FIC: "Ice Like Fire" [Devil May Cry, Dante/Vergil, twincest, PG-13]
I feel really good about this one. Thanks to my two wonderful betas, bitrswtsymphony and perenniallurker. Any and all remaining mistakes are mine.
Title: Ice Like Fire
Author: bionic
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Dante/Vergil
Spoilers: DMC 1-3.
Disclaimers: They belong to Capcom®.
Summary: What happens down a dark alley and a not-so-chance meeting. Visual aids - Dante & Vergil.
Ice like fire. The heat of it burned through Dante’s chest like a living thing, eating its way out. He was sitting in a puddle and soaked to the bone, and the sword that pinned him to the cold pavement underneath was so bright and sharp in his mind that he saw stars.
He managed a quiet laugh and the slight movement spilled the tide of blood rising in his throat over his lips until it was running in little rivers down his chin. “This seems awfully familiar,” his words merely a croak.
The alley was narrow, and pools of watery lamplight illuminated the dark passage. His twin stood still above him. And even though he’d aged, Vergil still carried his shoulders with purpose. He no longer had his coat, wearing only his black vest and bloodstained pants. Without it, he looked like a normal human, except for the shock of white hair and pale blue eyes, but those things Dante had grown accustomed to seeing in the mirror. Vergil’s eyes always reminded him of a calming storm, settled but still dangerous.
“I’m not one for surprises,” Vergil said and inclined his head, twisting the hilt of Yamato a fraction as Dante gasped, eyes fluttering.
“No,” Dante coughed, choking on the warm copper pool gathering in his mouth, “I can see that.” He managed to raise his arm and half-waved, trying to focus, but his head was slowly swimming. He’d lost a lot of blood and more was still trickling out of him. “You were never the sp-spontaneous type.”
Vergil made a low sound in his throat. His lips had been set in a determined line, but now they softened slowly into a smirk. Dante realized he missed that - Vergil’s smile - however slight or cruel it was. Something about the sight gave Dante strength, made him want to dig deeper and burrow inside his brother to find where the true smile was, the smile he knew was hidden behind a crumbling wall somewhere, covered in rubble and ash and all the blood in the world couldn’t wash it clean.
Nothing was ever innocent anymore.
But right now, that smirk was enough. Right now it was simply divine.
With a grunt of pain, Dante pushed himself up onto his elbows. His chest made a sick sucking noise as Yamato’s smooth edges slid through his organs, right between his ribcage. He wanted to scream - it burned like a bitch - but he couldn’t show weakness, especially now.
Gathering his strength, he leaned on one arm and grabbed Vergil’s hand clasped around the sword’s hilt with his own. His twin’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment before closing off, the look on his face becoming guarded.
“Let me up,” Dante said, swallowing much of the blood in his mouth to speak clearly. “You’re not going to kill me.”
Vergil’s eyes seemed to flash murder and his shoulders tensed, clearly ready to prove him wrong, but he reigned in his anger after a moment before he shifted, moving back and gripping Yamato’s hilt to pull her out in one quick tug.
“Fuck…” Dante almost collapsed from the rough motion, but the absence of cold steel was wondrous; he could already feel things shifting, growing back and slowly mending.
“What?” Vergil cast him a dark look. He paced a few steps away and stood with his sword held ready at his side.
Things could be worse. Years before, Vergil wouldn’t have let up. He wouldn’t have stopped until Dante passed out. Dante sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes, grateful for the rest, smelling the crisp scent of rain and fresh blood. He slowly leaned back until he was laying flat on the ground, his back to the cool earth.
He took his time choosing the right words because for once, Vergil was willing to listen.
“You remember when we used to go to that park?” He could sense Vergil near him, could sense the slight shift in his brother’s mood at the odd question. He went on when Vergil stayed silent.
“We’d always end up scrapping with each other, and by the time we got home with all these bruises and cuts…Mom would get so pissed at you.” Dante grinned, eyes still closed. He could remember it like it was yesterday.
