the coat.

 

Although the bed was visibly old, it surprised Raiden to feel for the second time now how oddly soft the mattress was. Everything else in the room looked like they had something to be fixed, and would have expected the mattress to be the most worn out object there, but he felt nothing wiry clawing its way to his body. Not now that he was sitting at the border, nor during the night he had been held hostage by a drunk man.

 

…he imagined Dante letting himself fall onto the mattress every single night, and concluded he must've spent all of his efforts in finding the most comfortable one. Everything else he likely didn't care about.

 

The demon hunter had spent the whole week killing creatures at the furthest areas of the closest city. He found it annoying to work in a different place, but he needed to get some money to pay the bills, to get his water back, to be able to clean the growing mass of dirty clothes and the two used towels he had to return, and to pay for those two hotdogs from a while ago, amongst other minor debts he didn't want to think about. That was the reason he had been gone, and the reason he was now comfortably showering at home. But he didn't want to say such a thing when Jack asked.

 

Dante came out wearing nothing but a pair of pants and a black towel —they happened to have a similar appreciation for the color— with a very subtle Gothic decoration. He was finishing drying his hair off when he sat next to Jack - not too close, but not far enough. 

 

—So? What've you been up to, babe? —Dante asked with a warm smile of curiosity.

 

It was hard to deny that Raiden was rather clumsy at certain connotations, but it was just as hard for him to stay focused on the conversation if he had to look at the unintentional appeal of his companion.

 

—Did you run out of shirts? —the shorter man joked, trying to find something particularly interesting about the nearest corner of the room.

 

—I did —Dante admitted as he let himself fall onto the mattress, stretching his arms a little bit. Raiden assumed he was humouring him, but, for once, it hadn't been a joke—. I think I might fit into yours.

 

Dante moved to touch the loose sleeve of Jack's oversized shirt. He hadn't thought anything of it nor the words he had used, he had no second intentions, but Raiden had heard one too many flirty lines from him not to understand that the —now shirtless— coat-less man wanted him to take his shirt off. Alternatively —according to Raiden's misunderstanding—, he wanted to get under his shirt and be kept tightly close together by its limited stretch.

 

And his body tensed.

 

Unaware of the reason, the demon hunter noticed the change of his body and incorporated himself enough to slide his hand all over Raiden's back up to his shoulder, as if to have an overview of what muscles needed help the most.

 

—You'd do good with a massage, y’know.

 

—...shouldn't I be the one to say that? —Raiden asked, the image of Dante fighting for long with a visibly heavy sword appeared in his mind.

 

—Well —a small chuckle left his mouth as he smiled at Jack—, if you insist… 

 

It hadn't been his goal, but the demon hunter wasn't going to deny such an invitation.

 

It hadn't been his intention, but the soldier had just given Dante the perfect argument to take his shirt off.

 

Raiden felt resignation and a slight amount of embarrassment as he saw the taller man take the towel off his shoulders, sit comfortably on the ground in front of him, right between his legs, his arms loosely surrounding them. He had a good view of Dante's shoulders. They were wider than they had looked like until now, and the volume of his muscles were noticeable even with the angle he had.

His hands were shaking a little bit —at least that's what he thought—, as he hadn't done this in quite a long time and certainly had never done it in similar conditions. This was… Intimate.

 

—You need oils or sum’n? —Dante asked, not because he wanted it to begin already, but because he had seen enough scenes in shows and films, as well as too many ads, to convince himself it was a necessity.

 

—No.

 

Raiden warmed up the neck and shoulder muscles with calculated movements, causing Dante to exhale in relaxation. He massaged around the neck, feeling the soft white hair as he worked his way downwards. Once he saw he couldn't continue in this position, he asked Dante to lay down on the bed and moved alongside him as he seemed fit. He could hear the taller man's breathing slow down with each pass. He massaged the body carefully, focused on his task until he deemed it finished.

 

The demon hunter grunted as he stood up from his position. He wanted it to last longer.

He took a look at Jack. His companion's face seemed a bit shy, perhaps expectant of a good review from his part. He smiled at him and petted his lower hair along with his neck.

 

—That was really good —he gently commented, softly holding the neck of the shirt—. Your turn now.

 

Raiden let the man slide his clothing upwards, adjusting his body for it to move easily. Something about being in front of someone like Dante, by themselves, vulnerable, made him feel smaller, weaker than he was. 

 

—...Do you want your shirt back, babe? You look uncomfortable.

 

—...No. I'm fine.

 

—You sure?

 

—Yeah, it's just… —Raiden tried to order his thoughts—. I've never let anyone do this.

 

Dante mentally took note of the phrasing —it hadn't been a “it's my first time on the other end” but a “I haven't allowed anyone to get this close before”—, and gave a carefree look at his companion.

 

—I'll take good care of you.

 

With a growing nervousness in his body, Raiden laid down on the soft mattress. He wasn't sure whether Dante's unpreoccupied personality made it easier or harder for him to relax, but he tried his best nonetheless.

 

The taller man barely had any knowledge or experience when it came to massages, but he trusted his adaptability well enough to act slightly arrogant. He had just received a perfectly well done massage, how hard could it be to copy what he had felt?

Dante put his hands together, moved them in opposite directions to warm them up, and soon began to follow what Jack had done earlier. He worked with less concentration and a bit faster, but still roughly kept the same precision. He improvised some parts, not because he didn't remember them, but because he had the impression it's what needed to be done to fully relax Jack's muscles. After all, their needs were different.

 

Once finished, Raiden sat on his legs still in the middle of the mattress, while Dante did so by the border - he didn't sit too close, but this time Raiden didn't mind he wasn't far enough. 

 

—Feeling better?

 

—...Yeah —he nodded, calmer but arguably more shy too.

 

The tattoos.

 

The demon hunter wanted really badly to ask about them, but couldn't yet find the proper time. His biggest concern had been to get Jack feel comfortable and it looked like he had achieved it so far. His minor concerns included keeping himself in line - just like with the tattoos, he hadn't been able to shake Jack's lips off his mind. This whole skin-to-skin situation hadn't helped forget about it either.

He moved his sight away from his companion to the grey shirt, picking it up and offering it to its owner.

 

—Thank you.

 

Raiden received it and put it back on, still surprised at how different his body felt now.

There were things he wanted to talk about, but didn't know how to bring them up. He stayed there, still, quiet. Maybe it was best to leave - all he had come to do was find out if Dante was alright and he had gotten an answer long ago.

 

—The tattoos —Dante talked as he saw the shorter man standing up, possibly losing his only chance—. Do they mean something?

 

—...It's a long story —Raiden replied, not willing to explain.

 

Dante wasn't content, but didn't insist. He stood up after Jack and quickly brought him the two black towels that he had lent him, now perfectly clean and folded. They were inside a plastic bag with the logo from the place where they had eaten a hotdog.

 

Even though they weren't too close, they didn't need words to part ways, and so Raiden nodded with gratitude and left the shop silently. Dante followed him downstairs, saw him leave and, once he was all alone, he took his sword to give it a proper clean.

 

Chapter 7

Summary:

Dante's scheduled meeting finally takes place.

It wasn't so uncommon for demon hunters to find themselves arriving late —or not appearing in the entire day— to scheduled meetings with colleagues. Dante had been waiting since yesterday, but he wasn't worried. He took the time to reorganize his weapon collection, making sure to remove any accumulated dust they might've had, and debated on which ones he could sell.

 

A soldier.

 

Jack was a soldier.

 

He wondered what his missions were like, what his preferred gun was. He wondered what his uniform looked like - was it a standard uniform, or did he have a special one? He wondered what Jack thought about when he fought demons, what he felt about them, about… him.

 

…did Jack wonder about the same things?

 

…did Jack feel what he was feeling?

 

He went to the jukebox and put some music on - he needed a burst of energy to put his mind to work on cleaning everything upstairs. The screaming voice against the fast-paced instruments was loud and violent, quickly inviting him to follow the rhythm on his way to the stairs.

Dante started with the bathroom, as it was nearly unwalkable. He piled up all of his dirty clothes inside a huge bag and put it somewhere they wouldn't bother him while he cleaned the room. He continued with his dormitory and so on until he deemed everything stylishly organized. It was only then that he went back to the pile of clothing, which he took downstairs and went outside without caring to stop the music.

 

Getting rid of demon blood stains was a rather annoying thing to do, but luckily for him someone had been smart enough to create a business around this specific task, and the place wasn't too far away from home. Dante saluted the owner of the underground laundry, J.K., and followed the necessary procedures to leave his clothes to the experts. He made sure to state the payment to be requested to the demon hunter going by the name “Lady” - for once, she owed him one and he was going to squeeze the opportunity as much as he could.

 

Now that he was free of cleaning tasks, he walked to his trusted shops to buy food and any other necessary item.

 

…did Jack like pizza…?

 

…did Jack hate olives…?

 

With little money left in his pocket, Dante went back to Devil May Cry. He put everything in its place and sat at his desk to take a nap. The strident noises of the songs playing would've deterred the average person, but they were soothing to his ear and quickly fell asleep. 

 

A short, hard sound broke the rhythm of the music and did the same with Dante's sleep. The doors were wide open and, right in the middle, the cause of it: Trish.

 

—People don't respect beauty naps anymore? —he asked.

 

Dante let go a small grunt of complain and changed his position on the chair. His old teammate sat on the desk, close to him.

 

—Sorry about taking so long.

 

—You better be —he replied—. Had to go out of my way to get things running.

 

Trish put the black, slim bag she was holding right in front of her colleague and opened it with swift, elegant movements. The interior was cushioned and entirely filled with cash. Although she invited him to count it, he didn't need to - he trusted her with all his being. Even if she was giving him his part of the paycheck a little too late.

 

Although they needed to discuss a new job the blonde had found for them, the red-coated man remembered all of Trish's things he had found and set aside while cleaning the house —he hadn't noticed the space he had been losing because of them until that moment—, and told her where he had placed them for her to pick up. She showed an expression that denoted surprise and gratefulness at the efficiency, standing up with the same elegance as usual, and walking upstairs feeling a little bit nostalgic.

Dante only knew the job would give them a bag just as full of cash as the one in front of him, but he deemed more important in the near future to retrieve the space that had been invaded by his colleague. He was thinking about collecting miniatures of his favorite guitar models: he knew where he could find a tall, slim shelf for a cheap price, and he had seen people of around his age in front of a shop full of antiques and replicas. He had never gone inside just yet, but he was already saving some bucks to buy at least one. If he played his cards right, he could get a huge discount.

 

The sound of the front doors took him out of his thoughts, so he redirected his eyes hoping it was a new client with a decent job. He wasn't bothered when he noticed the visitor to be no one other than Jack. He involuntarily smiled.

 

—Can't live without me, hm?

 

With every other flirty line from him, Raiden's doubts grew bigger. Even after being with Rose —or maybe because of it, considering everything that happened—, he found it extremely difficult and unbelievable for someone to ever have that sort of interest in him. He kept rejecting those doubts as unfounded and nonsensical as he walked towards the demon hunter. His mind never registered the music playing, unwillingly too focused on his thoughts. 

 

—There —Raiden said, handing him a group of small papers.

 

—Love letters? —Dante asked, picking up the papers that looked a bit too familiar.

 

—Food coupons. For a few different restaurants.

 

The taller man looked at him with a ambiguously confusing expression, one that Raiden thought wasn't a good sign.

 

—...I saw empty pizza boxes all over the place when I brought you home —he explained—, and you took me to one of these restaurants. Not sure why, but they handed me a lot of them, and I figured I'd give them to you.

 

—Bab-

 

Dante stopped himself as soon as he was reminded of Trish's presence. His old coworker hadn't been back yet - there was no way she could've gotten lost in such a small place, and especially one she lived in for months, so he concluded she might have been spying on them once she heard them talk.

He didn't need to excuse his abrupt pause, as she decided to make her entrance just at the same exact moment. The sound of her heels called Raiden's attention, quickly looking towards the stairs.

 

—Who's this cutie? —Trish unapologetically asked, standing close to him and not putting a lot of effort in hiding herself from taking a good look at him—. Name's Trish.

 

The men were tense. On one hand, Dante didn't want Trish to force her way into his business. He didn't want them to meet —not this soon, at least—, and he didn't want to give any explanation to either of them about who the other was. On the other hand, Raiden didn't think he could stand another person shamelessly flirting with him at every opportunity, and unfortunately the stunning woman next to him seemed to share Dante's passion for it.

 

—I… didn't mean to interrupt —Raiden excused himself—. I was about to leave.

 

—Right —Dante quickly added—. Didn't we have to discuss some things ASAP, you and I? —he quickly stood up and tried to drag Trish away from Jack.

 

—Oh, but it won't take long —she replied, not moving her sigh away from the visitor as she was being gently pushed away—. I'll give him back to you in a second.

 

Raiden had no reason to stay. He had done all he had the intention of doing. But the woman's words felt like an obligation for him to wait. He stood there awkwardly and tried to distract himself by carefully observing Dante's music collection.

 

—Who's that? —Trish whispered with energy on the other side of the room.

 

—Our new contractor… —Dante tried to regain her focus.

 

—That can wait. Who's it?

 

—Nobody.

 

—”Nobody” —she mocked him—. Aw, you have a little crush, don't you…

 

—I never said that.

 

—Do you have love letters?

 

—...You really were listening. How nosy.

 

—What's the name?

 

—...

 

—Dante.

 

—Jack.

 

—Oh… —she quietly chuckled, knowing exactly what he said when he first heard it himself—. You hit the jackpot.

 

—Can we talk about business now?

 

—This won't remain untalked about —she warned him—. I want to know everything about your cutie.

 

—He's not-... —Dante sighed in resignation, knowing she wouldn't acknowledge what he was trying to say.

 

He had never had a similar experience with his brother before, but he had seen it in shows, and now he felt like he was a young boy and his older sister was teasing him for having an innocent childhood crush on a classmate. And she wouldn't stop until she had convinced him to make a bold move.

 

The subject now temporarily set aside, he let Trish explain to him everything about their new job and listened carefully, his head slightly downwards, while trying to peek on whatever Jack was doing without his colleague knowing. 

 

The vinyl collection was composed entirely of metal music, and even though he didn't recognize most of the names, Raiden found himself happy to know he shared Dante's music taste. He wondered what his favorite bands were, what his favorite songs sounded like.

 

The shorter man fought the urge to touch the jukebox - he was painfully curious about the music, but the jukebox had a visible crack and he didn't want to accidentally finish breaking it. He finally noticed a vinyl was already playing and tried to pay attention to the sounds.

 

Trish played with her hair for a second before raising her voice to a regular volume. She said her goodbye to Dante, and waited for the mysterious cutie to turn around to do the same with him. She left the shop almost as quickly as she had entered.

 

—...Sorry ‘bout that, babe —Dante apologized, closing distance with him—. Where were we…?

 

The demon hunter tried to find where he had left the coupons, even though he was still tightly holding them in his hand. He was glad to realize Jack hadn't seen him.

 

—...I like your music —Raiden said after a few seconds, not fully processing what he had been told—. It's good.

 

Something inside Dante's heart changed when he heard Jack's words. He tried not to give it any relevance, but it was undeniable the void between them had become so much smaller.

 

Chapter 8

Summary:

Raiden goes on a mission.

The sound of singing birds next to his window was something Raiden liked. Despite having cloudy memories of his childhood, he could vividly remember hearing birds every morning and seeing them fly with liberty gave him something similar to hope. Hope that he too, one day, would be able to move far away from that place and see things he had never seen before and still have the autonomy to leave the new place too if he ever wanted to.

 

His current life was… Decent. He was glad he had been able to stay as a special unit soldier, somewhere different, away from his recent past. He wouldn't have been able to adapt to a more… mundane life.

He picked everything up and went to the reunion point. He received all of the necessary information he needed to execute his mission, and prepared his equipment with automatic movements. He knew all of these weapons better than his own palm.

 

The team behind the codec was conformed by new people, voices he wasn't accustomed to yet, but the explanations and advice he was receiving from them were now truly useful. Raiden entered an abandoned building through the air conducts, making sure to examine every room possible from above before heading down. His goal was to gather information about whatever thing was happening there every Sunday night - there had been a growing amount of alarmed people gossiping about a cult invoking dangerous demons to cause a wreck.

Raiden took note of everything he saw in each room, sent pictures to the team for them to decrypt the strange symbols he couldn't understand. Dealing with real demons was still something he hadn't fully adapted to, but he knew it was only a matter of time. 

 

Being put in an extreme situation was the only way his mind could be free of thoughts. The only way he could achieve peace of mind. 

 

…did Dante experience the same thing?

 

Just the fact that he could lift that sword with a single hand like it weighed nothing demonstrated Dante was physically strong. And so did his appearance with demon blood from head to toe. But this wasn't the time to be thinking about the flirty man, even if he wanted to know how potentially similar they might be.

 

Raiden made sure to leave small microphones in every single room, following every instruction he received, and left no trace behind. The supporting team gave him enough time to quietly exit the building minutes before the cult members entered.

Both Raiden and his team knew the reunion wouldn't have any importance - after having followed their movements for weeks, the cult showed to be strict and rigid when it came to its habits. For now all they would do was gather and discuss what they needed for their next invocation, which would happen in a few days.

 

He let go a heavy sigh. Even though it was good to have avoided any contact, a part of him was disappointed about preparing his weapons for nothing.

 

Raiden's skintight suit looked normal on the outside but it kept his body under a slight pressure at all times, like a working dog's prong collar that let him know he needed to remain focused. Once his superiors officially declared this mission finished, he let his body go from the pressure and the thoughts were released from their temporary prison. He quickly dressed in a completely black outfit, something he bought before moving.

After distancing himself from Rose, he stopped dressing so much like she had taught and expected him to. He had never been overly interested in fashion and liked his clothing to remain loose. It allowed him free range of movement, kept him from overheating, and hid his body shape. He wasn't ashamed of it, but preferred to be perceived as shapeless as possible. Rose, however, had always had a preference for a more formal-looking attire and his wardrobe had eventually been conformed by several suits that accentuated his body shape. He still had them, but never wore them.

 

Leonora, the woman who made sure everyone's stomach was well fed, walked by with several food trays she offered to every person she encountered. Ever since he joined this team, Raiden had been actively avoiding her. He didn't have anything against her, he just didn't want to eat and much less have someone insisting on him to. 

He observed her go from one place to another, making sure to stay out of her sight. He noticed a new girl, tall and blonde, following her with more trays, so he wondered if she was her new helper. Her hair and posture reminded him of Trish, even though they dressed and acted very differently.

 

Trish…

 

Something about her features felt similar to Dante's, even if he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. He wasn't sure whether they were blood-related or not, but it was easy to see she and Dante had known each other for a while now, and based on their conversation she either shared his profession or it was closely related to demon hunting. She… 

 

…but why was he thinking about all of this?

 

Raiden got rid of those thoughts and made his way home. The moon was still high in the sky and he could see stars all over it. He liked walking around the city, stepping over the homogeneous ground made of rectangle-shaped stones, the streets mostly empty and quiet. It was radically different to what he was used to. He lived in a more crowded area than Dante, sure, but it had nothing to do with all the skyscrapers and filled streets he would see everywhere in his old place.

 

His apartment felt just as lonely as always. He had never been one to find interest in decoration, but even he could see the combination of furniture he was given wasn't all that well coordinated. What did he need two armchairs and a couch for, in a small living room, all by himself? The kitchen was a little bit strange as well, but the bathroom seemed fine and so was his bedroom.

After having a quick dinner and finishing his house work, he laid down on bed. Tomorrow's mission required him to infiltrate once more, though this time it was expected to be met with enemies. The silence in the room felt heavier than usual as he wondered if it would be possible to have Dante join him someday.

 

Chapter 9

Summary:

Dante goes shopping.

A strawberry lollipop was all he got after rescuing Jonah's cat from a small horde of demons, but Dante had “forgotten” to mention that part of the story. Although he usually would've expected a much higher payment for such a thing, strawberry happened to be his favorite flavor, so he overlooked being underpaid by the kid.

 

He took a walk around town, a bit bored of looking at the same old walls of his shop for so many hours a day. He unintentionally ended up in front of the antics shop, where the figurines that had interested him were sold. He saw a couple of young girls joyfully enter after recognizing their own personal target, and followed them inside out of curiosity.

The older girl led the way, and quickly stopped next to a big —at least for their size— sculpture of a medieval knight. She talked to her friend with enthusiasm, insisting that she would soon find a job to save enough money for it.

 

Dante stood nearby and listened to their naive conversation with a mixture of amusement and melancholy. Even though he was reading some sort of grimoire, he had taken a quick look at the sculpture and found it to be surprisingly well done. He had seen enough true relics inside old haunted castles to have developed an expert eye for these types of arts. If he had to complain about it, he would've brought up the lack of accuracy of the sword's length and the way it was being held, but since it was being reclaimed by a kid he didn't have any need to mention it. He thought Vergil probably would have, as his personality had a bigger tendency towards perfectionism. A vague smile appeared on his face imagining his brother, just as old as him, arguing with a little girl.

 

He took one final look to the girls passionately admiring the knight sculpture, and then headed to the guitar miniatures. They were handcrafted and painted with colors that looked exactly like the original instruments. He wasn't sure how they were done but, even though he found them admirably executed, he had suddenly lost a big part of his interest in them.

 

—That one's the best —a familiar voice said very close to him.

 

Trish was standing right next to him, pointing at a black electric guitar with thunder-like accents. He found it very fitting of her.

 

—I'll buy it for you.

 

Dante picked it up and carefully observed the details. He took a quick look at his friend and walked towards the cashier, where he paid silently. The blonde woman followed him outside, receiving the guitar from his hands.

 

—Is this your way to stop me from asking about your cutie?

 

—No. It's just a present.

 

—Pity —she closed her eyes and slowly opened them up again—. It would've worked.

 

 Dante moved his head subtly, just enough for her to know he was going to lead the way somewhere. She followed her friend and pestered him with questions he refused to answer until they sat in a restaurant, outdoors.

 

—Why are you so intrigued by this? —he asked.

 

—You were flirting with Jack —she playfully replied.

 

—You of all people know I have a way with sweet words —he made some gestures with his half-consumed strawberry lollipop—. You've heard me talk that way a million times.

 

—And exactly because of that, I know your tone was different from the usual.

 

The red coated man remained in silence, waiting for her to say something else. Because there was something else.

 

—You've gotten gloomier ever since I left —she added—. But look at you now. You're even pampering me with presents.

 

—I've given you presents before —he objected.

 

—You've never admitted doing so —she complained—. You always act like it has nothing to do with you.

 

—Well —he replied in a condescending manner—. I did this time. Talk about maturing. 

 

Trish let go an exaggerated sigh of exasperation. She mentally thanked the waiter for interrupting them, because she wanted to throw a chair at her friend's head.

They both took a look at the menu and quickly gave their respective orders to the old man with antique, rectangle-shaped glasses. Once the waiter left, Trish gave a judgemental look at Dante.

 

—So, what are you waiting for to tell me about this Jackie boy? —she impatiently insisted.

 

—I don't know much about him —he excused himself.

 

The human-shaped demon stared at him with an expression that screamed to mean “are you kidding me?”. A part of him was proud to see she had such control of human non-verbal communication.

 

—Do you think I have a file with all of his personal information or what?

 

—I'm sure you've learned enough from him by now. You are annoyingly observant when you want.

 

The waiter appeared once more, this time to bring their plates. A large pizza for Dante and a large burger for Trish. Both of them had asked for cold tea to drink.

 

—I'll tell you if you're the one paying this time. And the next ten meals.

 

—Fine —she accepted without hesitation.

 

Dante started eating. He loved to lift up the slice and look at the cheese stretch until it tore apart right next to his mouth. The flavor, as usual, was delicious.

 

—He's a soldier —he started explaining—. I'm guessing he's around my age.

 

Trish nodded while biting her burger, expecting him to continue. Just like her friend, and although it had taken her a while to get accustomed to this realm’s flavors, she enjoyed it.

 

—He's a loner. Wary. Always moody. Adorable sometimes. Like a kitty.

 

They simultaneously drank.

 

—He occasionally seems absent-minded and I can't tell what he's thinking about. I know he intentionally ignores me at times. 

 

—It does sound like he acts like a kitty, I'll give you that. 

 

—He has tattoos. Small waist. Soft lips.

 

—And you know this because… —she said, remembering Jack's loose outfit, his body fully covered.

 

—Irrelevant —he refused to contextualize it and drank before continuing—. Very minimalistic, unlike you. Likes metal music. I've seen him smoke, but it's something rare. And… well, I'm sure you already smelled it.

 

—I did.

 

—I don't think he's like me. Haven't seen him fight yet, but definitely looks promising.

 

—You'd love to have him as your partner, wouldn't you…

 

She wasn't talking about work, but made sure not to give that connotation to her voice.

 

—Not looking for one.

 

Trish couldn't tell whether he had understood her or not. She had learned a lot about humans during her new life here, but Dante had always remained the worst subject to analyze. At times she felt like he had been born with the most perfect poker face and ambiguous tone, exclusively made that way to cause doubt on anyone who interacted with him. 

 

She observed her friend for a few seconds and stood up, headed to pay for the food. She went back to Dante and gently kissed his cheek before leaving with her beloved gift.

 

Chapter 10

Summary:

Raiden goes on a second mission.

Something red was tinting his suit and he knew it didn't come from a demon. He could feel the wound, deep and sharp. The claw-like thing that pierced his side started rotating inside his body, its irregular shape causing more damage.

 

Raiden knew he was being harmed, but he didn't feel the pain that came with it. He shot at the creature enough times to disintegrate its small head, which in consequence stopped the damage against his side. His steps were a bit sloppy because of the blood loss, but he trusted the nanomachines in his body to do their work and close the bleeding of the wound as soon as they could.

 

He still had roughly twenty five demons left to get rid of. He had picked up on certain patterns of the human body depending on whether enemies would try to attack, defend or pretend. His childhood had forced him to learn quick, and noticing those patterns with demons was no different. It was a matter of killing or getting killed.

With a new lesson learned and hopefully a future scar that wouldn't be too noticeable, he made sure to execute every other similar monster. Those with a different physiognomy he stayed more wary of, uncertain of their combat habits. He calculated to have ten targets left.

 

The mission required him to clear the area and retrieve body tissue of the demons. The military had already tried many times before, but they had now trusted his speed and diligence to be the key to success. For some reason demons —or what was left of their bodies— would eventually become some sort of ashy dust that quickly disappeared, which brought to Raiden's mind the question of how it was possible for Dante to notice remnants of the smell of blood long after that. He, for one, couldn't. And it didn't look like any other military member could either, otherwise he wouldn't be the one doing this.

 

But, again, it held no relevance to the mission and this wasn't the time to be thinking about him.

 

The small crystal tubes the team had given him were safely kept inside a metallic box attached to his belt. Raiden made sure to identify the missing enemies’ position before he attempted to cut parts of the dead demon bodies. He moved fast, but without losing any precision in his execution. Once he finished, he moved quietly towards the closest target and decided to use his sword this time.

 

The HF Blade was light in his hands and cut through the air as he sliced the demon's body. He didn't want to give it any time to react to his attacks, killing it with little to no wounds in his body. He did the same with the other nine and, once finished, took a good look at his skin tight suit: barely anything from the original color was visible anymore.

 

He took a deep, slow breath. His heart rate was altered from the adrenaline and he was now starting to get the sensation of pain back. He informed his team about the current state of things and followed their next instructions.

 

The wounds made by demons hurt more than any of his past injuries. He couldn't really understand why, but he didn't find it important enough to bring it up. He knew it was something that could be expected and ignored the logical reason behind it. Maybe Dante or Trish could answer such a question…?

 

He limited himself to finishing his work and allowed the medic team to take care of him once out of and far away from the battlefield. He never really liked medical areas. He was used to enduring horrible things, and the sterility of hospitals was the opposite of what his surroundings usually were like.

The harsh stare he gave to Leonora, who was headed towards him, food in hand, was deterrent enough for her to turn around. She felt a cold pressure all over her body and, despite her natural curiosity and worry, she had no intention to find out what had happened to him to be partially bandaged.

 

He stayed under observation for the night, just to make sure his body was stabilized enough to be on his own. He hated having to be monitored and visited every now and then. He thought the medical team were exaggerating the damage to his body - he didn't feel as bad as they were describing it. He thought lying down for a few hours would be enough. The wound, of course, wouldn't just suddenly close itself, but he would've rested enough for him to continue to ignore the pain for longer.

 

That's all that mattered.

 

Chapter 11

Summary:

Dante takes a deal and visits Jack.

