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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
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter 3: Joke Gone Bad
The duo walked along the dirt road in silence, Dante ever cautious to his surroundings and Nero walking a few steps behind him. The incidents in the car created an awkward vibe between them as they progressed. Nero kept looking down at his devil bringer, expecting traces of Dante's saliva to glisten in the sun. Dante wandered on as he thought about the multitude of kisses he left on the teen's cheek.
Hey, he was happy.
His savings increased to the point where he had money at the end of the week. That is, if he could sneak the money from Lady long enough to do so. After paying off his seemingly endless debt to the female huntress after the Fortuna scandal, she still insisted he owed her interest for being so late on his payments. He would have to ask her what she did with all that change some day.
Even if she squandered away his currency on female vices, he felt confident that Nero would share his fortune. Then again he kinda had to, by reason of occupying a room there and all. But the youth always made him promise to keep his trap closed for the time being; to lay off on the perverted jokes, which never worked and he never did.
Nero, for once, kept his mouth closed. The elder knew he surprised the little runt, just not to that extent. When he first heard the brat running up to him, he assumed the punk would smash his face into the hardened earth lying beneath him. Instead, he gave a gentle shove to the chieftain, telling him not to leave him alone like that anymore.
"Oh, I have no intentions on it kid."
Now, what was the interpretation behind that? Nothing he said implied anything sensual. Though he did put an extra emphasis on the 'no.' He wanted to make sure the fledgling stayed near him often out of concern for the hordes of the damned. Besides, the kid had proven to be good company and quite the diversion from the elder's troubles too.
A briny odor drifted to the hybrid's nostrils, slowing his pace, looking to the west for the growing scent. After his warning for Nero to be cautious of his environment, he figured he could test the twerp to see if he paid attention while going forward to investigate the aroma.
The idea seemed decent so he followed through with it; an unfamiliar spike poking in his gut since little effort went into its creation, yet he assured himself it served Nero's benefit. Reassuring himself of his scheme, he tapped into his demonic powers, moving into the bushes with inhuman speed.
Nero, being so occupied with his right hand, lacked the sense to realize the elder's plan. When the partial-demon lost the sound of Dante's footfalls he halted his steps, scanning the area and inhaling the air for irregular smells. A familiar buzz within his devil bringer sensed the elder's presence nearby however.
He drew out his double barreled revolver and walked with wary steps, sorting through the dense shrubbery, expecting a demon to jump out at him. His hearing picked up no strange noises. Even the birds stopped squawking about.
"Dante?" whispered Nero.
A thin gust of wind responded to him. Blue Rose fired with sudden efficiency to into the thicket of trees as a branch fell to the forest floor, which existed as a brave and stupid thing to do.
It would have been okay to blast without looking if monsters surrounded and snapped at his ass and foolish to shoot without seeing his target. He could have accidentally shot someone. But civilization didn't to dwell much here, and it was safe to do so, sort of.
Nero aimed the gun at the fallen twig, stiff legs moving in slow steps to look on the ground. Wait… if the sprig dropped from a timber, then it meant that something waited for Nero in the tree. He redirected his aim to the area above him, anticipating to find something ready to pounce on him. The younger slayer knew that Dante would not play a joke on him at a time like this. The elder would not go from talking in a vigilant voice about Hellish rogues to playing tricks on him. Would he? Then again, this is Dante he dealt with...
Speaking of which, did any of those Soul Eaters grab him before he called out to him? Did they appear as blue mist around the veteran and disappear with him? Could they have hoisted him into the sky somewhere, zapping his energy all the while he searched for him? Panicking would not the best solution to the situation, nor jumping to the worst conclusion possible.
"Dante!" the youngster yelled again. "Where the hell is he?"
Nero moved upon the fallen stick, pushing aside the shrubbery with the tip of Blue Rose. His eyes squinted, verifying the place where the twig descended,looking broken judging by how the splinters from the base of the branch split. But he still felt him close by, so what happened?
The teen walked deeper into the green landscape as the odor increased, twisting among the foliage with his devil arm pulsing in a bright shine; a surge of demonic energy closing in on his location. He followed the aroma to where it smelt the strongest and lingered under the…
"Oh no, this is not good," Nero started to take deep breaths to exert control over himself, failing to calm his thudding heart.
On the ground rested globs of varied bloodstains surrounding the base of an old oak tree where Dante's scent resonated. The trail came from the direction which they traveled; leads of the coagulated substance smeared across the lower thickets of shrubs and on the forest floor.
