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Dante had never slept in anything but a sprawl.

Vergil could recall, from the tender age of five, having to elbow his brother onto his own side of the bed in those times that necessitated shared quarters; Dante would sprawl and cling, a contact that was at once reassuring and claustrophobic. As they grew older, he found himself enjoying it, until it was nearly impossible to sleep without Dante pressed against his side, arm draped across Vergil's chest, knee riding between Vergil's thighs.

Dante was sprawling now, fast asleep, but Vergil was not yet a part of his tangle. He had just come home from work, still clad in his uniform; it was his habit to check on Dante before so much as loosening the bowtie, an uneasiness tight in his chest until the ritual was completed. Vergil crossed the room - four steps from door to bed - and tilted his head, needing no light but that seeping through the blinds to study his twin.

Dante slept open-mouthed, his face half-obscured as his cheek pressed into the pillow. His lashes, longer than Vergil had remembered, formed shadowed half-crescents against the bronze of his skin, and his fingers curled loosely scant inches from his mouth, his other arm disappearing beneath his pillow. His legs, visible only as lumps beneath the sheet, seemed to extend over the full width of the bed, one lifted so that the foot peeked from the sheets at mid-thigh level, while the other trailed over the end of the bed, his foot hooked over the edge of the mattress.

It was a familiar position, one that made Vergil grin as he reached out to lightly tousle Dante's hair. The strands were heavier than he remembered, as well, and the different sensation made him pause as he frowned vaguely down at Dante.

So much had changed.

The gangly, awkward, dimpled Dante that he had known had given way to a stranger; only the eyes, pale and shy, remained the same. Even asleep, the changes were impossible to miss: the strength apparent in those lax fingers, the new breadth in his shoulders, the additional length of his entire body.

Carefully, Vergil sank to his knees beside the bed, his fingers tensing briefly in Dante's hair before sliding free. Dante didn't stir, his breathing never wavering from its deep rhythm, and Vergil cupped his hand in front of Dante's mouth to let the rush of warm air tickle his palm.

It took only a brief flexing of his fingers for Vergil's hand to clamp over Dante's mouth. Dante started awake with a snort of surprise, his flailing catching Vergil sharply across the cheek, yet failing to dislodge Vergil's hand.

"Shh, 'te," Vergil soothed, although his fingers tightened to maintain their grip. "It's just me."

Dante made a questioning sound low in his throat, but relaxed as though a switch had been flipped. He shifted onto his back, his gaze trusting yet curious as it sought Vergil's.

Vergil bent to brush his lips over Dante's forehead, tongue pressing playfully against Dante's temple before he withdrew, removing his hand in the process. "Did you finish your homework?"

Dante blinked sleepily, one hand rubbing an eye as he struggled against a yawn. "Yes," he said at last, a shy, proud smile curving his mouth. "All by myself. I promised."

"Good." Vergil cupped Dante's cheek in one hand, pressing his lips to Dante's in a firm, if brief, kiss. "I'll look it over for you once I've changed."

"You don't need to, Verg." Dante pushed himself upright, masking another yawn behind his fingers. "I got it. Really, Vergil, I really got it."

Vergil pulled his bowtie free, tossing it into the corner, then turned his attentions to the brown polyester pants. "I said I would check it over, Dante. Go back to sleep; you need to be up early in the morning."

"So do you!" Dante curled his hands around fistfuls of sheet, but made no move to rise. Instead, he wheedled, "Come to bed, Verg. Please?"

"Dante." Vergil stepped from his pants, kicking them after his bowtie before turning to face Dante with a faint frown. "I have to check it. What if you did it wrong? You'll fail and they'll say that I can't take care of you and they'll take you away from me. Is that what you want?"

Dante's eyes widened and filmed with moisture that would not be blinked away as he abruptly released his grip on the sheets. "No," he whispered, gaze dropping to fix on the mounds of his knees beneath the sheet. "No, I want to stay with you."