His brother’s boots were audible over the slowing rain. Dante opened his eyes as Vergil approached. He was towering above him, hair matted flat and beads of water dripping from the ends. There was a very distinct scowl on Vergil’s face.
“Get to your point.”
Dante shrugged, not entirely sure himself where he was going with the particular memory. If he were honest, he would say he was trying to find a brother he once knew. But devils are hardly ever honest, least of all with themselves.
“I guess it was inevitable that we’d end up trying to stab each other to death,” he said.
“Don’t forget your damn guns,” Vergil supplied, raising an eyebrow and giving Dante’s shoulder a hard nudge with his boot.
Dante bit out a sharp laugh. “Damn right,” he chuckled and gently touched Ebony and Ivory, still holstered behind his back. Slick with rain and blood, they felt completely solid and sturdy, ready for anything Hell threw at him.
“But did you ever,” Dante began with a sudden giddiness seizing his gut, “Did you ever like me? Was I always just an annoyance?” Some part of him wanted to know, to be accepted.
“For as long as I can remember,” Vergil said dryly. Dante felt like pouting, though the situation was ridiculous for it. He was a mess, and he had a feeling his mouth was about to go rampant and spew forth a lot of things he didn’t want to admit.
“Well for as long as I can remember, you’ve always been an asshole.” Dante watched as another smirk appeared on Vergil’s face, though it was more like a sneer this time. Vergil pushed some wet strands of hair back from his head, sheathed his sword. Then he crouched down to Dante’s level and pushed his palm against Dante’s mostly healed chest.
Dante hissed at the pressure, the spot still tender.
“What is this trip down memory lane, hmm?” Vergil asked. When he moved his hand away, his palm was coated red. He rubbed his brother’s blood between his fingers, then wiped his hands on his pants
Dante watched in wonder. Vergil was initiating physical contact. That was a good sign, usually, when they weren’t trying to kill each other.
“When you came back,” Dante swallowed, rainwater washing down the remnants of blood in his mouth. “I thought it was a dream. I thought you were dead.” He watched Vergil’s face closely, but his twin wasn’t revealing any sort of emotion. Dante sat up then, so suddenly that Vergil was taken by surprise and he flinched back, rocking on his heels.
“You have no idea how fucking happy I was to see you,” Dante reached out, his mind gone blank and muddy, and gripped Vergil by the front of his vest, tugging hard. The little brother in him was desperately wanting some kind of recognition that Vergil chose to come back, specifically came back just to see him. Silence stretched between them until Dante could almost hear his heart beating straight out of his chest; Vergil was staring back at him, oh so quiet.
“Why did you come back?” Dante whispered at last.
Vergil’s face was blank for the longest of moments. Then he closed his eyes and refused to look at him. Dante pulled him closer and tried to catch his expression, but Vergil only shook his head.
“You already know why.”
Dante might’ve known. He liked to think he knew a lot of things. But he needed to hear it. If everything else was screwed up between them, he would be fine, as long as Vergil gave him this.
“Tell me.”
Vergil made a frustrated growl and pushed him away. He moved to sit with his back against the brick building behind them. Rain was still falling lightly, but Dante could hardly feel it. All of his being was focused on his brother.
For a long time there was no response. Vergil sat with his knees pulled to his chest, his hands dangling between long legs.
Then, finally, “I still cared.”
He didn’t sound defeated, though Dante was sure the admission had to feel like a punch to the gut for him. The fact that Vergil had swallowed his pride….
“So you came back for me.” It was like seeing Vergil for the first time after years of being alone all over again. The same warm feeling rushed over him, laced with a sweet bitterness of being left behind, of not being good enough, but it wasn’t enough for him to care because he had his brother back. That was all that mattered.
Dante was smiling as he scooted over to sit beside his twin, gingerly stretching his legs out in front of him. Vergil had a faraway look in his eyes.
“You were always such a brat. I had the tedious task of keeping you out of trouble, but you got into it anyway.” Vergil said and cracked a tight smile then, glancing at his brother. Dante warmed up even more inside. “I always urged you to take the initiative because I wanted you to be like me, be strong like me. But you never wanted that, did you?”
