[His glance at Nero is a narrowed one when he's accused of looking "wobbly." Whatever the hell that is meant to mean. There is a degree to which there's palatable tension radiating off Vergil now.]
I am not wobbly, [he says, snapping a little in the process. If Nero were still under the impression that Vergil hadn't taken it as an accusation, that likely clarified that for him easily enough.] I know how to manage myself and am capable of determining what it is I need without your unnecessary input.
Now, for the last time, I am fine. You may end your prodding and questioning.
[The shitty attitude gets first wide eyes, then an outright glare from Nero.]
Excuse the fuck out of me, old man.
[But alas Vergil, for he is not dissuaded.]
If I was the one throwing up and stumbling, you'd be all over me trying to make sure I'm okay. I'm gonna do the same for you whether you like it or not.
I would do that because that is part of my responsibilities as your father, Nero. You heal and recover very nearly the same as a human would. Illness and injury pose a greater threat to you, and I could not possibly sit idly by while you are clearly suffering.
[And it may be tempting to throw that back at Vergil as the argument for issuing such concerns now, but he's quick to cut that off at the pass.]
I appreciate that you care, but unless you happen to find me on death's door again somehow, there is little reason to exercise such concern.
[Throwing up and being a little dizzy are hardly anything compared to what Vergil has survived through in the past, and absolutely do no merit alarm in his opinion. He's not at some great risk and he is not suffering. There's simply no need for such an overreaction from Nero.]
[Nero stops as well, pivoting to face him with a that glower out in full force. He folds his arms and looks very skeptical as Vergil tries to argue with him.
All this because the guy can't cop to having a little vertigo...]
I'm not a little kid. We're both adults. I get to look after you the same as you'd look after me.
[And FURTHERMORE...]
Why? What "little reason?" Do you guys not get sick or something?
[Not a little kid, but who is petulantly glaring with his arms folded right now? Vergil bites his tongue, however, knowing better than to point that out regardless of how...aggravating he's finding all of this. It's beside the point that he doesn't find the intensity of Nero's reciprocation of concern to be appropriate.]
I cannot speak for your uncle. I only know that the last time I can recall being ill was before my mother died, and I've little memory of it.
[It's not likely that Nero would exist if he had been prone to illness after that, but that is a fact he keeps to himself.]
Severe and significant injury has only ever posed a threat to my physical well-being for nearly forty years. And while I will concede that you struck well today, you haven't the power to do that much harm to me in a single strike as of yet. So, there is no reason to be worried.
[But that is certainly not the point of contention here, not really. Not the one he's going to let Vergil wriggle out of the discussion with. Yes, he does notice how he tries to do that from time to time.
But at the same time, he's not going to sit here and argue with him about whether or not he's feeling okay. If it's such a big damn deal he'll take Vergil's word for it.
So after a long, suspicious glare, Nero rolls his eyes and turns around to keep walking.]
Fine. Whatever you say. But don't get your panties in a twist over an honest question.
[One more Look back over his shoulder for good measure.] I'll worry about you if I damn well want to.
[Stubborn as the day is long... As if he needed evidence of their familial connection. Vergil folds his arms and remains there a moment longer, rolling his own eyes with the slightest shake of his head before following after Nero. Vergil stays silently a few paces behind. His silence is not likely particularly companionable right now, but it's not icy either. It simply is with Vergil opting not to push past the abrupt lull in their discussion with his health no longer being an available topic. Vergil doesn't find it comfortable to have Nero tell him to essentially accept that he's going to worry, but he isn't continuing to doubt Vergil and badger him with repeated questioning about how he feels. The sleeping dog can be left to lay there.]
[And a good thing, too. It's questionable he would have been able to walk and talk at any great length for long. Vergil unfolds his arms after a bit of walking, opening his chest up a bit as the air he inhales feels a little...thinner somehow. It does very little to alleviate the sensation. Even with as leisurely as their pace ultimately is, Vergil starts to feel increasingly winded. Vergil finds himself wanting to slow down, but he utterly refuses and keeps the same pace he has been. It's not long after that he begins to cough. It's not the retching coughs that came earlier, but a much drier cough.]