The jukebox had been broken for a couple of days already and it had been making Dante go crazy. He had gone through many of the adequate businesses listed in the yellow pages, and finally found the most convincing one: it had the lowest price rate.

He had contacted them a few hours ago, and a middle-aged man called Richard was now trying to fix it.

 

—How long is it gonna take? —Dante asked impatiently.

 

—A week or two, maybe —the repairman replied—. Days have gotten busy lately.

 

The demon hunter's disappointment was noticeable: he grunted and constantly walked a straight line from corner to corner, trying to control his wish to completely destroy his damaged jukebox just so he could have an excuse to buy a new one immediately. He had the means to do so, but he had grown accustomed to not having enough money at hand and thus always went after the biggest bargains, so he refused the idea. 

 

Richard had been in the business long enough to become a bit flexible with his clients’ needs. He had a vague idea of who Dante was because of a friend's friend mentioning him with praise. This was his first time seeing him and his shop, and it had been very easy to conclude his client was passionate about music. There was a battery that wasn't too far away from them and it was visibly used, but well taken care of.

 

—You play? —he asked, vaguely pointing at the instrument with his head.

 

—Huh? —Dante stopped and looked at him, too busy with his frustration to fully understand what the man's goal was—. Why you askin’? Building up a garage band for the good ol’ days?

 

—Kind of. My daughter's birthday is in a few days —he explained—. My brother turned her into a big rock fan, so I wanted a band to play for her. 

 

Dante's expression changed. He knew where this was heading to. He confidently walked towards the battery, picked up the drumsticks with flashy movements, and vigorously started to play. It only lasted a few seconds, just enough to show off his abilities.

 

—I want it fixed by then, if not sooner. 

 

 The man shook his hand, agreeing to his terms. He then gave Dante all the details needed about the birthday party and left the shop.

 

Dante felt good about the deal. Despite the low price, he had seen Richard was knowledgeable enough to trust his abilities. He wondered why the man wasn't charging more - he had seen enough workers get higher salaries with much less knowledge and passion.

And speaking of money… It wouldn't take too many more days for Lady to show up with no previous announcement to demand a new payment for his debts. She hadn't come in quite a while.

 

…Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen Jack in several days either. 

He stretched his body as a way to release tension from not being able to use his jukebox and went outside, straight to Jack's apartment.

 

Even though the identical halls and doors made him feel like he wouldn't have been able to remember Jack's number, he instinctively found it. He gently knocked and waited to be received.

 

…

 

…It was taking longer than he thought.

 

…Maybe he wasn't home.

 

He lowered his eyes with disappointment and was about to turn around and leave, when he heard the doorknob move.

 

Inside the apartment he could see Raiden look at him with an expression he couldn't fully decipher - a mixture of surprise, annoyance and shyness. He was… almost entirely naked, all wet, covered only by a black towel he was holding around his hips. He saw different injuries over Jack's body, but just as he did with the strong smell of blood, he pretended they didn't exist for now.

 

—Well, this is the kind of reception I like —he said with a cocky smile on his face.

 

Raiden looked away, a bit tense, and went inside after releasing the doorknob. Dante followed him silently and closed the door.

 

—I'll be back in a minute —Raiden informed, entering the bathroom he had had to leave—. Make yourself comfortable.

 

Dante took a good look at Jack's legs, which not only were well defined, but also had similar tattoos to the ones on his waist and arms. It seemed as if he had forced Jack to hurry a bit too much, as his grip on the towel wasn't too good - he had dangerously seen part of Jack's groin area, where the right part of the towel was touching a slightly lower part of his body than the other.

 

He looked away once he heard the bathroom's door and closed his eyes, his heartbeat subtly altered and his face starting to warm up.

Despite his eccentric behaviors, the demon hunter had never been too interested in seeing someone's entire body, and he had almost done it by accident just now. He tried to eliminate this new visual information from his mind, feeling he had seen something forbidden, but he couldn't help but think the shorter man was beautifully built. 

 

He knew he was doomed. He was paying too much attention to Jack's body for someone who didn't have any true interest in suggestive matters.

He didn't want to, but as he sat on the couch and looked at the cityscape, he imagined himself gently caressing Jack's soft skin, the both of them comfortably lying in bed. It appealed to him the idea of being able to be so physically close to someone who was as avoidant as him, if not more.

He knew he needed to keep his mouth shut about this. If Trish ever found out, she would never stop pestering him about his alleged crush. Worse, if Lady knew about it, he could start thinking about moving overseas and finding a new identity.

 

Raiden entered the living room with the taller man still caught in his thoughts. He looked at him for a few seconds, expecting the red coated man to turn around and drop one of his usual lines but, since it didn't happen, he went to the kitchen with the intention of bringing some food and drinks.

It was only after Dante heard the sound of objects being put on the small glass table that he noticed Jack's presence.

 

—Sorry about interrupting your shower —he apologized, changing his sitting position.

 

—It's fine —Raiden sat on the other side of the room—. What brings you here? —he asked, putting the bowl he had filled with chips closer to Dante, in an attempt to silently invite him to eat.

 

—I missed you.

 

The soldier froze for a second, but even though he regained his composure almost immediately, this didn't escape from Dante's sharp eye.

He then sat as carelessly as he could, trying to look unaffected by his loving voice. He didn't attempt to talk and instead waited for the expert to start the conversation.

 

—You're hurting me, y’know? —Dante added—. You could've said “me too” even if just to make me happy.

 

Raiden stared at him, in part to give him a judging look, and in part to try to figure out what his intentions were. He made a gesture with his hand towards the bowl to make his invitation more evident.

Dante followed the hand with his eyes, but didn't bother to eat.

 

—Did I upset you, babe? You're giving me the silent treatment.

 

—I'm not. I wouldn't have let you in.

 

—So you won't be mad at me if I ask about your injuries? —he finally reached for a handful of chips, trying to make his petition sound more casual.

 

—They're no big deal.

 

Dante had seen, caused and received enough injuries to know that wasn't true. The intensity of the demon blood he perceived made it more evident.

 

—...Babe, do you want me to leave? I like teasing you, but it isn't my goal to upset you.

 

Raiden took a moment to think. He did want to be left alone after having been so carefully monitored. He was mentally exhausted. He felt the inside of his still healing wounds follow all of his body movements. Unlike with this room, he liked the emptiness of his bedroom and its lack of windows. It felt safe. And he wanted to be there.

 

—Stay.

 

He didn't want to talk. He simply didn't have the energy for it. But he had slowly come to realize the red coated man's presence was comforting, even with all the flirty teasing.

Despite knowing Dante's words were always a mere tool to toy with him, they still were affectionate. Or maybe it was because he knew there wasn't a true romantic meaning behind them that he didn't mind them that much, that they now felt more true than Rose's. But he wasn't sure of what his feelings were anymore, what his thoughts should be like.

 

—You sure…? —the taller man asked, doubtful.

 

Raiden stood up, picked up the bowl and sat on the couch, next to Dante. Not too close, but unexpectedly closer than any other time. He didn't look at his visitor - he put the bowl on his own legs and mindlessly moved his thumbs over the round border.

Dante observed the host in silence, surprised to have him voluntarily and unpromptedly do such a thing. It was easy to understand Jack wanted his company, which caused an odd tingling sensation on his body. He attempted to ease the situation by gently moving Jack's wet hair away from his eyes.

 

The silence and the short distance between them had already felt pressuring to him, but Dante's caress is what prompted him to reach for one of the drinks. He hadn't realized how dry his throat was until he saw he had already drunk half of the glass. He looked at it with perplexion.

Dante could see the awkwardness in Jack's actions and, without putting any thought to it, he stole his glass and drank what was left inside before leaving it back on the table with complete normality. He then adopted a meditative posture, wondering if he had gone too far, too soon, and at a bad time. He could almost hear his own heartbeat.

 

—Were you waiting for someone else? —he suddenly asked, not wanting to spend any longer in silence—. You hurried up to open mid-shower and got disappointed it was me. 

 

Raiden's reaction was very short-lived and subtle, but it looked like he was bothered to hear that's what Dante had thought. 

 

—I'm waiting for my lessor —Jack clarified—. She's always busy with who knows what, so I can't miss this meeting.

 

The demon hunter's attention had been well caught, now observing his host with scrutiny. He didn't want to admit it, but he felt a little bit relieved he had been the one to have shown up at that time and not her.

He couldn't help but imagine Jack having a serious discussion with this lady, still wet and covered by nothing but a short towel, not willing to make her wait and give her a chance to leave. He wasn't sure he could have kept his focus if he had been in her position, and doubted any other person would have.

 

—I figure she didn't give you an estimated meeting time?

 

Raided shook his head.

It didn't surprise him - Dante himself had ended up in heated arguments with several landlords in his youth for making him waste so much of his time, during a period before he officially opened his shop for the first time. He sighed with understanding.

 

—Mind if I stay until she shows up?

 

Raiden shyly shook his head one more time, still not looking at him.

Dante looked away, making an effort not to think how cute these little moments were to him, trying his hardest to keep his imagination in line. He had seen enough things today to be making up more in his mind.

 

—Can I take a look around? —he asked, slowly standing up, convinced he needed a distraction.

 

—As long as you don't go to that room —Raiden signaled it with his head—. Same as the other day.

 

—Got it.

 

The taller man felt more curious about what Jack was hiding from him, but he had no desire to cause trouble. He patiently walked through every room he was allowed in, observing every displayed item like he was visiting a museum. 

 

Raiden stood in place, checking on him from time to time just to make sure Dante was still there, as carefree as always. He tried to find a reason why the red coated man seemed to like him so much. He didn't know anything about the flirty man's brother, but considering how little he had been brought up until now he didn't think they were too similar outside of general features. He concluded it had been mostly caused by Dante's drunkness.

But then there still was that thing about demon blood. Even if the only reason for him to keep contact was to find out about his military operations, this didn't seem like the best approach at all. 

 

He reached for his cigarette box.

 

Dante turned around with the sound and walked towards him, stealing the cigarette while Raiden was already lifting it. He then put it between his lips and toyed with it like it was a lollipop's stick.

Raiden looked at him with a bewildered expression and was about to take another one when he heard the door knock.

 

Before he could reach it, the taller man had already opened. There was a woman not too much older than the two of them, her vintage outfit more formal-looking.

 

—Oh, excuse me —she apologized—. Wrong door. I was looking for Jack.

 

—Jack's here —Dante informed—. I'm just a visitor.

 

He invited her inside like an old-school gentleman. Raiden greeted her as formally as he could, which wasn't much, but enough to not sound as harsh as usual.

This would've been the time for Dante to leave, but something about the woman's attitude made him stay. He sat down and followed them silently with his eyes, making sure not to interfere with their conversation. He didn't know the lady, but he had gone through this enough times to know she was making an effort not to look at him.

 

Jack didn't have the same sharp eye for these things. He did, however, know his lessor had never talked to him in such a calm, gentle tone. She had always been in a hurry, complaining about everything he tried to mention. He figured it had to do with Dante's presence, but he assumed it was simply a matter of being perceived by outsiders as well-mannered.

 

Once back in the living room, the red coated man stood up - it looked like everything had been discussed. The taller man had counted the times the lady had put her hair into place, even though she didn't need to, and passed by far the number 5. He had noticed any furtive sight she attempted. He could've tried to kiss her right now and he had the certainty she would've gladly allowed him to.

He thought it was cute to know Jack was so blind to something that was painfully evident to him.

 

The woman left with a vague nervousness only one of them knew the cause of.

 

—So? How did it go, babe? —Dante asked, holding his unlit cigarette like he was truly smoking.

 

—...She was okay with everything we discussed —Jack commented, still incredulous—. Even with things she had previously rejected.

 

The taller man chuckled, a warm smile on his face. He found Jack's naivety too adorable. He resisted the urge to kiss his forehead, like one would to a confused puppy, and rejected the thought by looking away. He went back to pretending to smoke.

 

—Well, that's good —he didn't hide the mellow tone of his voice. 

 

Raiden didn't seem to agree.

 

—Mh… I think it was because you were listening. I'm not sure she'll actually keep her word. 

 

—That's alright, babe. I'll talk to her if she gives you any trouble.

 

Raiden couldn't figure out why he sounded so confident in his reassurement, but it did make him feel relieved. His desire to smoke was still there, so he tried to pick another cigarette. Before he realized, the one that reached his lips was the one Dante had been using. Caught off guard, he looked at the taller man.

 

—Guess I should head back —he excused himself like he hadn't done anything strange—. Had a good time with ya, babe. 

 

Raiden stood still with Dante's cigarette in his mouth, not sure how to react. The demon hunter opened the door and turned around one last time before leaving.

 

—I'll come back tomorrow to check on your wounds, okay?

 

He closed the door behind him before giving the shorter man a chance to refuse.

 

Chapter 12

The door opened. Jack greeted him with nothing but an innocent stare to his eyes. They never discussed it, but somehow Jack knew Dante was going to ask him to take his shirt off, and so he did. He quietly offered the taller man a drink before sitting on the couch.

 

Dante picked up an armchair and sat close to him, one of his legs positioned between Raiden's. He took his time to drink, almost trying to be abnormally slow so he could spend more time like this. Once done, he warmed up his hands and carefully massaged every muscle of Jack's arm, starting with the hand and slowly making his way up. 

 

—What's your brother like?

 

—Oh, we gettin’ personal now? —he shortened the distance between them—. You can't complain when I ask you something back.

 

The shorter man felt momentarily cornered, but even though Dante's intimidating proximity didn't last long, his heartbeat remained slightly altered.

 

—My brother… —he continued, pensive—. His name's Vergil. He's always been a book kind of guy. Loves poetry and stuff. If I'm not mistaken his favorite author's William Blake. You know Blake?

 

—Kind of… —Raiden confessed—. I don't know much outside of his work's relevance in Red Dragon. 

 

—He would've scolded you so bad… —Dante added with a softer voice—. Two hours of lecture about Blake's art and symbolism.

 

The taller man continued with Jack's elbow and above, paying more attention to the tattoos than Raiden realized.

 

—Talking from experience?

 

—Sure am.

 

A really subtle chuckle escaped from Raiden's hieratic expression, something Dante was still able to notice. He liked to see Jack was starting to feel comfortable enough with him to show a little bit of emotion. One that wasn't annoyance.

 

—So… —he moved closer one more time, further cornering him by lifting his arm up to Jack's ear—. Am I your type?

 

Raiden had been building up tension with time but once he heard the question he let go a quick exhalation of relief. He thought it would've been a much worse question.

 

—No. You're not.

 

Dante took a good look at his face. He went from the eyes to the lips and the other way around. Then distanced himself, acting offended.

 

—How come? I'm such a snack.

 

—I like brunettes, blue eyes.

 

—So you're saying all I gotta do is dye my hair.

 

—I didn't say that.

 

The red coated man smiled and continued working. He reached the shoulder.

 

—Your turn.

 

—...Where's your brother? —Raiden naively asked, curious as to why they weren't together.

 

—He's dead —he replied, not stopping on his job at hand.

 

—...I'm sorry.

 

—What for? It's not like you killed him —Dante awkwardly joked.

 

—I shouldn't have brought it up.

 

—You didn't know.

 

Raiden looked away. He tried to talk, but nothing he thought of would've improved the conversation. 

 

—Still… 

 

—Babe —he interrupted, trying to get his attention—. It's alright. You asked a question, I gave you an answer. That's all.

 

—...

 

Raiden moved his head as far away from Dante's as he could, unsure of how to proceed. He felt rejected, in a way. He was upset at himself, ashamed. He knew Dante was right, but he still had the impression he should've never asked. He had seen the big man in front of him drown himself in alcohol and cry for his brother, and only now he could completely understand why he had acted that way.

He couldn't remember much about his own family - his own parents. But he knew what holding something painful deep down felt like.

 

—We're taking a timeout —sentenced Dante.

 

The demon hunter stood up, stretched his body and signaled the bathroom mid-way to ask for permission to use it, which he received from a timid nod from Jack.

Dante rested his hands on the sink and looked downwards. They were shaking.

He tried to keep his composure as he walked towards the old shower head, which he used to wet the back of his neck with the coldest water he could get.

 

He slowly sighed.

 

He picked a small towel and put it under the water, just enough for it to feel wet but not enough to start dripping everywhere. He then threw his hair back as if that would help clear his mind, went again to the living room, put the humid towel around Jack's neck —who involuntarily straightened his posture because of the temperature difference—, and sat down in the same chair as before.

 

—What's that for? —Raiden asked, bewildered.

 

—Cool you down. I need ya to relax a bit for this, remember?

 

The taller man held Jack's smaller hand with his own, kissed his pale fingers with formality, and continued with his massage as if nothing had happened.

 

—...Sorry —Raiden apologized—. It should've been me the one to try to comfort you. Not the other way around.

 

Dante thought for a few seconds before pouting his mouth a little bit. He stopped working only to tap his own lips with his index finger.

 

—Kiss me then. 

 

—…? —Raiden stared at him, visibly confused.

 

—I'll take it as an apology.

 

He could see Jack's body become more rigid, his expression hesitant and shy. He wondered what Jack's exact thoughts were right now, but it amused him to an extent to know he was debating to actually do it.

He quickly loosened his posture and smiled, going back to work one more time before his companion could take a final decision.

 

—I'm just joking, babe.

 

It was good to feel Jack's muscles relax under his hands. He repeated the same procedure as with the other arm until he reached the shoulder. 

 

—You doing good so far? —Dante asked, taking a quick look at Raiden's wounds.

 

The shorter man nodded.

 

The demon hunter gently caressed the ones on his host's torso. He ended up distracted, his mind trying to reconstruct the battle in which the biggest injury had been made. Was he overestimating Jack's strength…? Had he been caught in a difficult position…? He was entirely human, after all.

 

Raiden observed him with the inability to have shut down his feelings of guilt. He misinterpreted Dante's absence of mind - he wrongly assumed it had to do with their conversation about Vergil, and so he considered it appropriate to bend forward and hugged him.

 

Caught off-guard, Dante instinctively surrounded Jack's body with the arm he had been using to touch the shorter man's wounds, and did the same with the other as he quickly understood what was happening.

He didn't think he needed a hug —though his subconscious self was deeply grateful for it—, but he let it last for as long as Jack wanted. He liked feeling his host's warm body carefully pressed against his own, albeit partially. 

He could've gone for a kiss —something he was slowly growing to desperately want—, and had the hunch Jack would've allowed him to, but this wasn't how he wanted things to happen. Not out of pity.

 

Raiden's heartbeat was rushed. He had never been too keen on physical touch, but he tried to stand up to have a better hold of Dante's wider body. The man with the bigger frame followed his attempt, allowing him to fully feel the warmth of his touch. Raiden couldn't understand why he felt that way, but it was starting to be intoxicating and soothing at the same time.

 

He let go and backed up.

 

He nervously walked to the kitchen and started to look for something —nothing in particular— just to escape the situation. Why was he…?

 

—Should we wrap it up for today? —Dante asked, still in the living room.

 

He saw Jack nervously nod, his slim body subtly shaking. He saw Jack check his pocket and take out both a cigarette and a lighter, but he didn't try to stop him this time. He left the apartment quietly, unsure of how things went.

 

It was sunny outside.

It's not that he disliked this weather, but he wished everything didn't look as lively and beautiful as it looked right now. He had a great amount of mixed feelings, and was certain Jack did too.

 

He mindlessly walked around the streets, his presence heavy next to all of the happy children playing outdoors.

Maybe this whole thing with Jack wasn't truly leading anywhere. He had started to believe Jack liked him, one way or another, but maybe he had got it all wrong. Maybe it wasn't a matter of the pretty guy's imperceptiveness and timorous personality, but instead his inability to keep his limits uncrossed - just like Dante himself. 

 

Maybe he should stop.

 

Maybe-

 

—Well, well, well —a slow, cocky voice talked—. If it isn't Dante.

 

He looked around.

 

—Thinking about how many other jobs you need to take to pay me?

 

—Too many of ‘em. You're a strict collector, aren't you, Lady?

 

The black-haired woman took it as a compliment and showed him a proud smile.

It was good she had come across him. She had known him for long enough to notice when his humour wasn't the best, and this was one of those times. Chatting with him about something else usually did the job, as it prevented him from dwelling into negative thoughts. He wouldn't let anyone close enough to do much more for him, not even her. But she tried nonetheless.

 

—I was about to ride to the shop —she explained—, but since I already found you… want some ice-cream?

 

Dante could never refuse a chance to eat a strawberry sundae for free. He followed her to their usual restaurant and attentively listened to her as she told him about her recent endeavors.

 

Chapter 13

Trying to find a good second hand suit that didn't have any visible damage, matched Richard's description of his daughter's taste, and was big enough to fit him had been much harder than Dante had originally expected. He even went out of his way to ask both Lady and Trish for help - the girls had always shown a greater interest in fashion than him, or at the very least went shopping more often than him.

 

To Lady's surprise, Trish knew a lot of small underground boutiques - some were second-handed, while others were entirely conformed with tailored products for each individual client. However they also had a strong tendency for the author's vision, and therefore Dante rejected those options.

 

His friends were reunited in his bedroom, all of his clothes spread over the bed and other furniture. The girls had brought up their personal clothes and other accessories, a lot of them Dante had never seen before. He wondered what sort of activities they were doing with such different outfits, the kind of people they reunited with, the conversations they would bring up. He loved a stylish look more than anyone, but it seemed he had always kept a defining style throughout his life, whereas his friends had different styles for different things.

 

They gave him several combinations with the clothes the three of them had agreed they could work with, as they met the requirements more than others, and he went in and out of his tiny bathroom over and over again. The judges would then proceed to give their respective opinions and suggestions, while Dante usually commented more on whether it felt stylish enough or not.

 

—C'mon, girls. This is Dull! —he complained—. I know you can do better.

 

—Dante, we've been at this for five hours now —Lady pointed out.

 

—We have 10 “Dull”, 7 “Cool!”, 3 “Bravo!”, 4 “Awesome!”, and one “Stylish!” —Trish read their notes—. But you insist the Stylish outfit doesn't fit the vibe.

 

—It doesn't. It'd be perfect for a rave, but not for the kind of band the girl likes. It's missing something. I think the issue is that all of us like body-fitting clothes, and this needs something more… flowy. Like a skater's fit.

 

—Any clue where we can find a loose shirt you can use? —Lady asked with sarcasm.

 

—Actually, I might —Dante replied—. Buuuuut I'd rather not go myself. So Trish will have to.

 

—Me? —she turned around and stared at him, almost offended.

 

—I'm giving you the chance to sweet-talk all you want to you-know-who.

 

—Hold on —the black-haired woman interrupted—. What am I missing?

 

—Oh, it's-

 

—It's a secret —he said with a playfully serious tone, moving aside—. Come're, I'll give you the address.

 

—You're telling me why I'm the one going and not you? —Trish questioned in a whisper.

 

—You may find out by yourself if you play your cards right.

 

The blonde woman sighed in resignation and left the shop. While Lady and Dante took a break from the improvised indoor runway, Trish got on her motorbike and followed her friend's instructions until she reached Raiden's door. She gently knocked.

 

She smiled when Jack opened. She found him good-looking, in a cute way. It was amusing to see the confusion on his face.

 

—Uh… Trish, was it?

 

—Trish indeed. May I come in?

 

—Something happened to Dante…?

 

—Yes. Truly a tragedy —she dramatized her gestures as if she was in the middle of a play—. You're the only one who can help.

 

Unsure of what that was supposed to mean, Jack let her in. He offered her the same treatment as Dante, bringing some food and drinks. Curiously, she sat on the same spot as the taller man.

 

—So… How can I be of help? —his expression mixed bewilderment with worry.

 

—Dante's fallen into a deep sleep —Trish started narrating—, a consequence of an ancient spell. Only the kiss of a cute little prince like you can wake him up.

 

—...You two love teasing people, don't you.

 

—Just a tiny bit —she admitted—. But in all seriousness, I came to ask if you could lend him some shirts. The biggest ones you might have.

 

—And he needed a messenger for that?

 

—Trust me, I know less than you as to why I'm the one out here. But it's nice talking to you, Jack.

 

Raiden didn't bother to ask why Dante needed his clothes. He simply went to his wardrobe and took out what he deemed fitting, quietly handing it to Trish.

 

—Thank you, sweetie. Wanna come along? I got a bike outside.

 

—I'm… not sure I'll fit in whatever it is you're doing. 

 

—Oh, I know Dante will enjoy having you around. Plus, I can introduce you to Lady.

 

—”Lady”...? Lady what…?

 

—Nothing. Just Lady.

 

—Her codename's just “Lady”?

 

—”Codename”? I guess so.

 

—Huh…

 

—See? You can ask her yourself. I'm sure she'll love to meet you as well.

 

The soldier wasn't still fully convinced. Even if he ignored his shirts were about to be used for who knows what, by the sounds of it Dante was by himself with two women. One he didn't know, and the other barely. Trish appeared to be as flirty as the red-coated man, so he didn't dismiss the possibility that Lady was too.

What's worse, everything that had happened the day before between him and Dante had been… strange. Awkward. He hadn't been wrong to think the taller man wouldn't have appeared this morning - Dante never mentioned he would, and he loved doing so.

Raiden thought it had been his own actions that had led Dante to leave. After all, he had been the one to reach out for a hug, only to break it suddenly a while after. And instead of apologizing or giving a possible explanation, he had run away to the kitchen to smoke.

 

But his head was a mess. He still had feelings for Rose, for everything they had lived together. He no longer knew how true those feelings were, but he knew their relationship had already been tainted.

He also had feelings towards Dante, but they were even more chaotically convoluted. He didn't know what exactly those feelings were and, in a way, was scared to experience them. He wanted a definitive answer without having to deal with all of the previous questions.

 

He couldn't tell whether going with Trish would be good or not. For all he knew, Dante might have a grudge against him - that would explain sending a messenger instead. But she was casually inviting him over.

Maybe she didn't know anything. Maybe she did. Maybe she didn't care. Maybe she was trying to lead them to a reconciliation.

 

—I think I'm gonna sit this one out —he answered—. Sorry.

 

—Aw. A pity. I think you'd've liked seeing him play the battery —she casually mentioned, fully aware of Jack's interest in metal music—. Maybe next time.

 

Trish stood up and gave him an air kiss with a playful posture before heading to the door.

 

—He's playing…? —Raiden asked with held back curiosity.

 

—Wanna come now? —she smiled.

 

The shorter man thought about it for a few more seconds. Maybe he could just stand there quietly for most of the time. Dante was nonchalant enough to keep the women entertained all by himself. And… 

 

He grabbed the keys and followed the blonde woman after closing the door. He admired her motorbike in silence and made sure to keep enough distance between them, touching her as little as possible.

 

While Trish was gone, Lady had tried to gather some new Intel.

 

—Dante, you either stop complaining about every single outfit or you tell me who this “you-know-who” is. 

 

—No can't do —he replied.

 

—It's clearly not a client or a target.

 

—It's something better than that —Trish added, with Raiden following her a few steps behind—. It's Dante's-

 

—Jack —Dante called him by his name, surprised to see him.

 

The red coated man was making his best effort not to use his nickname in front of the other two. He stared at Trish, non-verbally asking her why she had brought him and judging her for it. He paid attention to all of her movements, not willing to let her say the wrong thing.

 

—Jack? —Lady repeated, curiously peeking at the new visitor—. Is this who you two were talking about?

 

—Yeah —Trish nodded.

 

Lady slowly walked towards him, taking a good look at his appearance - just based on his looks she couldn't really understand how this guy was so important for Dante to act so secretively. She offered her hand and introduced herself.

 

Raiden tried to remain as silent as he possibly could. He discreetly observed everything inside the bedroom in an attempt to understand what was going on. Considering it was all clothing and Dante was wearing an outfit that didn't look like his usual style, he figured the taller man must be trying them. Which, of course, now included his shirts.

Just as he thought about it, Trish laid them down on the bed and invited her friends to make their choice.

 

Dante wanted to talk to Jack. But he didn't want to leave Trish and Lady alone.

 

…Even if it wasn't now, the girls would eventually talk about Jack. He knew it was a matter of time. He decided to let them be and gently pushed the shorter man away so they could speak more privately.

Raiden laid his back on the wall, his face a little bit low. Dante stood right in front of him, close enough to touch the wall with his hand if he wanted to.

 

—Hey. You good?

 

—...Shouldn't I be the one to ask?

 

—Ask me then.

 

—...Are you alright?

 

—Yeah —he vaguely nodded—. I'm happy to see you, babe —his voice soft and mellow.

 

—I… —Raiden tried to talk, but changed his mind—. Um... You didn't come this morning.

 

—Right —he lowered his head, embarrassed—. With how things went I forgot to tell you about this. Uh… What did Trish tell you?

