Author's Note:
So hey there! Seems like I'm not the only one still hooked with this game and its characters. I decided to get the special edition after having watched the intro fight of Dante and Nero and started playing again. For like 5 minutes. Until I decided to write some smut. Well, now that I got that out of my system, I hope you'll enjoy!

There it was again – filling his lungs with every breath he took, almost palpable as the thick aroma washed over his tongue. Filling his senses and clouding his mind to the point where it became difficult to focus on his task, to keep his reflexes sharp. He swore he could feel the air leave a gash where his blade cut through as Red Queen missed its target. He watched the figure clad in red leather as he propelled himself over the younger slayer in a gracious front roll, his body framed by the red leather coat, land behind him and using his momentum to swing his own gigantic sword in a powerful counter attack. Nero barely had time to block the attack as metal collided against metal, letting sparks fly into the pleasant late summer air.

It wasn't the first time of them sparring after a rather underwhelming mission, after Nero had left Fortuna for good and had tracked down the older slayer at the Devil May Cry for a new life. Not the first time that Nero got to test his abilities on the son of Sparda himself. In the beginning it felt like Dante was just humoring him like a wolf would his pup. After a while though, he also did seem to enjoy their little battles – some more playful like two friends roughhousing; others ending with broken bones and shredded clothes drenched in each other's blood.

But of lately, there was something else between them. Their constant taunting quieted down, their inner scoreboarding for style points forgotten. When they fought, it was with a newfound intensity. Once their eyes locked, they never wavered. The air around them grew thick like on a rainy summer day. It became hard to breath, but the ex–knight just couldn't seem to get enough. He didn't exactly know what was going on, nor did he care, really. Something in him was thrumming with each slash he threw in Dante's direction, with each hit he landed with his powerful devil bringer. Even when he himself got manhandled into the nearest tree, the nearest wall, the ground below him, leaving a small crater from the impact. Hell, in such moments he didn't even care if he lost to Dante, when he was pinned down with a strong body pressed against him, successfully immobilized from head to toe. No, something in him was thrilled to be completely and utterly dominated by the more experienced hunter.

And it fucking confused the hell out of him.

Each time the air would clear, when he could breathe and think straight again, he would think that he should be mortified about it. He knew he fought with all his might and strength, used every skill he'd learned from the older hunter himself or developed on his own over the years.

So when he found himself back in the dirt again, with both his hands held together tightly on his back and a heavy body draped over him, he couldn't for the life of him phantom why he felt so ridiculously pleased with the other hunter.

With a last effort he tried to free his arms out of the iron grip that throttled the blood flow from his human wrist which went numb in seconds, trying to throw off the unmoving body, but to no avail. He closed his eyes as he tried to get enough oxygen back into his exhausted lungs, going limp under the older slayer. He felt Dante's hot breath puff against his sweat soaked skin on the side of his face, also having outpowered himself quite a bit.

They'd fought longer than usual; the mission they accomplished beforehand only containing a few stray scarecrows near a small village just out of Capulet City, which hadn't done anything to drain even a bit of their seemingly endless energy. They'd fought for hours on end. Surrounded by large patches of grassland, fields and only an occasional tree painting the landscape; the once bright blue sky now tinted a deep purpur.

„Get off me, old man…!" Nero growled as seconds ticked by with him still pinned down. He felt a huff against his cheek and shortly after the dead weight lifted. He slowly heaved himself from the ground, feeling his left arm tingling as his blood could flow freely again. He should feel defeated, he should feel the loss he'd just gone under. But instead he felt strangely satisfied, even more so as he looked over to the older slayer, casually holstering his broad sword back on his back. He knew that he wasn't the only one affected. Where there once would be a smart remark or even a small victory dance from the older man, there's now only the depth of his ice blue eyes, staring steadily back at him.

