Vergil's OneShots (DMC Fanfiction)

The Boy's True Father (Part One)

[The Boy's True Father – Part 1]

The air in the old joint was stale and Dante let out an explosive yawn as he stretched, having just roused naturally from a post-sleep nap. The sound of light patters of raindrops against his window was comforting and it was otherwise silent all around him as he finally moved himself from his seat at the table, feeling the soreness of having fallen asleep in an uncomfortable position.

Climbing to his feet slowly and tottering towards the couch where he could spy the head of a  blond head rested on the arm of the couch, any third person audience witnessing the scene might have mistaken Dante for a man in his elderly ages by the way he took small, old-man shuffles.

"Oi woman." He said, his voice rough from the long sleep and post-sleep nap.

Trish didn't stir from her nap as well, but it was clearly almost evening –given the darkening of the skies that was not attributed to the light drizzle going on outside the window.

"Oi, woman." Dante repeated again, this time tapping the woman's head.

"Mmm... Leave me alone. If you're horny, go find Lady. I don't feel up to it today." The sleepy answer came as Trish tossed on the couch, keeping her back to him and the rest of the world as she curled up towards the soft material.

"You always say that, but when I put the moves on, you just get it on right away." Dante answered, still feeling half-awake as he tapped her once more on the head in a semi-affectionate move before shuffling his feet towards the mantle this time. "Where's Lady? Is she getting us dinner?"

"I don't know." Trish's muffled reply was a good indicator that she had yet to slide back into her nap. "Job in the afternoon. Tomorrow's your turn."

"Ah, shit. Tomorrow's job is a Hellcatcher." Dante cursed quietly as he retrieved his wallet and keys. His guns laid shiny and gleaming against the overhead lights, beckoning his touch but unfortunately Dante's journey out of his residence had nothing to do with demon hunting and more to do with finding food for sustenance for not only himself, but also the ladies that lived with him.

Though none of them had bothered with the boring proceedings of formalizing and registering their relationships, the ladies and Dante knew that they were stuck with each other for life. Instead of having to care only about himself and his well-being, Dante had more or less gotten used to the fact that he now also had to care about the ladies in his life. Of course, it also worked the same way around, though most times he found himself being cared for more than him caring.

Trish's lack of reply to Dante's curse meant that she was either too sleepy to continue the conversation, or that she had no intention to comment about his reluctance to work, and it was all fine with Dante as he threaded his arms through his coat, stuffing his wallet into the pockets while stepping towards the door.

His hand reached for the door knob, but was surprised when it turned before he could come into contact, and the door swung open.

"Who is that? I mean, whose is that?" Dante's first comment was curious, because he certainly did not expect to see the door opening to find his other partner standing there and holding an infant against her shoulder.

"Shh, you don't want to wake him up." Lady hushed quickly, thrusting a basket into Dante's hands, then pushing the man aside as she hurried into the relative warmth of the joint. Dante studied the contents of the basket –surprised to find some blankets with the obvious indent of an infant's weight, some diapers, an empty milk bottle and what seemed like babies' clothes.

"Is he yours? I mean, is he ours?" Dante's first worry was vocalized quickly as he shut the door, rushing to join Lady who had installed herself near the heater, warming up the sleeping bundle in her arms.