 

—That you needed my shirts and that she wanted to introduce me to Lady.

 

—...Really? —he asked, surprised—. That's it? 

 

—Well, she… said you were going to play the battery —he admitted, his voice shyly soft, almost a whisper.

 

Dante stared at him with confusion.

 

—I… I'm getting ready for a birthday party, that's where I'll be playing —he explained, slowly cornering Jack by putting his arm against the wall—. But I can play something now just for you —he added with a gentle voice.

 

—...You don't have to —Raiden's words were increasingly weaker—. You're clearly busy with other things.

 

Dante lowered his head and heavily sighed. He stood closer to him, their noses nearly touching.

 

—Babe, you should be demanding me to play your favorite song, not telling me to forget about it.

 

—I don't want you to be late.

 

—I won't be. Just. Let me play for you.

 

Raiden looked away. He was stubborn. Both of them were.

 

Dante followed the shorter man's gesture and did the same. He turned his head around enough to see the entrance to his bedroom, where both Lady and Trish were discreetly observing the situation. They had talked. He was sure of it.

He clicked his tongue in resignation, took his shirt off and stylishly let it fall over his right shoulder. He then softly grabbed the side of Jack's neck and separated him from the wall.

 

—C'mon, let's go downstairs —he said confidently, making a gesture for the two women to follow them.

 

He walked arrogantly slow. He made sure to clear his mind before he sat down and picked up the drumsticks. He used one of them to energetically point towards the jukebox - a sign for Trish to turn it on.

 

The proof of Richard's work was right there: a music player in perfect condition, its sound sharply clean. And with it, the rhythmic companionship of Dante's drumming. He wasn't following the partiture with precision, but that wasn't a problem - he was deliberately adding and ignoring notes to give it his personal signature. He knew all of those songs by heart and could've perfectly played them in reverse if he had wanted to.

 

Trish had more affinity with music than Lady. The blonde woman gesticulated following the music's rhythm, something that almost looked like a dance. Raiden could see she shared the red-coated man's passion, and the similarity of their gestures brought back the doubt of the kind of relationship they had.

The black-haired woman enjoyed the show with little to no movement. Raiden could only notice a subtle gesture with her neck, her head executing some sort of nod-like rhythm that she also did with her foot. He himself felt a strange fascination at Dante's vigorosity, but didn't move at all. He vaguely recalled seeing other instruments and wondered if Dante knew to play them all just as well, but didn't want to make him lose any more time.

 

The demon hunter played the last notes with energy. He tilted his head and examined Jack's face. He didn't care about the other two - they had heard him plenty of times, and this wasn't about them. It crossed his mind to walk towards Jack, surround his neck with his arm to lift the shorter man's head, and finally kiss him. He was sure his friends had already prepared a few commentaries about him and his presumed crush, so he might as well give them an actual reason to talk about. But once he stood up he rejected the thought.

 

—Time to try those shirts of yours —he said, guiding Jack upstairs with a hand on his back.

 

All four of them went back to the bedroom, where Dante quickly picked the items he had previously found Stylish, along with Jack's shirts, and entered his bathroom one more time. He changed and came out just as fast.

 

—Quick. Thoughts.

 

—Too cold-toned.

 

—Agreed.

 

—Jack?

 

—I, uh…

 

—C'mon, babe.

 

—You said it —remarked Trish.

 

Dante tensed up a little bit and went for the next shirt.

 

—Now?

 

—I didn't think it’d fit in —Lady confessed.

 

—Too tight for the vibe we're looking for.

 

—Jack?

 

—I don't even know what you're looking for —he nervously complained.

 

—Just say what you think.

 

—Uh… It… highlights your arms…?

 

—Oh, really? I might steal it then —Dante said with cockiness. 

 

He went for the next piece.

 

—This one's extra soft, I like it. Judges?

 

—I'd say this is it.

 

—Hm… —Trish examined her friend for a few seconds and reached out for a couple of accessories she put on him—. Perfect.

 

—Jack?

 

—...It looks good —he concluded, still uncertain of what he should be saying. 

 

—Alright then. I shall go, a party is waiting for me.

 

Dante led the way to the entrance, where his three companions wished him a good time. Lady explicitly asked him to “not cause too much wreck”, whereas Trish just expected him to do it stylishly. Raiden held his unused clothes and was the last one to leave, after politely refusing Trish's invitation to accompany them. 

 

He went home with a strange sensation in his body. It hadn't been bad. He wasn't sure he'd describe it as great, but it could've been worse.

Although he tried to avoid looking at Lady too much, he had noticed her gun holders. It seemed like Lady shared Dante's job, or maybe she was mercenary or a self-taught soldier of sorts. Whatever the case, he didn't recall ever seeing someone with eyes like hers.

 

She wasn't as flirty as the other two either, which he found comforting. 

 

On the good side of things, Dante didn't have a grudge on him after all. He felt relieved. He had been uncomfortable with the taller man's closeness at some point - not so much because he didn't want him near, but rather because he had no reason to have been contemplating his features up close, and he couldn't understand the fact that he wouldn't have minded Dante's face touching his own.

 

…

 

And he did see him play. Shirtless, for some reason, but it had been a really good performance.

 

He went to his wardrobe and reorganized everything. The wounds on his arms he could barely feel anymore after Dante had massaged them. The ones on his torso, however, made sure to remind him of their existence every now and then.

 

…He wondered if it'd happen the same once the red-coated man worked those areas.

 

Chapter 14

Summary:

Dante wakes up with a hangover.

After giving part of his savings to Lady and using most of what was left on his usual expenses, Dante could sense yet another period without water or electricity. He wasn't a big fan of it, but he accepted it without much trouble.

 

He had a bit of a headache after coming back from the party. He had been invited to one too many drinks and could vaguely remember having a dance battle with at least half the guests. Of course, he was certain he had won.

 

The softness of his mattress was much more comforting right now than ever. Half-asleep and half-hangover, he noticed something right under his chin, also touching part of his arm and torso. He carefully reached out to it, moving his head slightly backwards, and finally recognized what it was - an old teddy bear.

Looking at it allowed him to remember the night he had spent with Jack - he could now see that he had hugged the shorter man because he had convinced himself that blurry shape next to him was this plush. He had slept comfortably. Nothing else about that night came back to his mind.

 

The teddy bear wasn't too big, but it wasn't precisely small either. He had bought it a long time ago as a gift, but could no longer remember who it was for. He couldn't even remember where he had kept it this whole time —he never came across it after cleaning everything up—, and didn't know how it had ended up right next to him. 

 

He stretched his body and-

 

Jack's shirt. He wasn't wearing it.

 

He looked down on himself to confirm he was indeed shirtless and tried to find it somewhere on his surroundings, but-

 

Hold on.

 

This wasn't his bedroom.

 

It wasn't even a bedroom at all.

 

He recognized the orange color of the so-called mattress to be the same as Jack's couch - because that's what it was. 

 

He looked around in confusion, his sight still unable to focus well enough. The walls were too white, too empty to be anywhere in his house, so it really had to be Jack's apartment.

He pressed his fingers against his eyes in an attempt to obtain some sort of control over his body, slowly standing up to go to the kitchen. He picked up a glass, which he filled with cold water, and drank patiently.

 

What did he do last night…? He made an effort to remember. Did he leave the shirt at the party? Considering he had the teddy bear with him, he must've gone home at some point. So he went home, dug out the plush from somewhere, and headed to Jack's apartment. To do… what? Did he try to give it to him…?

 

He wanted to act like a responsible adult and worry about his business, but the truth is that there appeared to be less and less people reaching out to him for the past few months. If not for the help of his friends —and his sudden necessity to pay his bills to clean Jack's towels—, he would've barely landed any job at all. But even if that meant he would take longer to pay debts, it also meant that people were safer.

 

A sound of keys twirling. The door opened. He could hear plastic bags. He assumed it was Jack, but remained on guard just in case.

 

Footsteps were progressively closer and suddenly stopped. It really was him - Jack was looking at the couch, where he had last seen Dante. But since the door was closed, then-

 

He turned around. Dante smiled at him.

 

—Welcome home, babe.

 

Raiden gave him a judging look and went into the kitchen, where he took out and organized all the food he had just bought.

 

—Did I do something wrong last night? —Dante asked, not sure about Jack's humor.

 

—You got drunk —he replied.

 

—...Aside from that.

 

—No.

 

The taller man felt relieved.

 

—Mind reminding me what happened? —he helped him out, even though he didn't know where each item belonged—. Everything's still foggy.

 

—You showed up at night with a teddy bear and a rose. 

 

—Where's the rose?

 

—Are you still drunk? —Raiden asked, confused—. It's there, on the window sill.

 

—Ah…

 

—You started flirting with me, handed me the rose and then the plush. You kept saying that you were in love with me, that you found me pretty. You insisted on being serious about it and even asked me if I “liked boys”. 

 

—Do you…? —Dante asked, much more shy than he sounded.

 

—Are you in love with me? —he replied with a sarcastic tone.

 

The demon hunter remained silent. He wasn't in the right state of mind to give a cohesive answer. Hell, he wasn't sure he could do that even entirely sober and freshly awake.

But something about Jack's voice stabbed him inside. Had he truly misunderstood things…?

 

—Anyway —Raiden continued—. You acted like a gentleman for a while, we sat there and you kept sweet talking to me. But you were also falling asleep, so I told you to rest. You tried to go home, I stopped you, told you to sleep on the couch.

 

—You usually offer the bed, y’know? Best spot for the guest.

 

—You were already half laid down because of how sleepy you were —he pointed out—. You almost trapped me again, but I managed to give you the teddy bear right on time.

 

—Damn it. Did you at least kiss me goodnight?

 

—No, but you did ask me to. On the lips.

 

—What about a good morning kiss?

 

Raiden stared at him.

 

—On the cheek…? —Dante added.

 

Raiden sighed.

 

—Okay, no kiss —he accepted defeat in a more playful manner than what he truly felt—. What about your shirt?

 

—In the laundry.

 

—...I mean, I'm glad I didn't lose it, but-. Why did I take it off? No fun story about that?

 

—Ah, you meant that. Before we sat down you took it off, folded it in a square, and handed it to me like it was something fragile.

 

—That's it?

 

—That's it. You don't remember any of this? 

 

—Well, it kinda sounds familiar. Some stuff I could visualize in my head, but it's still blurred.

 

Raiden examined him, but Dante couldn't tell what the goal was. The shorter man deemed the conversation finished and quickly prepared breakfast for his visitor.

He put blueberry marmalade on five toasts of bread, on top of which he laid down an irregular number of freshly cut banana slices - it's the amount of food he had guessed someone of Dante's size would have.

 

The demon hunter had observed him with fascination. It was something simple to do, but he found himself distracted by Jack's concentrated movements. The food looked really appealing, enough for him to pick one up to eat before his host took the plate towards the living room, where they could comfortably sit.

 

—Y’know babe, I'm kinda impulsive…

 

—...So? —Raiden asked, not having a clue of what that was about.

 

—...You're making it really hard for me not to kiss you right now —he made a pause—. Taking such good care of me.

 

—I'm not doing anything special.

 

Dante lightheartedly mocked him, unable to hide his good mood. His mind was still a bit disoriented and his eyes tired, but he was quickly feeling better thanks to the food.

 

—Wonderful chef —he complimented him, still smiling.

 

—It's just bread and fruit.

 

—You sure can't take a compliment, huh, babe? Always rejecting my proof of love —he complained.

 

Raiden looked at him estranged. He still refused to accept the possibility that Dante wasn't only flirting with him for fun, but he felt the taller man was getting more and more close to him, and that he himself wasn't noticing it soon enough… Or not minding it as much as he thought he should've.

 

Wasn't he supposed to distrust this man with a strange weapon collection…?

 

—Anyways, it's getting late for me to open the shop —Dante excused himself, thinking he had been spending too much time in Jack's apartment and causing him enough trouble—. You ok if I come back at night, after shift's done? I still owe you that massage.

 

—...Sure.

 

—Alright babe, see you tonight.

 

—You're still shirtless though.

 

—So what? Let the people enjoy the view —he made a pause—. Are you a little jelly?

 

—I couldn't care less.

 

Dante chuckled at the seriousness of Jack's response and waved him goodbye.

 

He liked being looked at. The stares he received now versus the ones he did back when he was an orphaned kid were like day and night.

He knew some people would judge him, but he had already stopped caring about it as a young teenager.

He knew some people would drool over him, make comments about his appearance - he was good-looking and was rather proud of it.

He knew some people would admire his presence. This was usually the case with children, people who he had saved or knew about him, who looked up to him or, simply, thought he was cool. Because he was cool. 

 

He no longer was the shutdown kid from roughly 20 years ago. He liked the attention. It no longer came from a place of alienation and pain.

 

The shop opened right on time despite his irregular habits. He sat down on his chair and waited. And waited. And waited. 

And waited.

 

And waited.

 

He took a nap while he waited.

 

And waited.

 

And nobody came. And the closing time passed. And he woke up.

 

He stretched his upper body before he stood up, deciding to go upstairs to drink something before he visited Jack.

Oh, and to put a shirt on.

 

Now that he entered his bedroom, he was met with the mess he hadn't cleaned up before leaving for the party. The girls hadn't bothered to take their own stuff, and maybe they had trusted him a little bit too much with them. Or maybe they were just saving themselves the fuss of organizing the whole thing, and leaving it all to good ol’ Dante.

 

But Jack's massage was way more important, so he only bothered to put on the first thing he deemed cohesive before walking towards the entrance of his shop. 

The path to Jack's apartment wasn't too long. He saw a cat or two roaming the quiet streets, homeless cats he had seen before enough times to recognize them. Although not one of these two, his personal favorite was an orange cat with a single white paw.

 

Raiden opened the door with a spoon in his mouth. Dante thought he looked cute and resisted the urge to toy with it.

The red-coated man saw a cup of ice-cream on the small glass table. He refused Jack's invitation to have some, his argument being that he was “committed to the summer-body diet”. Truth is, he wanted to get his hands on Jack's torso as soon as possible.

 

Once the cup was emptied and left on the sink, Raiden took his shirt off and sat close to his visitor. The taller man then finished warming up his hands and begun to soften Jack's tense muscles.

 

It was still strange for Raiden to think he was letting someone do this. More than once, even. But regardless of the hard time he had accepting the situation, it was also undeniable that his body did feel much more relaxed afterwards and his mind quieter.

He didn't think he would be as accepting with any other person - it had happened so naturally with Dante, and the demon hunter had shown to be so pleased to do it, that he concluded it had to be an unrepeatable exception. 

 

Didn't that also mean-

 

—Does it hurt? —Dante interrupted his thoughts as he gently touched the wound on his side.

 

—A little bit.

 

—Hm… Lemme try…

 

The taller man changed his approach. Although it still hurt, the feeling that came from it was different. Like something inside had been placed where it was supposed to be and now his body needed to adapt to the change.

 

—How did you learn to do all of this? —Raiden asked, his side experiencing some relief.

 

—I saw some video tapes the night before, though I could only find them in a language I couldn't understand…

 

—...You're kidding.

 

—I'm not. It was so annoying that I didn't go through all of them.

 

—...

 

While Dante was laser focused on his job, Raiden took a look at the rose, which was sitting on a semi-transparent orange-colored glass with some water. He didn't want to think about the teddy bear.

Roses have been a symbol of love for quite a long time. Red roses are traditionally associated with romance.

It was clear Dante's drunkenness had made him depressed the first time they met - those were true emotions. This time he had tried to flirt with him and had even brought him gifts, as well as making it very clear he was serious about it - those were…

 

Maybe it wasn't red because of its meaning.

 

Maybe it was red simply because Dante loved that color.

 

—Are you… —Jack attempted to talk.

 

—Hm?

 

—...done yet?

 

—Almost. Am I hurting you again?

 

—No.

 

The red-coated man examined his face - he found odd the self-interruption, the difference of the tone of his voice. He pretended not to give it any importance and re-focused on his task until he finished.

 

He had to consciously stop himself from contemplating him for too long.

 

These massages had been quite rewarding for Dante. He had shown himself once again that he was a quick learner. He wasn't bad at it - Jack's relief was living proof of it. He had been able to pay attention to his tattoos and see it had written parts, the content of which he couldn't fully comprehend. But most importantly, it had given him the chance to explore Jack's body in a useful manner, and to feel his perfect skin and his softly sculpted muscles in a way that gave him much more information than a simple hug could ever do. 

 

Raiden put his shirt back on and thanked him for everything he had done.

 

—Lil’ kissy now? —Dante looked at him with puppy eyes, poking his own cheek.

 

—...

 

The shorter man doubted for a moment, but ultimately humored him and kissed his cheek. It caught Dante off-guard - he didn't think Jack would've followed through, and stopped his reflex movement from trying to get more than that. He held himself back, still, his heartbeat altered.

 

Notes:

The teddy bear is a nod to one of Dante's early concept art pieces, when he was still meant to be Tony Redgrave, a cop/detective for RE4. He's at a bar, with a teddy bear sitting next to him (which he bought as a present), and someone asks him if that's his partner for the day

Chapter 15

Trish looked at the mirror and painted her lips with calculated precision. She made sure everything about her makeup looked perfect.

She could see through the reflection the small pile of clothes Dante had brought her, and the man himself coming out of her bathroom still drying his hair with no shirt on.

 

—So what's up with Lady? —he asked—. She's gone all of a sudden.

 

—Busy, somewhere. You know how it is.

 

—I thought you two were living together?

 

—We were —Trish affirmed—. For the time being, anyway. It was easier for her to reach the heated points from my house than hers. Not anymore.

 

—She's got plenty of work, huh —his friend quietly nodded—. Could be sharing some…

 

Trish turned around and gave him a judgemental look - one that really made him feel like his mother was there. “You should be happy for her success, not expecting her to share her well-earned jobs with you”, is what Dante was being non-verbally scolded with.

He hadn't been serious about it, but looked away like he had done something wrong. He finished dressing up.

 

—How are things going with your little cutie? Is he into you?

 

He debated on how much he could tell without her becoming more insistent.

 

—He kissed my cheek.

 

—Aww. So you two…

 

—Trish, it was just to show gratitude for helping him out. If I'm being honest with ya I don't even know if he likes boys.

 

—Those detective skills of yours are getting rusty, huh?

 

—I asked him. He didn't directly answer and his expressions didn't give me any cues. If anything I'd think he doesn't, but…

 

—But…

 

—...

 

—You better keep talking.

 

—Let's just say there's enough room for reasonable doubt. 

 

—What are you hiding from me? —she scrutinized him—. You're leaving something out. Something important.

 

The taller man pretended not to hear her. He picked her leather jacket and made his way to the entrance, forcing her to follow through. She didn't insist on the subject - she knew it was, more often than not, counterproductive to put some pressure on him to open up. 

 

It was a bit chilly outside. He handed his friend the black jacket, which she elegantly put on. They walked calmly towards the cinema - it was about time they watched the film Trish had been pestering him about. She had slowly developed a taste for romantic dramas and thrillers, genres that allowed her to see a wide range of complex emotions, and she had been waiting for this film to release for several months now.

She hadn't originally planned on inviting Dante —she knew he preferred other types of stories—, but it was always nice to spend time with her friend and he had already said he had too much free time as of late.

 

—I still think we should've invited Jack —she insisted.

 

—And have you “go to the bathroom” and leave us alone watching a romance film because “you got lost”? No, thank you.

 

Trish chuckled, her intentions perfectly guessed. They both could see a lot more people outside than usual, people that were just as interested as them about going to the cinema. A lot of them, to no one's surprise, were actual couples - it was easy to tell by how they'd hug and cuddle each other, have some furtive lip kiss every now and then, and make comments about how in love they were with each other.

Trish held back her desire to tell Dante he could've been doing all of that with Jack had they invited him, and led the way inside the cinema.

 

It was pleasantly warm within the thick stone walls. The architecture, both inside and outside, had a clear influence of Neoclassicism in its origin, but as time passed what remained was an approach much closer to Art Nouveau. The Greek-inspired pillars had natural motifs that were anachronic to its classic reference, but it captivated any spectator with its meticulous ornamentation. 

Couples were going from one place to another, humoring one to another by buying shareable popcorn buckets and heart-shaped drink straws. Unlike them, both Dante and Trish bought their own individual drink and popcorn - not only were they not a couple, but also they both liked their film-associated food a bit too much to be eating or drinking only half of it each. 

 

The demon-blooded friends went to their respective room, their designated seat carefully chosen by Trish - they were at the perfect spot: it wasn't too far or too close, not too right nor left, and they were next to each other. Dante made sure to sit lower than usual, in an attempt to not cover the view of whoever had the bad luck of sitting behind him. 

 

—Do you think Jack likes films? —the blonde asked, already starting to eat popcorn before the movie started.

 

—Seems like it —he answered, not bothering to look at her—. He's got a small DVD collection on the living room’s shelf, and mentioned a specific name once without needing to.

 

—What's your guess on what he likes? Did you see any titles?

 

—Hm. I didn't. Dunno why, but I feel he'd like this romance stuff, just as you do. But more like… unconventional ones.

 

—Like what? Beauty and the Beast?

 

—Yeah.

 

—So…

 

—Are you implying he's a beast?

 

—You're the beast.

 

—Huh. Disagree. I'm stunning.

 

—Fine. Beauty and Beauty.

 

—But then it loses the point, doesn't it?

 

—Gosh, Dante. You already know what I mean.

 

Everyone stopped chattering once they saw the screen change - the film started rolling and the room was otherwise dark.

The story shown started as somewhat joyful, but became progressively more melancholic as time passed. Although one could hear a few couples here and there doing anything but paying attention to the screen, it remained quiet enough not to disturb the ambient.

 

Trish peeked at her companion from time to time, curious about his expression, but he maintained an impassive gesture. She wondered what was going on inside his mind, but went back to look at the screen.

 

As Dante imagined, the story didn't end well for the protagonists. Their romance had shown to be doomed because of their individual and shared situations, something they couldn't escape despite their best efforts. 

It reminded him of his parent's story, or what he knew about it. It wasn't all that similar, but the inevitability of it made it difficult for him to dare look at his companion - she was a carbon copy of his mother.

 

He gulped his emotions and stretched his body, something he greatly enjoyed after keeping such a bad posture for so long. He turned around to leave, not looking anywhere but right in front of him.

 

—Did you like it? —Trish asked, following him.

 

—It was decently good. Just not my style.

 

They trashed their empty containers at the closest trash can, something not everyone would. There were some lying around on the red-carpeted ground after being mindlessly thrown. Dante stopped, and Trish after him.

 

—You smell that?

 

—Yeah. I'll take care of it.

 

He trusted her decision. It didn't appear to either of them that the demons they sensed nearby were all that strong, so it was fine if only one of them did the job. He stood there, observing the people move, free of worry, from one place to another. Then he noticed a familiar light-toned hair and quickly approached.

 

—Hey, babe —he smiled—. Already seen a film or about to?

 

—Dante —Raiden acknowledged his presence—. Just got here. It's too crowded.

 

—Whatcha gonna watch?

 

—Dante! —a high-pitched feminine voice called him.

 

The taller man turned around, the shorter one switching the focus of his sight to the new person.

 

—Oh, uh. Hey, Angie. Hanging out with friends?

 

—Yes! —the girl joyfully smiled at him, the two girls on her sides shyly nodding—. Are you busy right now? Would you eat with us? We're going to a pizzeria nearby.

 

—Sorry, sweetheart —he gently moved Jack closer to him and rested his arm on the shorter man's shoulder—. I'm on a date right now.

 

—Oh… —she felt awkward at the obvious realization a man as attractive as Dante would have dates—. Sorry to interrupt! 

 

She quickly left, running at the same time as she held her friends’ hands. As soon as she was gone, the red-coated man let go of Raiden.

 

—Sorry, babe.

 

—What's just happened…?

 

—Her name's Angela, I saved her about two years ago. She has a crush on me —he explained—, but she's too young. She's quite insistent as well, and since you were already next to me…

 

Raiden wanted to talk, but paused to think. If he was attempting this after two years… Did that mean Dante had been single the whole time…?

He shook the thought out of his mind and looked around, trying to find his designated room amongst the crowds.

 

—I… gotta go —he distractedly tried to excuse himself—. My screening is about to start.

 

Dante gently held his chin with two fingers and turned his head around so that they'd be looking at each other. Their height difference made itself obvious.

 

—What's your number?

 

—Five.

 

—Oh, just walk straight from here to the end of the crowd. 

 

—Thank you.

 

Left alone once again, he checked the hall through which Trish had likely gone to leave. He saw her slim figure carelessly walk towards him, holding her jacket over her shoulder.

 

—What did I miss?

 

—Not much.

 

The pair of friends left the building, not worried about any other possible demon gathering. They headed back to Trish's house, where they sat on her motorcycle. She drove him to a suburban area, half-abandoned if not entirely, with no one there but other bikers and a considerable gathering of spectators. Dante's presence had been enough to scare the three people occupying one of the wooden benches, in which he comfortably sat all by himself. He gestured to his friend a wish of good luck and observed her humiliate everybody with her abilities through the irregular race track.

 

Chapter 16

Summary:

Raiden takes a vacation and some food.

The cult had turned out to be nothing but a fraud.

 

While Raiden recovered from his wounds, his team had gathered enough information to confirm its members didn't have a real connection to whoever or whatever was the cause of the apparition of demons. He listened to his colleague Kenneth as he pointed to different pictures, which were then perfectly explained. They didn't have much more luck with the samples he had gathered, as they were gone before the laboratory members could examine them. 

Raiden had hoped to find an excuse to see Dante fight, but this one was no longer useful, and it didn't seem like there was any mission complex enough to require his abilities.

 

—Take it as some sort of vacation —encouraged Kenneth—. You'll have a lot of free time.

 

—That's exactly the issue —the soldier replied. 

 

He saw Leonora do her usual routine and decided to follow her - he wasn't particularly hungry, but he figured he'd humor her before heading home for who knows how long. The woman didn't notice his presence, not so much because of how focused on her task she was, but rather because Raiden's stealth habits were already a second nature to him, as well as being a quiet loner, and so he remained a shadow for many people even if they had seen him.

It was her new subordinate who noticed he was approaching the woman. She very shyly called her mentor's attention, immediately following her instructions and offering the man the best options of the day. Leonora felt proud of herself, even though she had had nothing to do with his decision to pick up some food - he wanted to take a standard quantity to give to Dante —and his two friends, depending on how much Leonora was determined to give him— and a smaller one to try them himself, just out of curiosity.

 

Raiden ended up having to hold a grand total of six plastic bags that were fighting for their lives - they were filled to an extreme with different plates carefully compartmented inside single-use containers.

He received strange looks from people on his way home and decided it might be better to go straight to Devil May Cry, which was placed closer on his path.

 

He saw Trish walk towards the door and called her.

 

—Hey, sweetie —she smiled at him—. Want some help with that?

 

—Thank you.

 

The blonde woman grabbed half the bags and opened the door with her free hand. Dante was woken up from his nap because of the plastic bags’ sounds and quickly stood up to help once he saw who had come to the shop.

 

—Babe, you could at least have told me you were moving here beforehand —the taller man complained—. I'd've helped you bring your stuff, y’know. 

 

—You don't even bother anymore —Trish pointed out to Dante.

 

—Oh c'mon.

 

—I don't think I understand —Raiden said, visibly confused.

 

—Don't mind her. What's all that you've got there?

 

—Food. I… —he didn't know how to explain the situation—. Is Lady here?

 

The demon-blooded friends looked at each other, having a non-verbal conversation within a second, and then looked back at Jack.

 

—...I was thinking about having a meal together. You two, Lady and me.

 

—You mean as-

 

—She's not, but let me call her —Dante interrupted Trish, who he was sure was about to make things awkward.

 

He made her some vague gestures she perfectly understood - he was asking her to pick the bags up and store the food in the fridge without Jack present, as it was embarrassingly almost empty. She followed through, acting formal enough to make Raiden feel like it was better not to insist.

Although Dante called Lady through his old, heavy desk phone, it wasn't surprising to not receive an answer.

 

—No luck. I'll try again later. You wanted to do it now?

 

—No, it's fine. I… —he was unsure about his wording—. Just eat it whenever you can, forget about what I said.

 

Raiden nervously gestured a goodbye to Trish once she came back, and then to Dante. He attempted to turn around to leave.

 

—Babe? —the taller man stopped him—. What's up?

 

Trish pretended to forget something upstairs and gave them some space. Dante cornered Jack closer to the wall just so he'd feel a bit more privacy. 

 

—Nothing.

 

—Why don't you wanna do this all of a sudden?

 

—It was a stupid thought.

