Disclaimer: I have nothing to do with Devil May Cry in any official capacity, and am writing this for fun. LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED. *riddles living room with bullets*

Rating: Eventual M

Pairing: Dante x Nero

Genre: Romance/Humour

Warnings: Yaoi. Language, eventual sexytimes, possible OOC

Summary: Dante seems determined to keep flying around in stupid circles, and Lady's about ready to blast his ass out of the sky. Poor Nero gets to watch while it all crashes and burns. Dante x Nero.

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Holding Pattern
by Write-Error

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Prologue:
Last Day of Magic

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What if you move, what if you hide
There's only so much you can miss
Before we both collide
My little tornado,
My little hurricane, oh

- The Kills

-o-o-O-o-o-

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"You have a copy of Mermaid Rock? I thought the only pressing of that record was crazy small!" Nero stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, holding his bag of records with awed disbelief written all over his face. Then, he cocked his head to the side and his blue eyes narrowed in a suspicious glare. "Wait." His arms crossed in front of him. "You're fuckin' with me again, aren't you."

Dante grinned and raised his eyebrow. "Check the jukebox yourself when we get back." He started walking again, enjoying how the kid was rooted to the spot by the sudden revelation of his greatness.

It was nice to have someone with decent taste in music around the place. Lady's was a slightly off-putting mix of raw girl-wailing and distorted, draggy electronic music. Trish, on the other hand. . . Dante had heard more than enough of her crap in the car. It was hard to tell whether she was yanking his chain in her subtle way, or whether she just didn't understand the difference between good and bad. Maybe anything sounded good when a person was used to all Mundus, all the time, with no commercial breaks.

The duo had just come off a job earlier that evening; they were now making their way back to the office. Not a soul blinked at the sight of them, though they were both fully armed and smeared in unidentified demonic effluvia. It hadn't taken Nero long after his arrival a few weeks back to settle in and get used to leaving his arm uncovered. Now, he was just another fixture around the neighbourhood, and he barely gave it a thought - at least outside. He still got a bit nervous about it when meeting someone new, but just walking around with it exposed was no longer a big deal.

They'd done a decent number of jobs on foot due to Dante's vehicular curse. As soon as he got a car he liked, some kind of demon would land on it so hard that it took forever to scrape the cash up to fix it. Luckily, his bike was more durable. Nero planned to get one too when he'd saved enough. For some reason, the kid hadn't been too happy when Dante told him they could get a sidecar and some goggles for him.

Dante blew a lock of hair out of his eyes. The day's mission hadn't been all that interesting - just another item on Lady's "kill that, get paid, give me the cash" list. He could have finished it alone, but it had become a habit to drag Nero along if he didn't have a job of his own that day.

Nero's mix-ups were damned entertaining to watch. The two of them had a good time learning how to coordinate themselves too, which was basically all the fun that could be had with crowds of demons that were barely above pest level. Just when Dante thought the kid was in a tight situation, he would pull some random move out of his ass that he'd never tried before.

He didn't have Dante's finesse or experience - not that anyone else could fight with that kind of class. He was good in his own right. The kid used his grace, speed, and strength to blend his weapon-work and street-brawling style into some kind of crazy dance. His devil bringer made it easy for him to remain airborne, and he launched foes into the air, grabbed onto them to fling himself skyward, and continued beating them into submission. It all came off as an acrobatic, aerial performance with a side of down-and-dirty beatdown. He was constantly changing his approach on the fly, and it was always fun to watch. Nero was intense - a flurry of fire, steel, bullets and the blue flash of his fist. When he got into it, it was obvious that he had a damn good time kicking ass, too.

Given that he'd been brought up in that stuffy obsessive Order, Dante was doubly impressed with the way Nero had turned out. Dante was glad he hadn't had that balls-out craziness trained out of him. The pretentious ceremonial crap hadn't penetrated his hard head. Nero was good at killing things. Monotony was one of them - it was great to watch the kid giving demons shit and bravado. He knew how to party.

The kid gave him shit, too, but he didn't mind all that much. When he'd first arrived from Fortuna, Nero had been skittish and quiet around the office - nothing like the mouthy punk Dante'd thought he had signed up for. It had seemed like the kid had believed Dante would suddenly notice him, wonder why the hell he'd let him stay, think better of it, and throw him out.

It hadn't taken long for that situation to change. Now, Nero was constantly storming around the place, leaving his stuff everywhere, yelling, napping on the couch in bizarre sprawled positions that showcased a stunning degree of flexibility, and trying to trick Dante into eating food that didn't come baked onto a pizza crust. Nero was obviously getting comfortable with his new situation. Dante still wasn't sure whether this was an extended visit or a more permanent arrangement, but he found himself hoping that Nero would be in it for the long haul.

Dante hadn't asked why he'd left Fortuna. After all, who in their right mind wouldn't leave Fortuna? The place was a shithole in every way but appearance – the only thing it had going for it was the architecture. He was curious about the kid's reasons, but Nero would probably tell him in his own time. It probably had something to do with the girl as she seemed to be his only connection in that city, but he wasn't about to push.