Dante was slow to respond. “Of course I did.” If his voice was rough, it was because he was damned tired. Everyone knew devils weren’t sentimental. “But I never wanted the glory or the power,” he went on, quiet and somber. “For the longest time, I wanted to be human.”
Vergil snorted. “Trust me, little brother, you’re better off the way you are.”
“Is this the part where you tell me I am a unique snowflake, and before I can love anyone else, I have to first love myself?” Dante joked.
“Not quite,” Vergil replied, a faint smile still lingering on his pale face. He looked drawn yet at rest, the cool calm he’d always carried around like a protective shield slowly melting under the brush of their shoulders, the warm pitch of their low voices, talking together in confidence again, at last. Like it always should have been.
They sat in silence for a while and watched the rain that vacillated between a sprinkle and a soft, steady fall, as if the sky couldn’t make up its mind whether to be joyous or to cry. By then the clouds were thinning out, and the faintest rays of early morning sun were trickling through in pale, red-orange bars, breaking up the gray of before dawn.
They’d been at it for longer than Dante thought. And he was suddenly so damned happy at the realization that he started talking again, trying to make it last.
“When we were kids,” he paused when Vergil turned to look at him, a question that could already be seen forming on his lips, but Dante went on before it could be asked. “You made me a promise.”
Vergil raised a pale eyebrow. “I did?”
Resisting the urge to snap his mouth shut and leave things well enough alone, Dante reached over Vergil’s knee to wrap his fingers tightly around his wrist. “That you’d always be my brother.”
“And I still am,” Vergil replied, angling his head to look curiously at Dante. “Whether I like it or not. What are you doing?”
Dante ignored his question. “So you - you don’t have the right to leave like that, you stubborn bastard.” His emotions were getting the better of him, and despite his elation, anger was starting to seep into his good mood. If he didn’t shut up now, he’d probably piss Vergil off and then they’d be back to square one.
But he couldn’t keep his thoughts inside any longer
“You don’t get to face Hell alone. Steal my damn thunder,” Dante grumbled, grip tightening. He was suddenly very aware of how close they were, and how much he’d missed being able to touch his twin without getting his head bitten off or worse, a sword ran straight through his heart.
“Dante, what are you doing?” Vergil sounded irritated, somewhat panicked. Dante hadn’t realized that he had been leaning closer to him and the inches between their faces were closing rapidly.
“I’m taking some goddamn initiative,” he whispered, and kissed his brother with rough lips, knowing it was a mistake.
Bright hot pain splashed behind his eyelids. Before Dante could back off fully, Vergil had punched him again across the cheek - and yet - he hadn’t made any sort of effort to get away.
Dante tested his jaw, wincing. “Ow…that really hurt!”
“You want to tell me what that was about? Because I’m considering the possibility that you’ve gone absolutely insane,” Vergil growled, but he was very much in Dante’s personal space still and probably unaware of it. It was natural for Dante to feel embarrassed, and out of options, he grabbed Vergil by the arms, slamming him against the brick wall behind them before crawling over his legs with one swift movement until he was straddling his brother, staring into his bewildered face.
“No more talking, Verge,” Dante said and kissed him again, liking it, loving it, and he knew Vergil felt the same when he didn’t pull away. He kept reminding himself that they had never been a conventional family, that there weren’t any rules they hadn’t broken already.
The only person he had left in the world, and he was going to follow him to the ends of the earth. This only sealed the deal.
It was still a very monumental mistake. But he had waited years for a miracle, even when he didn’t believe in them, and here it was, finally. He wouldn’t let Vergil go until he made sure he would stay.
When Dante realized it was no longer only him doing the work, that Vergil had opened up his mouth and was tasting him with his tongue, rough lips and Dante’s stubbled jaw sliding against Vergil’s smooth one, he pulled back slowly to let the kiss linger.
Then he said, “You want to ask me again if I’m crazy?”
Vergil shook his head, eyes soft in the brightening light of the sun. “I already knew you were.”
