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Dreams Will Be Made Of These	By : Britt_601 Category: +A through F > Devil May Cry Views: 3810 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Devil May Cry or its characters. Blah, blah, blah-no money is made off of this either.

Chapter List
- 9
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Chapter 10: I'll Eat It Alright

"Who has the nerve to even call this shit food?" The teen wrinkled his nose, sampling the questionable grub lingering on his taste buds, spitting out what should be blueberry yogurt. This fruit didn't seem very... blueberry at all, a bit sour and stale.

Did its low-fat branding alter its flavor or is it past its expiration date? Slim fingers turned around the carton, searching for the black font to tell him how much time he had until the frozen dessert expired.

"Where is it?" Nero had to retrieve the lid from the trash can. "September 14... today's the 20th."

Nice. Ain't nothing more satisfying than gorging on rotten treats. And those few spoons he swallowed would probably upset his stomach later on.

The spoiled food reminded him of the open-markets once lining the streets every week back home, serving various edibles for the picking. He seldom bought anything from the shops, skeptical over how long the eats sat out or if it rotted, especially the meat.

Mackerel, sea bass, clams and dentex supplied the island with bountiful meat. Natural seasonings (sea salt, pepper, garlic and rosemary) marinated the veal from its otherwise bland savor, the food tasting alike to the teen.

To escape the monotony, he often splurged on pastries from the local confectionery shop, even though the sweets mainly comprised of fruit-flavored muffins; the chocolate ones stayed a favorite when the bakery baked them up fresh.

Infrequent for the townspeople to have the indulgences of lamb and pot roast, those edibles remained exclusive to high-ranking officers. At one point red meat increased in volume; the food not roasted all the way through when prepared. If he was smart enough to realize their “changed” ways, he would have known that the "holy” lieutenants purposely cooked it that way to accommodate their new appetites. He didn't associate with them much, but still...

Too bad those fancy eating customs flew out of his head when he witnessed Dante's morbid consumptions.

Nero has never seen anyone devour pizza every day like it held the key to their overall well-being. Pizza ranging from days old pizza to pizza dropped on the floor (Nero thought it was alive once)... sought its way inside the dope's stomach. Dante's gruesome dietary habits forced the teen to explore the multi-everything world and test different foods on his own.

And he loved every minute of it.

The elder's unsure face when he came back with groceries humored him some time ago, picking out what he had an inkling to try... and for Dante to eat for once.

Nero rummaged through the refrigerator, searching for something edible to quench the pestering sound his belly created. Orange juice tempted his buds, seeking the date before setting the fruity drink on the counter and closing the fridge.

Hopefully the freezer might improve on its results, having at least something microwaveable in there. The nauseating feeling in his stomach returned, demanding nourishment prior to getting sicker.

Hope turned into disappointment when ceruleans scanned the selection, frozen-canned juices and packages of vegetables lined the shelves. With a grunt he closed the door, wishing to turn back to that putrid yogurt because that was the only thing with any familiarity.

He broke the seal on the container and chugged down the tangy liquid, nearly choking on the pulpous contents, growling in annoyance of him not scanning the title properly. Looking over the large red letters it said "HIGH PULP" at the top. Smacked lips filled the silence of the kitchen, swiveling his tongue to rid of the clingy mush gathered at the roof of his mouth.

The partial-hybrid started at the desperate howling coming from outside, briefly catching Dante moving in a dance-like flow on the ground, decapitating her feet with these big scissor-looking things.

"So that's what he hid behind his back―" An impatient stomach ruptured with an inhuman growl, seeming to tell the youngster to worry about snacking instead of the hybrid and his antics. A defeated sigh escaped his lips, walking towards the crate at the refrigerator's bottom as a last resort before he returned to eat that blueberry blunder.

“Finally!" Nero groaned aloud, pulling open the crate to find various foods to his choosing. Packaged burritos, tamales (whatever those were), Hot Pockets (whatever those were too), and frozen dairy treats filled the extra bin. He 'd seen a few of these advertised on TV and in the store, though he had never tried them.