Next to a large glob of blood lay the chief's own precious Ivory. Nero's face froze, enlarged eyes and a widened mouth processing the scene. Realization settled in that the worst did happen to the man. Were the Soul Eaters really that tough and the elder to couldn't warn him before he disappeared? Here lied Dante's trusted weapon he'd never leave without, and the hybrid vanished from sight. With a forced breath, he ran forward to retrieve the gun and discovered…
A hard slap to the back nearly made Nero fire another shot into the open area.
"Fuck!" Nero started and jumped from Dante, perched upon a branch hanging upside down with a smug grin.
How low of him, coming from the moron at a time like this. Nero steeled himself from his frightened nerves taking over, if not for the situation at hand he would have brushed it off. But with his sudden disappearance and Ivory surrounded by little pools of blood, who wouldn't think the worst in the first place?
The younger demon backed up against the tree, clutching his heart from the surprise. The young slayer assumed something injured Dante and here he joked like an over-zealous monkey, sporting a crazed clown's smile. Out in the middle of no-man's land with a broken car, a new threat of demons, and a missing hunter who deemed now presented the perfect opportunity to play a prank...
Dante took it too far this time.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Startled by the outburst, the veteran felt the swift urge to apologize, but didn't see the need for it. Did he scare the punk that badly? "Relax kid, I—"
"You dumb-dick! Do you think this shit is funny?!" His chest heaved, balling his fists to reign in his temper, yet the words flew out faster than his mind comprehended them. "You disappear with no trace whatsoever and I believed something really happened to you! You're the one telling me to be all cautious and shit and you're the one fucking around!"
Nero's voice restrained from cracking but a little slip made it noticeable, and his relief the veteran still breathed but the thought plummeted to the bottom of his worries. Damn him for making a joke out of the young slayer. His face flushed red with anger, moistening the corners of his eyes. He had to man up and set this idiot straight. Now he saw why Trish and Lady treated him the way they did. At first, Nero thought they acted fussy towards him, but he sided with them on his actions. No wonder Lady shot him more often than not.
His asshole nature popped up in the worst of situations.
The elder jumped from the tree, missing the reason his partner riled up his emotions, seeing no harm in the matter. Dante wanted to make sure the kid watched his surroundings if anything happened and the runt should have been prepared.
Upon his stint in the trees, he found something useful for their mission. His high lookout yielded their demon destination close by, and the mongrels infesting the place. From the curved angle the house sat, Dante surveyed a thick layer of blue mist surrounding the mansion, most of it in the front yard. Toward the side of the lot, he scanned a clear view of oddly triangular-shaped movement skidding across the land, no doubt the overgrown goldfish he dreaded with a passion.
Perhaps disappearing in plain sight may have been excessive, only Nero hadn't fought with Soul Eaters before and the test could show him their attack strategies if he dropped his defense. He dropped Ivory around the suspicious red droplets as a trap to analyze the readiness of his ally. And like he predicted, Nero's attention lingered somewhere else instead of focusing on going into battle mode.
If easy distractions commanded Nero's attention, then maybe he wouldn't be ready for the cunning Hellions lurking about in the city. These scoundrels had brains. Those human-bred morons in Fortuna attacked anything that breathed. But the ones out here in Dante's turf planned; they strategized to make sure their prey went down and stayed that way.
And here Dante did the same thing that befell those idiots.
Tactics formed quickly in the elder's head. The best option presented luring the Soul Eaters to the front yard and stay there while the teen disposed of the fish in the back.
However, since he scared the kid shitless, that plan might not go over too well.
"Look ki– Nero, I vanished out of sight because of this blood I smelled and—"
"You couldn't give me a fucking warning?"
"Um…" Telling him he made up a pop quiz to test him would probably make the teenager more emotional, and he didn't want to hear any more bitching. Honestly, did he do something that bad?
"What the fuck do you mean 'um'?"
Aw shit, time to get it over with.
"Well I needed to see if you were on your guard since you know... you're kinda hard-headed." Dante ran his hand on the back of his neck, trying to appear as impish as possible.
"My guard, huh?" Nero stated, stepping out of the thick green land and on the dirt road, wiping the side of his nose in distemper. "I'll fucking show you who's on their guard."
Nero walked at a brisk pace toward the job, not caring if any blue smoke or mutated fish came into view. He didn't need to be on patrol, he had enough of doing that shit pre-destruction of Fortuna by Dante.
He spent the majority of his later life with his arm protected in long gloves and grating slings; watching his every move to ensure nobody knew about the true species of his limb. With his right branch being a 'freak of nature' he had to take caution morning, noon and night; to purposely isolate himself so no one could make the discovery.
