2x3=OTP: Chapter 1

 "Are you sure you'll be alright here?"
"...yeah."
"Dante?"
"Don't worry about me, I'm fine."

The office door shut with a light 'click', the sign that Lucia had left the office. At this point in time, the sun would usually be high in the sky, however today, like most days, it was hidden behind a thick layer of grey. It had been this way since a certian hunter returned from the demon realm. No one knew what quite happened to him on the other side, not even Lucia, whom had come to consider him a friend, but he had changed, that was clear. 

Who had changed, you might ask? Well, this man, scruffy and built with muscles to spare, goes by the name of Dante. He used to try and convince everyone that demon hunting was just his job, that he only did it to pay the bills, but truth was, he had a bone to pick with them. They had taken his mother and father (who was a demon himself), and most of all, his twin brother, whom had been taken not once, but twice. 

This time, when he went into that world himself, he saw no familiar faces, though he had been sure that he would. His brother and father were trapped there, yet he saw nothing of them. Not so much as a whisper. After a diligent search and no findings, he had returned, broken-spirited, to his office, his usual life. However, it was empty. Sure, there were objects occupying the space, but they were just objects, and it was just space; ther was no love there. No family or friends. Only sparce visits from Lucia to make sure that he was still alive. 

No, he wasn't truly alive, just an unshaven, blood-stained demon hunter, with a desk full of reports and a run-down office. Along with himself, his usual red and black outfit had gone unwashed for days at the least. Once proud stature now only slouched with sadness, and coated in a thin layer of grime. The demon hunter sat back in his chair, feet upon his desk, and remained fiddling with his prized ebony and ivory. He would have remained that way, had a knock on the front door not intruded upon his angsty stupor. 

"The door's open." he muttered under his breath, hoping that whomever it was would pass and leave him to dwell, but such did not happen. Instead, the knocking grew louder, and more frequent with every moment that passed. Slightly annoyed, Dante stood from his seat, holstering his pistols sloppily before heading towards the front door. 

The knocking now was unrelentless, a steady stream of noise, unconceviably loud. However, the moment the demon hunter touched the handle of the door, silence fell. An empty, cold silence, accompannied only by the pour of rainfall beyond that door. Dante had stopped, hand outstretched, almost stunned by the sudden lack of noise. Not just that, but there was an unrest in the air. His other hand on one of his guns, he opened the door cautiously, to meet nothing. The only thing he saw was the steady sheets of rain falling from the seemingly endless grey sky. 

He stepped out the door, leaving it open and allowing his arms to hang limply at his sides. Dante welcomed the rain as it quickly soaked through his attire, coating him in a layer of ice-cold. Tipping his face down towards the ground, he would not have noticed what remained of his momentary visitor if he had not have opened his eyes. Beneath his feet was a large puddle of crimson, mixed unevenly with rainwater. An eyebrow raised, he crouched down and ran the tips of his fingers through it. 

He knew this scent, he realized as he sniffed at the liquid on his hand. It was so familiar to him, yet distant. Then, with the realization of his own fault, he realized it. A searing pain ran through his right hand, where there had long ago been a wound carved by his brother's own sword. Like he was once again reliving his life, he saw his twin push him away, falling into the abyss of the demon realm. 

"You have to understand...Do you?" A phantom voice echoed in his head.
"I-I can't..." he replied breathlessly.
"...Help me."
"I tried..."
"Dante!" That voice was now no longer an echo, but a scream. He couldn't just hear it, he felt it with every fiber of his being. However, he could not believe it. Clenching his hand into a fist, he slowly looked up, studying a trail of crimson streaks from the pool beneath his feet. On a whim, he stood again, starting off in that direction. His own speed picked up the further he traveled, until he reached the point where the blood trail had stopped. The silver-haired hunter stood in the middle of the street, his hopes crushed. The rain had washed it all away, leaving nothing. Just about to give up, he glanced forward, up the street, and there it was. Just a few feet from him, collapsed on the unforgiving ground was a figure, clothed in what was left of a bloodstained blue trenchcoat, covered in more filth than Dante by far. The demon hunter was at the figure's side in no time at all, crouched next to him. "Is it really you...?"
Dante couldn't believe his eyes, after almost 10 years, he shows up again? He did not think it possible. 

The figure turned his head to the side, and looked at Dante through the strands of silver plastered to his face. "D-dante? You're r-really...I found you..." Every syllable was hard for him, as this being, named Vergil, had taken God knows how many risks to get back from the Demon Realm. It was more than obvious now that he was wounded heavily, but being a son of Sparda, he should have healed by now. Dante pulled his brother into his arms, cradeling him. It was unknown to either of them whether or not Dante shed tears, because of the strength of the rain, but he was a mess either way. They both were. 

"The hunter shook his head, realizing that they both should get back to the office as soon as possible, but in Vergil's state--Dante assumed that he couldn't walk on his own. So, he scooped his brother into his arms before standing. "W-wha..?"

"Oi, don't say anything, aright?" Trying as best as he could to shelter his twin from the rain, Dante made the trip back to the office without hesitation. He had left the door open, unintentionally, but shut it with his foot once they were inside. 

Out of the sheets of rain, Dante could now see why Vergil wasn't healing as he should. The rain was cold-especailly for fall as it was, and it took its toll on the wounded. Vergil was freezing, and was noticable at this state, as he was blue around the edges. 
Dante, still holding his brother, made his way up the stairs of the office and toward his living area with haste, pushing his way into the bathroom. Once there, he sat Vergil down upon the counter, and turned to the shower, cranking it on, and as hot as it would go. "Damnit, Ver, how the hell did you get yourself into this mess?" Dante closed the door with the intention of keeping the steam in the room. His twin didn't look to be even attempting to answer him, as it was aparrent that Vergil was heading quickly for the early stages of hypothermia. "Aw, fuck. C'mere." He grabbed his brother again, lifting him, clothes and all, into the shower, barely even bothering to close the curtian behind them. 

By now, the water was warm enough to make a difference, and as it saturated the two of them, Vergil almost hissed at the sudden temperature change, grabbing a hold of Dante's arms. "C-clothes. They're c-cold."

Dante realized that his brother was right, and began to peel the the ice cold clothes off of them. Vergil put up no protest, as he was just trying to stand on his own two feet as Dante wasn't supporting him at that moment; however, when the articles of clothing had been discarded, and shoes off to the side, Vergil wrapped him arms around his brother's neck, collapsing again. Dante caught his twin, supporting him yet again, but this time, he caught the small of not only his brother's blood, but demon blood, demons that Vergil must have had to slay in order to leave the Demon Realm. That smell, Dante couldn't stand to act normal around it. It toyed with his mind, and his brother was covered in it. Dante buried his nose in Vergil's neck, trying to calm himself. 

The elder brother grabbed the legs of his twin, hoisting him up. Vergil wrapped his legs around Dante's waist. It was true that the hunter felt more than he should for his twin, and he always had; However, what was stronger on him was his untamed bloodlust. 

He pressed his twin up against the wall of the shower, dragging his lips up Vergil's neck. As he did, he realized that his brother was exactly the same age as he was when he first entered the demon realm, he was still the Vergil of 10 years ago. He was smaller than Dante had remembered, or moreover, Dante had grown. Yes, that was it.