 

—No, it's not —Dante objected, slightly bothered—. It's cute. Sounds fun. I'd love to. I'm sure the girls would love to know you better.

 

The shorter man stayed unresponsive, his face showing he didn't fully believe that.

 

—Did I scare you off with what I did last time? —the demon hunter tried to understand Jack's doubts—. The date thing…?

 

Raiden looked away, frustrated and insecurely trapped in his own thoughts.

 

—No. I, uh… —he kept avoiding eye contact—. I don't know.

 

It was an odd response. Dante imitated his companion's confusing frown, questioning himself on whether that was an admission of Jack's feelings towards him or an anxious answer triggered by his avoidant behavior. Maybe even both.

 

—That's okay —the taller man's voice was warm and gentle—. I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable. I don't want to make you feel pressured to stay either.

 

—...You're too nice —he whispered, bothered by the fact he found Dante comforting—. …I'll come back tonight.

 

The soldier left the shop steadily. Dante sighed long enough to fully empty his lungs. He wasn't sure of what to feel right now, but it relieved him to know Jack would come back. He let his friend know she could go downstairs, limiting himself to reply with a gesture of resignation once she asked what had happened.

 

—This boy is driving me crazy.

 

Trish patted his shoulder as a gesture of companionship and understanding. She led him upstairs with the intention to show him her discoveries in regards to the content of each bag. She could recognize some plates, but most of them were new to her and hoped Dante could give her some answers.

The taller man inquisitively looked at each container, sometimes being able to tell what it was, and sometimes feeling unsure about his guess. He kept wondering where all this food came from, and why there were separated smaller rations of each one.

 

To Dante's surprise, a client came in. They both went back downstairs and attended to the young boy: He swore he had lost his lucky charm, a metal pendant, somewhere in an empty alley. He wasn't so sure of who or how, but he insisted he had lost it there while playing with his friends. The problem was that he was too scared to go back all by himself, and refused to ask his colleagues to accompany him because he'd look weak.

The boy offered a wide collection of toys, all well cared and highly valued by him. He didn't want to let go of them, but he found the pendant to be more important: he wanted to ask a girl out and needed that extra help.

 

—I'll go —said Trish, bending a little bit to offer her hand for the boy to hold.

 

Dante thought she'd do good with kids. It reminded him of his mother's gentle care, and how she'd calmly go on walks with him and his brother holding each of her soft hands.

He missed her. Missed hearing her voice, missed contemplating her lively, loving face, missed hugging her tightly, missed helping her with the garden, missed receiving her goodnight kisses.

He missed him. Missed hearing his complaints, missed teasing him to instigate a fight, missed looking for him when he noticed his absence, missed comforting him, missed being hit on the head with hard book covers for interrupting his reading time. 

 

He tried to call again.

 

And again.

 

And again.

 

And he kept calling to distract himself from those thoughts, and as time passed the sky went darker. And so did his mood. And he tried to call again.

 

And she answered.

 

Dante's voice was steady and energetic, like nothing happened. He briefly explained to his friend what the situation was like, and that a great meal was awaiting at Devil May Cry tonight.

 

It was only with Trish's comeback that he realized how long it had been since she left. He could no longer see his mother in her, her attitude back to a rebellious, non-maternal manner. Good.

 

—...Why do you have more bags? —he asked, a little worried about his possibly added debt.

 

—Took a detour to buy some drinks —she answered—. You don't expect us to eat all of that with no drinks, do you?

 

He accepted her argument and helped her take them upstairs. They tidied things up a little bit, prepared a table with enough chairs, and a few other decorative elements. They both stared at their creation and concluded Jack would think oddly of them.

 

The door opened. Lady welcomed herself inside, and looked for her friends with as much naturality as if she was in her own home. She was holding a bag with both arms, which contained different types of snacks. She left it where Trish told her, and quickly chose her seat.

 

—What's the celebration? —the black-haired woman asked—. You and Jack held hands?

 

—We've gone further already. We've slept together —Dante replied, with a half-serious tone.

 

He kept his face hieratic, waiting for the reaction of his friends. They knew he'd never admit such a thing, but his voice sounded believable enough. He wasn't lying, but they couldn't tell whether he was joking or not. It amused him to see the confusion on their faces.

 

—You can ask him —he added.

 

He slowly showed them a tiny triumphal smirk, something about his cockyness that only grew their bewilderment. He knew they wouldn't dare, at least not as directly as they'd've liked to. He left them wondering in silence to welcome Jack, who had just entered the shop.

 

—How are your wounds? —Dante asked after inviting him with a hand gesture to join them upstairs.

 

—Better. Thank you.

 

The taller man smiled and momentarily held his chin to caress it, something he did to demonstrate he was glad to know Jack's body was healed and appreciated the acknowledgement of his assistance.

 

He offered Raiden the seat facing the one he had chosen for himself, making sure he kept the best angle to contemplate the shorter man's face. He then quickly helped Trish accommodate four sets of silverware, one each. They had small Gothic ornamentation carved and stood out on top of the red tablecloth.

Unlike Lady, who was used to the strange decorative style of Dante's habitacle, Raiden was a bit weirded out by the centerpiece: a large metallic bowl —with an ornamentation cohesive to the silverware— filled with glass-like egg-shaped… heads, or something similar to that, each with a different color and expression.

Despite making his best effort to hide his reaction, the three demon hunters noticed. They didn't bring it up.

 

—Thank you for inviting us to a meal —Lady subtly smirked at him, her arm on the table holding her head.

 

—Oh, right. Did you rob a restaurant or what? —Dante asked, childishly curious.

 

—I was forced to take all of that —Raiden corrected him, but only provoked more confusion—. …It's not relevant.

 

—So, they tell me you're a soldier? —the black-haired woman redirected the conversation.

 

—Yeah.

 

Dante supervised their conversation while he divided each plate with the most homogeneous servings he could. He guessed a standard portion to be roughly half of what he'd normally consume, but added a bit more just to make sure he wasn't running too short. Hunger wasn't something that worried too much - worst case scenario he could just eat more later. He didn't think his stomach would rumble if it received less this one time.

 

—Has this wardrobe of a man told you anything about us? —Lady questioned.

 

—...Not really, no.

 

The shorter woman sighed in disappointment.

 

—We're demon hunters —Trish explained—, like him. It's our business. Lady has always been a loner, but Dante and I used to be work partners. Although we contact each other if needed, we usually work by ourselves.

 

—Let's not talk about work —Dante started serving them while Trish left different drinks on the table—. It's supposed to be fun. Though I do admit I'd love to see you in action, babe.

 

—You should come with us one day —the blonde woman added.

 

—Maybe one day —the shorter man vaguely responded.

 

—Oh, right —Dante suddenly remembered—. Was the film any good?

 

—As good as the first time. It was a re-screening.

 

—Ah, you watched King Kong then? —said Trish, subtly poking Dante under the table.

 

—Yeah. It's my favorite film.

 

—...

 

Dante quietly looked at Trish, who was already looking at him. It didn't last long as it would've brought unwanted attention, but Lady thought she had noticed something strange. She saw them quickly focus on Jack, and so she did the same before going back to them, but failed to tie the absurdly vague clues she had.

 

—Am I the only hungry one here? —jokingly asked Lady.

 

She started eating. The rest followed her.

 

Raiden was caught off-guard by Leonora's cooking. Rose had always insisted on cooking anytime they were together, so he was a little bit too used to eating burnt food if he wasn't the one in the kitchen. This was probably the first time in a horribly long time he found an unpaid or non-self-made meal to be edible.

And to think he could've had so many other meals just as good ever since he moved if he didn't find it so hard to interact with Leonora… 

 

Although for different reasons, the three demon hunters had a similar response as him. It was undeniable that his co-worker's food was greater than he ever thought.

 

Dante was the first one to finish, and spent his free time contemplating Jack. This was barely an appetizer to him, but he had really good expectations on what the next plates would taste like.

 

—And tell us Jack —Trish talked, nearly done with her food—, are you taken?

 

Dante gave her a fulminanting look, in such a way that only her could really understand the meaning of his expression.

 

—Too direct —Lady commented.

 

—...Not really —he answered, a bit troubled thinking about all the turmoil of his partnership.

 

—Good —the blonde woman said with a tone too happy for the situation.

 

—...?

 

Raiden looked at her, confused.

 

Dante looked at her, letting out a small sigh of resignation.

 

—...They think I have a crush on you —the red-coated man explained—. That's why she kept pointing out anytime I'd call you “babe”. 

 

Unsure of what to do, the soldier slowly looked away from his patrons and focused on the empty plate in front of him. He looked somewhat nervous and Lady had the impression she could see his skin attempting to blush.

 

—You made him uncomfortable! —Trish complained.

 

—...Me? —the taller man turned his body around, offended at the accusation—. You were the one who straight up asked him if he was single, and were glad that he was!

 

Lady observed Jack lower his head and she looked back at Dante for just a moment, then subtly called the shorter man's attention with her hand.

 

—I don't know if you have certain feelings for this fool or not, but if you do - I hope you're ready, because he's always like this. It'll happen very often.

 

Raiden hid his face a little bit more, but even then the black-haired heard a held-back chuckle from him.

 

—...I figured —he replied, his tone playful but barely noticeable.

 

Unlike Trish, whose limited experience came mostly from an outsider's point of view, Lady had grown up a human surrounded by humans. She had felt and seen a variety of emotions, from painfully blunt to incredibly subtle. She had shut down her own emotions and focused on one single thing for too long, and something about Jack's presence felt like he was more similar to her than either of her demon-blooded friends. She knew how difficult it was now to accept those emotions, to let herself experience them, and could tell that's what was happening with him. 

 

“You're welcome”, is what Dante guessed Lady's quiet lip movements meant. Okay. But welcome for what, exactly? He had been too busy verbally arguing with Trish like he would've with his brother to notice what had just happened.

 

The shorter woman stood up to pick up everyone's plates and only received a thanks from Jack, the other two still acting like immature siblings. She let them be and served the second plate. She didn't bother to wait for them to start eating, and gestured to Jack to do the same.

 

—How long have you known each other? —Raiden asked, his voice shyly soft.

 

—Dante and I, you mean? Roughly ten years. Ten very long years.

 

—You know him well.

 

—We've never been a thing, if that's what you're asking.

 

—...No, I…

 

—No? Well, now you know.

 

It felt good to see Jack loosening up to her. It was kind of awkward, sure, but it also meant he was starting to feel more comfortable. She wondered if he knew about the other two having demon blood, and what he thought about it, but this didn't seem like the proper time to ask.

 

She looked at her friends. They were still distracted, so she decided to kick one leg to each - not too gentle, but not too rough. It served its purpose and got them to continue eating, like they were supposed to.

 

Dante had a harder time eating as slowly as the rest of the group. Sure, he loved tasting every single bite, but he was also curious to try other plates, and to achieve that he needed to finish this one first. He knew he'd have to wait regardless, but he couldn't help it.

 

—You can ask them stuff too, y'know? —mentioned Dante—. Or me.

 

—Ask him about the time we went to the beach and he fell asleep while I was putting sunscreen on him —Lady suggested.

 

—Hey, what?

 

—Or the time we went to the mountain and he got lost despite following a trail —added Trish.

 

—Hey, c'mon now! I wasn't lost!

 

—Or the time-

 

—I think he gets it!

 

Raiden observed the three of them conversating. It was strange. Even if anyone at work made jokes, it was still a serious atmosphere. And with Rose… sure, they had had more casual dates and met other people, but he hadn't really been in a situation so… informal, so carefree, with so much friendly teasing, just chatting and having fun together, eating together. 

 

…Maybe this wasn't so bad. Maybe he could get used to it. Maybe he could… Be with someone else. Someone that wasn't pretending.

Dante had already shown to be interested in him, and his friends had shown to have caught up on that. Maybe his flirting was genuine after all.

 

He unconsciously smiled. It was bittersweet. He liked being here, but didn't think he deserved any of this. He shouldn't be fantasizing about weird possibilities.

 

He focused on his plate again, but he had already emptied it. This time, it was Trish who served them the next meal. He figured he should be the one to serve the dessert, but he wasn't even sure if there was any - most of the names Leonora had given him were too complex for him to understand what kind of servings they were.

 

—You have a really sweet smile, y'know? —Dante's voice became gentler, softer for a moment.

 

—Gosh, get a room —Lady joked, in an attempt to avoid making Jack feel more awkward than before.

 

Raiden hadn't noticed he was smiling. He quickly stopped, a bit anxious. It felt like he had shown weakness to an enemy. He looked away one more time and, unsure of what an adequate response to that would be, he simply said thank you and continued eating like nothing had happened.

 

He quickly stood up to take everyone's plates before somebody else did - it was his turn. He quietly took them to the kitchen, following the path he had seen the others go.

 

—The hell are you waiting for? —Trish nervously whispered to Dante—. Go help him!

 

—Hurry up! —Lady added with the same tone.

 

The red-coated man followed their instructions with anxious swiftness, like his life depended on it. He didn't know what he was supposed to do with Jack, but he preferred the uncertainty over being impaled with his own sword by either of the women. 

 

—Need help over here? —he awkwardly asked.

 

—...I do —Raiden admitted—. Where's the dessert?

 

The taller man walked towards the red, medium-sized fridge with rounded corners, and strangely colorful touristic magnets from different countries. He intentionally opened the door and took out the pastries in a way that didn't let Jack see much of the interior. He offered two of them for him to put on the counter, and then gave him the other two. Dante took out four small round plates, plain black, and a few little spoons. He then positioned himself close to Jack to help him with the serving. Was this what the girls meant…?

He felt somewhat nervous being just the two of them in his small kitchen. He felt pressured to make some sort of move, but at the same time was disproportionately worried he'd mess up.

He peeked at Jack while they were plating the desserts, and thought he'd look cute with an apron and a little chef hat to combine. He imagined himself cooking every other day with Jack instead of eating nothing but pizza and ice-cream.

 

—...I'm sorry about what happened earlier —Dante murmured, strangely shy—. They're too nosy.

 

—So are you —Raiden replied, oddly humorous.

 

—Wrong —he acted offended—. I'm an investigator. I have an inquisitive mind. I'm curious by nature.

 

Dante warmly smiled at him, happy to see Jack wasn't as uncomfortable as he thought. He gave two of the small plates for him to hold, and kept the other two in his own hands. They walked back to the table and served the food carefully.

Both women had agreed to examine one man each: Trish would take Dante, and Lady would take Jack. Although they paid attention to every detail of their appearance, gestures and expression, neither of them found enough clues to believe anything had happened back there. They then looked at each other with a certain amount of disappointment, but not really surprised.

 

Dante looked at them with suspicion, but this wasn't the time to bring it up. He sat down and pleasantly began eating the soft dessert.

 

—Babe, you gotta tell whoever gave you all this food they're really good —the taller man demanded, enjoying the sweet taste.

 

The other two demon hunters agreed with lively nods.

It didn't take long to finish the desserts.

 

—Lady, have I ever told you —Trish said, standing up— that Dante has a secret stash of obscure comics? Some of them are very… risqué.

 

—Oh, really? —she responded, imitating her—. Well, I'd love to check that out.

 

—We'll be right back, guys.

 

Dante observed them with a judgemental look, completely in disbelief of how blunt their pretension was. He looked at Raiden with resignation.

 

—Sorry, babe. They're adamant about getting me closer to you. And believe me, I tried my best to avoid this.

 

—So you… —he doubted whether to continue or not—. Do you…

 

—...?

 

—...have feelings for me…?

 

—...Would you like me to…?

 

—...I never said anything about that.

 

—Well. Do you think I do?

 

—I didn't. But how can I think otherwise with everything that's going on right now? 

 

—You're telling me nothing else before this dinner made you doubt? 

 

—You enjoy messing with people, flirting with people. It's pretty obvious. Why the hell would I think you might be serious? 

 

—Does it sound so unbelievable I might have a little crush on you?

 

—It does.

 

—Okay. So? If it happened to be true, would you be happy? Disgusted? Angry?

 

—You haven't-

 

—Was it fun?

 

—...What?

 

—The dinner. Did you have fun?

 

—We were-

 

—I know. We're moving on from that. Was it boring?

 

—...No.

 

—Good. Y'know, I do have a comic collection. You wanna go check it out? 

 

—...I don't understand you, Dante.

 

—...Maybe it's better that way.

 

Chapter 17

Summary:

Dante goes to a night party.

He felt awful. He didn't like where that conversation was leading to, but didn't want to make Jack feel invalidated either. He knew his behavior hadn't been the best, but he was terrified of facing the situation. He didn't think he would've accepted rejection too well, and much less could he fathom that Jack might share his feelings.

 

This had all started with the assumption that Jack would permanently keep him at a distance, but they were getting dangerously closer to each other.

Neither of them had been explicitly open with their feelings, not in a way that could leave no space for doubt. It appeared they both fed from that same uncertainty.

 

He had kept his temper as stable as he could for what was left of their reunion, carefully rejecting any comment with second meanings from the girls. He gave Raiden a bittersweet smile as a goodbye.

 

He was all alone once again. The darkness of the night felt strangely embracing as he sat on his desk.

The shop felt more empty than usual with the moonlight going through his windows. The soft light gave strange looks to many of his oddities. He felt judged by every single item inside the building, quiet spectators of his shameful fears and actions.

 

He could've admitted his crush. It would've at least given him the chance to receive a clear answer, with no more grey areas of vague interpretations and possible misunderstandings.

 

Did he even deserve to know…?

 

Dante clicked his tongue with disappointment. Feeling trapped within the walls of his shop, he stood up and went outside.

 

It was late enough for the streets to be empty. He could only see maybe one or two people every once in a while - they probably worked at night instead of during daylight, or perhaps they felt as caged as him and needed to feel the wind moving with freedom. Whatever the case, he followed a path signaled only by half-torn posters.

 

The drowning quietness slowly faded as he approached a somewhat abandoned building. The sound of electronic metal and colorful changing lights attracted him like a moth to a lamp.

 

It didn't take long for him to bury all of his thoughts under a combination of sweet alcoholic drinks and energizing dance moves. He wished a group of demons had been dumb enough to dare step on his territory, so that he could mercilessly massacre them, but this wasn't the case.

 

He could feel the pressure in the air from the stifling amount of people fitted inside the building, but he didn't mind them. He danced and drank, and then drank and danced.

 

—Dante —said a voice he could barely recognize with all the noise surrounding them.

 

—Babe! —he smiled like in a trance, not stopping his activities—. Wanna dance? 

 

—Are you drunk? —his tone was somewhat filled with worry.

 

—Just a little bit tipsy —the taller man playfully replied—. I know what I'm doing, don't worry.

 

Dante went to take another drink. Raiden stopped him. 

 

—Babe, I'm not drunk. I'm just having fun. Have some fun with me, will ya?

 

—Can we talk?

 

—We're talking.

 

Raiden was starting to regret his decisions. He wasn't used to this kind of place, and it didn't look like Dante was willing to pay him enough attention. He was tired and confused and had hoped to clear things out, but-

 

He felt his arm being grabbed, and then quickly moved around as easily through the crowd as if he was a paper sheet. He felt his back touch an oddly warm wall, and saw Dante standing close in front him, his arms parallel to the ground.

 

—What's the matter with you? —Raiden asked, visibly tense and somewhat annoyed.

 

—I like cornering you —Dante joked, his face a bit too serious, and made a pause—. You looked overwhelmed with the amount of people here, so I gave you some space. See? I'm not drunk.

 

The soldier silently observed him. He suddenly had all of his attention. Dante's bigger build, delimiting where he had to remain placed, felt intimidating. 

He tried to focus. Despite achieving a first step, he didn't have a plan and wasn't sure how to cohesively discuss what he wanted. The constant loudness surrounding them didn't help. 

 

—...Could we talk outside?

 

—Of course we can, babe —he slowly, lovingly replied—. Hold my hand, don't get lost.

 

The demon hunter loosened his posture and gently offered his hand for Jack to hold. He suddenly looked much more mellow, but also melancholic.

Raiden followed him through the closest door, to a narrow alley with a few other people not too far chattering and smoking. One of them appeared to be monitored by the rest, likely because he was too drunk to move.

 

While the shorter man was distracted with the strangers, Dante gently picked him up with a single arm and put him on an elevated surface. 

 

—...What was that for?

 

—I told you - I like cornering you. Wanted to have you at eye level. Easier to see your face —he made a pause to soften his voice—. Easier to kiss too.

 

—...

 

The soldier examined his face. He couldn't understand why he was acting flirty again after the strange conversation they had last time. It made him more confused and frustrated. He felt like this had been a game the whole time, one in which he didn't have an active role.

 

The demon hunter examined his face. He didn't feel like he could understand the cues anymore, like everything he had guessed up until now had been wrong.

 

—Were you following me, babe?

 

—No. Couldn't sleep, went for a walk. I just happened to see you here.

 

—I'll be fine.

 

—...

 

—What did you want to talk about? —his voice became progressively softer and weaker as he talked. 

 

—Will you even remember this conversation?

 

—Try me.

 

—...Let me take you home. Have some rest. Then we can talk.

 

—You go, babe. I have a party going on right behind me.

 

—...What if you went for a walk with me? Just the two of us.

 

—You're so cute.

 

Raiden could barely hear Dante's voice. He couldn't tell what the exact reason was. His posture was loose, but barely moved - all he'd do was caress Jack's legs, right on top of the knees, with just his thumbs. His expression was oddly calm, and his words kept a loving tone despite rejecting the shorter man's suggestions.

He knew Dante wasn't drunk, but he found his answers to be confusing and sometimes incoherent. He felt like giving up.

 

—...I'll stop bothering you. Sorry.

 

—You're not a burden, Jack.

 

—...I don't think you want me to stay.

 

—I do.

 

—...

 

—You look so pretty under the moonlight.

 

—Dante, I… —he paused in a failed attempt to find the right words, pressing his fingers against his forehead—. I'll let you enjoy the party.

 

Dante didn't leave, didn't give Raiden enough space to move. They remained silent for a moment.

 

—Am I a burden to you…?

 

—No —replied Jack, visibly offended at the question—. I… like being with you. It's… comforting.

 

Hearing Jack admit such a thing hit the core of his chest like a sharp arrow. He never thought he'd hear such a thing coming out from his mouth, and much less after dealing with his stupidity. The annoying desire to kiss him appeared again, worsened by the unintentional puppy eyes Dante perceived on him - it was evident Jack felt guilty, even though he had no fault.

 

—...I wanna take a walk with you —said Dante, his voice still weak—, if that's okay.

 

—...Yeah.

 

The demon hunter lowered his head, made a tentative move at touching Raiden's hand, but changed his mind. He felt fearful.

 

—...Can I hold your hand? So I don't get lost?

 

—...Sure.

 

It took him a second to refocus on Jack's position to realize he had to move a little bit to the side. He doubted whether to offer him a supporting hand or not - he normally would've, but he felt too emotionally vulnerable right now to act with his natural confidence.

 

Raiden pushed himself to ground level with strange graciousness. He shyly put his hand on Dante's bigger palm, took a quick moment to really have a grasp of how much of a bigger build he had, and immediately intertwined his fingers with his companion’s.

 

He could feel his heartbeat getting stronger, faster. Dante had asked to be led by him, so as to not “get lost” —how would he get lost in his own town?—, but it was Jack who didn't know where to go. He started walking, ignoring the strangers from before —still chatting, guarding their friend—, and improvised his path decisions as they went. 

 

They didn't talk. Neither of them were aware of how similarly rushed their heartbeats were.

 

The soldier drifted away from the streets. He knew he could get a decently good view of the starry sky from any point there —something impossible back in his previous home—, but he still decided to walk towards the wide park located on the outskirts. He didn't really know where he was headed, but Dante recognized the area without much effort and started to feel like they were inexpert teenagers on a sporadic, secret date.

 

Once they started stepping on the well-cared grass, it was the taller man who led the shorter one towards a small lake-like body of water. The reflection of the long trees against the calmly flowing water was an appealing view. The moon appeared there as well, the one in the sky illuminating the landscape with the softness of a lover's caress. 

 

It was roughly an hour-long walk from the party to the park, but neither of them had noticed the time pass by.

Dante's tipsiness had already fully faded and his mind was slowly processing everything he had said and done before. 

 

Raiden sat on the grass and looked upwards, as if to ask his companion why he hadn't already done the same. Dante positioned himself close enough for his leg and shoulder to touch Jack's, as a way to test the waters. He wanted to know how receptive the shorter man was to his physical proximity, half decided to treat this as a real date.

 

—Have you ever been here before? —the taller man asked, leaning his head towards Raiden.

 

—No —he replied, distractedly looking at the subtle waves of the water—. It's pretty.

 

So far, no complaints. Dante contemplated Jack's profile, well defined against the dark landscape. He imagined himself softly turning Jack's head around and bending enough to kiss him. He thought this would've been a scene Trish would've enjoyed watching in a film… or just from a safe distance from the two of them, somewhere she wouldn't be a disruption. But this wasn't a film, and they weren't inexpert teenagers on a first date.

 

Raiden debated on asking him again directly. A yes or no kind of question. No hesitation this time.

He tried to put his mind into a focused state, one that'd allow him to let go of any nervousness he felt right now.

 

His hand was small, his fingers long. His veins were slightly noticeable - the right amount to make themselves visible, but not disrupt Jack's soft look. Dante mindlessly explored the irregularities of the pale hand with the tip of his fingers, gently turning it around to do the same with the palm.

 

It was the higher sensitivity there that made Raiden lose focus. He peeked at the affected area, wondering what on Earth was Dante trying to do. He didn't talk, didn't move. He quietly observed with confusing curiosity.

 

The taller man put himself in some sort of trance, slowly caressing his way upwards over Jack's arm - from the hand to the elbow, and from there to the shoulder. He stopped. He had the impression to be stared at and lifted his eyes - he met Raiden's curious blue eyes for just a moment, as he immediately looked away.

 

He kissed the tattoo on the soldier's shoulder, returned to his original position and turned his head the other way, embarrassed about what he had just done.

 

Raiden was terrified. Not because he feared being forced into submission —there simply was no way Dante would attempt such a thing anyway—, but because everything about the situation felt too vulnerable, too intimate. It appeared to be a proof solid enough for him to begin to convince himself Dante wasn't just playing around.

 

—Dante-

 

—I'm being a good boy, ain't I? —he said without moving.

 

—...?

 

The taller man then turned his head around.

 

—Could've gone for the lips —he clarified with a carefree look on his face.

 

Raiden looked at him, hardly able to hide his coyness. Dante examined the shorter man's expression - he wasn't upset nor disgusted. He wasn't rejecting his closeness - if anything, it looked more like an invitation to do what he had said.

 

Although slowly, Dante confidently bent his torso towards Jack and held his head with gentleness. He began to close his eyelids, in anticipation of the kiss. He could almost feel the touch of those soft lips… but was instead met by his fingers impeding him to reach his final goal.

He opened his eyes and backed up, surprisingly relaxed. He then stretched his body and let himself completely fall on the grass.

 

—Guess it's time to go to sleep.

 

—...

 

—Sweet dreams, babe.

 

Chapter 18

Summary:

Raiden thinks about Dante and looks at the sky.

It still felt unreal to him how carefree Dante was. The demon hunter never worried about being too close to him - if anything he had shown to want the opposite. He touched him, caressed him with not a single ounce of hesitation on his pulse. He fell asleep by his side, at any place like he was in his own mattress, and even kept him captive once like a plush for a whole night. He even admitted to like cornering him, and had proved to resort to it enough times. Dante invaded his space with confidence and care, and it was surreal.

 

Raiden had always had nightmares. Nightmares about sharing that same space with someone - not with a lover, not with a colleague, but a stranger. A stranger placed close to him, specially sleeping —such a vulnerable state to be in—, was already in danger. He was a living weapon, after all. And yet, this overconfident foolish man had proved to lack any fear. What was worse, that same man had been able to completely immobilize him without even trying, and thus removing the everlasting preoccupation Raiden had about losing control and hurting people. Dante had unknowingly proved it was possible for him to have someone sleep by his side - as a stranger, as a colleague, and… something else.

 

He had seen the taller man quickly fall asleep, not a single worry noticeable on his loose, comfortable posture. He could tell Dante's eyelids were closed shut, but still stared at his lips with great caution.

Despite his clean look, it didn't seem like Dante cared much about his own body - after further inspection, Raiden noticed his lips were rather chapped, and the remnants of eyebags could only be seen by being really close to him. Of course, there was also the fact his house had been at some point filled with empty pizza boxes, and they had presented themselves as a frequent habit.

 

Now that he thought about it… there was a chance they were more similar than what he expected. It was clear Dante resorted to alcohol when everything felt wrong, that he had severe regrets he never talked about. Truth is, Jack had barely learned anything about the demon hunter's personal life - at least coming from his own mouth. And it had been the same the other way around. 

