#i just really love to torture nero and make vergil begrudgingly accept he loves his mouthy son

[much-obliged-timothy]

Can I,,, can I request “There we go, that’s it…” for Devil May Cry 👉👈 Feel free to totally disregard this if you arent taking prompts anymore dklfngld

Anon I am SO SORRY it took me so long to write this!! I've had no free time lately, and I'm also sorry it's short! I hope it's what you were looking for, though!

*

“Oh, come on, kid, come on,” Dante muttered, shaking Nero a little.

Vergil knelt beside him, glaring. “I don’t think shaking him is helping.”

“You’re right. Shit. I’m probably just turning his stomach into a milkshake of bile and poison.” Dante lowered Nero back against the wall. Nero’s head dropped forward lifelessly.

“It’s not in his stomach,” Vergil said impatiently. “They stabbed it into his neck.”

“Yea, well, he threw up!” Dante said.

“His body is rejecting the poison,” Vergil said, reaching out and touching Nero’s head. His skin was burning with a steadily growing fever. “It was meant to kill hybrids like us, but Nero is more human than demon.”

Vergil stood up and went over to his sword, yanking it free. The corpse impaled on it thumped to the ground, sending up a little spray of blood. Vergil curled his lip in contempt at the human who had snuck up on Nero and injected him with the poison.

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t killed that guy, we could’ve figured out what exactly he injected into Nero. Even if it was made for us, it could still kill or permanently harm Nero,” Dante said.

Vergil considered running his brother through with the sword too, if only to get him to stop speaking aloud the things Vergil didn’t want to admit to. He decided against it, but only because Dante was better with Nero than he was, and there was a chance they’d have to reassure him if he regained consciousness.

“Here, sit with him. I’m going to go call Nico,” Dante said, getting up. “Trish or Lady will probably know what to do for him. I’ve got no clue.”

“Helpful as ever,” Vergil said dryly.

“Right, because you’re doing so much better,” Dante said, taking off at a jog. “Keep an eye on the kid!”

Vergil knelt beside Nero again, pressing his fingers to his neck. Nero’s pulse was faster than normal. Vergil decided a fast pulse was better than no pulse, and dropped his fingers away.

He hated sitting and feeling useless. He could kill the human who injected the poison. He couldn’t kill the poison itself.

Still, Nero was slightly better than he had been when he’d first been injected. He’d thrown up and then started convulsing, but had since settled into unconsciousness, his body shaking but not seizing.

Sweat coated his forehead, his hair sticking to it. Vergil reached out and pushed it back, away from his eyes.

Nero’s eyes fluttered openly, gaze darting around without much awareness. Vergil grabbed his shoulder.

“Nero?” he said, his voice firm. Ignoring his own words to Dante, he shook Nero a little. “Nero.”

His shaking was getting worse. Vergil put a hand behind his head in case he started convulsing again, not wanting him to bang it against the wall. Nero surprised him by leaning into the touch.

Comfort, right. That’s why he hadn’t stabbed Dante to death. And now Dante wasn’t here. Shit.

“Nero, can you hear me?” he asked. He almost hoped Nero couldn’t. He had no idea what to actually say.

Nero’s eyes rolled in his direction, unfocused by undoubtedly semi-conscious now. Shit.

“Don’t try to move,” Vergil ordered, because it seemed a sensible command.

He realized too late that moving wasn’t the issue. The damn brat had inherited his uncle’s mouth.

“C-Can’t…m-m-move.” Nero’s words were horrifically slurred, hard to understand.

“Evidently all you can move is your mouth,” Vergil grumbled. “Stop talking.”

Nero gasped in a breath. “B-Breathe-”

His breath was getting shallower. Vergil shifted, getting his hands behind Nero and carefully adjusting him, trying to maneuver him into a more comfortable position.

It was possible the poison was constricting his airway. Vergil felt a sudden spike of dread at the thought of Nero suffocating while Vergil held him like this, helpless to do anything but decide whether to end the boy’s suffering or wait for help.

But as he shifted Nero into a better position, his breathing became easier. Vergil kept adjusting him, encouraged by the way Nero’s shoulders relaxed and he took deeper breaths.

“There we go, that’s it…” He hadn’t meant to speak, but the words left him anyway.

He held Nero in place, one hand wrapped around his shoulders to keep him upright and the other on the back of his neck to support the placement of his head. Nero closed his eyes and took more deep breaths.

“Th…Thanks,” he managed.

Vergil nodded, even though Nero’s eyes were closed again. Nero’s body slumped the slightest as he lost consciousness again.

Vergil eyed him. If he released Nero, it was possible he would suffocate. Vergil quite literally held the boy’s life in his hands.

For the first time in a very long time, he held that life with a determined care.