With reserved inspection he grabbed a carton of Hot Pockets, reading the labels in thorough order before he killed himself. "Pepperoni Pizza Hot Pockets... yeah I don't think so." He threw the box into the assorted collection, opting to eat the chicken-stuffed tamales.

Alert eyes searched for the directions on how to quickly cook them. Flipping the assortment over, he discovered the instructions along with the expiration date, tearing the package and grabbing two of the wrapped tamales.

The youth lived under the impression that mansions had silverware and fine dining tools, but all the cupboards laid bare, as if no one resided here... of the human variety anyway.

"What the hell?" Nero sneered at the revelation. "Who the hell lives here anyway?" How is he supposed to fix the tamales if he had nothing to place them on? He didn't want the inside of the contents to burst and ruin the food on the microwave plate, not that he would clean it out if it did so. Yet it seemed like he had no other choice.

Moving over to the heating contraption, Nero gained a wider view of the kitchen; locating paper towels and other assortments over by the sink. Making a clicking sound with his tongue he shook his head, wondering why he didn't search the whole area first.

Two paper towels settled under the two tamales and another over them, placing his meal in the shiny microwave on three minutes.

Man, this sure is a nice house, all clean and tidy and dirt-free. He wouldn't mind if the red one fixed and upgraded his place similar to this. The teen didn't presume being a roommate required him as the maid of the premises. If he let the office stay like it did, he'd probably live in his own filth.

A bowl of assorted fruit rested by the far end of the sink, drawing the teenager to its location. "How did I miss that on my way in here?" he thought in speculation. No matter, at least he can munch on something until the food gets ready.

He grabbed a banana and peeled it, strolling to the window to watch the elder finish her off, if he hadn't already. Hardened pale periwinkles glared into his own eyes, making his muscles stiffen, Nero mentally taking a step back with Dante's negative aura.

Hungry faces came after the chief with an unmatched vigor, overlapping each other to swallow the chieftain whole, but he walked in strong steps. Dante's vacant look baffled him, like a dark entity harbored his state of mind and held the bearings to do damage.

Or maybe it's because of how you're sucking on the banana.

The youth snapped out of the hunter's focus, chomping down on the yellow piece in his mouth and turned around, grabbing the orange juice off the counter to chug the drink. It helped to push down the knot rising in his stomach. Ceruleans glanced at the microwave's timer, 2:17 displayed with the food rotating on the plate; a light smell filling the kitchen with its unique scent.

A loud rapping on the kitchen exit disrupted Nero's food gazing, turning his head to the sound. The murderous-hollow look graced his profile still, the teenager speculating why and what made him sport this expression. He did nothing wrong. It's the she-devil's fault with all this “I-need-to-kill-you” crap and he better not have any of that animosity directed towards him.

He walked over in slow steps, wondering whether to actually open it or not, then realizing the dope could knock the damn thing down with a finger if he deemed it appropriate. Timid fingers gripped the doorknob when the door swung inwards, knocking the banana and orange juice out of each hand, sending Nero stumbling backwards.

Defiant baby blues stared into sky blue ones after he stood to gain his bearings, willing himself not to submit to a physical reaction.

"Who the fuck pissed on your shoes?"

"If the big kids on the playground tell you to go sit down, is that your way of saying 'fuck you' with Yamato?” Dante said in a frosted tone, throwing Red Queen to the youth who caught it without breaking eye contact.

"I―what are you talking about?"

"Your flashy sword move sent her into a portal."

Ah, so they did see it. "… She saw it coming and fled into one?"

"No, you hit her into the one she made."

Oops.

Well that was a relief, the veteran's anger held disapproval towards what he did, and not at him. "To the demon world?"

Dante's glare lingered, exhaling in frustration before turning around to gaze at the gray sand blowing in the wind. Recalling the brief details he'd seen inside the portal, it indicated a dungeon, judging by the stone walls and chained locks.