[Feral cat, Nero reminds himself. Feral cat. Even if it's annoying as fuck when he takes basic concern for his well-being as an attack. And his continued implication that Vergil The Father is the Carer and Nero The Son is the Cared For and that anything else is lunacy.
But you know, maybe he is being a little overbearing... he'd hate it too if he randomly puked and he had Vergil hovering all over him. Though he's hardly hovering, asking if he's okay twice and saying he maybe ought to rest when they go home... like what, does he got a hot date tonight? Gonna go swordfight with Mizu some more? Mizu will probably be delighted he's under the weather if it means he can get a few good stabs in. God damn, is this family fucking weird.
Vergil is slowing down behind him, so Nero does too. Then he hears the cough. Stops. Turns around. And gives Vergil this absolutely withering look of concern in lieu of asking if he's okay.]
[Vergil is forced to come to a stop when Nero does.]
Oh for the love of... [he mutters at that look he's receiving, rolling his eyes and folding his arms.] You might as well say it if you're going to look at me like that.
[Okay now he IS kind of being a shitty brat, but the last vestiges of offense at Vergil's earlier tone have now been worked out of his system. He's over it.
He shakes his head and turns around to walk again, albeit slower and at a pace Vergil can keep up with.]
[Vergil narrows his eyes at Nero's back as he steps away. To have the audacity...! And then to start walking so noticeably slower! No, Vergil opts to not let that one stand. He follows after for only as long as it takes to pass him at a normal pace. It does not matter that the beginnings of fatigue start to creep into his very bones, nor is he making it any sort of production the way his lungs burn just a touch over the exertion.]
[He is fine. And he refuses to be treated like he's a moment's notice from collapsing.]
[If Vergil deigns to glance at Nero as he passes by, he will witness the biggest, most dramatic eyeroll the world has ever seen. Seriously, dude?
But okay, sure. If he's feeling fine enough to rush ahead like a petulant little shit, who's Nero to tell him to stop? He just shakes his head and keeps going at the same pace as before, now free to watch his father from behind.]
[Vergil expects a comment from Nero to come at some point soon after he takes the lead, but his son appears to have fallen silent back there. Vergil is half-tempted to look over his shoulder back at him, but he resists the urge and keeps his eyes forward. Forward and focused on where he needs to go so he doesn't contemplate how sore he still feels or that he's breathing much harder than he ought to be at this pace.]
[Vergil can only mask so much even without scrutiny. The vertigo, he can hide well enough in motion with controlled steps, but just how much he feels he's exerting himself right now? Vergil can only do so much to keep his breathing even before that sensation of not getting enough air has him trying to take a deeper breath. Vergil pushes himself though. He's pushed through worse than this. Much worse.]
[That does not stop the pit of dread in his stomach though—which seems to be determined to remain somewhat cramping and uncomfortable—at the prospect of walking the entire way home. If he's already feeling this wiped, he is going to be laid out by the entire walk. And more or less proving Nero's point that he's not fine. He clenches his jaw, but he does not yet yield. Even with as much as he just wants to sit down and stop moving, Vergil cannot bring himself to do it.]
[He coughs again, this time the fit longer and stronger. Before, he could have written it off in the absence of any other symptoms as just having swallowed wrong or something similar. This fit, however, clearly tickles in the back of his throat and he has to stop walking. Vergil doubles over where he stands. The motion is dizzying, but the coughing has more of his attention at the moment to be concerned about that.]
[That and well, now that he has stopped walking, he can feel how distinctly exhausted he is from that alone.]
That damned Fox... [he growls between coughs.]
[Because he cannot think of any reason why he feels like this. He doesn't get ill. He's never been unable to push through fatigue and exhaustion. He barely knows what it is to be sore. And yet...]
[Like yeah, he knew his dad was feeling sick. But it must really be bad if Vergil can no longer hide it.
Nero waits for the coughing fit to really escalate before he steps up to him, setting a hand on his shoulder. He's not gonna say "I told you so." What's the point in rubbing it in and making this worse and more embarrassing than it must already be for him?
But like also... they ain't walking all the way back home when Vergil can barely walk.]
Come on, old man. [His tone is gently pressing, not mocking or smug.] Let's get home.