–––

Back at the shop he felt way more like himself again. He yawned loudly as they entered what he now called his home. He even came to like the crappy interior. The old, worn out leather couch, where he spend some evenings watching crappy TV while sharing pizza with the old man. The retro jukebox near the bar, playing the same old songs. The smell of stale coffee, dust and something that was uniquely coming from Dante mixing with all the aromas which made him sigh contently. He'd never thought about what his future would've looked like if he was ever to leave Fortuna, but he definitely wouldn't have pictured himself living with a grumpy old man who loved to sleep 'til noon if given the chance, taking on missions and saving people's lives while at it. But hell if he wanted to change anything about it.

A calloused hand on the back of his neck brought him back from his thoughts, squeezing lightly and disappearing again before Nero could slap it away. The little touch sending pleasant shivers through his body.

"Stop daydreaming, kid. Gonna order us some pizza. You want the usual?" Dante asked as he made his way past the younger slayer, storing his weapons in its usual places.

"Yeah, sure. Shower's mine, though, asshole." He proclaimed as he made his way up the wooden stairs, each step giving out a loud creak as he climbed them.

"Don't use up all the hot water!", came a last retort from downstairs.

Flipping him the bird even though he was long gone from sight, he made a quick turn into his room and grabbed a clean pair of boxers and a shirt from his wardrobe. Storing Blue Rose and Red Queen safely into a corner in his room he continued his journey to the waiting shower.

He quickly stripped off his dirty clothes and hopped into the shower. He waited a few seconds for the water to turn from ice cold to hot and let out a pleased groan as he finally dove under the steady stream. He simply stood there for a while, letting the water wash over his head and down his bare back, head hung loosely between his shoulders. Letting the silence wash over him, the steady rush of water drowning out every other sound, his mind went completely blank.

It didn't last long, though. Soon his mind went through recent events, more precisely the previous encounter he had with Dante. How they'd fought, how it had differed from when he first got here. They still had their playful banter; it wasn't as if the older man didn't try and get on his nerves any chance he got. But he could also see how their relationship had shifted over the last few months. The more experienced hunter went from a stranger who might've answers to questions he tried to get an answer to his whole life, to not only his mentor but also best friend. The closest friend he probably ever had beside Kyrie.

Back at The Order there wasn't time to form proper bonds with his other peers, nor did they want him to. He was used to it. Being the strange kid throughout the city forced you to develop a thicker skin. He got along with Credo well enough, but turned out that that was probably a hoax, too. Like the rest of The Order and his holiness. So even though he found Dante rather obnoxious and would deserve the title „kid" more than him, he had to admit that he cherished what they had. What Dante was willing to give him. Not only his own room, but the opportunity to talk to him if something ever bothered him. That much the older slayer made clear in one of his more serious episodes he seemed to have at times. Not that Nero ever really talked about his private stuff that was going on in his mind, but it was nice to know that he could.

He tried to make up for it with taking missions that Dante didn't want, earning what little money it brought him to pay for his stay. Hell, he even bought a fucking broom from his own money to clean up a little when there was nothing more pressing to do. He also cleaned the kitchen at least once a week - granted, it was more for his sake than for the other man's. Even though pizza all day sounded pretty good in the beginning, he needed some variation in his diet and so he spend what little was left of his loan to buy actual groceries. He even made a meal for two once, regretting it terribly after he had to literally punch Dante through several walls to keep him from calling him his new „housewife" ever again.

Still, he was pretty glad to have someone around him who not only accepted him for who he was, but understood exactly what he was going through. Someone who didn't shrink back in fear when his Devil Bringer was not hidden in its sling but actively encouraging him to just simply be himself. He still had to hide his right arm on occasion when they went on missions but it was a huge difference to hiding it and yourself for your whole life.

So when their behavior towards each other seemed to shift, Nero didn't know if he should welcome it or be more sceptic. He still couldn't figure out what changed, what caused their playful sparring to grow so… he didn't even know what to call it. There was something in him that welcomed the shift, making him think that he'd somehow developed a schizophrenic personality. His feelings and thoughts grew more and more apart the longer it went on without proper addressing the issue. But if he thought about it more.. it wasn't only their battlestyle that had changed…

Loud banging on the bathroom door had him jump in surprise and rip him out of his train of thoughts. „What?!" he shouted in the direction of the door, pissed off that he couldn't even shower in peace for a few minutes.

