Vergil's OneShots (DMC Fanfiction)

My Dad Is Vergil (Part Four)

A/N: Uploading is slightly earlier this time because I'm going overseas for awhile! Welcome to the last of the 'My Dad Is Vergil' Mini-series as we see a rather big time-skip from the last part~

[My Dad Is Vergil (Part Four)]

Thirty year old Nero Sparda alighted from the cab amidst the pouring rain, pulling his coat closer around him as he dashed quickly from the car to the sheltered entrance of the café. The orange hue from the café gave him a sense of warmth and security despite the fact that the place was just a simple café and a shelter from the heavy rain.

Still, shaking his head to shake the droplets that hung adamantly on the tips of his white hair, Nero entered the café, hearing a small ring of bell on the door that announced his arrival. The café was nicely filled with only one or two empty tables. It appeared as if none of the people here were in a rush like he was, and most were either engrossed in their own work –be it on their personal computers, on paper, or simply reading their books –or they were engaged in soft conversation.

The atmosphere of the place was very laid back and relaxed, where everyone did things at their own pace, undisturbed in their little bubbles of life. It was a strange form of atmosphere that both gave him a nostalgic ride, but also put him in a strange position of unfamiliarity. Nero didn't have to look far at all to spy the head of white hair at the corner of the café. With his face turned looking outside on the road at the rain, Vergil Sparda did not watch his son's approach to the table.

But of course Vergil knew that his son had arrived at the café. It was simply the pure fatherly instincts that told the half-demon that his son had arrived and was now approaching him.

"Dad." Nero greeted when he reached the table, inviting himself to the seat across his father in the stall. "Did you wait long?"

"I have waited longer for other things before." Vergil answered indirectly, but Nero understood it as a form of warm forgiveness. "Take off your coat, or you'll get a cold."

Nero hid his smile of nostalgia as he silently obeyed his father's instructions. It wasn't going to matter to Vergil Sparda whether his son was thirty or three years old. As long as there was the possibility of Nero getting a cold from keeping his damp coat on for too long, Vergil was going to give the instruction to take it off.

Nero's surprise increased when he was interrupted by a waitress's arrival at the table, pushing a cup of latte on the table in front of him. Nero made a move to retrieve his wallet from his pockets, but the waitress only smiled politely at him.

"This man here has already paid for your share. Please enjoy your latte with extra cream." She said politely, and left the table to attend to the other diners, leaving Nero and Vergil once more in their private world.

"Thanks, Dad." Nero said as he left his coat on the seat beside him, gratefully accepting the cup of warm beverage. "You still remembered my favourite."

"You're my son." Vergil answered simply.

"So how are you doing?" Nero asked casually to start the conversation, taking a sip from the cup as he did so. "What are you and Uncle Dante doing these days?"

"Still the same. Nothing much have changed around the place since you moved out."

"But surely something has changed in the past 5 years?" Nero asked sceptically.

"Dante is becoming even mouthier." Vergil admitted. "But it is a change that I do not appreciate. So no; there hasn't been much of a change."

"Mouthier?" Nero laughed a little, trying his best to imagine how his uncle –someone who had been responsible for teaching Nero all the words that he eventually learnt to not say –could become even worse than he already was. "Where did he learn it from?"