[He lets his hand be swatted away, but he does not let Nero push him into any particular hazard of leaning let alone tipping over. Vergil remains where he is, but grunts quietly as Nero slips and flops down into his lap. He clicks his tongue in faux offense at Nero sticking his tongue out at him, admonishing him by grabbing hold of Nero's chin and giving his head a light shake.]
Ah, there they are. I was beginning to think you'd abandoned all semblance of manners. [He releases Nero's chin and lets him be.] But I suppose I owe you an apology for doubting you. Your toast appears to have done the trick.
[The tongue-waving only intensifies when Vergil grabs his chin, accompanied by a snarky little smirk around it. Maybe it's childish but... it's kind of fun to be childish when it comes to Vergil. Not like either of them got to enjoy it when he was a child, after all.
And there's something he craves in just... the reassurance that comes with playful brattiness, roughhousing, teasing... disapproval that's not about his strength. Just about him acting like a bit of a shit because it's fun to tease his dad.
His tongue draws back into his mouth when Vergil lets him go, and at once he's back to being nearly 24 instead of 4.]
Great! I told you. It works every time.
[He takes the opportunity to reach up and muss Vergil's hair in turn, though it's a little more affectionate than it is taunting, somehow.]
[The hand in his hair catches Vergil off-guard and visibly so. The surprise in his expression borders on confusion, and he doesn't do anything immediately to protect his hair. If anything, the gentle swatting of Nero's hand out of his hair seems more like an absentminded afterthought than anything else when it does happen. It's not a bad thing, and Vergil doesn't take it as anything other than a bit of returned affection. It's just a bit...strange as most new things are. And coming from Nero, it's new. He usually goes for flopping bodily upon Vergil as he did a moment ago. Usually after working up a bit of nerve to do it, Vergil thinks. Nero leans a lot on him until then, and then he makes up his mind if he wants to lay on him or simply go for a hug.]
[Vergil smooths his hair back into place for all the good that it does when it will inevitably end up back in his eyes again come morning. Even now, a few rebellious loose strands fall out of place.]
No more bad dreams, [he echoes in agreement before there's light, repeated jabs to Nero's ribs.] Assuming you let me sleep at all tonight. This appears to be a recurring issue when I let you sleep in here.
[He uses the continued poking and prodding at Nero as a means of settling and laying back down himself without really having to completely move Nero off him entirely.]
[Whoop. Broke the dad, temporarily. Nero gives him his moment to contemplate the reverse hair ruffle, only smiling. No matter how tempted he is to tease a little about how surprised he looks.
Jeez. You knock a few of those strict slicked-back strands loose and you can really see the resemblance between them.
Nero is astute enough to move this way or that, letting Vergil lie back without too much fuss.]
Good thing you ate your toast. I was gonna have to keep you up all night just in case.
[As for Nero, he looks extremely comfortable right where he is and shows no sign of departing.]
[Vergil hums thoughtfully. As he begins petting Nero's hair again, he says,] I believe I'm starting to understand why some species devour their young.
[The petting of Nero's hair and allowing him to remain flopped on top of him like an occasionally wriggly weighted blanket likely somewhat undermines any potential notion there's anything serious behind the remark though. Vergil spares a glance down at Nero before looking up at the ceiling.]
[He doesn't say it—not because he's concerned it wouldn't be well-received, but rather because he feels it isn't necessary—but he's a little glad Nero didn't leave him on his own. Well. Not a little. A lot, actually. But still, he's glad. As much as Vergil doesn't wish to particularly place his well-being on Nero's shoulders as his responsibility, Nero proved to be not just a good distraction for putting the nightmare out of his mind, but a comforting one. He's safe. He's himself. He's a mild pain in the ass and a little too smart with his mouth for his own good, but he... He cares. He cares a lot and perhaps more than he should or Vergil deserves from him, but he cares.]
[It's something Vergil is still working out for himself. The notion that people care. That it's okay to let them. He's not... Well, no, he's actually terrible at allowing for that. But he's been trying to let it happen more lately. He doesn't question it as much when Dante goes out of his way and does something considerate for Vergil. He tries not to rationalize the kind things Mizu does for him as being something rooted in her usual pragmatism. As much as he can, he tries not to bristle and go looking for thinly veiled insults when Nero wants to help. None of it is easy. He still slips up from time to time, and he knows his instinct will always be to lick his wounds in private than allow them to be witness to any sort of vulnerability or weakness. But he's trying. He's trying all the time to convince himself that he finally has everything that he's ever wanted.]