[Part of Vergil wants to recoil from the hand at his shoulder just like before, but the jig is well and truly up, and he's simply too tired to put in the effort of establishing his own space from Nero again. That feeling persists perhaps especially because of Nero's gentle tone with him, but it's that same gentleness that leaves it impossible for Vergil to dismiss him again.]
[For all that he doesn't really know what to do with it, anyways.]
[Historically, if Vergil found himself injured beyond what his healing ability could more immediately handle, he was always left on his own to manage the situation. He had to get himself somewhere safe. He had to vaguely tend to his wounds with his limited knowledge and resources. He had to remain vigilant for signs of a follow-up attack and be prepared to defend himself. It was always down to Vergil whether he lived or died.]
[Oh, sure. When he was still a young child and adolescence had not changed the interpretation of his condition from helpless innocent to suspicious miscreant, he perhaps could have hidden himself with some well-meaning family of humans. But there was a difference between using them for warm meals and a roof over his head for a few nights, and relying upon them to care for him. Even soon after his mother's death, Vergil doesn't think he would have tolerated it well despite how much he secretly craved it.]
[So, it's foreign still to acknowledge that he physically is not perfectly fine, and stranger yet to accept anything remotely close to help. Asked for or otherwise. His time as V had not changed that, and neither had that night Nero stayed with Vergil after Vergil had a nightmare.]
[He feels a small relief that Nero does not make the suggestion of carrying him. At the very least, Nero appears to be granting Vergil his dignity and still allowing him to broadly handle this.]
I should still be able, [he says with a slight nod. If it were under his own demonic power, Vergil doesn't know that he would be able to do it if walking has wiped him out as much as it has. But the portals are under the power of Yamato, not his. And he should yet still possess the strength now to wield it for that purpose if he managed it while he was dying.]
[Vergil doesn't hop to opening a portal though, standing there a moment to let himself breathe and allow the coughing to fully settle first. With his free hand, Vergil reaches for Nero's shoulder and pulls himself back upright by it, allowing Nero to help as he wills. The world spins again, but he leans some of his weight onto his son to maintain his balance. Vergil gives it a moment to lessen before releasing Nero and reaching to draw Yamato.]
[He offers Vergil as much assistance as he thinks he'll accept, a stable shoulder to pull himself up on, a steadying hand. He takes weight as Vergil leans it on him and shifts to stand sturdier.
It's a relief when Vergil doesn't start griping about it or trying to argue that he's fine to make the long walk back home when he's now stumbling and on the verge of hacking up a lung.
He's dreading the response to this, but has to put it out there...]
I can try too, if need be. [But for the moment he lets Vergil do it himself with no further insistence or comment.
He's letting him handle it for now... but Nero is not above whacking him on the head and fireman-carrying him home to give him the Tombstone into bed.]
[It would not be unwise for Nero to learn how to more effectively wield the Yamato. Vergil hardly possesses any intention of being separated from his blade again and Nero seems to have little interest in it (at least so long as Vergil is around), but there still yet may come a time when the Yamato serves as the line between life and death to a descendant of Sparda once more. And regardless, it is Nero's to inherit some day, and for his own progeny to inherit after him. He ought to know its power and how to properly wield it in case Vergil is not that to ensure such knowledge and skill is not forgotten.]
[But now is not that time to be so prudent. There are more immediate matters for them to concern themselves with than that. Vergil simply nods to the suggestion, not commenting on the merits of Nero trying one way or another. Straightened out, he takes a few steps away from Nero to provide himself with space to work.]
[Yamato has never felt quite so heavy in his hands before. Not even a child can he recall it feeling like this. Still, he draws the blade, slicing the air to draw open the portal. Little criticism can be given to his form. Even if Vergil's swings are slower to avoid potentially setting him off-balance again, he maintains his form. Tempting as it is to hold his breath until success or failure makes itself known, Vergil continues to match and maintain his breath as something alongside his movement. He draws a long, slow exhale until Yamato is fully sheathed, not allowing his posture to slack until the portal opens before him as expected.]
[He looks back to Nero, and waits for him rather than immediately stepping through.]