With how he behaved while being drunk, it seemed it helped him open up. In the worst way possible, but it forced his true emotions out. Raiden didn't think Dante ever intoxicated himself that much outside of his home, or very rarely - by the looks of it, he kept those feelings to himself as much as he could.

 

Raiden wasn't all that different, maybe more extreme in certain things and less in others. He felt he had begun to truly understand Dante's behavior, even if very superficially.

 

And then he went back to the subject that he was annoying himself with: the kiss attempt.

 

…He stopped him. He knew he had been staring at Dante with shyness, in a way that was almost daring him to go for it. He hadn't acted with cold, calculated intention - on the contrary, everything had been impulsive, instinctual. It all happened too fast, or at least it felt that way to him. 

 

…He couldn't just do it himself now. It would be strange, invasive. He couldn't help but wonder what it would've felt like to touch Dante's lips.

 

…So what now? It seemed wrong to get up and leave with Dante now sleeping next to him, and he refused to wake him up. He didn't know where he was anyway, and walking back to the party to orientate himself didn't sound too appealing.

 

…He sighed in resignation. He slowly laid down on the grass, the beating for his heart going back to normal as he contemplated the starry sky.

 

…It really was comforting to have Dante by his side, to know he could be immobilized if anything ever went wrong, to feel someone could… 

 

The tiredness of his body finally started to kick in, his mind less anxiously worried. The distant sounds of animals, creatures of nature, were oddly relaxing. He closed his eyelids and imagined himself in an open field, filled with wilderness and isolation - a different kind of isolation to the one he was used to. A place not conquered by empty land nor overconstructed cities. A place safe from the destruction of war and human exploitation. A place where he could be himself and still be accepted by others.

 

This all felt too distant, too unlikely. His mind was too damaged, too broken.

He turned around and looked at Dante. If he knew how torn apart he is, would the demon hunter still feel the same way…? Or would he hunt him down, get rid of the White Devil once and for all…?

 

He was fine with dying. He had caused enough harm in his life. He knew he would've never been a good parent, a good partner. He knew he wouldn't be missed. He was nothing but a weapon. A threat. He didn't mind being killed by Dante. He didn't think it'd hurt.

 

He went back to his original position, closed his eyes again. It took him some time, but he eventually fell asleep.

 

Chapter 19

Summary:

Raiden tries to wake Dante up.

The sky wasn't too illuminated by the sun yet, its color still not reaching a middle value. It was, however, late enough for birds to start flying from one place to another, communicating with each other with short sounds.

 

Raiden wasn't fully rested, but he woke up nonetheless. As he opened his eyelids, he progressively recognized the shapes in front of him to be no other than Dante. He was close to his own body - too close, in fact. The shorter man backed up with calculated slowness, trying not to wake him up. Had he lifted his head a bit too fast before, he might have even actually kissed him by accident. The problem was that he couldn't distance himself too much either - Dante's upper arm was gently surrounding his body. He hadn't been hermetically trapped this time, but remained still to try to find a possible solution. 

 

…Dante's sleeping face was peaceful. The way his hair had messed itself up by the unconscious movements while being asleep just…

He thought about putting those white bangs behind his ear, softly caress his subtle eyebags, explore the irregularities of his lips…

 

…He shook such an idea out of his mind. Even if he ever planned to follow through, it would only make sense to do it when Dante was awake and attentive. Not now.

 

Birds flew over them from time to time, temporary spectators of Raiden's hesitation to wake him up. The sun was already rising and, with it, colorful changes of hue on the sky. Its warm light quickly lit the landscape around them, a nice orange tint covering everything.

 

—Dante —he whispered, gently poking the taller man's jaw.

 

The taller man let go a small grunt and moved a bit to re-accommodate himself, still asleep.

 

—Hey, Dante —he called again, repeating the procedure—. Wake up.

 

Nothing different.

…How could a demon hunter sleep so heavily?

 

Raiden decided to change his methodology. He grabbed the taller man's arm and moved it off of him. This did work, as Dante executed a longer grunt and opened his eyes.

 

—What now? —he asked, his mind still not fully awake—. It's too early…

 

—There's already people walking around.

 

Dante tightly closed his eyelids and opened them back up, attempting to force focus on his view. He saw Jack surprisingly close to him.

 

—Nice view to wake up to. I thought you'd've left.

 

—I don't know the way back home. I need you to lead the way.

 

Estranged, Dante frowned his brows and smiled. What was that excuse?

 

—You could've just asked anyone for directions.

 

Raiden looked to the side, embarrassed of himself - he hadn't thought of it.

 

—...I already woke you up, so…

 

—Why don't you sleep with me a little bit longer? —Dante paused, closing his eyes as he turned on his back—. You broke my heart last night, you owe me.

 

—...

 

The taller man relaxedly looked at him again.

 

—I'm just joking, babe. You're good.

 

Dante moved his head facing the sky one more time, closing his eyes and licking his lips to moisturize them. He exhaled and loosened his body, fully decided to take a morning nap. The sun would soon be the right amount of warm and he felt cozy on top of the grass. 

 

Raiden had a strange feeling. He knew he could follow the demon hunter's advice and go ask anyone for directions. He could even let himself get lost —he didn't have any work to do anyway—, for as many hours as he wanted, but…

The light orange tint of the sky became stronger, more saturated. It highlighted Dante's tanned features against his white hair, and further emphasized the contrast between his warm-toned clothes and the cold-colored grass under him. 

 

If he, Jack, looked pretty under the moonlight, then Dante looked stunning under the sunlight.

 

He truly didn't know nor understand his feelings anymore, but he knew something about Dante was magnetic. The view presented right in front of him was proof of it, and so was his desire to touch his skin.

 

—Aren't you supposed to open the shop? —asked Raiden, trying to hide his nervousness as he slowly got closer to him.

 

—This sleeping beauty ain't getting no work today. I'll just take the day off.

 

Jack soundly sighed - he couldn't believe how easy it was for him to leave his responsibilities behind.

 

…It did, however, give him enough of an excuse. He very slowly leaned towards Dante, his eyelids as hardly pressed as he could, his tense body fighting itself to relax, and his heartbeat making itself annoyingly present.

 

The sunlight hitting his face was suddenly gone. Dante felt the shadow over him for just a second before he quickly opened his eyes. He saw Jack at a dangerously short distance from him. He understood the situation and instinctively leaned upwards, pushing himself off the ground with his elbow.

He knew he was supposed to be kissed by Jack and not the other way around, but the softness of those lips touching his own was greater than he thought. He mindlessly lifted his free arm and lightly pressed it against the shorter man's nape, just enough to push their lips tighter together. He moved with a slow, steady rhythm, tried to keep things superficial. Before he realized he was the one leading the other, gently helping him lay on the ground as he rose on top of him.

 

He knew he had to stop himself. He craved more of Jack's touch, but it wasn't what the soldier had signed up for. He imagined Jack had only wanted to give him a light peck, just enough to humour him and be able to spit a follow-up line upon having called himself a sleeping beauty. But it was also true that he was keeping himself under control, and made sure to give Jack enough room to stop him if he wished to do so. 

 

Dante gave him a final kiss and backed up a bit. He didn't wish to tempt his luck, not now. He had the impression of being lightheaded. He felt he had just experienced a fever dream, but it wasn't.

 

—...I think your “little” crush might be too big for me —Raiden murmured, having a hard time processing everything that happened in such a short amount of time.

 

Dante couldn't help but laugh - even his softest, most controlled movements had been too intense for him. He kissed Jack's cheek twice.

 

—That's alright —he replied, petting his jaw—. No need to date me. I'm not a brunette, after all.

 

The taller man stood up and helped his companion to do the same. He gave himself the liberty to kiss Jack's forehead and hold his hand.

 

—So you don't get lost —he explained, after which he started to walk towards his shop.

 

As much as he enjoyed every bit of the situation, he knew it'd eventually end. Things didn't last for him. They never did. Never would.

He could feel his free arm trembling, putting a lot of effort to repress the other one from doing the same. The steps were long and rhythmic, but made sure he let Jack follow him without struggle. He didn't dare look at him, but amused himself with the recent memory of his face, so close, so tense, slightly blushing. The feel of his lips, his skin, his hair.

 

It was a short walk. Way shorter than Raiden thought it would be. Easier too. Had he known they were roughly 10 minutes away from his apartment, with just two simple turns, he'd've insisted on going there instead.

…But then, they would've never…

 

—Left you right at the door —Dante finally spoke, releasing Raiden's hand—. Can't complain, hm? 

 

—A true gentilhomme —he replied, a bit humorous.

 

The demon hunter didn't lean for a goodbye kiss, and neither did the soldier. They did nothing but look at each other and turned around, one to enter the interior of his house and the other to leave the building.

 

Before he went inside Devil May Cry, Dante looked up to the sky. He wondered what his parents would think of this sort-of-romance he had going on. Did they ever experience something similar…? Would they judge his approach, give him guidance…? He would've bragged to his brother if he had had Vergil in front of him. 

 

Trish was comfortably sitting on his chair, legs up on the desk - a perfect imitation of his posture.

 

—It was about time the prince came back to his kingdom —she complained, lowering her sunglasses—. Been waiting for you the whole night.

 

—Cut me some slack. I kissed Jack.

 

The blonde woman quickly stood up and swiftly walked towards him. She stopped right in front of him, menacingly close. She didn't appear to be as excited as Dante expected her.

 

—You disappeared after the dinner. Came back to talk to you, see what was up. Looked for you for way too long, knowing you wouldn't be traceable if you didn't want to be found. Spent the night here hoping you'd come back half conscious, bottle in hand. And you come back now, not a single worry in the world, to tell me to cut you some slack?

 

Dante could understand why Vergil was scared of their mother when she scolded him. But unlike her, Trish was a much bigger threat to the integrity of his body.

 

—I…

 

—You better have given that boy the best kiss of his life.

 

—...We're working on it.

 

—What is that supposed to mean? —she impatiently asked.

 

—I can tell you as long as you don't impale me.

 

Trish gave him a judgemental look and sat on the desk, pointing to the empty chair for him to sit on. He followed her orders and started narrating everything with a slight amount of tension in his body.

 

Chapter 20

Summary:

Dante receives a call.

Dante stared at his friend, who remained silent and serious, with the expectation of a scolding for making a waste of her and Lady's efforts.

 

—Are you two dating? —she finally asked.

 

—No —he nervously replied.

 

—You complain about him, but you are driving me crazy.

 

—You know it's never that easy.

 

She shook her head, like she couldn't believe his words. From her point of view, it couldn't be any easier. He had a thing for Jack, and Jack had accepted any step closer he had taken. Dante was really easy to get along with, could read people pretty well. It seemed like he understood Jack as easily as a children's book - most of the time anyway, when he wasn't double guessing himself. The shorter man was more sullen, less sharp with second meanings, but just as stubbornly avoidant as Dante when it came to opening up. All they had to do was stop fooling around and talk. Talk about their feelings, their experiences, what they'd like to do, what they fear doing. Talk about anything and everything. And then, she thought, all that would be left was a kiss.

 

She crossed her leg and leaned on her arm.

 

—Did you like it?

 

—What kind of question is that?

 

—Right. Did he like it?

 

—I would think so. I'm not just about looks, y'know? I'm a pretty good kisser. 

 

Trish subtly raised her eyebrows, somewhere between surprise and sarcasm. Her still somewhat green skills to fully convey certain aspects left Dante wondering if she didn't believe him.

 

—Anyway. You remember that job we had pending, right?

 

—Got news? —Dante leaned back on his chair, its back touching the wall.

 

—I've gathered enough information for us to visit them - out of courtesy, of course. We could invite that cute boyfriend of yours.

 

—...You think it'll be safe enough? —he asked, ignoring the word his friend used.

 

—Aw, you're worried about him —she smiled with tenderness—. Didn't you say his whole apartment reeked of blood?

 

—It does. Or did, anyway. He barely smells of it anymore, not sure if it has something to do with his wounds or something else. Whatever that might be.

 

—Wounds…? —Trish repeated, wondering what other things had Dante never mentioned before.

 

—Don't worry about it. They should be healed by now.

 

—You shouldn't either. Both of us will be there anyway. Can't be any safer than that.

 

—If Lady-

 

—She's busy. Are you doubting Jack's skills now?

 

Dante looked at her for a few seconds. He had no real reason to think Jack had somehow become weaker. He told himself the smell was gone because he had to rest, and that he should trust the shorter man's skills. He was sure Jack wouldn't like to know he was underestimating him.

 

—Fine.

 

—Alright then —she straightened her posture, softly slapped her legs, and stood up with the intention to leave—. Glad you're good.

 

The blonde woman made a fun gesture as a farewell, turning around and crossing the doors of the shop. Dante remained still for a few seconds, like he was still processing the information. He touched his lips, the feel of his glove smooth enough to help his mind remember the experience.

 

He sat normally on his chair, his goal being to focus on the mess of papers he had on top of the desk so as to not think about Jack. Or rather, not ask himself what he was supposed to do now.

Some of the sheets were kind of wrinkled, a few permanently stained with dried blood. Should he ask for a date?

The documents were unorganized. He superficially checked out the content of each and divided them by groups. Should he keep it more casual, go for a kiss every now and then?

He had a lot of unpaid bills, but also a noticeable amount of them that were already paid for. He archived the latter ones and tried to order the first ones, going from the more urgent to the least concerning debts. Was he in a position to ask him out? He had already stated it wasn't a necessity and, to be honest, found it hard to imagine himself formally calling someone his romantic partner - and to be referred to as such. He didn't have the impression Jack thought too differently.

 

A ring. He picked up the phone and relaxed his posture.

 

—Devil May Cry~.

 

—Dante, please come here… —a trembling voice talked from the other side—. My friend… she's trapped…

 

—Angie…?

 

He could hear the young girl struggling not to cry. Angela was nearly panicking, so the red-coated man did his best to guide her breathing enough for her to explain the situation. An old building collapsed and her friend ended up trapped under the rubble. She couldn't take her out herself, the structures too heavy and the risk of damaging Erika too big. She had heard strange noises and was scared they came from demons. She didn't know what to do. She gave him a direction.

 

—I'll be there in a heartbeat.

 

Dante kept a vintage bike parked and ready to use, for emergencies only. He ran to it and quickly drove to the location.

His eyes inspected the area in a matter of seconds - Angela was standing next to the red cabin she had used to call him, trying to hold back her tears. She was alone, not too far from the disaster, which was perfectly visible. Dante couldn't see or hear neither the friend nor the presence of demons, but he didn't lose any time to reach out to the girl.

 

—Are you hurt?

 

She denied with a headshake, letting herself be gently hugged by the taller man in an attempt to calm her down.

 

—Where's your friend?

 

The blonde-haired girl pointed towards the place Erika was trapped in, unable to move. Dante released her and asked her to stay inside the cabin - it'd be safer. He gave her a rushed kiss on the forehead —he knew it'd give her comfort—, and ran looking for the other girl.

 

—Erika, do you hear me? —he asked, not sure he could see her figure—. I've come to help.

 

—Dante? —the girl asked, her voice denoting she was terrified but full of relief.

 

She did her best to describe the place she was in. She had been hearing strange noises and feared something else would fall, or that demons would appear at any moment. 

 

The red-coated man quickly examined the irregular surfaces. He saw half broken doors, partially hidden entrances. He asked Erika to keep talking to him, so as to use her voice as guidance of how close he was.

 

Dante felt grateful Jack had stayed with him and insisted on waking him up - not so much for the kiss anymore, but because had he been left alone and uninterested in caging himself in his shop, Angela could've never reached out to him. Sure, maybe a stranger could've shown up to help, but a worse alternative was still possible too.

 

He could see Erika through the fissure of a well-decorated wall. He did his best to get an overview of the room and find a way to reach her. He saw a hole on the ceiling and double-jumped his way to the upper floor. He asked her to stay as far away from his position as possible, just in case his careful steps weren't enough to prevent the ground from further breaking down. 

 

Unlike Angela, Erika didn't really know Dante. She had only heard what her friend told her, and seen him maybe two or three times before. She had never been alone with him, and her distress made him look bigger, more imposing than he already was. As scared as she was, she instinctively ran to him and he let himself be nervously hugged.

 

—Are you okay? —he asked with the gentlest voice he could pull—. Does something hurt?

 

She shook her head, really close to sobbing. He pet her hair with slow strokes.

 

—I'm gonna pick you up to take you out of here, okay?

 

She quietly nodded, letting go of him. Dante kneeled just enough to raise her legs and surround her waist. 

 

—Hold tight.

 

Erika followed his instructions, putting her upper body closer to him, her hands almost touching each of her elbows as they trapped Dante's neck.

 

The taller man left the room the same way he entered and quickly crossed all the rubble. He went back to the phone cabin, from where Angela came out running. He lowered the young girl and let the blonde friend hug her tightly.

 

Dante felt something strange in his core, like his guts were being oppressed. It was endearing to see the strong bond of the two girls, how much they cared about each other. But, on the other hand, it hurt. It hurt to know he would never experience such a thing with his twin brother. With his mother.

It took him a long time, but he had accepted his father's absence. He had learned to respect him, his actions, his heritage. He could only hope that, one day, it wouldn't be so painful to think about his lost family.

 

He gazed towards their surroundings. He didn't hear any abnormal sound, didn't see any unnatural shadow. He waited until the girls recollected themselves and accompanied them by foot until they reached an area he deemed safe. He'd have to come back for the bike.

 

—Thank you for rescuing me —Erika said shyly.

 

—How can I pay you? —Angela asked, a bit concerned about the possibly high price.

 

—No need —replied Dante.

 

The blonde girl didn't seem very happy about his answer, crossing her arms and giving him a look.

 

—At least let me buy you a pizza.

 

—Let us —Erika corrected.

 

The shorter girl's cellphone rang and she quickly picked it up - it was her father. They were supposed to meet roughly ten minutes ago and, knowing how punctual she is, he was growing concerned. Erika apologized and told him she'd explain it when she got there. Once she hung, she rushedly gave Angela some money and left running.

 

Angela stared at Dante, as if to tell him they owed the now gone friend to follow through with the plan, as she had left money for the cause.

 

Dante sighed.

 

—Fine. Gotta go now, but come by the shop later today, will ya?

 

The young girl nodded, incapable of hiding her hopeful enthusiasm. She waved Dante goodbye, a permanent smile on her face as he walked further and further away.

 

The red-coated man returned to the place where he had left his old motorbike. He wanted to make sure no undesired visitors were around. He carefully inspected everything in front of his eyes, making as little noise as he could. He went inside the fallen building again to properly check the structure - maybe it hadn't been a matter of how old it was, but of someone's influence on it.

 

…Everything seemed normal. He took one final overlook and concluded that those strange noises must've been caused by the girls’ panicking. He'd still keep an eye on this area, just to play it safe, but this didn't worry him too much.

 

Dante walked to his bike and rode back to Devil May Cry. He sat comfortably on his wooden chair, legs up on the desk, and started pondering what sort of excuse could work with Angela and Erika.

 

The phone rang. The red-coated man picked it up as usual, but someone had dialed the wrong number.

He leaned his head on the wall and closed his eyes. His life could be painfully boring at times. A nap would be good.

 

The phone rang. He picked it up the exact same way, a little bit less patient.

 

—Have you talked to him yet?

 

A familiar voice.

 

—It's clocking time, y'know? I'm making money right now, Trish.

 

—Oh, really?

 

—...Supposedly.

 

He heard the blonde woman sigh. She told him she'd do it herself and then hung up. Dante felt a little bit concerned about the way she'd paint the picture to Jack, but even if he had wanted to tell him right now… he didn't have his number. Sure, he could try to find it through the yellow pages but, assuming it was there to begin with, by the time he got the right one, Trish would've already done that and more. 

 

Would she try to get a date for him…?

 

The phone rang. He wanted work, but receiving presumably useless call after useless call was getting rather annoying. He picked it up. Someone dialed the wrong number, again.

 

He went upstairs. He opened the fridge and took out one of the containers left by Jack. He had been blessed with tasty food that'd fill his stomach for maybe a week if he ate it all by himself. He warmed it up a little bit and began eating.

 

The damn phone rang. He didn't want to pick it up anymore, but he walked —slowly— to the lower floor. 

 

—Devil May Cry… —he murmured, his mouth partially occupied with food.

 

—Dante.

 

The demon hunter quickly swallowed.

 

—Babe. Missed me that bad? —he asked, flirtatiously cocky.

 

—Trish invited me to some sort of… “Demon party”, as she said. Gave me your number.

 

—Of course she did —he murmured to himself, low enough for Jack not to understand but high enough for him to know he said something.

 

—Sorry, didn't hear well.

 

—Nevermind. What else did she tell you?

 

—Uh… Said we'd meet tomorrow morning at your place, that I should bring up my “work fit and weaponry”. And…

 

—And…?

 

—...that you'd have a little gift for me…? —Raiden dubiously added, in an attempt to know the veracity of it.

 

—...Who knows —Dante mysteriously replied, mentally cursing his friend.

 

—...See you tomorrow then.

 

—See ya, babe.

 

Raiden hung up. Dante put the phone in its place and ate his food with a tense body.

 

Chapter 21

By the time Angela showed up at Devil May Cry, the sky became a highly saturated orange. It had different hues of yellow and red here and there, spread over the few clouds visible. She crossed the door with a strange mixture of confidence and shyness, her outfit different from the one Dante had seen her wearing earlier. She walked towards the demon hunter all by herself, every one of her steps calculated to look effortlessly elegant.

 

—Hey, Angie. Where's your friend? —he asked, hiding his suspicion about Erika's absence.

 

—She couldn't come —the blonde girl replied, not really saddened by it.

 

Dante made a small sound without opening his mouth - of course she couldn't. He stood up from his chair, flattened his clothes a little bit with a couple of hand pats, and went close to his visitor.

He didn't really have a lot of doubts about his initial conclusion, but he quickly checked regardless. The girl's outfit was pretty, very comfortably stylish, and one would consider it to be adequate for her age. It highlighted all of her key features, and so did the light makeup she had chosen to put on for the occasion. She looked perfect to go on a…

 

—Alright, Angie. I just wanna make sure it's crystal clear - this isn't a date. 

 

She shook her head with energy.

 

—It's not —she added, demonstrating to understand what he said.

 

Dante wanted to trust her word, trust that she wouldn't try to flirt with him, but it was difficult. He hadn't bothered to tidy himself up in the hopes it'd prevent that, but he had already buried himself earlier by having hugged her, having kissed her forehead to reassure her.

 

He softly sighed and stopped himself from touching her shoulder —something he'd've instinctively done with Jack—, quietly opening the door for her to pass through. 

 

The restaurant where Angela guided Dante wasn't known to him. He hadn't been paying too much attention to their surroundings during the walk, but by how sharply clean the decorations were, it seemed to be a new place. The taller man entered behind her, examining everything with suspicion - it's not that he felt something threatening was hidden, but rather that he wasn't accustomed to new, unfamiliar restaurants. He had visited every single one of them within his shop's area and every single owner —and their respective workers— knew him. This place? Unknown.

 

The tables, all of them illuminated with thin, long candles, didn't take any worry away from him. Had he come with Jack, he'd've had fun pestering him about the “sorta-romantic” ambient, but being with Angela…

 

They sat down at her chosen table, one that was in a corner, distanced from the others. She hadn't done it purposely - she just liked it was quieter, and that it had a couple of small landscape paintings hung on the walls. A well-dressed waiter quickly attended them.

The young girl grew anxious. She knew this was pretty informal, that she was supposed to control herself, but she couldn't help but admire everything about Dante.

 

—How did it go…? —she asked, not just out of politeness but also to find out about his situation.

 

—How did what go? —he repeated, not knowing what she was referring to.

 

They checked the menu.

 

—Your… date, at the cinema —she clarified.

 

It took him a second to understand she was talking about Jack, about his improvised lie. Nothing about his reaction denoted this.

 

—Not bad —he replied, trying to be as vague as possible.

 

He didn't know how to build a solid wall between them without hurting her feelings. He was fond of her the same way he was with any other person thankful to him, whatever their reason, but he knew she was also a young girl in love. And he knew those feelings tended to make people more susceptible to the way things were said or done.

He could've told her it had gone amazing, that his date was the perfect potential partner for him, and many other things that implied his unquestionable disinterest in her… but any of those things would've caused her great damage.

 

He decided on the pizza he wanted.

 

—Will you two meet again? —she shyly asked, lowering her menu.

 

—Why the interest? —he questioned, a bit bewildered.

 

—Maybe I could give you some tips…?

 

Tips? What did he need tips for?

Why was a 17-about-to-be-18 year old girl suggesting he might need her help with the dating experience?

 

—...

 

Okay. It caught him off-guard, he had to admit it. It was certainly better than having her trying to hit on him, but still rather awkward.

Maybe the wall had already been built after all…?

 

—...I'm sorry —she anxiously apologized—. Forget about it.

 

—...What kind of tips? —he asked, not sure what to say.

 

Dante gave the menus to the waiter the second he came back and pointed to him their respective choices. He asked for a cold drink, something Angela imitated.

 

—Like… I dunno, the best perfume choice, the kind of flowers you could bring, the cutest gifts you could buy…

 

He didn't think he had problems with that.

Was she…

Was she calling him old…?

Simple-minded, at the very least… No?

 

—Uh… —he tried to come up with a proper answer—. Sure. Anytime. You already know where to find me.

 

The blonde girl nodded with a smile - she felt happy to be of help to Dante on his quest. The red-coated man was going on dates, and someone had been worthy enough to go out with him to the cinema - somewhere she considered to be one of the most common places for couples to make out. Even if Dante hadn't already rejected her because of their age gap, she didn't stand a chance anymore.

She couldn't just get rid of her feelings that easily, but it was better to deal with them if she was useful to him. He wouldn't accept any kind of retribution anyway, so this was the closest thing she could achieve.

 

Dante saw Angela's face glow. This meant a lot to her. He side-eyed the waiter while he served their food, perfectly interrupting his moment of introspection. He started eating, asking himself if it'd be good to ask her for help. After all, Trish had made it a necessity for him to find a gift and he wasn't in the right state of mind to come up with something interesting enough.

 

—What's on your mind? —the girl asked after some time watching him constantly tap his glass.

 

—Hm? —he noticed what he was doing and stopped—. Nothing.

 

She gave him a look. He felt like he was a grumpy old man who couldn't accept modernity. He lowered his head and looked away for a moment, grunting.

 

—...Something —he corrected himself—. Let's say I have another date. Same person.

 

—Mhm? —she nodded, expectantly.

 

—Wanna bring a little gift. No clue what, though. Don't know much about tastes and preferences either.

 

Angela put her hand on her chin, a finger on top of her lips. She thought about some general possibilities. It surprised Dante how detailed she could be with some of them, giving him several reasons as to why one was better for certain things than the other. He listened to her with all of his attention, even though it didn't give him the impression any of them would work very well with Jack. 

 

They finished eating their respective pizzas, after which Angela insisted on buying another one for Dante on Erika's name, but he refused. He couldn't find a reasonable excuse, so he told her they could hang out another time for it. He then accompanied the blonde girl to her house, to make sure she arrived safely with how dark the sky had already turned, thanked her for her extensive help, and gave her a warm smirk before parting ways. 

 

Trish was evil, Dante thought. Evil for causing him so many unnecessary headaches like the one he was experiencing right now on his way back home.

He visited the shop that sold oddities in the hopes of finding something that'd call his attention, but he wasn't even sure of what Jack could potentially like. Film DVDs were too easy of an answer, an incredibly “Dull” one. He was aiming for, at the very least, a “Bravo!” or an “Awesome!” in his mental Style-O-Meter. 

 

…A cinema date wasn't all that much better, but it didn't sound bad either. He mentally noted it on a list, low enough to be considered a backup plan.

 

…What about a concert? He didn't know what bands he liked, but he figured it could be a pretty cool experience regardless. Worst case scenario he could lift him up, carry him on his shoulders, maybe try to convince him to go into a pogo, take real good care of him afterwards if Jack was hurt. He doubted the last part would happen, but the thought of playing doctor with him was a little bit amusing. 

 

…Maybe an art museum? It looked like Jack really enjoyed films, so maybe he had a broader interest in art. He thought it could potentially help him to get to know Jack, being able to ask about personal interpretations and their possible ties to his own life experiences. Even the more abstract answers could help him have a better grasp of the shorter man's mind.

 

Ugh. He entered his shop and shook off all of the thoughts that had to do with the damn gift. This had been a long, kind of strange day. He finished some minor tasks and threw himself on the bed. Time to sleep.