[Turning his head aside to rest his cheek against the pillow, Vergil lays there silently for a little while before he reaches a decision.]
I love you, too, Nero.
[It still feels like a risk to say. There's likely never going to be a scenario in which Vergil does not feel like he is tempting fate, and they are probably always going to be words that Vergil will want to draw back the moment they leave his mouth. But he knows he's not the best at clearly demonstrating it, and worse yet at receiving and recognizing it in return. So, regardless of how Nero reacts or what he says—if he even says anything at all—or Vergil's own discomfort in saying it, he decided it's more important to acknowledge it. Because there have been and likely will be plenty of doubts and uncertainties in their relationship as father and son, but Vergil knows this should not be one of them.]
[So, he says it with no meandering preamble or confusing allusions. He learned his lesson with all of that a while ago, and offers the plain truth instead. What Nero does with it is entirely up to him, but it's his to have regardless. As it always should have been the moment he was conceived had Vergil not unwittingly withheld it from him by his decision to run. The guilt of that is not likely something that will leave Vergil anytime soon, but it's not where he places his attention right now. Right now, Vergil is with his son who made the conscious choice to stay even when he knew Vergil would not have taken any particular offense had he chosen otherwise, and is more grateful for that decision than he can likely ever express.]
Ha ha ha... good luck, old man. I bet I taste like motor oil.
[The simple pleasures of annoying your dad. Nero doesn't think he'll ever get tired of savoring them.
He's about to get up and move to a more sensible position, maybe slide under the covers and settle in to actually fall asleep, but then Vergil says something he genuinely never expected to hear.
And like... look. He knows, on some level, that Vergil loves him. Parents are supposed to love their kids, and Vergil's gone above and beyond to prove that he wants to be the best father he's capable of being. He's said it, over and over again, how much Nero means to him and all the things he'd do to protect him. Even had trouble finding words to describe it. But if the idea of having a father who exists in his life is strange and new, the idea of hearing him say that he loves him is on a whole other level. Especially when that father is Vergil. Mr. Never Ever Vulnerable Under Pain of Death.
There's a moment where Nero just stares back at him with a disconcertingly blank, mystified look on his face. It might feel like an eternity, even though it's only a few seconds. It's the time it takes Nero to vividly recall what he almost said a little bit ago, to realize Vergil guessed it, to think he ought to just say it, to second-guess himself, and to repeat the process another six times before he finally gives any indication what he's thinking.
Yeah. Okay.]
Feels weird for us to even say it, huh? [From where they started to where they are now... that Nero can actually think it and mean it when he says] I love you too, Dad.
[To Vergil's credit, he tolerates the silence better than he might have months ago. Not to say that Vergil doesn't find it unnerving still, but he is at least able to exert enough patience that even as the seconds feel like they are stretching far too long, he does not begin to spiral into imagining the worst outcomes. Difficult as it is to soothe himself entirely, Vergil is able to at least bear in mind that expressing what he feels is not a bad thing. And if Nero does not yet feel the same, that's more than understandable. Vergil has been plain about his instantaneous devotion to Nero the moment he learned the truth, but Nero has also been clear about his own needs for a few things before he could sort through what he felt about Vergil and their relationship. Thus, even with things going well as they have been (and that's largely the reason why Vergil can soothe himself at all in Nero's prolonged silence), there are no guarantees.]
[Besides, Vergil didn't say it for his own benefit. And he certainly didn't say it because he expects to hear it back. It's an important thing for Vergil to remind himself of that as Nero stares blankly as he processes. He said it because he felt it was important for Nero to hear it. Regardless of the outcome.]
[...Oh, but how pleased and warm does Vergil feel to hear Nero say it back.]
[Vergil is so good, so well-trained in tamping down on his reactions. He taught himself how to cut them off at the pass, push them all so far away until it nearly felt like the emotions were happening to someone else. He isn't nearly so aggressive with them these days, but he still maintains a tight control over his emotions. He cannot now, however. He tries, of course. It feels immediately foolish to try, of course, as the attempt is futile in the end, but instincts and habits die especially hard when they were what keep one going for as long as they have for Vergil.]