“Good,” Dante smiled and wound his fingers in his brother’s white hair, pulling at the short strands at his neck. “Glad we agree.”
the end.
Title: Ice Like Fire
Author: bionic
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Dante/Vergil
Spoilers: DMC 1-3.
Disclaimers: They belong to Capcom®.
Summary: What happens down a dark alley and a not-so-chance meeting. Visual aids - Dante & Vergil.
Ice like fire. The heat of it burned through Dante’s chest like a living thing, eating its way out. He was sitting in a puddle and soaked to the bone, and the sword that pinned him to the cold pavement underneath was so bright and sharp in his mind that he saw stars.
He managed a quiet laugh and the slight movement spilled the tide of blood rising in his throat over his lips until it was running in little rivers down his chin. “This seems awfully familiar,” his words merely a croak.
The alley was narrow, and pools of watery lamplight illuminated the dark passage. His twin stood still above him. And even though he’d aged, Vergil still carried his shoulders with purpose. He no longer had his coat, wearing only his black vest and bloodstained pants. Without it, he looked like a normal human, except for the shock of white hair and pale blue eyes, but those things Dante had grown accustomed to seeing in the mirror. Vergil’s eyes always reminded him of a calming storm, settled but still dangerous.
“I’m not one for surprises,” Vergil said and inclined his head, twisting the hilt of Yamato a fraction as Dante gasped, eyes fluttering.
“No,” Dante coughed, choking on the warm copper pool gathering in his mouth, “I can see that.” He managed to raise his arm and half-waved, trying to focus, but his head was slowly swimming. He’d lost a lot of blood and more was still trickling out of him. “You were never the sp-spontaneous type.”
Vergil made a low sound in his throat. His lips had been set in a determined line, but now they softened slowly into a smirk. Dante realized he missed that - Vergil’s smile - however slight or cruel it was. Something about the sight gave Dante strength, made him want to dig deeper and burrow inside his brother to find where the true smile was, the smile he knew was hidden behind a crumbling wall somewhere, covered in rubble and ash and all the blood in the world couldn’t wash it clean.
Nothing was ever innocent anymore.
But right now, that smirk was enough. Right now it was simply divine.
With a grunt of pain, Dante pushed himself up onto his elbows. His chest made a sick sucking noise as Yamato’s smooth edges slid through his organs, right between his ribcage. He wanted to scream - it burned like a bitch - but he couldn’t show weakness, especially now.
Gathering his strength, he leaned on one arm and grabbed Vergil’s hand clasped around the sword’s hilt with his own. His twin’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment before closing off, the look on his face becoming guarded.
“Let me up,” Dante said, swallowing much of the blood in his mouth to speak clearly. “You’re not going to kill me.”
Vergil’s eyes seemed to flash murder and his shoulders tensed, clearly ready to prove him wrong, but he reigned in his anger after a moment before he shifted, moving back and gripping Yamato’s hilt to pull her out in one quick tug.
“Fuck…” Dante almost collapsed from the rough motion, but the absence of cold steel was wondrous; he could already feel things shifting, growing back and slowly mending.
“What?” Vergil cast him a dark look. He paced a few steps away and stood with his sword held ready at his side.
Things could be worse. Years before, Vergil wouldn’t have let up. He wouldn’t have stopped until Dante passed out. Dante sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes, grateful for the rest, smelling the crisp scent of rain and fresh blood. He slowly leaned back until he was laying flat on the ground, his back to the cool earth.
He took his time choosing the right words because for once, Vergil was willing to listen.
“You remember when we used to go to that park?” He could sense Vergil near him, could sense the slight shift in his brother’s mood at the odd question. He went on when Vergil stayed silent.
“We’d always end up scrapping with each other, and by the time we got home with all these bruises and cuts…Mom would get so pissed at you.” Dante grinned, eyes still closed. He could remember it like it was yesterday.
His brother’s boots were audible over the slowing rain. Dante opened his eyes as Vergil approached. He was towering above him, hair matted flat and beads of water dripping from the ends. There was a very distinct scowl on Vergil’s face.