 

Chapter 22

Trish stood in front of Devil May Cry for about five minutes when she saw Jack walk towards her. She was glad Dante was the worst when it came to effortlessly waking up, because it meant she could chitchat with the soldier for a while.

 

—Nice suit —she commented, taking a very good look at Raiden's well-defined body contour, and the bone-like details of his clothing.

 

Okay. He did have a small waist.

 

She noticed he wore gun holders in a similar way as Lady, although he also kept a slightly curved sword on his back. 

 

—...Thank you —he awkwardly nodded once, not knowing how to retribute the gesture as she wore the same outfit he knew.

 

—Ready for the party? —she gave him a side smile.

 

—I guess —he dryly replied, waiting for Dante to appear and carry the conversation for him.

 

The shorter man hadn't been able to sleep much. Not having any work to do was making him lose his mind, and all of a sudden he had two teammates to fight with. He didn't want to admit it, but he craved the adrenaline rush of a life-threatening fight.

 

…On a minor scale, he was curious about the potential gift Trish had mentioned.

 

The blonde woman could see he wasn't very good at chatting, but it didn't matter much to her. She kept him entertained with innocuous questions and discreetly gathered some information here and there. 

 

As they talked, Dante stretched out his body. He mindlessly stood up from his bed and went to the kitchen, eating the first thing he saw inside the fridge without even bothering to identify it, warm it up, or put it on a plate.

He got ready as fast as his half-asleep mind allowed him to, and then went downstairs, where he picked up his weapons.

 

He crossed the doors of his shop and-

 

—Damn, babe —he automatically said the second he saw Raiden—. How am I supposed to focus on the mission like this? 

 

He stood next to Trish and softly touched the Skull Suit's ribcage-like shapes with curiosity. He did the same as his friend, taking a good look at Jack's silhouette as if he hadn't already seen it before.

 

—Cool —he added, smirking.

 

The taller man went closer to the soldier, putting his hand on the shoulder further away from him, softly pushing him forward - a gesture to let him know they were leaving.

 

Trish led the two men to their respective vehicles. She had already prepared Dante's old bike and parked it next to hers, as well as bringing a helmet for Jack.

 

—Where's your regular bike? —the taller man asked, surprised to see she had a one-seater.

 

—Needs some repairs —the blonde woman briefly explained—. Don't worry, I'll send you the bill.

 

—Why do I even ask…

 

—This helmet's for you, hot stuff.

 

—...What about you two? —Raiden asked, trying not to pay too much attention to his new nickname.

 

—Oh —she momentarily looked at Dante, as if to ask him why hadn't he already told him about their demon blood—, you're right. How silly of me.

 

The shorter man found it odd, but didn't give it any importance. He saw both demon hunters sit on their bikes, accommodating himself behind Dante once he put the helmet on. He kept the same distance between them as he did with Trish and planned to keep his arms on his own legs, but the red-coated man held his wrists and positioned the arms in a hug around his own waist.

 

—Don't want you to fall, babe —he said—. We're about to go real fast.

 

Trish led the way, although Dante drove right next to her. They both liked the feeling of freedom that came with the air impacting against them as they sped up on the road.

Raiden wished he could've seen them from the outside, as he could easily tell they were strongly synchronized and had really polished skills. Instead, he had a perfect view of Dante's wide back in front of him. He had refused to sit closer to or lean on the taller man, so he had found himself holding onto the red pants’ belt loops because his arms weren't long enough.

 

They parked at a cautious distance from the castle they were about to visit. Raiden took the helmet off and Dante stored it in his bike. The taller man discreetly checked the soldier's tight suit one more time before walking towards the entrance. 

 

—I'll-

 

—I'll go ahead —Trish interrupted her friend, taking one big jump forward.

 

Dante stared at the blonde woman's motions, stunned. He could tell she had purposely left them alone so that he could make a move, but... How the hell was he supposed to explain that jump to Jack…?

 

—... —he looked at the shorter man, not sure where to begin.

 

—So… where do we go? —Raiden asked, completely unbothered. 

 

…What? How could he just… Not care about a person who just jumped an inhuman distance like it was nothing?

 

—You're… Not surprised?

 

—Of what?

 

With how confused Jack looked, Dante understood that, whoever the soldier knew, he wouldn't think wrongly of either Dante himself nor Trish for their demon blood. It was relieving, in a way, and in another he worried about the sort of acquaintances and situations Jack had been put in for this to seem so… Normal.

 

He shook the thought off and looked back at him.

 

—...Forget about it. I'll let you decide where to go.

 

—Uh… Forward, then.

 

Dante walked behind him, in part to give Jack the chance to lead, and in part to have what he deemed a nice view of the soldier's curves.

As distracted as he wished to be with that, he made sure to pay attention to every sound, every strange shadow, every unnatural shape they encountered - he wanted to be ready to protect Jack if it ever came down to it.

 

Raiden held his gun with both hands, every single step cautelous and silent. Unlike him, the demon hunter walked unworryingly.

The shorter man gave his companion a judgemental look —one that let Dante know Jack found him unprofessional— and continued walking through different halls, inspecting the unfamiliar environments with detail.

 

They arrived at an intersection - an interior garden shaped as a circle, with a design Dante found quite elegant. He bent down here and there to smell the small, colorful flowers, looking much more distracted than he actually was.

 

—Babe —he called the soldier's attention, vaguely pointing upwards with Ivory—, I'll back you up.

 

Confused, Raiden followed the direction with his eyes and noticed the group of demons crawling on the walls. He then quickly pointed his gun and shot them with as much precision as he could, over and over, until they progressively fell dead to the ground. The taller man only bothered to kill those he considered could be truly problematic, and enjoyed looking at Jack executing his job. He could see the soldier was much more focused in efficiency than style, but his natural motions were already performatively good. 

 

Once cleared, Dante invited Jack to continue leading the way. The soldier chose their new route without putting much thought to it, but always cautelous to what could come next.

 

Without meeting any more enemies, they reached a small room that led to a closed door, which held medieval-like ornamentations. Several pillars gave the room a classic look.

After checking out it was clear, the shorter man leaned on one of the pillars, wanting to make a pause to think.

 

—All good? —Dante asked, walking towards him.

 

—Yeah. It's just… I don't actually know what the goal here is.

 

—Trish didn't tell you? —he sighed, assuming she must've done it on purpose—. We're gonna dismantle a small group of powerful demons that have been causing too much trouble. Based on her Intel, there's three leaders. So, one each.

 

—...

 

—Want out?

 

—No.

 

—Good —the taller man stood in front of him, pushing one of his hands against the pillar—. Don't wanna miss your fight.

 

—...You're always cornering me —Raiden complained.

 

—Your turn then —Dante replied, holding his shoulders to spin and switch positions.

 

—...?

 

—Do it. Corner me.

 

—... —the shorter man awkwardly raised his arms into a 90° angle, pressing his hands against the cold surface—. This is ridiculous.

 

—This is cute —the red-coated man said with a smile—. Look at me.

 

He doubted for a second, but Raiden did as he was told. His embarrassment was bigger once he saw Dante's self-indulgent smile.

 

—So damn cute.

 

Dante put his hand under Jack's chin, just to keep his head's position as he leaned downwards, tilting his own head, to kiss him. Even though he wasn't thinking about what he was doing, he moved gently and slowly. He liked the feeling —and could tell Jack did too— and switched sides after a few seconds.

 

Raiden backed off.

 

—...We should keep going —the soldier sentenced, not daring to look at him.

 

—Right —he agreed, satisfied enough.

 

He followed Jack through the different rooms they encountered, dealing with some minor enemies from time to time - nothing that allowed either of them to effectuate something more flashy.

He had a general idea of where certain things might be located inside the castle, but liked being Jack's lapdog for a little while. It was funny to him how opposite they were when it came to work, but it made sense - his companion had a much more formal training, while he had had to learn as he went, all by himself.

 

Raiden opened another door, one which led to a very tiny room with a different colored door at the end. He walked inside, certain that it'd be empty. He calmly checked the walls, which had big hand-painted murals with vegetal-like decorations in high relief.

 

—This room… —he murmured, distracted.

 

—Pretty, isn't it? —said Dante, leaning on the doorframe and observing Jack's contemplative face.

 

The soldier slid his hand over the wall painting as he walked towards the closed door, on which he noticed a really subtle carving. He turned around to look at the red-coated man.

 

—It's really different from the rest.

 

Dante heard a noise and shot behind him, killing a lurking demon in the act.

 

—Go on.

 

—...Uh… —he tried not to give it any importance and continued—. It's… locked.

 

Raiden kept staring at him. Dante looked back, confused. 

 

—Do you see something else there? 

 

—No. You… Made a perfect shot. Without even looking. 

 

—...That's surprising? But not what Trish did? —he asked, unable to understand Jack's logic, and then made a pause—. …You're such an odd kitten.

 

He walked to the carved door and examined its shapes. It wasn't very difficult to figure out they needed a key, but it wasn't as obvious to Jack as it was to him that the clues about its location were right in front of their eyes.

 

It was now Raiden's turn to observe Dante's contemplative face, his pale blue eyes going from one place to another as he decoded the abstract shapes on the door. 

 

It only took a fragment of a second for them to hold the handle of their respective swords once they heard a noise coming from the door, but the taller man relaxed his posture once it opened and he saw Trish saluting them with a playful smile.

 

—Having fun all by yourselves?

 

Dante gave her a look Raiden didn't understand, but she knew her friend was questioning her methods. She didn't mind - she knew that, despite his complaints, he'd take any opportunity to get closer to Jack. She was just serving him more of them, given she'd seen they both were terrible at doing it on their own.

 

Trish waited for Jack to cross the door and then updated them on her discoveries as they walked behind her. She briefly explained she had scanned the upper floors, areas she was sure would be empty at these hours, so as to gather information.

The demon leaders they were meant to defeat appeared to be reunited somewhere on the lower floors, and she was headed that way when she heard gunshots nearby and opened that door.

 

She led them through different halls like she had always lived there and they went downstairs for a while, cleaning any room they found occupied by demons. Both demon hunters felt disappointed by how weak their enemies were, not presenting enough of a hassle to force a one-on-one fight.

 

The next floor had what looked to be a puzzle. Raiden couldn't fathom any reason why someone would build a puzzle in a castle, presumably their home, so he simply confusingly stared at his companions while they solved it. He followed them through the now unlocked room, where a much stronger set of enemies waited for them.

 

Dante hurried up to slice one of them - he acted with his natural mindset of going after the most stylish combos, unaffected by the shorter man's presence. The desire to shed blood was stronger, so much that he barely had the chance to warm up by the point he cleared the room.

 

—Man, I'm starting to think the big guys will be too weak —he complained. 

 

He didn't bother to look at his teammates, deciding he was now the one leading the way - he had a lot of pent up energy to release.

 

The following areas started to appear with splatters of blood, whether on walls or ground. Neither Trish nor Raiden could see Dante anymore, but the blood was fresh and it wasn't hard to know what was happening.

The soldier wanted to catch up with him, give him support if needed, but Trish knew it was better if he remained alone for a while. Instead, she held Jack's wrist and went through a different path.

 

—He'll be fine, don't worry —she reassured him, still dragging him through carpeted halls.

 

The blonde woman let go of him and inspected the big, old portraits that covered the walls of the new room. She figured they were close to their targets, but wasn't sure how much. She wondered if those people painted in oils were ever aware of the presence of demons in their world, if they knew some were hiding amongst them. She heard gunshots, but not from Dante's custom-made long guns.

 

Bullets didn't seem to do the trick with the horde of enemies planning on blocking their way, so Raiden thought it was time to use the HF blade. With remarkable speed, he sprinted towards the enemy and cut through as many limbs as he could.

Trish wished to be able to simply enjoy the show, but Dante would never forgive her if she had allowed those creatures to leave even the slightest of scratches on Jack, so she was supposed to protect him.

 

…

 

She figured she could do both, and transferred her yellow-colored electricity to him. That way, she could be a bystander for a longer time before she stepped in, if she even needed to.

 

Chapter 23

The length of his sword was covered in bright red blood. Dante held it in a way that let him look at his own reflection on its surface, thanks to which he was able to accommodate a few rebellious strands of hair. He noticed he had been left alone by his companions, but this didn't cause him any anger.

 

Finding the leaders was the end goal, but not necessarily a priority. Trish had told him they spent long hours isolated in an underground area, and by the look of the kind of books he had been seeing collected in shelves, they likely were trying out different incantations to see how veridic they were, how powerful they could become.

Sure, the longer it took to find them meant the hordes of demons would grow, but so would his will to kill.

 

He followed the particular scent of Trish's demon blood, something that had taken him long weeks to train. Unlike her, he had more difficulties using some of his demonic instincts - since he hadn't really needed them in a human world where all demons were enemies, they were underdeveloped and required some work. 

 

He made sure to visit any unopened room, not because he was trying his hardest to find his companions, but simply to have some more fun. Enemies seemed to start being stronger than their predecessors. 

 

With the same determination, but with a different approach, Raiden instinctively used Trish's lightning to his advantage, like he had always been meant to have it. This positively surprised the blonde woman, who killed any demon that tried to come to them through the now broken door on the other side of the room. Luce and Ombra shot bullets over and over again, with so much precision that they perfectly avoided Raiden's constant jumps and thrusts. He was too focused to think about anything, but the woman felt they were a pretty good pairing in combat.

 

Once cleared, Trish continued her path like nothing had happened. Jack perfectly knew by now that she wasn't a regular human —and chances are Dante wasn't one either—, but he wasn't sure how to bring that up. He silently followed her effortlessly elegant steps, wondering if she and Dante had been through something similar to his own experience in the army.

 

A huge room with Gothic architecture is where the halls led them. At the end, a door just as proportionally big, which had different ornaments made of cold metal. On the ground, a remarkable drawing of what seemed to be a magic circle, full of abstract symbols and letter-like shapes of an alphabet Jack had never seen before. He strongly held to his weapon, feeling something was off.

 

Unsurprising to Trish, from the circle slowly emerged a creature that roughly occupied ⅓ of the room. It wasn't the size what unsettled the soldier, but rather its strange appearance against the confident stance of his companion.

 

—Jackpot —she said, her imitation of Dante perfectly executed.

 

She gave Raiden a look as an invitation to fight alongside her, after which she did the same as before - she transferred her lightning to him and began fighting on her own.

 

The soldier followed her, checking on her from time to time to understand her combat style, and the places she attacked - he figured it was better to pay attention to someone who was used to fighting demons as strong as this one —if not more—, rather than blindly do his own thing. 

 

He learned fast the blonde woman's preferences towards kicks rather than using her fists, something he shared with her. Anytime he noticed her holding a limb —or what he thought was a limb—, he quickly sprinted to slice as deep as he could with the HF blade. He imagined she didn't need much backup from him —especially seeing how big and adaptable her strange sword was—, but still made sure to deflect any close attack with his sword. 

 

This was good. Trish was having fun with her new teammate. She liked they didn't really need to talk to synchronize their choreography, and enjoyed seeing the soldier using her lightning with so much naturality. In a way, she wished Dante would show up too late to have the chance to be a spectator, simply because she could pester him about it for a really long time. 

 

The creature had already covered the ground with big splatters of red blood, its ripped apart limbs progressively becoming dust. Its attacks grew in speed and intensity, a consequence of the adrenaline and desperation.

Before Jack realized, Trish executed a lengthy combination of attacks, one triggering the next, and finished it off. She stood in front of him to cover his body from the explosion of blood that happened half a second later.

 

—Perfect teamwork —she commented, turning around to kiss his cheek in a flash.

 

Raiden, although surprised by this gesture, relaxed his body. It was over. For the time being, anyway. He wondered where Dante was, but didn't try to start a conversation. The soldier limited himself to follow Trish towards the imposing door, which opened by itself once they were close enough.

 

Their trail, being so recently marked, wasn't too difficult for the red-coated man to follow. He was covered in blood from head to toe, the white color of his hair barely noticeable anymore. He crossed the huge room and whistled to himself, impressed by its size, the markings on the ground, and the evident leftovers of a battle. There wasn't many doubts on where his companions went, as he followed the red footsteps pointing the path.

 

—Hey —he called their attention with a soft voice—. Don't forget about me. 

 

Jack turned around and unawarely walked towards him - although his face didn't show it, he was happy to have him back. Trish didn't move from her place, but looked towards her companions.

 

Dante noticed a red marking on the soldier's cheek, its shape too organized and recognizable to have been caused by the battle. He held the shorter man's jaw and wiped part of the blood with his thumb.

 

—Trying to make me jealous with her now? —he playfully asked, after which he kissed the other cheek.

 

While Jack remained still, Dante went closer to the blonde woman. They looked at each other with a silent chuckle about their current appearances.

It was an odd view to Raiden. Both demon hunters irradiated the same kind of confidence - one that was easily interpretable as arrogant at times. They both used a pair of long guns and a sword as tall as him, if not even longer. They both had unnatural strength, a strength that was quite different to what he had seen before.

 

—You two… —he murmured, but not hesitantly—. Are you demons…?

 

They looked at him with strange curiosity, but only Dante went back to him. He stood up just a few centimeters of the shorter man's body, looking down at him playfully intimidating. 

 

—Why? Are you scared we might've set you a trap?

 

—No.

 

Dante smirked, amused to see Jack's conviction. He felt tempted to kiss him, but didn't. Instead, he took a step back.

 

—She's a full demon —he explained, tilting his head a little to allude to her presence—. I'm only half.

 

—Then why…?

 

—Long story. Do you wanna back off now that you know we're demons?

 

—No —Raiden replied, lowering his voice into a whisper—. I'm not that far off from being one anyway…

 

—How's that? —Dante questioned, not sure what it was supposed to mean.

 

—...Long story.

 

The taller man didn't insist. He deemed the conversation finished and decided to finally take a look at their surroundings.

 

They were placed in an open area, a big garden with a fountain as a center piece. Although they had gone downstairs several times, they had a perfect view of the grey sky above them, with the sun nowhere to be seen. 

 

Several sections divided the place, each of them fully covered in colorful flowers and trees almost as impressively tall as the walls. Different statues with a clearly Baroque influence decorated the garden with sinuous poses and volumes. If not because they were in the middle of a mission, in the enemy's castle, Dante would've enjoyed taking a walk through the paths, an spectator to long gone artists and the work they left behind. He figured he could've told Jack a thing or two, and Trish would've pretended he had an impressive knowledge about classical art and its relationship with gardening and landscaping, even though she didn't have any formation about the subject.

 

The air quickly started to feel cold against their exposed skin, more remarkably so on the blood-covered demon hunters, and it didn't take long until rain started to fall.

 

The red coated man didn't want to have his good mood taken away from him at a time like this, but everything about the current weather reminded him of that day. He tried to keep his expression unchanged.

 

—Great… —Raiden whispered, a noticeable annoyance in his voice.

 

Dante peeked at his companion, his light-colored hair progressively more wet and the red markings on each of his cheeks progressively dripping towards his jaw. He couldn't help but let go a small chuckle at the situation.

 

—What now? —the shorter man looked at him.

 

—You do hate water after all, like the kitty you are.

 

—...It's just not my favorite weather.

 

Dante smiled at him again. He thought Jack was unintentionally cute at times, and this was one of them. It amused him to imagine Jack teaming up with his brother and refusing to go out on rainy days after he, Dante, had made the effort to find a good plan for the three of them. Maybe Vergil would show him his book collection, even read him some poetry if he was in a good mood. He was sure Jack would stand there, confused, because not even himself could understand his own brother's books at times. Or maybe he never put enough effort to.

 

And maybe one day he would be tired of staying inside with them, and he would drag them with him to watch an awful horror film. And even though they would've complained the whole way to the cinema, they would've laughed just as much as him with how bad the story and the actors were.

 

Rain, as it did with Jack, slowly made the blood covering both him and the blonde woman start to flow downwards. The drops impacting against their leather had a peculiar sound.

 

—Are you two gonna make out or what? —Trish asked after a few seconds of the pair staring at each other—. To give you some privacy while I get the job done.

 

It was something kind of ridiculous to imagine, and Dante inevitably chuckled. He realized he had been stupid enough to not think he could be doing all of that with Trish, with Lady. They didn't act like his brother, and of course their relationship wasn't even remotely close to their strange brotherhood, but he wasn't alone. 

 

And… maybe the rain wasn't so bad anymore.

 

Chapter 24

The other side of the garden led to a wide staircase made of marble. It allowed access to a lower floor, presumably where the three leaders were located. Dante didn't stop to explain to his companions why he was suddenly in such good humor - they both assumed it had been Trish's comment, but could tell something about his reaction didn't fully match that. They followed his steps under the rain, not really sure if they should ask.

 

The red-coated man opened the metal gate, followed the straight path decorated with plant-covered walls, and then opened another wooden door. Inside, three tall, slim figures covered with cloak-like clothes. They were gathered in such a way that they suggested a triangle shape, their arms extended to the center. At the core, a bright purple object that Dante thought might be a polished gem.

 

—Sorry for being late —he loudly apologized—. We didn't get an invitation in time.

 

Each figure's head-like limb moved to look at him and their cloaks quickly loosened their shapes - underneath each of them, water-looking bodies appeared. Dante went for the one furthest away from the entrance, completely ignoring the remaining two even though they were more than willing to attack him. He knew his companions would soon join and only preoccupied himself with stabbing his chosen enemy.

 

Seeing the demons shapeshift to huge serpent-like bodies is what convinced Trish it might be better to keep Jack at a distance… but if he was anything like Dante, he would attack first and ask later.

She held his wrists and opened his arms, after which she put her two guns, charged with the now familiar yellow lightning glow, on top of them.

 

—Take care of Luce and Ombra, will you? —she asked, her tone making the petition sound much more playful than it really was.

 

 

The demon hunter jumped towards one of the water-like creatures before Raiden could even react. He then quickly collected himself and prepared the guns. They were surprisingly heavier than they looked, but nothing he couldn't stand to use. With the same speed, he joined the demon hunters in the fight and focused on being their backup rather than go for the third enemy by himself.

 

It was a strange spectacle to him. It was obviously very different to fight demons in comparison to high-tech military machinery or genetically modified humans, and so was fighting them while being a demon yourself rather than a human. He knew he had big physical limitations, which were nothing but a game to his companions.

 

A cold air crossed his spine and he instinctively jumped to the side, dodging the attack of the third serpent-like creature that had been lurking behind him. He shot it while it tried to recollect itself to get back up, the yellow lightning forming abstract patterns through the air. He couldn't tell if it had been effective at all, but he heard a loud noise that made him feel tense.

 

—Babe! —Dante called his attention, just half a second before he suddenly appeared right next to him.

 

The taller man stood him up with nothing but a single arm move and checked his body with the same speed. 

Trish sighed - even though he was laser focused in the fight, he still was too worried about Jack. She kept the three enemies busy while her friend helped the soldier.

 

Raiden wasn't hurt. It was rather annoying to receive support - the goal was to finish the three demons, and that was more important than him. Especially knowing how out of league he was.

 

—Wanna dance? —the taller man asked, his eyes hidden under his wet hair but with a visible smirk on his face.

 

He didn't wait for Jack to give him a confused look and put their bodies in a tango-like pose. He guided the shorter man with each step, progressively closer to the battle. While he amused himself, Trish continued to keep them under line.

 

Jack wasn't exactly a dancer, but he had no issue following Dante's guidance as he got lifted and spinned around like an extension of his arm, allowing him to execute faster, deeper cuts with the HF blade than he ever would have on his own. He could see the way the water would divide itself in two with each turn. After each change of posture, he switched from the katana to the twin guns, sometimes being thrown to the air to shoot for as long as he could while the other two sliced the demons into pieces. He didn't fear falling - he knew either of them would hold him before he ever came close to the ground.

 

The speed by which the demon hunters attacked was impressive and the fight ended sooner than Raiden could process. Dante stood in place and waited for Jack to fall on his arms, his weight barely noticeable even with the added speed from the impact. He smiled at him and lowered his body so as to let him stand up on his own. He pet his hair as he watched the shorter man return Luce and Ombra to their owner.

 

With each second passing, the ground was more and more slippery and the air more and more cold and humid. Dante backed off from Raiden and went to pick up the purple gem, inspecting it with care. He could feel a very distant remnant of magic surrounding it - considering the way the three leaders were positioned, they were likely trying to imbue it with some occult power. It didn't look like they had enough time to achieve it, so he decided to keep it more as a memorabilia than as something he needed to keep under control.

 

—Was it fun? —the blonde woman asked Raiden, inviting him to walk upstairs towards the open garden.

 

—I… guess —he replied, his mind still organizing everything that had happened in between seconds.

 

—Think we earned a nice warm lunch paid by Miss Trish here —Dante said, lurking behind them.

 

They all headed back to the entrance, where their vehicles were stationed. Just like their clothes, they were covered in raindrops. The red-coated man gently placed his hand on Raiden's Y-shaped structure to stop him and tilted his head towards his motorbike.

 

—Wanna ride it? —he asked, his tone and face unintentionally too suggestive—. The bike —he added.

 

He then tapped the black leather seat twice and signaled it with his head one more time. The soldier sat at the front and raised his arms to the handles, which were a bit too wide. He then looked back at Dante, waiting for him to hop up.

 

—You're paying if you make us wait any longer —Trish warned, getting somewhat tired of Dante's vague and ritualistic acts of court.

 

The taller man quickly sat, close enough for his thighs to touch Jack's. He then gently put his hands around the soldier's small waist, something that made him feel a little bit dizzy. 

While they finished their unspoken flirting, Trish turned around her bike and started riding once she saw Jack ready to follow her.

 

They stopped right back at Devil May Cry - unlike Trish's all-leather outfit and Raiden's rubber-like suit, most of Dante's clothes weren't waterproof and thus his body was completely soaked. Luckily for them, it had stopped raining a while ago, and the sky didn't seem too keen on going back to it.

 

The red-coated man was the first to get off the bike and enter the shop, soon followed by his companions. He invited them to lurk around the building as they pleased, take a drink if they wanted, while he walked to his room to get some dry clothes to change to.

Raiden chose to investigate Dante's different item collections while Trish sat on the wooden desk and called their client to give an extensive report.

 

—Does Dante really have a comic collection or was that something you made up to leave us alone? —the soldier asked once he heard the phone being put back in its place.

 

—He does —she replied—. And does have some… spicy ones. Wanna check them out?

 

—...I didn't mean that. I was just curious.

 

—You can be just as curious with them. I'm pretty sure he keeps them for their artistic appeal, and you look like you'd like Art enough to value that. Some are fun, some are bizarre. Silly stories, surreal drawings. A bit of everything.

 

Raiden was turning around to look at the blonde woman when he suddenly felt something cover his head - Dante had thrown a towel on top of him and had done the same with his demon friend before jumping to the lower floor. 

 

—What are you two plotting? —he playfully asked, walking towards Jack.

 

—Nothing —he answered, taking the towel off and looking at Dante from head to toe.

 

The taller man no longer wore his red coat and vest. Instead, he put on a baggy shirt and paired it with a heavy knee-long black coat. Similarly, he had chosen a pair of pants that were looser than the red ones, and his worn-out boots had a more military-like design than the other ones. Overall, although different enough from his usual outfit, it still looked appealing on him. Raiden froze for a second once he stared at his face, the unorganized hair still humid. It was starting to feel like the less careful Dante's look was, the more the taller man caught his attention.

 

—Sure —the demon hunter added, pretending not to believe him—. C'mon, let's go. 

 

He patted the soldier's shoulder and headed to the entrance, quickly followed by Trish. The blonde woman opened the door for them and, once they closed the shop, they went to her chosen restaurant to celebrate their victory.

 

Chapter 25

Summary:

Dante goes to his hangout with Angela and Erika.

Even after roughly a week or two, Dante hadn't been able to find himself busy enough not to show up to his meetup with both Angela and Erika. He had even made his greatest effort to find a task and, if he already was jobless for long amounts of time on the regular, now it was like everyone in need was intentionally avoiding him. So, after a long meditation, he decided to wear something a bit more casual and a bit less red. At the very least, he could feel in control of his wardrobe. 

 

It was the same restaurant as the last time, with its decoration still throwing him off. He had shown up early, like any gentleman would, but he did so because he had forgotten the time the girls had chosen and needed to make sure he wouldn't accidentally make them feel abandoned.

 

He entertained himself watching the clients going in and out from a bench not too far away from the pizzeria. He accommodated his grey linen long-sleeved shirt and crossed his legs. He wore ripped jeans that complemented his blue gem necklace, and a pair of boots he had forgotten about. Had he been a smoker, a thin white cigarette could've been a nice final touch.

 

A small black cat meowed nearby and so did Dante once he saw it, managing to make it come closer to him. He petted the animal with care and love, allowing it to lay down on his lap and purr as it fell asleep to his touch.