[He turns his blurry gaze away from Nero, but despite his best efforts, his smile is not lessened in any capacity. Vergil is privately grateful his bedroom is at least dark enough that it would be difficult for Nero to tell how much his face is flushing over how difficult it is not to smile. It is absurd how much he's smiling. Utterly ridiculous. But he cannot help himself. Not when he knows it's something he's earned, something Nero came to feel with enough time and work between them. Vergil has probably never been prouder of himself, certainly not as a father. He definitely hasn't been as grateful to Nero. Not as himself, in any case. He takes a breath before he speaks again.]
Come, [he says pushing down the other side of the blankets for Nero to get settled.] You should get some sleep.
[Awwww, gee, look at him. He's so pleased. It's adorable.
But that's kept to himself, and a little warm smile of his own. Nero would never in a million years make a crack about Vergil smiling, or his honest reactions to what he knows must be an important thing for him to hear. That's why he said it, after all. Because some things are better said out loud than left to implication. Especially when they both know Vergil would consider it presumptuous to even guess such a thing.
When Vergil moves the blankets he finally sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed, just enough to kick off his lounge pants and dress down to his boxers. Then he slides under the covers and settles in with his arms pillowed behind his head.]
I'll tell you a bedtime story, if you want. Comes with the package.
[As Nero settles himself in to sleep on the other side of the bed, Vergil lets his eyes fall shut as his smile continues on.]
If I want, he says. As if there's a choice and he won't begin pouting at me until sunrise if that's what it takes to make me change my mind.
[Never mind even if Nero somehow summoned the mightiest of pouts, it wouldn't likely deter Vergil from sleeping all that much. He managed eight years of sharing a bedroom with Dante. He could surely just roll over and manage a night of Nero attention-seeking out of a hope Vergil would eventually acquiesce.]
Go on. Tell your story. But you had best sleep afterward.
[He laughs, under his breath but genuinely amused at the accusation.]
Hey, it is a choice! That's why I asked. But now you're locked in.
[And he absolutely didn't have a story in mind. So he thinks a moment, tries to come up with something. And he ends up going down the path of "bedtime..."]
Once upon a time. There was a kid who lived in an orphanage. And he used to stay up late at night so he could sneak out and get into trouble... or find a good signal for his handheld to watch TV from the mainland.
[He smirks, pleased with the silly way he's phrased all this.]
One time, he wanted to watch a creepy monster movie he found. But he couldn't get a good signal no matter where he tried. So he waited until everyone was asleep, and snuck up into the old bell tower. It was dark and creepy and there were cobwebs everywhere... but he managed to get the signal, just enough to watch the movie.
And it scared the living shit out of him.
[Another laugh, recalling the memory.]
So by the time he ran back down the tower, footsteps creaking, noises everywhere, he was a total mess. But when the sister came to the dormitory door and saw him all covered in dust and cobwebs, snotty and crying his eyes out, all she did was take him by the hand and bring him to the kitchen for tea and toast.
And that was the last time the kid ever went up that belltower. Even if it did get the best signals in the whole orphanage.
[Vergil is a little more attentive than he otherwise would be to Nero's story once it becomes obvious that he's sharing a memory from his childhood. Truthfully, he anticipated Nero to make up some foolish nonsense. So, it's a pleasant surprise to have yet another piece of Nero's childhood to count among the rest that Nero's shared with him. It's easy to picture the boy from the photographs trying his best to be brave and failing miserably, too scared by his environment and the film he just watched to even be all that frustrated with himself for getting so scared in the first place.]
He really never went back?
[Vergil is at least willing to play along with how Nero's presented the memory.]
Nope. Never. Instead, he learned how to fix his antennae so it'd work better.
[It's a funny story, even though it brings with it a bittersweet realization. Nero had to run to the dormitory where the nuns slept when he needed comfort. Sister Maria was kind and consoled him more than most of the others would, with her late night treats and attention. She was as good to him as she could have been. But there was no mother or father whose room he could infiltrate, whose bed he could crawl into when he was scared.
He cherishes these moments. But sometimes he does mourn that they couldn't come earlier. That that mischievous, dust-covered, sobbing little boy couldn't know that someday he would have them. Nobody should have to be alone when they're afraid. Especially not late at night.
The thought comes and goes quickly, and with it comes the sudden, unexplained urge to reach over and set his hand on Vergil's arm again, grasping his elbow. (Through the blankets, if need be.) Maybe it's affection. Maybe it's checking to see if he's still there, if he's real, if this isn't just a dream he's having himself. But the hand remains there and eventually gives a little squeeze.]