Until then, it wasn't really a concern because Nero's presence had generally improved Dante's quality of life. For one thing, every week or so, the kid would get fed up with the state of things and do something around the office - usually something that would make it slightly less like a dump. Missions went by faster, too. A good fight was one thing - Dante loved those. Most of his jobs were pretty far from that though, featuring the usual suspects – just meat to be wasted. The extra pair of hands helped get the pointless busywork over with so the two half-demons could kick back and relax. Dante had always thought of himself as being perfectly happy being on his own, but Nero was good company and didn't mind when Dante just wanted to hang around the office and nap.

The only bad thing about getting more jobs done and getting paid was, of course, Lady. She had some kind of preternatural sense for when money would be crossing the threshold of Devil May Cry. She seemed to be okay with the new addition to the team though, which was good at least, given she could be a total bitch to deal with if she didn't like how things were going down.

Nero had wondered aloud once whether she could smell money. Some days, that theory didn't seem that far-fetched. Out of sheer self-preservation, especially now that Nero was at DMC, Dante had gotten into the habit of doing his shopping before heading home. Today, as usual, they were in no hurry to head home. He'd asked Nero if he wanted to get anything. Capulet was great in that pretty much everything was open late.

Nero had two things on his list: some real food, and something new to listen to.

They'd hit Cappy's Foodmart, getting dirty looks for leaving drippy purple boot-prints in the produce section. Then, to the drugstore. Nero had grabbed some bandages, antiseptic, cotton balls, icy-hot, and pain-killers before following the other man to the end aisle – the first aid box at the office was pretty much empty. It turned out Dante was taking his sweet time picking out a box of rubbers with an exaggerated air of cluelessness. He'd earnestly asked for Nero's opinion on what "sensitive" might mean, and whether that was more important than "textured for stimulation."

Nero just froze and seethed at him through slitted eyes, resembling a pissed-off cat under the bright fluorescent lighting. Dante missed that first week when he could get the kid beet red every other minute. The cashier snapped her gum and watched them from under her lashes. Her eyebrow inched towards her hairline when she saw their combined purchases. Nero swore under his breath, turned on his heel and exited the store, leaving Dante laughing by the counter as the woman rang his purchases through.

Then, the record shop.

The place looked more like a permanent indoor garage sale than a shop. There was no telling what colour the carpet had been originally. A healthy layer of dust covered pretty much every surface, and the parts that were clean only emphasized the weird grayish colour of everything else. Unperturbed, Nero went to town with a wicked-looking grin, digging through milk-crates full of 45s like it was Christmas. After a while, he surfaced with a few old gems of thrashy, dirty, lo-fi punk rock. Nipple Twister, Daze of Ruin, Three Bitch Sandwich, Rot and Bones, Sektor 3. . .

Yeah, it just figured that Nero's picks were more than ten years old and barely anyone knew of them even then. Dante would have liked to know how the hell a kid in that walled garden had ended up hearing this stuff in the first place. Fortuna was not on the bleeding edge of anything, unless you counted sanity. A smile curved his mouth as he flipped idly through the box in front of him, covertly watching Nero as he rummaged around in the crates.

Yeah, the kid had taste, all right. No wonder he fought the way he did. He'd picked music for one hot party.

"This is awesome," Nero said, glancing up with a satisfied smirk and a happy glint in his eye. "You have no idea how hard it was to get anything interesting into Fortuna. I basically had to wait for out of town trips - the Order's supply runs, basically - and have stuff mailed to the inn where I was crashing. It was a pain in the ass. . ."

They had continued on their way. Dante carried the groceries; the other had the bag of records. The older man had to laugh; Nero looked ridiculously pleased with himself - wide blue eyes, a faint flush of excitement creeping over his normally pale skin, and that rare gleeful smile. His eyes got bigger and shinier when Dante mentioned the crowning jewel of his jukebox collection.

"I can't believe you have that. . . Wait." Nero stopped suddenly. "Dante. You keep it in that jukebox?"

"No, it's wrapped in cotton batting and I pet it each night as I drift off to sleep." He rolled his eyes. "What do you think, kid? Of course it's in the jukebox. It's for listening to, not collecting."

Nero clapped his hand over his forehead and groaned. "Dante. What the hell. I'm not saying it should be in a safe, but don't you worry about it at all? Lady has a thing for shooting that room up. Hell, sometimes you shoot that room up. You can't hang a picture in there without digging a bullet out of the wall first, and you can't tell me demons haven't come by looking for a fight."

Dante tapped Nero's temple. "Nuh-uh. Hold up and think about it. Lady likes riddling me with hot lead. My strategy is, stay the hell away from the jukebox when she's on the rag or I'm pissing her off. Plus, the juke's way tougher than you think. The apocalypse could come down on us and that thing would be playin' the soundtrack while it all went to hell. Keep it cool. It works out fine." He frowned. "Except for the getting shot part - damn."

The younger man hitched the record-shop bag over his shoulder and continued on with a huff, with Dante following at his usual lazy pace. The sun had fully set while they'd been out shopping. "About that. It's weird." Nero's voice brought Dante up short. He sounded careful, like when he'd first moved in.