The demon hunter recalled reading in a teen-audience magazine that a cat's purrs slowed down one's blood pressure and had a calming effect, and his practical investigation had proved it to be true.

 

—Waiting for someone? —a familiar voice asked.

 

—I thought black cats were supposed to bring bad luck, not good one —said Dante once he recognized Jack—. I have a meetup with Angie and her friend - remember them?

 

—Yeah, but... Didn't you say you were trying to avoid her…?

 

—I did. But I didn't have a black cat to bring me good luck, so. Things happened. And now we're there. 

 

The demon hunter made a pause just to contemplate Jack, his smirk slowly fading.

 

—...You're not scared of us, are you? —he asked, visibly concerned—. Haven't seen you since the battle.

 

Raiden vaguely shook his head.

 

—I've been busy. That's all.

 

—...I'd get it - not wanting to come close to us after seeing all that.

 

The soldier sighed as he sat next to Dante, his head tilted towards him.

 

—I'm not scared. I've just had my mind somewhere else —he made a pause—. Wouldn't be here if I was, would I?

 

The taller man looked at him and thought about it for a few seconds.

 

—You're a masochist —he sentenced, chuckling once he saw Jack's confused look—. I've missed you. Call me next time, okay?

 

—...I'll try.

 

Dante liked observing the shorter man's soft features, his naturally frowny face framed by silky light hair. He held Jack's chin with his fingers.

 

—Would it be wrong if I tried to kiss you now?

 

—You had to ask me…?

 

Dante chucked. He was still deciding on doing it when he saw a colorful shape moving behind him, and once he focused on that he recognized Angela walking with her friend. His face suddenly changed and he quickly backed off, leaving his arm on the bench's backrest.

 

—The girls are here —he informed—. You… might wanna leave.

 

—...? Why would-

 

—Dante!!! —Angela screamed as she ran towards him, dragging Erika with her.

 

The young girl stopped a meter away from the bench, quickly grabbing her cellphone to take several pictures not just of the sleeping cat, but also of Dante himself and Jack.

 

—I didn't know your boyfriend was coming too!! —she said, visibly excited—. Matching outfits and everything!!

 

The two men looked at each other, bewildered. They inspected each other's clothes and realized the color palettes were similar enough to incite that conclusion. Raiden had a worn-out desaturated blue shirt with grey sewn accents, and both his pants and shoes were black. Dante clearly hadn't noticed before, but he also wore three thin necklaces with metallic ornaments - clear military dogtags, a sword and a skull. 

 

—Congratulations —Erika smiled at them after having been a spectator to Angela's quick conclusions, fully trusting her word. 

 

—We aren't-... —Raiden tried to clarify, but Dante put his hand on his leg.

 

—It's too late now —he murmured, vaguely shaking his head.

 

The taller man gently woke up the cat and left it on the bench with the same care - something that, once again, awoke Angela's desire to take pictures. Then, they all walked together to the pizzeria and sat on a long table outside.

 

Dante stared at the waiter as he attended them - he didn't like him and his terrible timing. He then told the girls he'd pay for the food this time, since Erika hadn't been able to go last time and now Jack was with them too. It'd get too expensive for two students. As expected, both girls refused to accept, and so did Raiden.

 

—Babe…! —he loudly murmured, incredulous—. Shouldn't you be siding with me on this…?

 

—I'm not even supposed to be here —he rectified.

 

—”Babe”... —Angela repeated so low only her friend heard her.

 

Erika held the blonde girl's hand, her mind now busy imagining all sorts of pet names she thought Dante would use. The shorter girl was a bit more observant and had noticed they seemed to be having some sort of silent discussion done with their eyes. 

 

—So you two are not…? —she tried to find out.

 

—No —Raiden replied, causing Dante to tense his vague frown a little—. Sorry. It was a misunderstanding.

 

—...Jack.

 

—But… —she tried to recollect the information she had—. You're his type, aren't you?

 

—... —the soldier tensed up, not sure what to say, and nervously looked at him.

 

—...Of course he is! —the demon hunter anxiously replied, barely aware of the conversation.

 

He looked back at Jack, who was interrogating him with his eyes. He tried to think. What could be a good way to get out of this? They were both nervous, embarrassed, wore accidental matching outfits and had been assumed to be dating. It all sounded like a B-rated romcom. And what else would happen in a romcom…?

 

—You'd kill me if I tried to kiss you right now, wouldn't you…?

 

—...Yeah.

 

—B-but why…! —Angela came back to her senses—. He's your boyfriend!

 

—We're not-…

 

—But then, what about the gift? —she asked, worried.

 

—What gift? —Raiden asked, confused.

 

—The one Trish told you about —Dante clarified.

 

—Oh. That gift. Wait, why-…

 

—You haven't given him a gift yet?!

 

—I didn't kn-… —he tried to excuse himself—. I haven't seen you in a while.

 

—...You don't have to give me anything. You know that.

 

—Dante!!

 

And for once, Dante felt grateful for the lack of awareness of the waiter. The man brought their food and drinks, and placed it in front of each one of them. Their need to focus on a single person completely unrelated to the conversation helped them calm down.

 

—...If he's your type… —Erika talked in between bites—. Why aren't you dating…? 

 

—I'm not a brunette —Dante explained.

 

—What? —the two girls asked at the same time.

 

—...He likes brunettes.

 

—...

 

—Dante, that's not how dating works!! —Angela complained.

 

—...Maybe not for your generation —he tried to sound believable—. We elders follow certain rituals.

 

—What the hell are you even talking about? —Raiden asked, more than lost on his companion's line of thought.

 

—...I dunno —he concluded after Jack destroyed what he believed to have been a very convincing performance—. Why don't you date me?

 

—I'm… —the shorter man paused to think—. Not ready.

 

—That's right —Dante quickly added—. He's not ready. I'm not ready. It wouldn't be healthy for us to date just yet. That's what responsible people do, girls. Got it?

 

Raiden looked at him with incredulity at the way he had turned his answer into a partnership lesson for Angela and Erika, who were also staring at the taller man with bewilderment.

Quite pleased with himself, Dante confidently continued eating his pizza. Luckily for him —and he thought maybe this was thanks to the black cat from earlier—, the other three no longer brought the subject up.

 

Chapter 26

Summary:

Raiden gets the chance to hang out with Lady.

Raiden had been relieved to know he'd been assigned a few missions - he could no longer bear the eternal hours of having nothing to do.

He executed every task with uttermost perfection, his mood strangely less edge-cutting than usual. But he was still human. Despite his laser focus, something about Dante's improvised definition of a healthy relationship kept bothering him.

 

He wasn't looking for a relationship. Not now. And maybe never again.

 

He knew Dante had simply tried to escape the subject as soon as possible, but… He would never be “ready”.

He couldn't develop that kind of trust in someone - life had proved him right. He had been a fool to believe it could've been any different this time. He was stupid. Naive.

 

He had promised to at least try to call Dante if he was to be gone for a while, but…

What was the point?

 

—Hey, Jack.

 

The voice talking to him never reached his brain. Instead, he remained silent and continued to develop his self-deprecating views.

 

—Jack?

 

Maybe it was time to move somewhere else. Try to prevent himself from falling into an unwanted sort-of-friendship with anyone again. After all, remaining alone had always been the best choice. The safest choice. 

 

—Jack.

 

The hand shaking his shoulder brought him back to the real world - he stopped staring at the pack of instant noodles and turned around to the person touching him.

 

—You must take those noodle flavors very seriously —the woman joked, relieved.

 

—Uh-. Lady. Sorry.

 

—Is there something troubling you? —she asked, openly willing to help—. Or… a certain someone? 

 

—...No, I'm good. A bit tired, that's all.

 

She wasn't fully convinced - something about Raiden's mannerisms made her think he didn't want to talk about whatever had prevented him from noticing her.

 

—But… —he continued—. I did want to hang out with you sometime. Haven't really had the chance to get to know you.

 

The blackhaired woman showed a small sign of surprise and then a tinier smirk. She then suggested a day and an hour and he accepted with no hesitation.

Raiden continued with his grocery shopping once they gave their goodbyes, and felt oddly calm on his way back home. After placing everything where it belonged and being done with his chores, he carefully cleaned his suit and sword.

 

The days passed and he continued to work in an almost ritualistic manner, his body back into its natural estate of combative tension. Even though he behaved less bad-tempered, he still made sure to avoid any unnecessary conversation, whether at work or not.

Once he took a needed shower and dressed himself up, he walked to the reunion point the demon hunter had established.

 

It was strange, to have these mixed feelings. On one hand, he felt like keeping in touch with Dante would be a waste of time for the both of them, but on the other he almost had the necessity to form a connection with Lady. He reclined himself on a white wall, under the shadow, and it didn't take long for him to be greeted by the black-haired woman. 

 

To his surprise, talking to Lady was rather smooth compared to Dante. He wasn't sure why, but thought it might have something to do with the quite noticeable lack of blatant flirting from her side. She was less talkative, more serious than the other two demon hunters. They conversed about many different subjects, casual things that would pop up in a regular social relationship, ones that he never really talked about with neither Trish nor Dante.

 

The woman with two-colored eyes felt comfortable with him and, the more they talked, the stronger the impression she had that they were quite similar. She brought him to streets he hadn't yet known, visited shops he had never heard of.

 

—Still having a hard time choosing the perfect noodle flavor? —she asked after seeing a new ad taped on a supermarket’s glass.

 

—I've decided to expand my possibilities outside instant noodles —he jokingly replied.

 

Lady vaguely chuckled, happy to see how much more relaxed Jack acted. She still wished to find out what was troubling him, but decided not to ask in the hopes he'd bring it up himself.

 

—You can drive motorbikes, right? Dante mentioned lending his to you.

 

—...I do —he answered, wondering what exactly he had told her about that.

 

—Wanna compete with me?

 

—I don't have…

 

—I'll lend you a bike and a full suit, don't worry. Same gear for you and me.

 

—Uh…

 

—Didn't you wanna get to know me? I'm sure you and I both will learn more about each other with a race than mindlessly talking for hours.

 

Raiden gave it a thought. As much as their conversation had gone much easier than in the past, it was also true that both of them had a tendency to be rather quiet. He accepted her invitation and continued to follow her through the crowded streets of the neighboring city until the sky turned dark blue.

Colorful lights guided them through the fair they stumbled upon, barely able to listen to each other's voice under the particular sound of the city's nightlife. Lady crossed the sea of people with a wide smile, holding Jack by his wrist to make sure they didn't lose each other. Fairs reminded her of a better time in her childhood, and she loved competing in any of the presented games. She guided the blue-eyed man to each of the stalls that caught her eye, both her face and body language radiating happiness.

 

Raiden couldn't help but feel curious and equally fascinated by her sudden vitality, and made sure to join her in any and all activities she desired to participate in. He did his best to keep her entertained - rode many of the mechanical games, blindly tried the foods she offered him even after hearing the seller's warnings about some of them being really spicy, and earned a reasonable amount of prizes he immediately gifted to the closest children.

 

On his way home, Jack felt more troubled than before - today had been unexpectedly fun, and distancing himself from Dante would imply doing the same with both Trish and Lady, with whom he had seen to have a good relationship.

 

Now lying on his mattress, he spiraled on what he could do or say to the red-coated man, relieved only by the fact he wouldn't have to worry about any of this once the sun arose in a few hours from now, even if temporarily.

 

Chapter 27

It wasn't surprising for neither Lady nor Trish to hear Dante had gone as far as accepting a videogame duel —after convincing his adversary it was a better choice than a physical one, without ever mentioning his undoubtedly stronger build— just for the sake of obtaining a rare comic book.

 

The taller man had woken up with an unexplainable need to change the distribution of his belongings and had spent most of the morning making a mess of the upper floor. It had felt like his parents had sent him an angel to help him in his endeavors when Trish had appeared in front of the shop’s door, and then a devil to keep things balanced when, not long after, Lady had showed up. 

 

She was laying on his bed reading a comic from his collection, written in a language she didn't understand. She found the artworks to be interesting enough for them to bear all the weight of keeping her attention. She pretended to not care about her demon-blooded friends’ discussion but listened as attentively as she could while Trish helped Dante reorganize all sorts of books on the floor right underneath. 

 

—This cover reminds me of you and your candy boy —the blonde commented with a heavy book on her hands.

 

—...Where the hell are you learning these words? —Dante asked, with a tone that sounded like a concerned parent. 

 

—TV —she replied—. And you.

 

—Me??? —he looked at her with his brows frowned in confusion.

 

—Your stuff. Very informative.

 

—...

 

The taller man didn't want to think about the extent of her investigation and all the words she could possibly know by now. He decided it was best to pretend the conversation never happened and continued to accommodate the books on each shelf.

 

He was happy to see he was done with the traditional literature and could now procrastinate a little bit with every magazine he had to go through. The ring of the door's bell took him out of his distraction and looked at said direction, where a potential client stood. 

 

—Whoa. Didn't know this place also had male dancers —the man said with an expression of pleasurable surprise.

 

Dante quickly processed the words he had just heard, but they seemed so illogical with how incredibly monotone and quotidian their situation was, that he couldn't talk back with his usual speed.

 

—...As much as I'd love to dance for some good cash, I think you might be looking for Love Planet —he made a pause—. Isn't it a bit too early for that anyway? It's a night club. Sun's still up there.

 

—But the woman next to the sign… —the visitor tried to understand what was happening.

 

—Man, I just thought it'd look cool. Sorry to disappoint.

 

—What about the name then? —he insisted, his hopes breaking.

 

—What about it? —Dante repeated—. What even comes to mind…?

 

Instead of receiving an answer, he saw how the man lowered his head and left the shop. Intrigued by his interpretation, he felt like following him to ask, but stopped himself from doing so. Maybe it was better to not know, whatever it might've been.

 

Trish couldn't stop herself from chuckling, and just by looking at her Dante knew Lady was laughing at him up in his room too. He finished what he was doing, took a couple of small chocolate bars that he immediately put in his coat's inside pocket and gave his goodbye to both of his friends as he left the shop to get some field work done.

 

The blonde woman then took a break and checked some of Dante's still unorganized magazines. She wasn't sure why he had kept ones that weren't even made for his demographic, but she was entertained enough to have a vague idea of his reasoning. Once she got bored of checking teenage fashion photos, she went upstairs and convinced Lady to prepare some food - just for the two of them. The son of Sparda could keep on eating pizza.

 

Conversations between the two women flowed with unsurprising ease, as they understood each other pretty well and their tastes had enough similarities to save them the hassle of mindless arguing.

Even though they liked to mess with Dante, they made sure not to cause too much trouble around the kitchen nor touch his book collection with greasy fingers. They cleaned everything and helped him a little longer with his organization, chitchatting about recent minor missions and gossiping about their thoughts on his relationship with Jack.

 

It was then that Trish showed some exasperation in her tone and gestures, something that the black-haired woman found oddly funny to watch.

 

—You're really invested in pairing them, aren't you? —she noted, still smirking. 

 

—I swear I see little hearts floating around him when he's close to Jack. Don't you?

 

—I think that might be a demon-exclusive skill —Lady joked—. Though I do wonder what'll come out of this whole thing, with or without your wingwoman influence.

 

—He's hiding info. Dante, I mean. Something tells me he's much closer to Jack than he seems around us —she made a pause—. Well… He technically did mention sleeping with him, but…

 

—They probably just shared a bed.

 

—Maybe not even that, but the room.

 

Even though they both sounded to be convinced about their own words, Trish slowly showed to not feel so certain. She wasn't even sure of what exactly she was concerned about, but she knew there was a certain amount of information that was being held back from them.

 

—I'm hanging out with Jack tonight, we'll have a riding competition —Lady naturally brought up, unconventionally accommodated on the secondhand couch in Dante's improvised small living room—. Wanna come see us?

 

—Have you told Dante?

 

—Don't try to turn it into some sort of date —she warned her, half joking.

 

—I'm just curious. 

 

—No. He can come —she added, to make sure Trish didn't misunderstand her—, but-

 

—I get it. I'll take him there, won't tell him why. We'll be nothing but spectators. And then he can decide what to do for himself. Deal?

 

—Deal.

 

They shook hands to seal their contract and Lady gave her friend any necessary details.

Although she agreed on how much Dante's mood had improved since Jack appeared in his life —and how much it softened up once they both met him, regardless of how many times he complained about them presumably embarrassing him—, she had no interest in playing Cupid games. She helped the blonde woman if she found the situation amusing enough, but she wasn't the type to actively try to pair anyone. This was meant to help her have a better understanding of Jack and vice versa, so she was particularly less keen on having Trish interfere. 

 

The woman with the two-colored eyes finished reading the comic book she had picked up earlier and placed it somewhere easy to spot, as she wasn't sure where Dante would want to put it.

 

—Coming? —she asked as she walked towards the shop's door.

 

—Unfortunately not —Trish replied—. I'll hold the fort.

 

—See you tonight then.

 

Lady left and sat on her bike parked outside, turning it on to ride back home. She took out every piece of equipment and stretched her body to make herself relax as she sat on the modern-looking grey couch. She rested there for a while - not really taking a nap, but not but paying that much attention to her surroundings. 

 

There was something oddly soothing to little moments like this. She breathed slowly and enjoyed the silence of the room.

 

Once she found herself satisfied enough, she bent to pick up the phone and made a call to get the necessary equipment for the competition.

Even though Jack's height was almost the same as hers, their physique was different enough for her to ask the person on the other side of the phone to prepare some suits for him. She would still bring her own for him to try on if he so wished to, but wanted to make sure he had an alternative.

 

As darker colors approached the sky, Lady tidied herself up and went outside towards her bike, which she rode to Jack's street. She parked it and made her way upstairs until she reached his floor, checking every door's number until she found the one Trish had told her. She then knocked and waited for just a few seconds before the soldier opened it up. He offered her to go inside and have something to eat or drink, but she politely refused.

 

Raiden made sure to keep a distance from Lady's body when he sat behind her on the motorbike, causing her to jokingly ask if he was afraid of her. The blue-eyed man timidly held her with his arms, as she had warned him about the speed she'd be driving with to their destination. Once ready, the demon hunter turned her vehicle on and went off through the roads. 

 

The place where the black-haired woman parked was pretty far away from any conglomeration of buildings, but it was visibly occupied by a considerable mass of people. Several industrial-looking street lamps, slim and remarkably tall, illuminated the different asphalt roads, the widely diverse motorbikes, and their just as variable riders. Raiden quickly let go of the woman and allowed himself to get distracted by his surroundings as they got up from the leather seating.

 

Unlike his companion, he wasn't used to this sort of environment and made sure to follow her anywhere she went. Lady briefly explained to him every segment of the area, the names of some of the riders she recognized, and where the equipment was placed. She guided him to the one-person locker rooms, and pointed to the one she had reserved for them to use.

Even though Raiden gave her priority to enter, she insisted that he was the one to go first. He then went inside and, after closing the door, checked the locker. Inside, three slim riding suits on the left and, on the right, three less curvy suits. 

 

The soldier heard Lady's muffled voice tell him the ones on the left belonged to her, and that he was free to try them on as she already had placed her to-use suit inside a bag over the locker.

He stared at the woman's belongings for a few seconds, trying to decide whether it was weird or not to do that. He was curious after being given the option.

 

It took some more time for him to give in and pick up the closest one. Putting it on made quite obvious that he had thicker thighs and wider shoulders, which were placed tightly under the partially adaptable material. He moved his limbs around to test how uncomfortable the motions might be, but despite the size difference between him and Lady, the suit wasn't limiting his motricity. 

He found best to remain with this and not waste any more time dressing and undressing to test out the rest of his alternatives, which would also force the black-haired woman to wait for him to be done. He got out of the locker room and immediately received an investigative look from her - seconds later, Lady gave him a thumbs up, approving the fit on him.

 

She finally understood what Trish meant when she mentioned Jack's waist and, just like the blonde woman, wondered how Dante had found out about it so soon in their relationship. She was still reluctant to think he hadn't just shared a bed with the soldier and had discovered it through the alternative.

 

The demon hunter took less time to get ready as she didn't have any doubt clouding her mind. Once she got out, she dragged Jack to the racetrack before he had the chance to even process the way she looked with the suit - not because she was trying to prevent him from saying something off —she didn't think he would, but whatever he said he'd likely feel awkward doing so—, but because she wished to start as soon as possible, the anticipation of the adrenaline slowly making its way up through her body.

 

Voices of the crowd expressed how passionate they were with the spectacle of mastery and machinery. Lady presented the bikes they'd be riding, which were designed and built exactly the same way. Both were red with black accents, like the helmets they were given.

She let her soon-to-be rival choose his bike and then sat on the remaining one. She placed the vehicle right behind the white line, extended her arm, and shook his hand when he followed her motion, smirking with confidence.

 

—See you at the endline.

 

Chapter 28

Summary:

Lady and Jack compete.

The sound of the motors warming up was pleasingly loud, its vibration shaking both riders’ bodies and filling them with determination. People's indecipherable screams became progressively louder, messier, the combination of them feeling energizing.

 

—And when’s your turn, exactly? —Dante asked, concerned about the amount of time and distance away from the changing lockers.

 

—It'll take a while. Let's watch the competition in the meantime.

 

The taller man wasn't quite sure about the end goal of his friend, but could tell something about the situation was off. He quietly followed her to the first line seats, where she already had reserved two spots. With a perfect view of the field.

 

Weird.

 

—Nice view from here, huh? —he mentioned, looking at her from the corner of his eyes.

 

—Perks of being a V.I.P. —she responded with a tint of pride in her voice, not moving her eyes off the race.

 

—...

 

Dante decided to not insist and followed her example. The first thing he noticed was that both competitors were really close to each other. Not only was their vehicle identical, but so were their helmets and physique. The only thing differentiating them from afar was the color of their suits - one completely black, and the other completely red.

 

—Twins? —he asked, thinking about the times people mixed him up with Vergil.

 

—Friends.

 

—Hm.

 

One of the riders elegantly executed risky tricks, while the other did them boldly. Despite their differences in style, they both found their ways to reach the other's position.

 

—Who do you prefer? —Trish asked, suspiciously playful.

 

—What's the catch?

 

—There's no catch.

 

Dante didn't believe her. He stared at her unserious smirk, unsuccessfully trying to guess what she expected him to answer. He looked at the race again, further inspecting each rider's way of doing things. He could tell the differences between them, but concluded mid-inspection that it was probably for the best not to think about it.

 

—Red —he replied, choosing based solely on the color.

 

He hoped to get some kind of clue from her reaction, but it didn't help him gather any extra information. Resigned, he allowed himself to be entertained by the competition.

 

Loud screams of investment came out of the spectators, who couldn't still fully decide on which rider they believed would win. They gesticulated their arms with vigorosity, some jumped from excitement and some kept their hands tightly closed from anxiety.

The riders appeared to play one with the other, like the competition was barely about who could finish faster but rather who could do the most impacting tricks without losing momentum. And just how they started and how they spent the whole race, they reached the endline side by side.

 

While the rivals hopped off their bikes and saluted not just each other but also the public, Trish quickly took Dante from his wrist and led him downstairs. He followed her with an ever-growing feeling of concern and relaxed once he identified Lady to be one of the competitors.

It didn't take long for him to realize it wasn't the time to calm down yet - the rider wearing the red suit wasn't Lady, but Jack. He gave a quick, concerned look to Trish, but she was waving at her friends with happiness and didn't notice. Dante then looked back at Jack. The shorter man was visibly happy, smiling at Lady as he shook her hand and walked by her side, following her towards the safety railings behind which the demon-blooded friends stood. He noticed how Lady gave them a look and ran sideways to meet with Trish at a distance, the blonde woman doing the same. It was then that Raiden saw the demon hunters and his expression became as unexpressive as usual.

 

—Should I feel jelly? —Dante joked once the shorter man came to him.

 

—What?

 

—You two complement each other very well —he added, playfully pretending to be jealous.

 

—We were simply riding —the soldier explained, his face tensing up.

 

—I'm just messing with ya, babe —he said, placing his hand like he was about to pinch his cheek, without actually doing so—. Suit looks really good on you. Didn't know you had one.

 

—...I don't. Lady lent it to me.

 

—Oh, that explains why it sits so well on that waist of yours —he smiled, tilting his head.

 

Raiden wasn't sure how to respond and looked away awkwardly. He tightened his grip on the metal bar, like he wanted to do or say something but couldn't. Dante decided to take a risk. 

 

—Sorry for ruining the party for you —he joked, attempting to remain playful.

 

—...?

 

—You stopped smiling once you saw me.

 

—That's not-… —the soldier couldn't find any way to convincingly deny it—. Could we talk? Alone.

 

—Ah, I get it now —Dante replied, still acting unserious—. Could we not? Doesn't sound fun.

 

—...

 

The demon hunter could already tell what the conversation would be like. It was evident Jack wasn't in the mood for jokes anymore, so he guided him to somewhere more private and invited him to talk anytime he wanted.

 

—I've… been thinking about you, about us.

 

Dante wished to reply something cheesy but didn't want to upset Jack. He kept himself quiet and attentively listened to him.

 

—I… —the shorter man continued, visibly struggling—. I think I've allowed you to go this far because I liked the idea of… someone liking me, and not… you.

 

—So… you wanna be done with this?

 

—...I guess. Yeah.

 

Dante looked away for a minute, meditative. He knew it had always been a matter of time, but didn't want their relationship to be done. He wished to spend much more time with Jack than what he had had the chance to. He considered saying something, but played the conversation in his mind to see how it could go:

 

—I'd like you to think it through a little bit longer —he'd suggest, in the hopes it'd let Jack see what he saw—. Could you do that for me?

 

—...Sure.

 

—Thanks, babe. I'll let you have fun. See you next time.

 

He'd then leave with not much peace of mind, but still trying to convince himself things would go well. And time would pass. And in one ordinary day of his life, Trish would ask:

 

—How's it going with you two? Haven't mentioned Jack in a while.

 

—I'm letting him have some alone time —he'd reply—. He needs it. Maybe I do too.

 

And the truth was, his alone time wouldn't end. And he'd never hear or know about Jack anymore. And he wouldn't try to look for him - it wasn't his decision to make. It had never been. And he had to respect the soldier's wish to part ways, even if it hurt.

 

He didn't like the way the scenario inside his head played. Like his hypothetical self, he had the need to tell himself things would go well. Even if only for a while longer.

 

—I think you're wrong.

 

—...?

 

The face of confusion on Jack was intriguing. Dante made a pause —he loved theatrics, after all—, and breathed deep and slowly before continuing.

 

—I'm pretty sure you like me —he affirmed, his voice confident but not arrogant—. You don't want to accept those feelings, and I get it. It's difficult for me too, believe it or not. But it's never been what you say - if that was true, you'd've taken any chance to have me all over you. It'd've kept me drunk of you, and you'd've stayed drunk of that feeling of being loved. But you didn't. You've stopped me several times. You've blushed out of embarrassment. You've avoided or ignored me. You were the one who leaned for a kiss and it was to respond to a joke. And, somehow, it's about “the idea” and not… me?

 

The taller man tilted his head and let his companion process his words for a few seconds. His heart was rushing - for once, he was being openly direct with his feelings. It wasn't particularly pleasant.

 

He didn't like the silence. It was cold and deadly. Jack wasn't looking at him but to the ground, his body stiff and his lips not showing any sign of moving.

 

—Jack?

 

Nothing changed until he frowned his brows further, his lips starting to subtly tremble. Dante moved closer, worried.

 

—Hey, babe —he tried to call his attention, holding his cheeks with both hands to make him look up—. Was I too harsh?

 

Raiden felt numb. He tried to block the mess of emotions collapsing inside of him.

Harsh? Dante? He's the sweetest person he's ever met.

 

He followed the movement of the taller man's hands with his eyes and pushed him away with one arm before he met the concerned blue eyes of the demon hunter.

 

—...You deserve someone better.

 

—...But you don't want me to leave —Dante pointed out, feeling the soldier's hand tightly grab his clothes.

 

Raiden immediately let go of him, disappointed in himself. He looked away and left.

 

Chapter 29

A small, thin, tube-like object. A cigarette. The paper holding its shape together was oddly soft even though it didn't have a smooth surface. After observing it without really paying much attention to it, Raiden placed it between his lips and lit it up.

 

He had rushed to distance himself from Dante, rushed to find a small corner where he could hide in solitude. He could still hear the public's vivid voices, but the place he was sitting in was secluded enough to muffle them.

 

His head hurt. He didn't want to think about the taller man's words and all of the implications, but his inner voice kept calling himself an idiot. He wasn't worthy of someone like Dante. He was nothing but a waste of time.