[Vergil opens his eyes when he feels the hand on his arm, glancing in its direction when there's a light squeeze.]
It was just a bad dream. [It's a reflex more than anything. Perhaps a poor one at that, he realizes a second too late after the words have already left his mouth, but a reflex all the same. He doesn't mean to be dismissive, and certainly not after everything Nero has gone out of his way to do for him tonight. Vergil reaches for the hand on his elbow, hoping he's quick enough to get ahead of any potential hurt feelings. Privately, he wishes he was better at this than he has the tendency to be, but he knows he doesn't necessarily have the time to dwell on it.] But you said as much yourself that we are in everything together. And it was...better. Not having to sit with it alone. Even if all it was in the end was a bad dream.
[Nero doesn't seem bothered by the reflexive brushoff. If anything, he's used to it. He's pleased for Vergil reaching back for him though, and leaves his hand in place when it's apparent that he is.
He's even more pleased when Vergil makes, for him, a rather vulnerable admission.]
I'm glad. Even if it's just a bad dream, being alone with it sucks.
[With one side of his face smushed against the pillow, he offers a smile with the other side and tightens that squeeze on his elbow, one more time.]
[Beatrice would be proud of her son. Vergil's had the thought before. Nero gives him numerous reasons to think it and more importantly, believe it on a frequent basis. But he thinks and believes in it now so strongly as he looks at his child smiling at him. The heart Nero inherited from his mother shines through that smile, making it look more like a reflection of hers than Vergil's for the moment. And it's such a good thing, Vergil thinks. Whatever Beatrice's fate, at the very least, an important part of her lives on so strongly in Nero, the part that Vergil knows she'd want most for Nero to take from her.]
[He rubs the back of Nero's hand lightly before stilling his hand, leaving and encouraging that light point of contact between them as he closes his eyes once more.]
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Ah, there they are. I was beginning to think you'd abandoned all semblance of manners. [He releases Nero's chin and lets him be.] But I suppose I owe you an apology for doubting you. Your toast appears to have done the trick.
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And there's something he craves in just... the reassurance that comes with playful brattiness, roughhousing, teasing... disapproval that's not about his strength. Just about him acting like a bit of a shit because it's fun to tease his dad.
His tongue draws back into his mouth when Vergil lets him go, and at once he's back to being nearly 24 instead of 4.]
Great! I told you. It works every time.
[He takes the opportunity to reach up and muss Vergil's hair in turn, though it's a little more affectionate than it is taunting, somehow.]
No more bad dreams tonight.
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[Vergil smooths his hair back into place for all the good that it does when it will inevitably end up back in his eyes again come morning. Even now, a few rebellious loose strands fall out of place.]
No more bad dreams, [he echoes in agreement before there's light, repeated jabs to Nero's ribs.] Assuming you let me sleep at all tonight. This appears to be a recurring issue when I let you sleep in here.
[He uses the continued poking and prodding at Nero as a means of settling and laying back down himself without really having to completely move Nero off him entirely.]
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Jeez. You knock a few of those strict slicked-back strands loose and you can really see the resemblance between them.
Nero is astute enough to move this way or that, letting Vergil lie back without too much fuss.]
Good thing you ate your toast. I was gonna have to keep you up all night just in case.
[As for Nero, he looks extremely comfortable right where he is and shows no sign of departing.]
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[The petting of Nero's hair and allowing him to remain flopped on top of him like an occasionally wriggly weighted blanket likely somewhat undermines any potential notion there's anything serious behind the remark though. Vergil spares a glance down at Nero before looking up at the ceiling.]
[He doesn't say it—not because he's concerned it wouldn't be well-received, but rather because he feels it isn't necessary—but he's a little glad Nero didn't leave him on his own. Well. Not a little. A lot, actually. But still, he's glad. As much as Vergil doesn't wish to particularly place his well-being on Nero's shoulders as his responsibility, Nero proved to be not just a good distraction for putting the nightmare out of his mind, but a comforting one. He's safe. He's himself. He's a mild pain in the ass and a little too smart with his mouth for his own good, but he... He cares. He cares a lot and perhaps more than he should or Vergil deserves from him, but he cares.]