„Don't ‚what' me, kid! Move your ass out of the shower, it's been almost half an hour! I wanna get rid of the blood and grime too, y'know!", came Dantes annoyed response, slightly muffled through the wooden barrier.

„I'll be right out, geez!"

Grumbling to himself he quickly went through his routine just as he felt the water getting colder by the second. With a smirk he turned it off and quickly toweled himself off, throwing on his clean change. Bundling his dirty clothes into his arms, he fumbled a bit with the knob and swung open the door. The older man was still standing in front, having his hand raised and his mouth open for another complaint but was stopped as Nero brushed past him. The younger slayer was still scolded with a slap over his head.

„You've better left me some hot water, kid!", he heard the older man mutter as the door was thrown shut behind him.

Nero snickered as he could hear Dante's yelp and him being cursed shortly after. He went by his room on his way downstairs, throwing the bundle in his arms in the general direction of his hamper, not caring if it hit it or not. The welcoming smell of warm pizza found his nose as he descended the stairs and he made a beeline for the untouched carton still sitting beside an opened one with a missing slice. His schadenfreude doubled as he noticed the olives on the other man's pizza. Feeling sufficiently compensated for being so rudely interrupted, he put a slice of his own pizza in his mouth as he grabbed the whole carton and shuffled over to the worn-out leather couch. He landed with a huff and a pitiful crack from the couch. He held the warm slice with his left hand while he grabbed the remote with his right, leaning back while chewing loudly and switching through channels in search of something interesting. In the end he ended up with some kind of action movie, following the scenes with mild interest as he continued to enjoy his food.

Unsurprisingly, it didn't take the older slayer too long to finish his shower, coming down the staircase mere minutes after he disappeared behind the bathroom door. Still grumbling to himself, Dante used the towel thrown over his head to roughly dry off his silver mop of hair before draping the now damp piece of cloth around his bare shoulders since he skipped his shirt, only clad in loose, black baggies. Grabbing his own pizza carton from the table from where he'd left it, he made his way over to where the younger slayer was lounging and let himself fall beside him with a groan.

"You'll pay for that.", he said halfheartedly as he took a slice of pizza and eagerly pushed more than half of it into his mouth.

"Dream on, old man."

Together they watched the flickering pictures on the screen. Nero didn't really follow the story, his mind soon drifting off to other places. He wondered what Kyrie was up to in this moment. They still talked over the phone sometimes. But what had been almost daily, was now once or twice a month, tops. She didn't blame him for leaving, which he was utterly grateful for. After the events with Sanctus and the whole Knighthood ordearl, instead of finally being accepted into their society, he'd been shunned even more. As if he'd been something that should've disappeared with all the other demons. What once had been disrespect or simple ignorance had somehow transformed into outright hatred. Rumors had spread like wildfire that he'd somehow mind washed poor Kyrie into staying by his side, depriving her of her innocence. He scoffed at that.

Nero felt curious eyes shift to him at that sound, but he ignored it. Instead, he threw the rest of his slice back into his carton, still having two other pieces left. He stretched himself, arms coming up over his head and letting out a soft groan as he did so. He ruffled through his now mostly dry hair with his human hand, sighing as he put his head back against the backrest of the couch. Closing his eyes he listened to the noises coming from the TV, still seeing the flickering light through the thin layer of his eyelids. He relaxed even more into the soft leather, his arm and leg softly touching the ones from the man beside him.

He concentrated on the slight shifts each time Dante took a bite from his meal or when he went for another piece. The warmth spreading from where they touched sent goosebumps over his body. This was the other part that had changed. He couldn't exactly pinpoint to when it began, but he came to enjoy the physical closeness they've come to share. Call him touch starved, but even with Kyrie he hadn't had that much skin contact. The kiss they'd shared was the only real intimate contact he'd ever had, beside his own wanton touch at lonely nights. Which was pretty fucking sad in his opinion. But what other options were there, really? He'd loved Kyrie, but he didn't want to drag her down with him. He could whore himself out like Dante did, which he'd come to learn to his dismay. He sometimes wondered if the old man's flirtatious and carefree attitude was just simply him, or if he'd long since given up on finding that special someone he could spend the rest of his life with. Still, even if his options didn't look so dandy at the moment, he really didn't mind his current position. He could even grudgingly admit within the privacy of his own mind that he enjoyed the older man's company quite a bit; his pride and long lived independence mainly the reason keeping him from voicing it out loud and, deep down, the fear that he might jinx it.