And yet, he had a hard time negating his progressively more evident desire to have his company.

 

…It would be nice to be comforted by him now.

 

…If only he wasn't trying to hide from him, that is.

 

And it was this sudden disappearance that made Dante feel like he had taken the wrong decision. He didn't attempt to follow him - it was blatantly obvious Jack needed some time to gather himself and decide whether this strange relationship would be done and forgotten or not. 

 

The demon hunter reunited with his colleagues after a long while, who weren't too keen to see his defeated face along with the absence of the red-suited rider. As expected, he refused to give a proper explanation, but asked Lady to go with him. He concentrated on the remnant smell of demon blood on Jack and vaguely moved his head to Lady. Estranged, the black-haired woman followed her friend through the different areas until he suddenly stopped.

 

—He's there —he said, leaning carelessly on the wall.

 

—If you already knew-

 

—I don't think he wants to see me right now —he interrupted her—. But you seem to get along with him really well. 

 

Lady scrutinized Dante's face, but he remained as unreadable as usual. She sighed in resignation and silently followed the small hall that led to her recent riding rival.

 

—You really know how to hide, huh? —she humorously commented, sitting close by.

 

Raiden, whose outfit was back to his regular garments, turned around to see her, his face more melancholic than usual. He remained still for a couple of seconds and shook the hand holding his cigarette a little.

 

—Needed to smoke —he replied, attempting to sound jokeful.

 

—Could've smoked out in the field, like many other people do —she argued.

 

—I'm an introvert.

 

Lady observed him, not completely sure if he was trying to make a joke or if he was failing at giving an excuse.

 

—It's only natural I'd rather be left alone —he added.

 

The demon hunter subtly raised her brow - even though she shared the feeling, judging by his tone this seemed to be related to whatever issue had happened between him and Dante. 

 

—What's on your mind? —she asked—. You seem… gloomier than usual.

 

Jack shook his head to imply it was an insignificant matter, something that didn't require to be shared and discussed. She knew he was downplaying the matter and placed herself closer to give him a cold stare.

 

He was familiar with those. There was always something to argue about with Rose, and she had become an expert at it.

Even though he briefly felt cornered out of habit, it didn't take a lot of effort to breathe normally again - there was a difference between them. The light reflecting on the demon hunter's differently colored irises allowed him to see she wasn't trying to verbally fight him, but rather pressuring him to talk as she knew for sure something was wrong.

 

And she wanted to help.

 

Raiden exhaled heavily, not really caring about his still lit cigarette anymore. He didn't like to be in such a position. He thought he was supposed to deal with this sort of thing by himself, the same way he had been deployed to fight alone millions of times before. And yet, he now had someone that was much more effective than Rose and Dante at forcing him to talk - no scolding, no second-guessing, no theatrics, no flirting…, just a deadly silence and a cold stare of acknowledgement.

 

—How long has Dante been… By himself? —he shook his head realizing that might not be the best choice of words—. I mean… single.

 

—A while —she said, aware that her answer was too vague—. Shocked? —she added after seeing the soldier meditatively furrow his brows.

 

—How can someone like him not have a partner…? —he asked to the air, his mind listing all of Dante's qualities—. He's any girl's dream.

 

Lady noticed his specification - he didn't say “person”, but “girl”. She initially thought it may have been related to his issues with Dante, but found it strange to have those doubts at this point in time and not early on. Maybe it really had nothing to do with it and was just the first word to come out of his mouth.

 

—Why don't you ask him? —she playfully replied, relaxed now that Jack was willing to talk to her.

 

—...He'd probably say something like “you already know the answer”. 

 

—You already know the answer —she imitated her half-demon friend's tone, with less precision than Trish but more theatrically.

 

—...He's too good for me.

 

—He's too good for his own good —Lady corrected him—. You'll have to find a better argument.

 

—Lady, I… —he doubted whether to continue or not—. I really don't think I'm the best choice out there. More like the worst.

 

—He's into you. And from what I've seen, you have a weak spot for him too. So, what's so bad about it?

 

—I've… —he pressed the cigarette between his fingers, not really noticing the burning temperature of the lit part on his skin—. I've tried —he added after concluding it was better not to mention what was on the back of his mind—. I'm not cut out for this.

 

Lady changed her posture, showing that she couldn't completely understand what he tried to convey. Or rather, how he hadn't yet been able to see for himself that he was as capable as anyone to be “cut out for this”. She knew he was, because she and her friends had gone through the same thing.

 

—If he's willing to be with someone —he continued—, it should be someone that sees the world the way he does. And I don't think I do.

 

—...You'd be surprised —she replied, now with the impression of having an idea of what he refused to bring up.

 

The no-longer red-suited rider looked at her with a puzzled face. From her response it seemed she understood, but he couldn't fully believe that was the case. He discarded it as a misunderstanding and shook the thought out of his mind, no longer willing to follow that path. He checked his slightly burnt skin, the feeling still numb enough to not perceive any pain.

 

—Want me to take you back home? —she asked, finding Jack to appear completely defeated. 

 

—What about the others? —he looked at her, tired, but still concerned.

 

—They can take care of themselves. You don't have a ride and this place is far from any public transport.

 

—And you?

 

—No one here's gonna be as fun to compete with as you.

 

—...

 

The soldier wanted to accept the invitation, but didn't like to make her go with him - despite what she said, he thought she could've had a good time with her colleagues had he not been causing such a pathetic spectacle.

 

—Okay, c'mon —she said with unusual energy, standing up and carefully lifting his arm upwards. 

 

Raiden let himself be dragged - he wasn't in the mood to put in any resistance. He followed her to her vehicle and sat down while she went to notify her friends. Once the black-haired woman came back and placed herself in front of him to turn the gears on, he tried to empty his mind and enjoy the long, silent ride through empty roads as much as he possibly could. 

 

The bike stopped at a place completely familiar by now, very close to his building's main entrance. He thanked her with little energy in his voice and waited for her to leave before heading home.

Once inside, he lit a cigarette and only then started to notice an uncomfortable feeling around the palm of his hand, but didn't give it any importance.

 

Maybe he should reconsider.

 

He was a murderer. Even if most of his memories were hauntingly vague, he knew he was. His arms covered in blood as he held an arsenal of weapons through time was something he would hardly ever forget. And it was pretty obvious to be a really different experience to kill demons from killing people.

 

Again, he was destined to be a weapon. He had earned his own title back in Liberia as a child soldier. 

 

Again, he wasn't prepared for a regular life. All he knew had to do with the battlefield. And everything that he had worked on to have a simpler life, had resulted to be a lie. And he was fine with it - he had been a fool to think it could change.

 

Again, he differed from Dante. Even if Dante was willing to accept that part of him the same way Rose claimed she had, he couldn't imagine Dante being paired up with someone like him. It was wrong.

 

Raiden was still smoking when he prepared the bathtub and undressed in the bathroom. He placed the cigarette box and the lighter at hand's reach, left the water to be as cold as possible, and entered without much inconvenience. He hoped it might help him clear things out inside his mind.

 

Okay. 

 

Dante's arguments weren't something he could refute. He had done exactly what the taller man had exposed, and those actions were totally opposite to what he himself had claimed.

And even though he didn't like to tell himself that, it was also a fact that he was too worried about his own quality as a… potential partner, in the lack of a better description, to not be at the very least a little bit interested in Dante as something further than a colleague.

Hell, they had already been in bed together a few times, he almost saw him naked, and even kissed his lips. That's not something you'd normally do with someone you're not into. At least, not for him.

 

And again, he couldn't deny the magnetism he felt towards the red-coated man. He didn't comprehend it, but it was there.

…Now that he thought about it, the time he had been used as an extension of Dante's body to fight felt good. They had shown to be instinctively in tune, and even though he wasn't very interested in the dance-like part of Dante's theatrics, his execution had been precise enough to let him cause as much damage as possible.

 

…But this wasn't about fighting together.

 

Raiden left the stub nearby and put his head underwater for a few seconds. Drowning seemed to be an adequate way to die for him.

 

He thought about his mentors back in that nefarious mission that tore his civil-like life apart. He had been given the opportunity to find his own path in life and all he had achieved to do was run away to a different town and get caught up in a relationship he couldn't even properly define - a relationship he was now trying to run from, the same way as the other.

 

…Pathetic.

 

He took his head out of the water and reclined it on the bathtub's border, his eyes observing the union of the walls with the ceiling.

 

Why was it so difficult to deal with something like this? He was more than capable of taking out several Metal Gears, machines of massive destruction. In comparison, this was a stupid teenage boy’s problem.

 

…Maybe if he had become…

 

…Would that really have changed anything?

 

He heavily sighed - he was causing himself a lot of exasperation. He observed the burnt skin of his hand, touched it carefully with his fingers.

 

He didn't know what to do.

 

…Should he talk about it?

 

…Should he test things out with Lady, or should he go straight to Dante?

 

He pressed his fingers against his head, punishing himself for still giving himself such a headache. He threw water to his face and quickly cleaned his body before leaving the bathroom. 

 

The rose Dante had given him was already dry. He couldn't get himself to throw it away.

The teddy bear was still in the apartment, but he didn't know where to place it. He didn't really need a plush and would have given it to the first kid he had encountered, had it not been a gift from Dante. He left it high on the bookshelf, sitting in a way that allowed it to look at the view of the living room's window. 

 

He dressed with the first garments he found and threw himself to bed. The silent darkness of his room was oddly comforting. He wished to wake up to no issues to deal with.

 

Chapter 30

Notes:

This fic is getting trickier to write!!1!

Unlike the past few days of work, Raiden's body finally felt released from the burden of stress. At least, the most recent one.

Even though his missions had barely been involved in fights against demons, they had been problematic enough to really tire his mind out. As a consequence, it saved him the hassle of thinking about anything at all.

 

And unlike most of these days, the sky presented itself now with a wide range of gray tones and a slightly cold breeze.

He was fine with days like this, not warmly welcoming nor coldly depressing - more often than not, streets were as comfortably empty as any regular winter day.

 

Following his routinary visit to the gym, the soldier spent the morning only accompanied by a few elders heavily impressed by his motricity and endurance. One of them had noticed the dogtags he wore and granted him roughly half an hour of stories —coming from personal experiences— from war. And although it didn't give him any good feeling, he let the veteran talk.

It felt relieving once the silence surrounded him, and so was the shower he took before leaving the lonely place.

 

Now that his body was tired and his mind worn out, the thought of drinking alcohol was suddenly appealing. He decided to visit somewhere new, a supermarket he had seen at some point but had never needed to check out. Although its design was quite the opposite of eye-catching —it lacked any saturated nor contrasting color combinations, as well as an iconic typography or logo—, it did fit the current view of the street. Inside, workers wore an all-white uniform that easily exposed their cleanliness regardless of their assigned tasks.

 

Raiden looked around with an uncommon amount of curiosity - it had a strange appeal to be in a place so neutral, with products that were for the most part just as desaturated. It made natural, unpackaged products stand out much more, as opposed to the constant attack of colors in any regular market.

It took a while for him to realize he was the only client at the time, but it didn't faze him in the slightest. Instead, it was the aisle with a few brands of instant noodles that made him stop for a second. He thought of the times it had been the subject of conversation between him and Lady, and for a brief moment his mind attempted to bring back some worries.

 

The soldier shook it off and only bought a package of beer before heading home. 

 

—Jack! —a familiar voice called him once he was a staircase away from his floor. 

 

He turned around to be met with a short, elderly woman he had spoken with a few times before.

 

—Need me to lift something, Mrs. Kersley? —he asked, walking closer to her open window.

 

—No, no, thank you… There's a strange man waiting at your door —she warned him in a whisper—. He said he… was close to you, but he acted suspicious.

 

—A strange man…? 

 

—Yes, indeed. He walked so very slow, head pointing to the ground. But he was suddenly so very straight, his face oddly arrogant and smiley when he spoke to me. He asked me where you were and I, of course, didn't tell him a thing - for starters, I didn't know where you were. And…

 

—...I'll see who it is —he subtly interrupted her, knowing she could continue to talk for much, much longer—. Thanks for the heads up, Mrs. Kersley.

 

—Should I call the police, young man? He was really big and threatening. He could…

 

—...No need. Thank you.

 

Raiden politely nodded once to conclude the conversation and finished walking upstairs. The first thing he saw was what he assumed to be the mysterious man lying on the floor, his body almost forming an inverted “J” shape - while the head was placed against the door, the legs were up and touching the handrail. 

 

As he went closer, it became clearer that this wasn't someone to consider threatening. If anything, he was the one who wanted to get some answers.

The soldier stood on the side, quietly observing the relaxed position of the body. Both arms were behind the head, while both legs were crossed. Despite not knowing why he had appeared there, why he had placed himself that way, this behavior was to be expected from someone like the red-coated man.

 

—What took you so long? —Dante asked, right before he opened his eyes.

 

—You're scaring the neighbors —Raiden complained as he opened the door.

 

—How so? I can't be any cuter.

 

—...

 

The soldier slowly let go of the plastic bag he was holding, placing it on top of Dante's chest. The taller man confusingly surrounded it with both hands, taking the cue to finally stand up and follow him inside.

 

—...Why were you lying there? —the soldier ended up asking, stopping to hold his bag back.

 

—I stood at the main entrance for a while, but it looked more suspicious than if I went to your door, so I headed there. She secretly stared at me the whole time, so I told her we were boyfriends and asked her if she'd seen ya.

 

—...And you somehow thought it'd be less weird if you slept right on the floor, in the middle of the hallway?

 

—That's what you're asking? —Dante amusingly pointed out. 

 

—Wait--you told her what?

 

—Nothing —he quickly replied, trying not to laugh.

 

—...

 

The taller man's mood was lighter now, his worries slowly fading with the informality of their conversation.

While he accommodated himself on his predilected spot after being invited to go to the living room, Raiden briefly went inside what he had quietly baptized as “the forbidden room”. He felt tempted once again to ask what was behind that door, but this didn't seem like the most opportunistic moment to do so. As usual.

 

—So… Why are you here? —Raiden asked, walking to the kitchen to get some food for him.

 

—Wanted to beg for mercy after the mess I caused last time.

 

—You didn't do or say anything wrong.

 

—Well then, you've been gone for a while and I missed you.

 

The taller man had a perfect view of Jack's silent stare of struggle, which was followed by a click of his tongue as he looked away, and a long sigh. 

 

—...You're a stubborn one, aren't you…

 

—Hey, where's that coming from? —Dante playfully asked, caught off-guard by Jack's words.

 

—It's… I'm far from being a good match for you, as a… partner, or anything along the line. 

 

—I think you're perfect for the role.

 

—...I'm a murderer. You shouldn't be wasting your time with me.

 

Dante slightly leaned his head, meditatively observing the shorter man's face. Jack's voice seemed too concerned to not be taken seriously.

 

—You think I've never killed a person before? —he softly asked, not to sound confronting—. Of course it's something I'd rather avoid, but my hands are just as stained as yours.

 

He remained silent for a moment and contemplated the changes in Jack's face as the soldier tried to work his way through a new, unexpected wave of thoughts.

 

—Both Trish and Lady tried to kill me the first time I met them —the red-coated man continued, his tone light enough to downplay the impact of his words—. Lady even put a bullet all the way through my skull, y'know? Right here —he tapped on the place where a scar would've normally formed, smirking almost proudly.

 

—...

 

—...Point is, we're not so different, you and I.

 

With the continued silence and the lack of eye contact from his host, Dante stood up, walked towards him, tentatively touched his lower back and gently pushed him closer. He was pleased to see Jack was still comfortable enough to rest the head on his chest.

Even though this sort of situation was becoming a recurring thing, the demon hunter hadn't yet figured out a proper way to improve the mood.

On the brighter side of things, it seemed like he had managed to get rid of Jack's concerns. Or at least, he hoped so.

 

Even after a romantic relationship with Rose and with all of Dante's cheesiness, Raiden still felt oddly awkward with physical forms of affection. He wasn't sure if the taller man's eagerness to touch or be touched —which he'd describe as exaggerated— could neutralize the unexplainable comfort that being close to him caused.

Whatever the case, he didn't complain about Dante's arms softly surrounding him, nor having his hair being kissed from above. Likewise, and to the surprise of the both of them, he didn't flinch nor move when Dante carefully forced his way between his own chest and Jack's cheek, only to peck it twice before he tenderly looked at him.

 

Tension remained still in his body, causing Raiden to have a hard time returning the stare back - Dante was smiling, but he didn't think anything of what had happened was enough reason to. At least, not this way. It seemed like the demon hunter was embellished, the connection between his mind and sight lost somewhere else.

 

—What? —Jack bluntly asked, timidly and unawaredly holding the leather coat.

 

—I would kiss you if I could.

 

—...Why couldn't you? —he naively replied.

 

Dante placed his hand on the soldier's neck and leaned forward with confidence, only to be met with the air - doing exactly what he had expected, Jack had backed away.

 

—See why?

 

—... 

 

—C'mon, babe. You're stuck with me. Let me be stuck with you.

 

Raiden stared at him, his eyes dubious. He had wished to rip his own head off to stop all of those annoying thoughts for so long, and yet - it was all gone now. The resolution had been too quick, too easy. It felt like he was just dreaming, fantasizing about a perfect world instead of experiencing it firsthand with all of his senses awake and aware.

 

—If you keep looking so unconvinced I'll continue to kiss you until you realize how much you love the sugar taste of my lips —Dante playfully threatened, increasingly more amused as he saw Jack's exasperation towards his lines.

 

Chapter 31

Dante had allowed Jack to quietly judge him all the while he looked back at him with unusual warmth, shortening the distance between them at such a slow pace that he himself wasn't aware until their noses almost touched. 

Without much thought behind his actions, the demon hunter quickly closed his eyes and brushed his lips against his host's who, with surprisingly more impulsivity than him, initiated a rushed kiss. It felt like he had pulled a trigger neither of them knew of.

 

Following the shorter man's pace was somewhat chaotic, but that didn't bother him. On the contrary, it amused him to know that, this time, he didn't lead.

The soft lips causing all sorts of feelings in his body gave him a hard time - it took a certain amount of self-control to not take a bigger risk, to not touch more of Jack's body and devour more of his skin. Still, he made sure to not waste any second, knowing it would be something ephemeral, something that might not take place twice. 

 

And then a sudden knock on the door.

 

Raiden backed off with desperating speed, like an automatic response to the sound. He bewilderedly looked at the taller man, whose expression was just as confused as his own.

 

—...Fuck —he murmured, visibly frustrated with himself.

 

The soldier quickly wiped his mouth with his hand as he ran to the door. He shook his head in the hopes it'd clear his mind, and then opened it.

 

—So, what is it now that you want me to check, exactly? —an impatient voice talked, the owner of which walked inside with naturality.

 

—Hey —Dante saluted, recognizing Jack's lessor.

 

—Oh, uh… I… didn't know you had visitors.

 

—Yeah, that… was unexpected.

 

—I can come back another time —the red-coated man suggested.

 

Unsurprisingly to him, he was met with two polarized kinds of stares, both of which were unaware of the other.

 

—No, you're good —the woman quickly replied—. No need to leave.

 

—It won't take long —the shorter man added in a rush. 

 

—Well then, I'll go sit in the corner so you two can talk business.

 

Following his own words, Dante momentarily smirked before going back to his usual spot. He noticed the woman behaving in a similar way as the last time, if not slightly more nervously.

After taking note of Jack's blindness to all of her body language, he took a good look at the wooden shelf and picked up one of the few books amongst the film collection. Its apparently brand-new cover was plain dark grey, with a slight texture on the hard surface. Judging by its shape, it seemed more likely to be a photo album rather than a literary book. He brushed his hand over it, unsure of whether opening it would be too invasive of Jack's privacy or not as it might as well be completely empty, but he couldn't deny his curiosity regarding its contents.

He tentatively placed his hand between both sides of the cover, his finger separating the paper.

 

But something was off.

It didn't have the usual appearance of paper specifically made for photo albums, as it was really thin. He quickly checked on the other two still discussing, his mind not caring enough to process their voices, and stopped himself before he attempted to open it. Instead, he quickly inhaled until his lungs were full and exhaled with the relief of a person who knows has just avoided a bad choice. After placing the photo album —or whatever else it was— back where it belonged, he concluded it was a much safer option to limit himself to pick up film cases.

 

One, two, three…

Four, five, six…

Seven, eight, nine…

 

With every name and cover, a pattern made itself quite obvious: regardless of the stories and the genres, which were remarkably diverse, all of them shared the theme of “othering”.

After checking on Jack one more time, who was still nervously explaining the apartment's problems to the well-dressed woman, Dante wondered if this tendency was an exteriorization of the soldier's own identity struggles and the way he dealt with them - or how he wished he could. 

 

And while he understood the isolation that came with said thoughts, he couldn't completely focus on anything other than the rushedly interrupted kiss from just a few minutes ago. Half distracted, he placed back everything he had touched and took a good look at the window's view.

 

The people passing by through streets and behind half-lit curtains weren't scarce, each person following their own rhythm. He entertained himself counting human silhouettes, silently, so forcefully concentrated on his personal little game that he barely understood the voices a couple of meters away from him.

 

—Dante.

 

The source of that soft voice calling his name was too relevant to ignore. He automatically turned his head around, his attention focused on Jack as he awaited for any new word. For a really brief moment, he felt like a dog.

 

—All said and done? —he asked, getting up with a warm smile on his face.

 

While Raiden vaguely nodded, the visitor stared at him half a second too long, stunned. She let go a small nervous laugh and made an effort to hide her awkwardness, swiftly looking away.

 

—Thanks for bearing with him —he continued, in an attempt to give her an opportunity to recompose—. He's a bit fussy sometimes, isn't he?

 

—Where's that coming from? —Raiden replied, confused by Dante's chuckle.

 

—It's alright —she said with her voice as steadily as she could, smiling back at the taller man—. Now, if you'll excuse me, it's time for me to leave.

 

The lessor put a lot of effort into keeping eye contact with an appearance of confidence and normality, but even then —although she didn't realize— Jack's mysterious friend could still see through her. Fastly, she began walking towards the door and, as she was about to extend her arm to grab the handle, Jack opened it for her.

She liked when people showed to be formal and did small gestures like this, but even after looking briefly at him and comparing him with the source of her coyness, the shorter man simply lacked that essence, that presence that couldn't be learned as it came naturally with one's particularities. She let go a really small sigh, making sure her expression remained completely neutral: there was no point in thoughts like this. With every call she received from him, she despised him more and more. The only good thing about him wasn't even about himself. It was his friend. And so, before stepping out of the apartment, she turned around just enough to show a sincere, pleasing smile to Dante who, in return, slightly nodded to acknowledge her goodbye.

 

The noise of the door closing was immediately followed by a heavy, short sigh of relief coming from the soldier. He wondered one more time to himself how it could be that her personality was so radically different to the times they were on their own. Was that strange feeling of comfort he had around Dante really a thing? Something that affected everyone somehow? Did it come from his demon-... No, how could that be? But then…

 

He turned around with the intention to throw himself on the couch and figure out how to deal with his visitor now that the coast was clear, stopping in a matter of milliseconds before even slightly lifting his foot.

 

—So…, where were we…? —Dante suggestively asked, standing in front of Jack with both arms raised to limit his movements.

 

…and then Raiden realized what had been interrupted hadn't been a simple conversation, and it was clearly something that interested his companion.

The demon hunter's bigger body made itself more evident one more time, his presence dominant in an oddly non-invasive way. Dante's face was coherently leaning towards his own, with a smirk that showed his eagerness to continue the kiss.

 

—...

 

—Oh, c'mon babe —he playfully complained with a soft voice—. Don't tuck tail now.

 

—I…

 

—...regret having done that? —Dante finished on his behalf, half joking.

 

—...I don't —Jack responded after a long, tense moment of silence, unsure of his final answer—. It's…

 

—You're still worried you're “not worthy enough”, huh? 

 

—I know I'm not. But… I still want to see you, and I don't know how to make these feelings stop, neither mine nor yours. 

 

—I don't think they need to be stopped —Dante said, his head meditatively inclined and his voice as soft as a whisper—. I think you should indulge yourself a little. Unless, of course, that implies trying to kill me. That's… not a tradition I wanna establish.

 

After a few seconds during which Raiden half incredulously stared at the taller man's vaguely worried face, he allowed himself to let go a soft chuckle as he shook his head.

 

—Isn't it a bit late for that? —he asked, more calm, but now avoiding any eye contact.

 

—I sure hope so —the demon hunter replied, jokeful, with a genuine smile of relief he wished Jack had seen.

 

—Don't you get tired of dealing with me, with my head?... —with still some doubts, he looked upwards to meet Dante's eyes—. You could be with anyone.

 

—I wanna be with you. If I have to “deal” with your struggles, then I'm fine with that. But you're the one who's not kissing me right now.

 

—...I'm not sure I can.

 

—You did it earlier.

 

—I… wasn't thinking. Just… Go for it. I won't stop you this time.

 

Dante could see Jack was having a hard time to keep himself stable, his coyness and frustration growing with every second. He decided to let this go and tried a different approach.

 

—I… technically still owe you a gift. And a date. So… You could kiss me then, mayhaps…?

 

“A date”...? Raiden's brows twitched for a moment, failing to find any memory of that.

 

—...I already told you-

 

—Yeah, yeah, I know. But I want to. You think you don't deserve a little gift?

 

—I-

 

—Okay. Don't answer that.

 

The soldier sighed, almost chuckling at the interruption. He let his body lean forward, his head slowly resting against the red-coated man's chest. He didn't really notice, but his mind had gone surprisingly quiet.

 

…It started to feel real, like something he could reach with his own hand. The tenderness with which Dante continued to treat him despite everything he'd said and done… It was tangible with every word, every gesture.

 

…In retrospect, he'd never really given back any of the demon hunter's affection. Or, at least, not in the same amount.

 

…Had this happened a few years ago, he'd've considered this to be a good time to whisper “I love you” to his partner.

 

…Maybe he would, then, recollect the necessary bravery to kiss him during that date, whenever it might take place.

 

Chapter 32

What on Earth had he gotten himself into?

 

Dante cursed at himself over and over again, sometimes pushing the blame towards Trish as the source and cause of this problem. Unable to find any good answers to what could potentially be a nice gift, the sole thought of now having to organize a proper date gave him a headache.

 

—So? Any luck?

 

The voice greeting him with a question as he crossed the Devil May Cry's door wasn't the same as it had been lately. The slim legs placed comfortably on top of his paperwork belonged to no one other than Lady.

 

—With what, exactly?

 

—Trish asked me to keep up with your little love affair.

 

—...Is she paying you for that? I mean… Am I paying you for that?

 

—Luckily for you, it's a personal favor. She's a friend, after all.

 

—So I'm not a friend? —he acted heavily offended, furrowing his brows—. Did that bullet hole on my skull mean nothing to you?

 

—It means you're a headache —she replied, chuckling at the heavy steps Dante took towards her—. But back to the subject. Was he there this time?

 

—He was. He kissed me. 

 

—Are we talking about the same thing? About Jack? The soldier whose hair matches yours?

 

—The secretive one with a small waist, yes, that Jack.

 

—Last time we spoke…

 

—Yeah. I'm just as surprised as you are. But hey, I'm not complaining. 

 

—Was it good?

 

—Oh, c'mon.

 

—I don't care —his friend clarified—. Trish does.

 

—Trish will have to use some imagination then —the taller man replied—. Anyways. What would your perfect date be like?

 

—Did you hit your head on your way back? —she asked, still trying to decipher her friend's thoughts.

 

—No…, but I might need to. I may or may not have promised him a date.

 

—...You don't know what to do.

 

—I'm just expanding my possibilities.

 

—Don't overcomplicate things. Follow your heart and you'll be fine.

 

—That is not helping me —he complained, considering it too abstract for his needs.

 

—It's my turn to be a little cryptic for once.

 

A heavy sigh. Dante accepted his fate and grabbed the shorter woman's ankles, moving them away from his documents. One of the paper sheets was marked with a shape that came from the boot's sole, caused by the weight left on top of it. Although he quickly noticed it, he didn't really mind its presence. He gathered all of his paperwork and left it as a well organized pile close to the desk's corner and away from legs that weren't his own.

 

—This place's been looking real good lately —Lady pointed out, mentally comparing it to all of the past versions of the shop she had seen throughout the years—. Happiness suits you well.

 

Happiness and Dante Sparda were two things that didn't blend together, like water and oil. He pretended not to hear her last words, unwilling to start an argument that could lead to things he had no intention to unbury from his mind to discuss.

 

—Wanna play some music? —the taller man asked after peeking at his drums—. We haven't done this in a while, have we?

 

—Last time we did, you managed to break a window three streets away from here.