[It's something Vergil is still working out for himself. The notion that people care. That it's okay to let them. He's not... Well, no, he's actually terrible at allowing for that. But he's been trying to let it happen more lately. He doesn't question it as much when Dante goes out of his way and does something considerate for Vergil. He tries not to rationalize the kind things Mizu does for him as being something rooted in her usual pragmatism. As much as he can, he tries not to bristle and go looking for thinly veiled insults when Nero wants to help. None of it is easy. He still slips up from time to time, and he knows his instinct will always be to lick his wounds in private than allow them to be witness to any sort of vulnerability or weakness. But he's trying. He's trying all the time to convince himself that he finally has everything that he's ever wanted.]
[Turning his head aside to rest his cheek against the pillow, Vergil lays there silently for a little while before he reaches a decision.]
I love you, too, Nero.
[It still feels like a risk to say. There's likely never going to be a scenario in which Vergil does not feel like he is tempting fate, and they are probably always going to be words that Vergil will want to draw back the moment they leave his mouth. But he knows he's not the best at clearly demonstrating it, and worse yet at receiving and recognizing it in return. So, regardless of how Nero reacts or what he says—if he even says anything at all—or Vergil's own discomfort in saying it, he decided it's more important to acknowledge it. Because there have been and likely will be plenty of doubts and uncertainties in their relationship as father and son, but Vergil knows this should not be one of them.]
[So, he says it with no meandering preamble or confusing allusions. He learned his lesson with all of that a while ago, and offers the plain truth instead. What Nero does with it is entirely up to him, but it's his to have regardless. As it always should have been the moment he was conceived had Vergil not unwittingly withheld it from him by his decision to run. The guilt of that is not likely something that will leave Vergil anytime soon, but it's not where he places his attention right now. Right now, Vergil is with his son who made the conscious choice to stay even when he knew Vergil would not have taken any particular offense had he chosen otherwise, and is more grateful for that decision than he can likely ever express.]
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[The simple pleasures of annoying your dad. Nero doesn't think he'll ever get tired of savoring them.
He's about to get up and move to a more sensible position, maybe slide under the covers and settle in to actually fall asleep, but then Vergil says something he genuinely never expected to hear.
And like... look. He knows, on some level, that Vergil loves him. Parents are supposed to love their kids, and Vergil's gone above and beyond to prove that he wants to be the best father he's capable of being. He's said it, over and over again, how much Nero means to him and all the things he'd do to protect him. Even had trouble finding words to describe it. But if the idea of having a father who exists in his life is strange and new, the idea of hearing him say that he loves him is on a whole other level. Especially when that father is Vergil. Mr. Never Ever Vulnerable Under Pain of Death.
There's a moment where Nero just stares back at him with a disconcertingly blank, mystified look on his face. It might feel like an eternity, even though it's only a few seconds. It's the time it takes Nero to vividly recall what he almost said a little bit ago, to realize Vergil guessed it, to think he ought to just say it, to second-guess himself, and to repeat the process another six times before he finally gives any indication what he's thinking.
Yeah. Okay.]
Feels weird for us to even say it, huh? [From where they started to where they are now... that Nero can actually think it and mean it when he says] I love you too, Dad.
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[Besides, Vergil didn't say it for his own benefit. And he certainly didn't say it because he expects to hear it back. It's an important thing for Vergil to remind himself of that as Nero stares blankly as he processes. He said it because he felt it was important for Nero to hear it. Regardless of the outcome.]
[...Oh, but how pleased and warm does Vergil feel to hear Nero say it back.]
[Vergil is so good, so well-trained in tamping down on his reactions. He taught himself how to cut them off at the pass, push them all so far away until it nearly felt like the emotions were happening to someone else. He isn't nearly so aggressive with them these days, but he still maintains a tight control over his emotions. He cannot now, however. He tries, of course. It feels immediately foolish to try, of course, as the attempt is futile in the end, but instincts and habits die especially hard when they were what keep one going for as long as they have for Vergil.]
[He turns his blurry gaze away from Nero, but despite his best efforts, his smile is not lessened in any capacity. Vergil is privately grateful his bedroom is at least dark enough that it would be difficult for Nero to tell how much his face is flushing over how difficult it is not to smile. It is absurd how much he's smiling. Utterly ridiculous. But he cannot help himself. Not when he knows it's something he's earned, something Nero came to feel with enough time and work between them. Vergil has probably never been prouder of himself, certainly not as a father. He definitely hasn't been as grateful to Nero. Not as himself, in any case. He takes a breath before he speaks again.]