"I don't know," Dante said, raking his fingers through his hair that the she-bitch latched onto. He kissed her so Nero can go sit down somewhere and recover, and the hag to befuddle her mind. Her hungered lips belied the absent passion in her worthless life. And who would show her any romance with that body and attitude?

Dante's face softened, soon morphing into disgust upon the memory of her words. Did this provide the reason of an influx of critters these past few weeks, all because some broad deprived of attention wanted people to take notice of her and she had to do this? Shit, all she needed to do is walk through a crowded street and bam! The crowd would pay heed to her then.

He just knew this wasn't over, his instincts told him so. With a covert operation like this, who knew if more fountains stood or bitter lady demons hovered about. A dinette chair supported his mass after he plopped down in one, Rebellion resting on the table.

A deep inhale tried to calm his devil nudging to let loose and play again. Only he sniffed something odd, exhaling a harsh snort at an unfamiliar scent.

He pinched his nose, looking up to see Nero holster his sword. "What the hell is that smell?"

"I got a better question," Nero said, his voice tight over the door-hitting incident. "What's your problem, man? Couldn't you wait until I opened the fucking door instead of kicking it down?"

Dante scoffed. "I don't have one. Though I do have a problem with you not finishing your quarry." That seemed unfair to say, but the veteran found it... necessary to rile the firecracker. His anger still simmered strongly, so what greater a way to do it than to work up the punk.

The youngster wasn't on the same page.

"Blaming your shortcomings on me isn't going to benefit you any."

"You should've knocked her to kingdom come if you kept hitting her like a ping-pong paddle."

"Those fucking critters jumped all over me. Hell, one of them stabbed me!"

"You should have fed your goldfish friends your blue flashlight first."

Nero bared his teeth in a sneer, neither wishing to engage in anymore useless talk, returning to his food. True, it had an odd aroma but it smelled delicious; Nero's mouth salivating at the meal bordering on assaulting his taste buds.

Dante's biting demeanor lessened, eyes trailing to Nero's jacket, damn near desperate to clown him. Did the twerp bathe in a pool of mud?

"Why didn't you take care of them? I had those idiots in the front on lock. It beats a broken jaw any day." He took the tamales out of the microwave, reveling in the aromatic scent, setting the snack on the counter. Why bother seeking any utensils when he found no plates and bowls in the place?

Dante's attitude eased at the twat's innocent actions. He sometimes believed the youngster to be a human garbage disposal; the brat sampling every edible he held an inkling to try. A handful of munchies he tasted and spat out but most of the grub made its way down to the twerp's stomach.

With curious intent, his legs moved him over by the sink, leaning against it to study the rascal nibbling the corner of his food. Satisfaction relaxed into a smile with its taste, Nero then taking a wide chunk, chewing in bliss.

"I roamed the house for the woman who gave you the call―"

"Which you should've answered," the teen mumbled the words with a stuffed mouth.

"… to see if she was still alive and kicking."

The partial-hybrid mumbled a harrumph, glancing over at the elder monitoring him. Not a scratch seemed to appear on the man, save for the slight dirtier white hair holding a few grass strands laying about in the locks.

Jean-clad legs shifted his weight, Dante's eyes never blinking, intensely focused on his hungry form. Nero offered him a tamale, in which the crimson one scrunched up his face.

He bit back. "You know, if I wasn't here, I have a strong hunch you would've gotten your ass handed to you," he took another gracious bite before licking off his fingers, bits and pieces of the tamale falling out the corner of his mouth.

"And why is that?" Dante half-listened to the query, his sight resting on the youth using his tongue as a napkin. "You're really enjoying that, aren't you kid?" He forgot about the previous question entirely to watch Nero freeze up, the teen almost forgetting the red mutt occupied the same room.

"Yeah, and what about it?" Nero retorted, wondering why the dope focused on him. He continued, "If you came alone to deal with those fish by yourself, they―"

Pale eyelids widened in alarm, his peripheral vision detecting the hunter standing next to him. The red one raised his palm to the youngster's lips. He tensed, ready to retaliate should he be struck.