It would behoove you to learn one day, but it is not necessary today.
[It just seems kind of crap to take Vergil's beloved sword back from him again. It was one thing when he had no idea who Vergil was and Yamato was a gift given by Dante, who he also didn't know that well. Now that Vergil's alive and well and clearly attached to his weapon, Nero's not about to go demanding to practice with it like a brat.
There's also the fact it used to be his arm now, which... is weird, and actually way weirder than Nero even imagines it is. But that's beside the point.
He watches Vergil open the portal, frowning when he can see how much effort it is. The fucker didn't struggle with it so much when he was staggering out of the garage with Nero in a bleeding heap behind him. He must really be sick. But like he said, does Vergil even get sick? He'd muttered something about the damn Fox... was this her doing again?
Nero just nods at his assertion and steps through the portal. Shit will never feel less weird, but it's undeniably convenient at a time like this. He reappears in their driveway on the other side, and once Vergil has joined him he offers him that shoulder again.]
C'mon. You should sit and rest for a bit. You want some tea, or like a ginger ale?
[The portal collapses and closes shortly after Vergil crosses its threshold and joins Nero on the driveway. He spares a glance at the offered shoulder, but ultimately chooses not to take it. He'd already walked so far on his own that he is not about to suffer the indignity of someone supporting him make the ultimately short distance from where they stand to the couch.]
Ginger tea is fine, [he says, heading for the front door. Even if he's still perhaps a bit too prideful and stubborn to let Nero help him walk, Vergil doesn't adopt his usual pace and takes it a bit easier in getting there.] If you're feeling adventurous and wish for some yourself, you may add a squeeze of lemon and a bit of honey to the pot.
[He doesn't call Nero directly out for the faces he makes at some of the tea blends Vergil drinks, but that doesn't mean he doesn't notice how much Nero is trying very hard not to make any of them when he knows Vergil is looking in his direction.]
And if you are so dedicated to treating me as an invalid, you ought to return some of my books to the library before the end of today. [Because he had plans today, but it's clear that Nero will not allow for any of them.] Just bring the stack in my room to me and I will separate the ones that need to be returned from those I am keeping for a while longer.
And extend an apology to Mizu for my absence if you happen to cross paths.
[Since those plans are similarly tossed out the window now.]
[The rejection of further aid is expected. But at least Vergil's putting in a tea order. Meaning he's not gonna argue about that and try to make himself a four course afternoon tea menu or some shit.
Even he he follows it up with an absolute load of self-pity guilt shit, which makes Nero verbally scoff.]
Oh, shut up. Treating you like an invalid. Don't be such a drama queen.
[He closes the door behind them. His backpack gets tossed to one side of the doorway. Red Queen is delicately slid off his back and placed on the other, like an umbrella.]
It's not anybody's fault you're sick. Sucks, man! But what, are you gonna go to the library like this? Or be in any shape for Mizu?
[He claps Vergil on the shoulder as he passes by, on the way to the kitchen.]
Just take it easy. I'll take your books back, you take a nap. Maybe you'll sleep it off and feel better after.
[Vergil makes a face at being accused of being a drama queen. Rich coming from someone who just offered to walk him to the front door as though he could not manage it on his own, but... Vergil chooses to bite his tongue. Even if there is a slight growl at being clapped on the shoulder and he has to grip Yamato all the tighter to keep himself firmly planted where he stands.]
I don't nap.
[Which is less about Vergil being particularly stubborn and more just a statement of fact. Vergil's sleeping habits have not changed since they moved into the house from his studio apartment. He sleeps when he must, but he limits that to sleeping at night. He gets the minimum amount required. Nothing more, nothing less.]
[But if his suspicions that this is the Fox's doing are at all correct, he doubts very much that any amount of sleep will alleviate it. There will inevitably be some other kind of trick to curing what ails him, and it's most likely deeply unrelated to any sort of medical intervention. Most likely he needs to confess some deep dark secret or complete a random act of kindness or some other such interpersonal nonsense to appease her.]
[Vergil sits on the couch, using Yamato to control his descent to sitting. He's not really in any danger of collapsing, but he doesn't want to provide any impression that he's close to doing so. It feels much better to be sitting and he must stifle the relieved sigh at being off his feet.]