"Yeah? Well, getting shot hurts, kid. You think I like it?" Dante kept his voice as neutral as possible.

They continued walking. "Nah, it's not that. I mean, of course it hurts. That's not. . . shit." Nero sighed. "What kind of friends shoot each other when they're just a little pissed off? And you just. . . take it."

Dante shrugged and bumped Nero's shoulder. "It's not like it just suddenly became that way. It's just that it never changed. She shot me in the head right off the bat, and it didn't seem that bad with the shit going on at the time." Nero snorted in disbelief and bumped Dante back. "Really, a little girl shooting me in the head was only a minor annoyance given the situation. But after you know someone for a long time, you just get used to things being a certain way. It perpetuates, and by the time you realize it sucks, things are on rails. Getting them on another track seems like a losing battle. And there you are, getting shot and cleaned out all the time like it's no big deal."

Nero was quiet for a little while as they continued on their way, like he was mulling over Dante's words. "Huh," he commented. "But. . . that's fuckin' terrible!" Dante looked at the kid, curious. He was probably more pissed off than he should have been. "Maybe you get used to being a certain way, with a certain person. But it's not right for things to. . . just stay that way. You've got to say or do something to change it, old man!"

The kid's voice had increased in volume. It was actually kind of heartwarming that he was getting all puffed up and offended on Dante's behalf, but there was something else there too, and the older man wasn't ready to press him on it. Yet.

"But if you change things, there's no telling where they'll end up. Plus she'd probably just shoot me a lot more if I brought it up."

Nero scowled. "Goddamn it, are you really just too fucking lazy to give her hell for using you as target practice?"

Dante wasn't all that comfortable thinking about this kind of shit. Maybe he was even less comfortable with how he felt about the kid's protective indignation. Right. This was just going to an awkward place, where he would probably get more attached to Nero – it wasn't his fault, it would just happen, with the kid being the way he was – and Dante had enough problems rolling with things already.

Time to derail this train.

He grabbed Nero around the neck with his free arm. It was a cross between a one-armed man-hug and a headlock. Hugging for teasing purposes was safe. It was on the bro level to which he aspired.

Dante was getting a bizarre amount of pleasure from Nero's weak-ass struggle to escape without damaging what he was carrying. Fat chance of that happening. "Aww, Nero," he teased, rubbing his stubbly chin against the top of the kid's head in an approximation of a noogie. "You're all worried about little old me?"

He heard Nero make a disgusted sound. Dante narrowly dodged a kick aimed at his ass.

"Let go of me!"

Dante sniffed at Nero's hair and paused. "Hey, have you been using my shampoo? Anyway - hey, stop it tiger, we're having a bro moment here - let me just say," he continued as Nero tried to bite his arm, teeth clicking together and making a snapping noise. "I don't enjoy teeth. . . no, that wasn't where I was going. Where was I? Oh. Let me just say there's no way I'd die from a mean old bullet and leave my baby Nero all by himself and helpless with the scary-"

"What the fuck? Okay, I understand why she shoots you," Nero sniggered, surprisingly not pissed off at Dante's antics. His breath was coming out in warm puffs against the older man's wrist. When Dante's grip suddenly relaxed, he took advantage and retaliated with a head-butt in the face.

Dante winced, clutching his hand to his nose to check it was still intact. "Ow! Jeez kid," he complained. "We were having a bonding moment there, and then like always you start with the hitting and the violence. I'm starting to think you don't want me to hold you and keep you close by me alw-"

Nero sighed in frustration and clapped his demonic hand over Dante's mouth. "Shut up," Nero said, ignoring the dramatics. "Ugh. Well, no matter how annoying you can be, it's not cool to just put a bullet in you. I mean, maybe I should suggest punching? She's wasting ammo and putting important cultural artifacts at risk. It needs to stop." He gave Dante a serious look that broke into a smile. Then, he took his hand back, turning on his heel and continuing down the sidewalk like nothing had happened.

Dante blinked, and then shook his head to clear it. He licked his lips.

Nothing had happened. Really.

"C'mon old man, I want to listen to these before you need a hearing aid."

Dante just laughed as they continued on their way. The stubborn warmth in his chest was a little stronger than before.

Don't think about it.

They headed home.

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A.N. - I haven't been exposed to anything but the games and don't remember much about the anime, so assume I am living in a bubble without the manga/novels/whatever else is out there.

Nothing heavy here, it's just gonna be a cheesy romance story (that's how I roll). I'm terrified of long multi-chapters, so this is like rehab for me. I plan for this to be 6-8 chapters, and it's coming together faster than usual (I write at the pace that a glacier moves). Any band names that are actually in use by bands are a complete coincidence. Nipple Twisters sounds like it probably would exist, now that I think about it. . .

If you find errors that slipped through my proofreading, please c&p into a pm or review, and I'll fix it. I sat here for seriously 40 minutes trying to think of a title and a summary. So sad.

Thanks for reading. Any reviews, comments or criticisms are appreciated.

-Volpa