The last thing he needed called for someone to preach about being on his guard.
"Whoa, now wait a minute. I need to tell—"
"Fuck off, bitch." Any wrath nestled inside him poured out in his terms. Probably not the best choice of words but they flowed in free anger.
Dante stopped in his tracks, briefly stunned by the word. This could go either one of two ways: either the kid rephrased what he spoke or Dante would do it for him. He might have said 'son of a bitch' and he would brushed it off because his mother didn't own the quality of one. Or maybe claim something like 'you bitch of a demon.' Just the singular form of the term... no.
"What did you say." It wasn't a question.
Up to this point, Dante acknowledged his fault for surprising him and for the frustrated emotions, so he would rightfully take the blame. But in no way, shape, or form, under any circumstances, ever, in the multiple decades of years he lived, did that entitle the child to disrespect him.
"You heard me."
"I don't think I did. You mind repeating that for me?" A tight voice reached the teen's ears.
Nero noticed the quick-change attitude and half-regarded the attitude change, sensing this inexplicable feeling trying to worm his way into his stomach. Is that annoyance or anger, because he sure wasn't apologetic about his declaration. "Is there some clogged-up wax in your ear? 'Cause I'm pretty positive I made myself clear the first time I said it."
The partial-demon moved about a good three yards from the half-demon, still sprouting colorful words to demoralize the elder and his little pep talk about being on his 'guard.' Hey, it served him right for embarrassing and worrying Nero as he did. The teenager didn't have to apologize for his actions, nor should he. Only the lack of admittance, of any sort from Dante, infused this cold shiver crawling up his back at his choice of vocabulary for him and his altered mood.
Lingering in the past suited the elder none too well and Nero closed in on pushing his limits. He scared the kid and he knew he did it without hurtful intention, so why wasn't he over it already? If Nero frightens that easily, then he needed to work on his composure.
Those damn mist clouds had a knack for doing shit like that, and luck would not be on Nero's side if he gave the same reaction earlier. What would he do, huh? Back himself up against a tree and screech about how bad the demon hurt his feelings by scaring him? They would use his rage against him and end up proving the victor.
"Who knows," continued Nero, "Maybe I'll disappear without a trace and you can discover Blue Rose with my detached hand on it. Eaters may get a little hungry and they may want-"
"That's it!"
Dante dashed forward towards the youth, fed up with his incessant nagging and senseless blabber. Before the youngster could register what happened, a hard hand whipped him around, chin grabbed in force to stare into the visage of a very frosty-looking Dante.
"Insult me one more time, Nero." The elder misplaced his jovial smile, morphing into a stoic mask of ice. The partial-demon saw a profile of dry sulfur merged in the half-demon's eyes; the same stare he had after he put a bullet in Sanctus' head; just … lifeless. Only thing missing from his angered expression lacked the spray of blood covering half his face, probably Nero's if he didn't respond right.
The youth tried to move his chin from Dante's vice-like grip, but to no avail. He chewed the inside of his cheek and balled his hands into fists to keep himself from starting a mini-war. His lifted jaw line rose at a high angle, forcing his neck to stretch up to lock gazes with the veteran. Nero glanced away from the veteran's glare to have his mandible jerked in strain to look at him.
"Speak your mind, Nero, I'm all ears now. No wax in this shit can prevent me from listening to what you have to say..."
His voice poured out dark and venomous, as if he loathed the sight of him. His erect and imposing stance created an air of repulsiveness around him that suffocated the younger slayer in thick waves. No one glared at him with such disgust since... his time in Fortuna.
Glances of animosity and aversion after the fall of Sanctus remained a crucial hobby during his daily activities. They couldn't and stubbornly wouldn't believe that Sanctus wrecked their happy lives. That innocent old man they revered as a grandfather and father to the city's inhabitants didn't deserve his fate. So they blamed Nero. Kyrie trusted him, stood behind him and defended his honor every step of the way but seemed to grow distant afterwards.
It endured to be a strenuous job to be in Nero's defense, and it wore on her fragile psyche. To relieve the stress of Kyrie and wait until the city's accusations died down, he decided to leave for a bit. She implied to like the idea more than he did, yet insisted that he come back the instant some order restored into the city. Though Nero knew a cover-up would shelter the evidence, keeping the citizens in ignorance about what truly happened.
He enjoyed his stay at Devil May Cry. As soon as he walked into the office after traveling the world to get any leads on the man in red, Dante sat at his desk chatting away to a customer. His blasé stare strived to deem how important the mission was; the demons explained didn't seem worth the effort. He saluted Nero a thumbs up and directed him to the couch. Looks like the hybrid already guessed it would happen sooner than later.