“Get to your point.”
Dante shrugged, not entirely sure himself where he was going with the particular memory. If he were honest, he would say he was trying to find a brother he once knew. But devils are hardly ever honest, least of all with themselves.
“I guess it was inevitable that we’d end up trying to stab each other to death,” he said.
“Don’t forget your damn guns,” Vergil supplied, raising an eyebrow and giving Dante’s shoulder a hard nudge with his boot.
Dante bit out a sharp laugh. “Damn right,” he chuckled and gently touched Ebony and Ivory, still holstered behind his back. Slick with rain and blood, they felt completely solid and sturdy, ready for anything Hell threw at him.
“But did you ever,” Dante began with a sudden giddiness seizing his gut, “Did you ever like me? Was I always just an annoyance?” Some part of him wanted to know, to be accepted.
“For as long as I can remember,” Vergil said dryly. Dante felt like pouting, though the situation was ridiculous for it. He was a mess, and he had a feeling his mouth was about to go rampant and spew forth a lot of things he didn’t want to admit.
“Well for as long as I can remember, you’ve always been an asshole.” Dante watched as another smirk appeared on Vergil’s face, though it was more like a sneer this time. Vergil pushed some wet strands of hair back from his head, sheathed his sword. Then he crouched down to Dante’s level and pushed his palm against Dante’s mostly healed chest.
Dante hissed at the pressure, the spot still tender.
“What is this trip down memory lane, hmm?” Vergil asked. When he moved his hand away, his palm was coated red. He rubbed his brother’s blood between his fingers, then wiped his hands on his pants
Dante watched in wonder. Vergil was initiating physical contact. That was a good sign, usually, when they weren’t trying to kill each other.
“When you came back,” Dante swallowed, rainwater washing down the remnants of blood in his mouth. “I thought it was a dream. I thought you were dead.” He watched Vergil’s face closely, but his twin wasn’t revealing any sort of emotion. Dante sat up then, so suddenly that Vergil was taken by surprise and he flinched back, rocking on his heels.
“You have no idea how fucking happy I was to see you,” Dante reached out, his mind gone blank and muddy, and gripped Vergil by the front of his vest, tugging hard. The little brother in him was desperately wanting some kind of recognition that Vergil chose to come back, specifically came back just to see him. Silence stretched between them until Dante could almost hear his heart beating straight out of his chest; Vergil was staring back at him, oh so quiet.
“Why did you come back?” Dante whispered at last.
Vergil’s face was blank for the longest of moments. Then he closed his eyes and refused to look at him. Dante pulled him closer and tried to catch his expression, but Vergil only shook his head.
“You already know why.”
Dante might’ve known. He liked to think he knew a lot of things. But he needed to hear it. If everything else was screwed up between them, he would be fine, as long as Vergil gave him this.
“Tell me.”
Vergil made a frustrated growl and pushed him away. He moved to sit with his back against the brick building behind them. Rain was still falling lightly, but Dante could hardly feel it. All of his being was focused on his brother.
For a long time there was no response. Vergil sat with his knees pulled to his chest, his hands dangling between long legs.
Then, finally, “I still cared.”
He didn’t sound defeated, though Dante was sure the admission had to feel like a punch to the gut for him. The fact that Vergil had swallowed his pride….
“So you came back for me.” It was like seeing Vergil for the first time after years of being alone all over again. The same warm feeling rushed over him, laced with a sweet bitterness of being left behind, of not being good enough, but it wasn’t enough for him to care because he had his brother back. That was all that mattered.
Dante was smiling as he scooted over to sit beside his twin, gingerly stretching his legs out in front of him. Vergil had a faraway look in his eyes.
“You were always such a brat. I had the tedious task of keeping you out of trouble, but you got into it anyway.” Vergil said and cracked a tight smile then, glancing at his brother. Dante warmed up even more inside. “I always urged you to take the initiative because I wanted you to be like me, be strong like me. But you never wanted that, did you?”