He must've dozen off since when he slowly pried his eyes back open, he felt a thousand times more tired than before. A heavy yawn forced itself out, proving his own point. Slowly he noted that both of them had shifted positions, for he was leaning quite heavily onto Dante now with his head cushioned on his muscular chest. Said man was squeezed with his back into the corner of the couch, his head draped over the backrest together with one arm, the other hanging loosely from the side of the couch. Soft snores emerged with every deep breath he took, his eyes moving erratically behind his closed eyelids as he dreamt. Straightening himself back up, he bashfully scratched at his nose; his heart beating just a tad bit faster than usual. Something warm rushed through his body, leaving a pleasant tingling behind. Resting his elbows on his knees, he slowly glanced back at the half naked man beside him, making sure that he really was fast asleep before letting his eyes roam further down the lean body. Where the younger slayer's chest was smooth and bare, he noted a soft, silver coat on Dante's; barely visible chest hair in what almost looked like a heart-shape. That made Nero chuckle quietly. The patch ended shy above his prominent abs, toned skin stretched over strong muscles. His eyes trailed even lower, following another trail of silver hair just below his navel. It disappeared below the black cotton, just before the V-shape of his lower abdomen would complete its form. Was he disappointed by that?

… was he? His brows furrowed as he stared at the black cotton as if the piece of cloth had personally offended him. He could just make out a bulge further down where the man's baggies covered his most private parts. Why would he want to see the man's dick?! It didn't help that he now imagined the man without his pants, laying prone and bare on the black leather. The image made him blush furiously but more so confused him to why he wasn't as repulsed by it as he probably should be. As he heard the other man's breath suddenly hitch, it startled him out of his current reverie. He blushed furiously but was glad to see that Dante was just waking up, his eyes blinking sleepily, and hadn't noticed him staring. On his fucking dick, for god's sake. He didn't even want to know what smart remark he would've had to endure. Quickly looking in any other direction than Dante, he wanted desperately to flee into the privacy of his own room, hiding from Dante forever. But instead of drawing too much attention to him and making Dante suspicious, he simply stood up and stretched one last time.

"I'm heading to bed now." he announced, more annoyed with himself than anything else. Grabbing his pizza carton with his two and a half slices, he made his way over to the kitchen to store them into the fridge. Might as well save it for breakfast tomorrow. He heard the TV being turned off and an obnoxiously loud yawn from the older slayer as he made his way back into the main room. Dante was standing by the staircase, his hair looking like a mess as if he'd just ruffled through it and his eyes still heavy with sleep. He doesn't think of the word cute. He doesn't.

"Your couch sucks, old man. My back's fucking hurtin'!", he complained just to distract himself from his own, weird thoughts.

"You sure it wasn't because I beat your perky ass into the ground earlier that day?" Dante smirked, following the ex-knight up to their rooms.

"You wish, asshole!", punching Dante's shoulder with his demonic arm, hard. Before he could make a turn into his room though and escape the annoying man, he felt a warm hand at the back of his neck again, squeezing just enough that he felt his legs almost give out under him. He gasped as his joints became so weak all of the sudden, but just as he was about to collapse, the hand was gone again and Dante walked further down the hallway to his own room. Staggering slightly, he followed the older man with his gaze, now completely confused as to what the hell just happened.

"Sure thing, kid. Sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite..~", he singsonged as if nothing had just happened, and with a salute and a last grin disappeared into his room, closing the door softly behind himself. Confused as hell but not sure how to address the issue - not sure if he even wanted to -, he grumbled to himself as he sighed and finally stepped into his own room.