What the elder did after rooted his legs to the floor.

Dante took his forefinger and scooped some of the edible debris that escaped the inside of Nero's cavity. His finger swiped upwards into his own cavern to sample whatever the youngster engrossed his taste buds with.

The crumbs contained little flavor, so Dante gently gripped the youth's wrist, bringing it up to his mouth and bit it. Teeth sunk into the food's soft flesh, slowing down his chewing as it wasn't by far the best thing in the world, but his tongue tingled.

"Eh," the half-demon shrugged, dropping Nero's hand, walking out the kitchen before finding a light switch and turning it on.

Heat gathered in his cheeks over the invasive act, his wrist tingling from where the halfling touched him. The shit he did amazed and stupefied him at times, having no regards if he resulted in someone's embarrassment.

Here embodied the elder acting stingy and arrogant one minute, and the next he's calm and collected. The idiot garnered the nerve to almost bash his face in, then turn around and take a bite out of his tamale. Did the chief have an emotional switch he flipped on and off when he deemed it necessary?

Knowing he just desecrated his only breakfast for the day, Nero set the one the half-caste bit off to the side and unfolded the un-touched snack from its wrapping. He chomped into the other tamale, slightly miffed that he had half a tamale to go before it became infected with Dante's germs.

"I should make you go after her. You're not afraid of spending a night until she comes back are you?"

The teenager nearly choked on the piece he swallowed from the sudden appearance behind him rather than the absurd question.

"And risk the possibility of her mistaking me for you? Like hell, old man."

"It's still your fault, kid."

"Why didn't you kill her instead of doing some fancy-pants footwork?”

"Heh, had to try out a new toy I found in that room upstairs." Dante stood next to Nero, arms folded taking note of the neglected tamale.

"Actually I think I'll be doing a little shopping before we scram out of here, so if you don't mind, could you swallow that?" Dante gestured to the forgotten half abandoned by Nero's ravenous appetite, or did the blame fall on him?

"Why'd you stop nibbling on that one? Afraid I'll get cooties all over it?"

"Ain't no tellin' what you got, so I'll practice precaution to remain safe."

Dante briefly chuckled before patting Nero's head, to which a demonic palm swatted his hand away.

"Ain't no tellin' what is in that."

His lips primed to make a remark on Dante's eating habits when he did his favorite vanishing trick, leaving him on his lonesome.

"By hurry it up kid, I mean now!" Dante's voice boomed somewhere down the hallway. The young man had a good idea of what the elder meant by 'shopping', so the goodies "bought" back to the office would not be in vain.

Nero took another bite before picking up the forgotten half, expecting to see visible diseases. He offered to let the bum try a piece beforehand and he turned it down. So what gave him a reason, or the right, to eat off of him when he said no initially? Then again, Dante didn't verbally say no, but his scrunched up face couldn't be interpreted for any other meaning?

Shut up and swallow the damn thing.

"Kid, let's go!"

Nero grumbled in frustration at the nettlesome devils, grabbing the infected bit of the tamale before stepping out into the hallway to bump into the hybrid. Nero flinched, not anticipating the guy to be that close. Dante had crossed his arms, tapping his left foot on the carpeted floor, eyeing the still-eating-that-crap-food brat.

"I thought I told you to swallow that? You can't possibly act as a shopping cart when you got that mess in your hands."

"A shopping cart!" Nero said, spewing out little chunks of food onto the dope's coat, to which he backed away in disgust.

“You're not supposed to talk with your mouth full,” Dante gave his signature red trench a once over, seeing a few dirt spots smeared over the bottom half but it can be cleaned easily. To sterilize denim...

"If my coat looks anywhere near as dirty as yours, I'd burn it!"

Dante swiveled to trail for the stairs when a soggy, sponge-like object slid from his hair down onto the back of his jacket. The red slayer stopped dead in his tracks, placing his left foot behind his right and pivoted to confront Nero; the look of surprised rage set in stone on his handsome features.