Come, [he says pushing down the other side of the blankets for Nero to get settled.] You should get some sleep.
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But that's kept to himself, and a little warm smile of his own. Nero would never in a million years make a crack about Vergil smiling, or his honest reactions to what he knows must be an important thing for him to hear. That's why he said it, after all. Because some things are better said out loud than left to implication. Especially when they both know Vergil would consider it presumptuous to even guess such a thing.
When Vergil moves the blankets he finally sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed, just enough to kick off his lounge pants and dress down to his boxers. Then he slides under the covers and settles in with his arms pillowed behind his head.]
I'll tell you a bedtime story, if you want. Comes with the package.
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If I want, he says. As if there's a choice and he won't begin pouting at me until sunrise if that's what it takes to make me change my mind.
[Never mind even if Nero somehow summoned the mightiest of pouts, it wouldn't likely deter Vergil from sleeping all that much. He managed eight years of sharing a bedroom with Dante. He could surely just roll over and manage a night of Nero attention-seeking out of a hope Vergil would eventually acquiesce.]
Go on. Tell your story. But you had best sleep afterward.
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Hey, it is a choice! That's why I asked. But now you're locked in.
[And he absolutely didn't have a story in mind. So he thinks a moment, tries to come up with something. And he ends up going down the path of "bedtime..."]
Once upon a time. There was a kid who lived in an orphanage. And he used to stay up late at night so he could sneak out and get into trouble... or find a good signal for his handheld to watch TV from the mainland.
[He smirks, pleased with the silly way he's phrased all this.]
One time, he wanted to watch a creepy monster movie he found. But he couldn't get a good signal no matter where he tried. So he waited until everyone was asleep, and snuck up into the old bell tower. It was dark and creepy and there were cobwebs everywhere... but he managed to get the signal, just enough to watch the movie.
And it scared the living shit out of him.
[Another laugh, recalling the memory.]
So by the time he ran back down the tower, footsteps creaking, noises everywhere, he was a total mess. But when the sister came to the dormitory door and saw him all covered in dust and cobwebs, snotty and crying his eyes out, all she did was take him by the hand and bring him to the kitchen for tea and toast.
And that was the last time the kid ever went up that belltower. Even if it did get the best signals in the whole orphanage.
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He really never went back?
[Vergil is at least willing to play along with how Nero's presented the memory.]
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[It's a funny story, even though it brings with it a bittersweet realization. Nero had to run to the dormitory where the nuns slept when he needed comfort. Sister Maria was kind and consoled him more than most of the others would, with her late night treats and attention. She was as good to him as she could have been. But there was no mother or father whose room he could infiltrate, whose bed he could crawl into when he was scared.
He cherishes these moments. But sometimes he does mourn that they couldn't come earlier. That that mischievous, dust-covered, sobbing little boy couldn't know that someday he would have them. Nobody should have to be alone when they're afraid. Especially not late at night.
The thought comes and goes quickly, and with it comes the sudden, unexplained urge to reach over and set his hand on Vergil's arm again, grasping his elbow. (Through the blankets, if need be.) Maybe it's affection. Maybe it's checking to see if he's still there, if he's real, if this isn't just a dream he's having himself. But the hand remains there and eventually gives a little squeeze.]
I'm right here if you need me.
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It was just a bad dream. [It's a reflex more than anything. Perhaps a poor one at that, he realizes a second too late after the words have already left his mouth, but a reflex all the same. He doesn't mean to be dismissive, and certainly not after everything Nero has gone out of his way to do for him tonight. Vergil reaches for the hand on his elbow, hoping he's quick enough to get ahead of any potential hurt feelings. Privately, he wishes he was better at this than he has the tendency to be, but he knows he doesn't necessarily have the time to dwell on it.] But you said as much yourself that we are in everything together. And it was...better. Not having to sit with it alone. Even if all it was in the end was a bad dream.
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He's even more pleased when Vergil makes, for him, a rather vulnerable admission.]
I'm glad. Even if it's just a bad dream, being alone with it sucks.
[With one side of his face smushed against the pillow, he offers a smile with the other side and tightens that squeeze on his elbow, one more time.]
Sleep good, Dad.
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[He rubs the back of Nero's hand lightly before stilling his hand, leaving and encouraging that light point of contact between them as he closes his eyes once more.]
Goodnight, dear child.