Dante was slow to respond. “Of course I did.” If his voice was rough, it was because he was damned tired. Everyone knew devils weren’t sentimental. “But I never wanted the glory or the power,” he went on, quiet and somber. “For the longest time, I wanted to be human.”
Vergil snorted. “Trust me, little brother, you’re better off the way you are.”
“Is this the part where you tell me I am a unique snowflake, and before I can love anyone else, I have to first love myself?” Dante joked.
“Not quite,” Vergil replied, a faint smile still lingering on his pale face. He looked drawn yet at rest, the cool calm he’d always carried around like a protective shield slowly melting under the brush of their shoulders, the warm pitch of their low voices, talking together in confidence again, at last. Like it always should have been.
They sat in silence for a while and watched the rain that vacillated between a sprinkle and a soft, steady fall, as if the sky couldn’t make up its mind whether to be joyous or to cry. By then the clouds were thinning out, and the faintest rays of early morning sun were trickling through in pale, red-orange bars, breaking up the gray of before dawn.
They’d been at it for longer than Dante thought. And he was suddenly so damned happy at the realization that he started talking again, trying to make it last.
“When we were kids,” he paused when Vergil turned to look at him, a question that could already be seen forming on his lips, but Dante went on before it could be asked. “You made me a promise.”
Vergil raised a pale eyebrow. “I did?”
Resisting the urge to snap his mouth shut and leave things well enough alone, Dante reached over Vergil’s knee to wrap his fingers tightly around his wrist. “That you’d always be my brother.”
“And I still am,” Vergil replied, angling his head to look curiously at Dante. “Whether I like it or not. What are you doing?”
Dante ignored his question. “So you - you don’t have the right to leave like that, you stubborn bastard.” His emotions were getting the better of him, and despite his elation, anger was starting to seep into his good mood. If he didn’t shut up now, he’d probably piss Vergil off and then they’d be back to square one.
But he couldn’t keep his thoughts inside any longer
“You don’t get to face Hell alone. Steal my damn thunder,” Dante grumbled, grip tightening. He was suddenly very aware of how close they were, and how much he’d missed being able to touch his twin without getting his head bitten off or worse, a sword ran straight through his heart.
“Dante, what are you doing?” Vergil sounded irritated, somewhat panicked. Dante hadn’t realized that he had been leaning closer to him and the inches between their faces were closing rapidly.
“I’m taking some goddamn initiative,” he whispered, and kissed his brother with rough lips, knowing it was a mistake.
Bright hot pain splashed behind his eyelids. Before Dante could back off fully, Vergil had punched him again across the cheek - and yet - he hadn’t made any sort of effort to get away.
Dante tested his jaw, wincing. “Ow…that really hurt!”
“You want to tell me what that was about? Because I’m considering the possibility that you’ve gone absolutely insane,” Vergil growled, but he was very much in Dante’s personal space still and probably unaware of it. It was natural for Dante to feel embarrassed, and out of options, he grabbed Vergil by the arms, slamming him against the brick wall behind them before crawling over his legs with one swift movement until he was straddling his brother, staring into his bewildered face.
“No more talking, Verge,” Dante said and kissed him again, liking it, loving it, and he knew Vergil felt the same when he didn’t pull away. He kept reminding himself that they had never been a conventional family, that there weren’t any rules they hadn’t broken already.
The only person he had left in the world, and he was going to follow him to the ends of the earth. This only sealed the deal.
It was still a very monumental mistake. But he had waited years for a miracle, even when he didn’t believe in them, and here it was, finally. He wouldn’t let Vergil go until he made sure he would stay.
When Dante realized it was no longer only him doing the work, that Vergil had opened up his mouth and was tasting him with his tongue, rough lips and Dante’s stubbled jaw sliding against Vergil’s smooth one, he pulled back slowly to let the kiss linger.
Then he said, “You want to ask me again if I’m crazy?”
Vergil shook his head, eyes soft in the brightening light of the sun. “I already knew you were.”
“Good,” Dante smiled and wound his fingers in his brother’s white hair, pulling at the short strands at his neck. “Glad we agree.”
the end.