The half-devil met a similar expression on the face of Nero, whose human hand mysteriously vacated the tamale he bit from earlier.

"Kid, please tell me one of those scorpion babies tried to hop on me and missed."

"Yes Dante, something did try to land on your head but it wasn't a critter."

Nero sported a wide-shit eating grin speaking volumes in effect to what he just did. That remark wore the last tug on Nero's nerves. Dante contained no idea in relation to the drama he ventured through due to the lack of competence on his part.

Instead of planning and junk, they should have been at home enjoying the rewards of the job. Come to think of it, who placed the call? Did that she-witch reveal to Dante about her plans? Is that the reason the hunter simmered in a foul mood or did it have to do with her escape?

Dante lifted his hand behind his neck at the same odd smell invading his senses. He picked up the spongy object, bringing it forth to his sight.

Nero couldn't wait for his ass whuppin', and now presented the opportunity to start the process.

"Young punk ass of a partner likes to play dirty, huh? Okay Nero." Dante rolled his shoulders, walking in a determined gait to knock some sense into his thick head.

Nero's eyes slitted at the choice of terms, the blues in his orbs barely seen from under his eyelids. Where the hell did he get off on calling him a 'punk ass?' Throwing the half-eaten tamale at the back of Dante's noggin wasn't necessarily the favorable reproach to his light-hearted jab, but Nero favored no mood to kid around with him and his ill-will words, nor did he have the energy to pick a fight with him.

Well, serves him right for his jesting demeanor. Though it would be in Nero's best interest to divert the elder's attention elsewhere at the moment.

And who gave permission to call him a punk ass?

Nero wolfed down the rest of the morsel in his right hand, taking a second to chew the contents, leaning against a nearby wall with folded arms. His lips quirked at the edge of his mouth, swallowing the last of the tamale and letting the filling sensation roil over his nerves.

Widened nostrils inhaled the aromatic food along with the hybrid's spicy scent... mixed in with a briny cigarette odor. Pale eyelids blinked when he saw this mirror-like surface appear directly in front of him, separating him from the veteran's view.

"Guess that spanking ain't gonna happen after all, eh Dante?" The teen couldn't help but jibe a little to defuse the situation.

Dante stepped from behind the portal, focusing to see the same blurry vision of a dungeon before the she-demon fell inside of it. Iceberg blues briefly scrutinized the youngster's relaxed stance and lidded eyes.

He wanted to bet the kid harbored feelings of fatigue, explaining the rationale of throwing the tamale at him. What other excuse did he hold for doing something so stupid? Clear thinking didn't register at the forefront of Nero's mind, delusions of grandeur and apathy clouding his judgment.

An elusive movement in the gateway caught the half-demon's eye, seeing the familiar form of lightly bronzed skin and black scales limping around on broken limbs. The thorn of her intentions returned, prompting him to growl in internal hatred because she didn't have the right to live.

He had to act fast on her death, leaving the time to banter with the brat later on. Alas, postponing Nero's spanking would have to commence for the moment.

Dante offered his hand in a friendly gesture to the brat, who raised his eyebrow in suspicion at the quick-change attitude yet again. He gestured to the portal before leering at the younger slayer, nodding to tell the kid of his pressing actions.

Uncertainty flashed across his face at the red-clad demon's outstretched palm, soon taking it in his own, half expecting for an attack and half expecting the chieftain to throw him over his lap.

"We calling a truce or something?"

Dante showcased a broad smirk, tightening his grip around Nero's bringer and tugging slightly.

"Nope."

Ceruleans widened, too late to move away but felt himself pulled towards Dante, who side-stepped at the last moment to fling Nero inside of the awaiting teleporter.

Let the twerp get a head-start in distracting her so he could deliver the final blow. Yet he did not anticipate a large, ghostly hand to grasp him by his coat's collar, pulling him into the vessel after the teen.

A/N: Those two just can't seem to stay on the right foot for long, huh? Lol. Oh their banter is so much fun to write :D
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Dreams Will Be Made Of These