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Dad	By : Ash_Gray_Kitsune Category: +A through F > Devil May Cry Views: 1882 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Devil May Cry and I do not make any profit from it.

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Dad
Oh god, no....DAD!
Nero woke with a start, tears coursing down his cheeks as he sat up, his teeshirt and pj's soaked in sweat. Another nightmare...another sleepless night. He should have known that the therapy would only work for so long...the teenager sighed, scrubbing away the tears as he reached for the glass of water on his bedside table. The glow from his right arm, his 'Devil Bringer', as Dante had dubbed it, fell cool and soft over that side of his room, and it soothed him, odd though that might sound. He'd often joked, after the...event four years ago that he was his own nightlight; certainly, the blue light that emanated from his body was far more comforting than any plug-in Dante could have bought him. The arm was nearly all scaled now, with his palm and the top portion of his forearm glowing a brilliant sky blue, day in, day out.
He even had claws now, sharp and strong, and useful for doing a million and one things that his normal fingernails couldn't have done. Granted, it really didn't help all that much, because he was a lefty, but he was comfortable with the arm now. Moreso, in fact, than he had been in years. Before, the scales scared him, made him feel dirty...now, it was a part of his heritage, and he was proud of it. It was a tool, and a weapon all of its own; when he cast his mind to it, he could summon a giant, ghostly arm that felled any opponent. It was awesome for when he wrestled with his dad.
Speaking of the devil himself...a light knock sounded on his door, and he waved a little as he drank the cool water, knowing his father would read the flash of light from under the door.
"Bad night, bud?" Came that familiar voice, a little hoarser than usual. The demon-hunter looked like he hadn't even gone to bed yet; knowing how precarious their finances were at the moment, he couldn't blame the older man. He raised the glass in a mocking salute, and gestured for his dad to sit down on the bed next to him.
"Just another nightmare. You look like we're worse off than we thought." He sighed and obliged Nero, sinking into the bed, the fabric of his shirt pulling just a hair tight as he rubbed his face.
"I'd love to say 'no', but then I'd be lying. And I did promise never to lie to you. We're...I'm gonna have to go on a mission, kiddo. We don't have enough coming in to keep up with the bills, and with Morrison having moved on, and Lady god knows where..."
"And Trish can't do all the things you can."
"Bingo. Now, I've got to ask you this; do you want me to go back out? I know how rough the nights can be around here." And I know how much you don't want me to leave. Nero could read that far too easily between the lines...and he sighed, knowing it was true. He had been keeping his father from going out on the higher paying jobs, and while Dante had never once shown even a hint that he begrudged his son, the younger half-blood knew that his reluctance to be left alone was hurting their finances. He took a long, deep breath, calming himself, cupping the glass in his devil hand...and looked up at his father now, blue eyes solemn.
"I think you're going to have to. And...I want to go with you. On the smaller jobs." Dante raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't protest. Not that Nero expected him to; after he'd been kidnapped, the older man had taken Nero's fighting a hundred times more seriously, and once he was healed enough, he was drilled, daily, with sword, gun, and anything else Dante could rustle up. By the time Nero had turned twelve, Dante had set up a similar situation, and left Nero to improvise with whatever he found on hand as the punks gathered around. He'd won out in the end, wielding a long steel broom handle as a stave and a makeshift sling from one of his sleeves...and his Devil Bringer.
After that, Dante had declared him to be 'pretty damn kickass', and he'd taken Nero to the blacksmith and gunsmith he himself used, and for a weekend, Nero got to design the sword and gun of his dreams, something he'd been longing to do since his dad had started him on one of his own swords back when he was a kid. Now, he was simply waiting for the pair to come in...and he figured that it was nearly time.
"...I think I can agree to that, under two conditions." He replied, gray eyes glinting a little with mischief, and Nero had to grin a little.
"Fire away."
"One, when I tell you to run, you run. No questions, no bitching. I will only do so when it's something that I can barely handle, and since your Devil Bringer tends to react badly to my Trigger, I'd rather save that for when I direly need it. Two, you need to keep your grades at a decent level. I'm not gonna ask for straight A's; but if you can keep them C and above, then you can keep coming with me. If they dip, we'll both stay home. Deal?" Nero gave that the serious thought it was due, and after a moment, nodded. It was hardly a bad arrangement, and truthfully, Nero was glad for it. He had a strongly developed sense of self-preservation, even if he was likely to get himself into trouble with his pride, and after the kidnapping...well, it was even stronger now.
"I can do that. Can I ask for a promise from you?" He looked far younger than his years now, and the fear that had plagued him for so long shivered in his eyes. Dante nodded, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
"Of course you can. Shoot, kid."
"Promise me that if you tell me to run away...you'll do your best to come back." The waterworks started up again, and he wasn't surprised when Dante pulled him close in a tight hug and planted a kiss on his forehead.
"Absolutely, Nero. Hell couldn't stop me from getting back to you the first time; nothing else will either." He whispered fiercely, one hand stroking through Nero's hair gently as he embraced his son. At that, Nero let himself crack a little, and clung to his father, crying softly. Inwardly, he felt a little ashamed...but he felt a lot safer, knowing that he could drop all the barriers around his dad. And knowing that Dante had experienced what he had, through the bond they shared, eased his conscience a little more; the kinship they shared was something he didn't know if he'd ever really get used to...but that was okay. No matter what...he'd always have his dad by his side.
"Thanks, old man..." He said weakly, grinning a little as he pushed away to take another gulp of water. Dante huffed out a laugh, and rubbed Nero's shoulders, eliciting a soft sigh of relief from the young man.
"As if I could just leave you there, brat. Tell you what; I've got a surprise for you downstairs. They just came in today." Nero looked up at him curiously, and Dante stood, laughing still. "C'mon. It'll cheer you up to no end, I promise." Shrugging, the teen followed his father out into the hallway, and down the rickety old stairs, his eyes widening a little as he took in the two cases sitting neatly on the enormous old desk. Half of it was for his father, half for his own homework, but the black carbon cases were almost too big for the monstrosity.
"No way..." He made his way over to the desk, and opening the smaller case, couldn't stop the gasp as he lifted the Blue Rose out of the black velvet. She was a beautiful over and under barreled pistol, weighted and shaped for a southpaw. Setting her back, he did the same to the sword's case...and drew out the Red Queen, eyes wide with shock. They were...perfect. Perfect to his designs, to his weight, perfect for when he grew...
"Way. Happy early birthday, kiddo."

Heyla! I thought we needed a little fun and fluff before the second wave hits, ne? So, Mission 9 - 12 is all fun stuff, a teenaged Nero and awkward Dante on learning to drive, dating, and which is the better food! And Loreley, this one's for you!
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Dad