If the red hunter viewed him the same way the Fortunians evil-eyed him, he'd be out of a place where he temporarily, yet comfortably called home. Staying at Dante's continued to be the habitat where he didn't have to feel akin to an outcast. Dante made sure that Nero kept his right arm uncovered so everyone could gaze upon it. He told the youth if anyone gave him any disgusted glances, shoot them the bird.
To call his home a security blanket dwelled in the land of clichés, just that it seemed true, and he opposed to letting that go, for now. Provided, he wouldn't admit it out loud you know, pride and whatnot. Apologizing or submitting has never been his forte, but he didn't want to be kicked out over a stupid problem such as this, even if the fault pointed solely to Dante.
Nero looked away from the veteran's stare, battle lost in silent rout. The good times outweighed the bad around the dope, and this whole argument delved as pointless. His words expressed themselves in a fit of anger, except the emotions surrounding it should have let the elder know of his agitated sentiment. He made no excuses to what he said, but he wished to find some common ground after the little debacle.
Gulping down his ego for the sake of preventing a war seemed like a fair price to pay, on Dante's part. Tightening his fists allowed him to swallow his pride, and it tasted bitter. His posture slugged forward and his head bowed, face going from a deep scowl to a look of sorrow and defeat, just barely though. His breathing evened out, clenched palms threatening to break free the mutual setting he tried to put forth, still that display of submission didn't seem to cool off the man. Iceberg hues bored into his forehead, as if he could melt a hole through his skull.
"Got something to say Nero?" Dante re-held his chin back upright after the kid's face slackened.
The teen shook his head, refraining from showing any signs that Dante's grip began to hurt.
"And why is that?"
Nero shrugged, abstaining to peer into the chief's eyes to confirm his unwanted defeat. So strange how everything went so smoothly to a damn catastrophe in a blink of an eye. Emotions streamed haywire, blurted words that never should have been said. Tempers flared in erratic haste, a sudden coldness emanated onto an unsuspecting being.
And through it all, neither of them mouthed the words 'I'm sorry.'
The hybrid gazed at his younger counterpart, noting his submissive nature. The chieftain didn't want to snap at the brat, it's just that Nero needed to know he couldn't speak to him however he felt, angry or not. He rarely snapped at people to put them in their place because most of them sustained intellect not to fuck with him.
A hot-headed firecracker acquiesced the kid's overall temperament, but he never assumed he would use those words against him. He scrutinized the runt, looking as if he'd been caught stealing candy. He looked adorable with his slightly pouty lips, rosy cheeks and long eyelashes, yet Dante maintained his irritation to notice his stance in full. They would have to discuss this later.
"A bit of advice Nero," his voice laced in ice, shaking the kid's chin until he made eye contact. Nero stood on his tippy toes to release the tension in his neck. "If you want to talk shit about someone, you better be ready to go through with it and tell it to their faces. Otherwise–," he pulled Nero's face merely centimeters from his, "—you may not be able to shrug your way out of an explanation the next time."
His scent smelled so enticing. His submission nearly unlocked the beast laying dormant within Dante. He looked so defenseless and smoldering; possessing the urge to lock lips right then, they barely touched… but he didn't.
He blinked a few times at the startling view, taking a moment to wonder where the idea came from to smooch the boy. His devil side purred at the submissive stance, but he didn't exactly want to kiss Nero... at least he didn't think so. With that, he maneuvered around the fledgling and headed towards the woman's house, hearing the youth let out a jittery breath when he got a good distance away.
At no time has anyone left Nero so… so raw before. He never exhibited a shaken core by the elder. Truth be told, he expected Dante to say something much more cut-throat, even give him a few whacks upside the head for what he said. He knew one thing however, he'd seen Dante in a new light, flashing deadly and devastating to look at. His words didn't seem that harmful, except its delivery made him feel a bit shaky and… turned on?
He took rigid steps to face the same direction as the elder, exhaling in a slow breath to regain some sense of composure after following the other demon, thankful for the distance between them. Still, he didn't doubt Dante stood seconds away from physically injuring him, the look in his eyes conveyed murderous intent.
"Maybe I should've let him get something to eat." he thought, heading on the path to his destination.

A/N: And there you have a situation where egos clash with each other. Dante with his devil-may-care attitude and Nero with his hormone-filled one, destined to forever butt heads with one another. Both already started the action, but it's not with the demons! They should be using that energy to fight off the hordes of bugaboos...or on each other if they really wanted to.
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Dreams Will Be Made Of These