I haven’t written Devil May Cry fic since like October so here’s some Nero and Vergil...angst? Love? Father-son bonding but DMC style??
Nero let out a wet, shuddering breath. His whole body trembled, agony rocking through him. He started to pitch forward, but a hand caught his shoulder, steadying him.
“Nero,” Vergil snarled. “Don’t move.”
There was black on the edge of Nero’s vision, slowly creeping in. He shifted just enough for the agony to shock him and clear his vision.
“Nero!” Vergil snapped.
Nero opened his mouth to tell his father to shut the hell up, but all that came out was a cough that sprayed blood on the ground. Vergil tightened his hold on Nero’s shoulder.
“Idiot,” he said, looking around.
He couldn’t get up and go get help. They’d have to hope Dante found them soon.
Instead, Vergil kept one hand on Nero’s shoulder to keep him still, and the other hand on the spear protruding from Nero’s chest.
He couldn’t risk pulling it out. Even if Nero healed fast, he didn’t heal fast enough to stop himself from bleeding out without medical attention to aid him. No, they’d have to get him help without jostling the spear or removing it.
Vergil watched Nero’s pained expression, trying to look for any signs of him losing consciousness. If he slumped forward, he’d jostle the damn spear. He was on his knees, hands clenched into fists and pressed against his thighs to keep still.
He heard a soft sound behind him and cursed. He thought he’d killed the damn demon that had stabbed Nero, but apparently the thing was as resilient as a cockroach.
“Hold this,” Vergil ordered, using his hand to guide one of Nero’s to the spear. Nero wrapped weak fingers around it. “You need to hold that in place and stay conscious, or you’ll die.” He guided Nero’s other hand up to it, waiting until he appeared to have a decent grasp on it before pulling his own hand away cautiously.
The spear trembled a bit in Nero’s hold, which had him letting out a choked noise of pain. But he stayed conscious, so Vergil got up and spun around, unsheathing the Yamato. He’d have to end this fast. He didn’t trust Nero in his current state.
The creature had gotten upright, but it was on its last legs. It lurched forward, dark eyes locked on Nero, apparently determined to finish the job just to piss Vergil off.
Vergil stepped in front of the boy and sliced at the demon. It let out a roar loud enough to shake the room, Nero letting out another choked noise. He must’ve jostled the spear too much.
“Enough,” Vergil said, dashing forward. He didn’t have time to deal with this demon.
Nero was going to die if Vergil failed.
So Vergil made sure he didn’t fail. He sliced at the demon’s already deep wound, pleased each time it let out a roar and swiped wildly at him. Good, let the cursed thing suffer. This time, Vergil would make sure it stayed dead.
A gunshot rang out, followed by a cry of pain and then another shot. The bullets sent the demon stumbling off balance, enough for Vergil to plunge the Yamato into its neck and jerk it through the thick flesh there.
He waited only long enough for the demon to fall unmoving to the floor before he whirled on Nero. The gun tumbled from Nero’s hand as he coughed up an alarming amount of blood, the recoil having jerked his chest against the spear.
“You fool,” Vergil said, sheathing the Yamato and dropping back down next to Nero. He swatted Nero’s hand away to hold the spear himself and inspect the damage.
Vergil shot him a look, expression darkening as Nero coughed up more blood instead of finishing his sentence. “Stop trying to speak.”
He hadn’t realized the demon had been trying to form another spear. Neither of them had realized it could even do that, which is how it caught Nero off-guard.
Because Vergil had distracted Nero. Because Vergil had told Nero to take out the smaller demons in the room. Because Vergil hadn’t seen the demon forming the spear, its body turned to hide it until it suddenly turned and impaled it through Nero with a brutally precise throw.
Vergil heard footsteps rushing towards them. He gripped the spear tighter.
He’d given up on praying a long damn time ago. But hope was still something that flickered inside him from time to time, as it did now.
That flicker was rewarded when Dante rushed into the room, looking out of breath. He spotted the dead demon first, scowling.
“You killed it already? Dammit. I heard that thing roaring and came running. You always have all the fun.” He turned and his eyes widened at the sight of Nero. “Oh, shit.”
“We can’t take it out,” Vergil said as Dante hurried forward. “He’ll bleed to death.”
“What, from that little scratch?” Dante lightly pat his hand against Nero’s shoulder. “That’s nothin’, kid. I’ve been in more imminent danger after stubbing my toe.”
Vergil was about to snap at Dante, but then stopped as he spotted the faintest glimpse of fear on Dante’s face. He wasn’t being ignorant; he was trying to comfort Nero.
Vergil hesitated, because he didn’t know how to play along. Was it even right to? Shouldn’t Nero know he was in real danger of dying if they weren’t careful?
No, they’d already wasted too much time. Vergil didn’t have time to figure out how to play along with Dante. Still, he didn’t have to scare the boy anymore than he likely already had.
“Go get help,” Vergil ordered his brother. “I’ll keep him awake and still. He’s already proved he can’t be trusted by himself.”
Nero lifted his hand, trembling so badly that Vergil was surprised he even managed it. The surprise was wiped away by annoyance as Nero flicked his middle finger up.
“See? He’s fine. I’ll get him help, and then he’ll owe me,” Dante said.
“Fu...fu...f-fuck…y…” Nero coughed up more blood, sucking in a gasp and wheezing it back out in pain.
“Yea, yea. Maybe we’ll leave the spear in until you can control that vulgar mouth of yours. Kyrie might even thank us instead of kicking our asses for letting you get turned into a kebab,” Dante said, getting up and stretching like his nephew wasn’t dying right in front of them. He passed by Vergil and lowered his voice so that Nero couldn’t hear. “I’ll be as fast as I can. Don’t scare him anymore. He knows, Vergil.”
With that, he took off in a hurry, out the way he’d come. Vergil looked at the spear protruding from Nero’s chest, at the blood coating Nero’s clothing and the ground before him. And at the gun, which had only clattered a little ways away.
Even dying, he risked himself because he thought Vergil was in danger. Vergil, who had torn off Nero’s arm.
Vergil made sure his hands didn’t shake. His eyes rose to Nero’s face, so startlingly familiar. He looked so much like Vergil that it was hard not to look away with the blood coating him.
Sometimes Vergil thought the boy was weak and reckless. And sometimes he watched the boy fire on a demon even as he died slowly because he cared so much about the safety of others.
Nero began to slump a little. Vergil put a hand on his shoulder and guided Nero so that he rested against Vergil’s body.
“Stay conscious,” he ordered. “You’ll be fine. You’re too stubborn to die.”
Nero made a noise that might’ve been a laugh, lips twitching towards a smirk. So full of himself. So full of life. So full of care for others.
“You’ll be fine,” Vergil repeated, a promise to both of them.
Nero would survive this. And Vergil would make damn sure he never let something like this happen to Nero again.