"Then go back to sleep." Vergil shed his shirt so quickly that it was a marvel the buttons remained intact, the stiff fabric rasping over his skin as he added it to the laundry pile. Without another word, he turned, left only in boxers and socks as he padded from the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Dante's homework was not difficult to find, tucked carefully into his battered bag. Vergil snagged the pages and, hooking a foot around a chair leg to draw it out, settled down at the kitchen table to review Dante's work.

Dante hadn't been lying; he did, apparently, "get it". Vergil smiled to himself as he set down the last page after an unusually small number of corrections; somehow, Dante answering those questions correctly was more important that Vergil's own homework, lying neglected in his bag. It was another thing that had changed, Dante's aptitude for schoolwork, but he had a lot of years to make up for before he could really progress.

Vergil eyed his own bag for a long moment, then shook his head; it could wait until morning. Pushing his chair away from the table, he rose, circling the table to pull the fridge open. He didn't get paid until the end of the week, and money - and groceries - were thin until then, but there should be something to settle his stomach for the moment.

A superficial scan was disappointing: some semi-sentient sandwich spread that had thus far evaded capture, a carton of orange juice that was more water than juice after his attempts to think it and make it last, various preserves that had been relegated to the back of the fridge long before Mother had died, and some burnt leftovers that neither of them had been desperate enough to devour yet.

There were other things, of course; Vergil had been quite impressed by their classes on the food pyramid and had taken it upon himself to make certain that Dante met these basic requirements each day. Those food options, however, were reserved for Dante. Vergil was reaching for an apple gone past its prime when one last thing caught his eye: a peanut butter sandwich, carefully contained in plastic wrap.

Vergil stared at it for a moment, recognizing Dante's handiwork in the tattered bread and lumpy innards. Dante couldn't possibly have intended it for himself; he'd used the marmalade for the jelly, which had never been his favorite but had always been Vergil's.

Vergil reached for it with a rapidly softening expression, peeling back the wrap and fingering the bread for a moment before bringing it to his mouth. He ate it there, standing with the refrigerator door open and the sandwich spread oozing itself behind the orange juice jug, not stirring until he had popped the last bite into his mouth. He blinked, then, and stepped back to swing the door shut before padding out of the room, automatically switching the light off as he passed and plunging the house again into darkness.

Dante was curled up under the sheets when Vergil entered the bedroom again, turned on his side to present the stiff line of his back to the door. Unperturbed, Vergil moved to sit at the head of the bed, one hand lightly stroking Dante's hip.

"You did well," he murmured softly, leaning over Dante to brush his hair back. "There were only a few mistakes. We can go over those in the morning." When Dante remained still, Vergil grinned faintly and shifted to spoon himself to Dante's back, arm tucking comfortably around his waist. "Thanks for the sandwich, 'te."

Dante sighed softly, his body drooping slightly into Vergil's as he relaxed. "Was work bad, Verg?"

"Not really." Vergil's mouth found the back of Dante's neck, brushing warmly over it as his fingers caress Dante's belly through the sheet. "How long were you asleep?"

Dante's shoulders nudged Vergil's chest as he squirmed onto his back, his eyes seeking Vergil's in the darkness. "A few hours. I wanted to wait for you, but I fell asleep."

"It's all right," Vergil murmured, lips brushing over Dante's cheek as his hand rode low on Dante's hip, thumb stroking lightly. "You need your rest."

"Am I going to get rest now?"

Dante sounded almost disappointed, and Vergil laughed as his hand drifted lower to squeeze Dante's thigh. "No." Before Dante could reply, Vergil sealed their mouths together, tongue reclaiming each portion of Dante's mouth with firm strokes. Dante made a sound of surprised encouragement and wrapped an arm around Vergil's shoulders, prompting Vergil to shift to half-cover Dante as his tongue flicked against the roof of Dante's mouth.

- tsuzuku -

Notes and Disclaimers

Devil May Cry is © Capcom Co., Ltd.