If you do happen to see Mizu, I do not particularly care what excuse you provide, but do not mention of any of this to him, [he says, moving Yamato to rest against the arm of the couch nearby. There's a small beat before he adds a quieter,] Please.
[There come the sounds of clinking and cabinets closing as Nero goes digging for the tea. The sink runs as he fills the kettle with water, then a click and a clunk as he places it on the burner and cranks the heat up high.
Nero then comes out to the couch, but doesn't sit. He leans over the back beside where Vergil is seated, resting his chin on his fist as he studies his poor, ill, pleading father.
His voice takes on that gentler tone again. It's the one he uses when Julio or one of the other boys starts getting outrageously fussy. He is not ever going to tell Vergil that.]
Dad, there's nothing wrong with not feeling well. Why would Mizu hold it against you?
[Vergil frowns at Nero when he asks the question about Mizu.]
That's not—... I— [It's with a huff that he comes to fold his arms and looks off towards the fireplace. Vergil purses his lips to keep himself from continuing until he can manage to speak without sputtering again.] Just do as I ask, Nero.
I'm gonna. I'll tell him you fell into a hole or something. I just don't get what the fuss is about.
[He doesn't really intend to pry, either. Didn't know it was such a touchy thing to leave Vergil actually sputtering about it.
And in the interest of not prying, he tries to change the subject before it seems like he might be.]
Listen. [He sets one hand squarely atop Vergil's head, ruffling his hair in a familiar manner.] If you want me to fuck off, I will. But being sick sucks ass, and you shouldn't have to deal with it by yourself. I wanna help.
[Vergil's frown deepens once it registers what Nero is doing to his hair. He ducks away from Nero's hand, swatting at it until Nero takes it back and Vergil can sit back upright without further ruffling. Loosened strands likely draw out more of the family resemblance between Vergil and Dante, but Vergil does not allow them to be for very long. He makes a small, annoyed noise before pushing his hair back into place, but does not give Nero an answer right away. His hands fall back down to his lap, and still he says nothing.]
[Nero presents it as a binary choice, and Vergil supposes it is. Either he allows Nero to help or he denies him. (Although, who is to say that the stubborn child will not still force the issue even if Vergil says he does not want any help?]) Vergil does not truthfully know what he wants. Glaring at them as though the answer might present itself if he glares long and hard enough, his hands curl into light fists in his lap. Everything within him loathes the idea of allowing himself any sort of dependency upon anyone else. It bristles and goes on the offense immediately, ready to do whatever it might take for him to hide away until this illness passes. But a part of him... A part of him knows the promises he's made to Nero about not handling things alone. It also knows how that night wasn't nearly as long or terrible as it could have been when Nero stayed with him after her a nightmare.]
I've looked after myself for nearly forty years. There was no one else. [Part of him wants to be uncharitable and say no one ever wanted to be there, but he knows that's not true. Vergil never gave anyone the opportunity to try. He never asked them to stay, and he always ran. And then he was so far removed from even himself that... But regardless still of the reasons why no one was ever there to look after him, Vergil was still alone.] Even if there had been, they could not have done anything.
[They would have died. And then Vergil would have as well. Simple as that.]
I'm fine on my own. [He tightens his fists in his lap, pursing his lips.] But if you wish to make yourself useful, I am not exactly in a position to stop you.
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I am not wobbly, [he says, snapping a little in the process. If Nero were still under the impression that Vergil hadn't taken it as an accusation, that likely clarified that for him easily enough.] I know how to manage myself and am capable of determining what it is I need without your unnecessary input.
Now, for the last time, I am fine. You may end your prodding and questioning.
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Excuse the fuck out of me, old man.
[But alas Vergil, for he is not dissuaded.]
If I was the one throwing up and stumbling, you'd be all over me trying to make sure I'm okay. I'm gonna do the same for you whether you like it or not.
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I would do that because that is part of my responsibilities as your father, Nero. You heal and recover very nearly the same as a human would. Illness and injury pose a greater threat to you, and I could not possibly sit idly by while you are clearly suffering.
[And it may be tempting to throw that back at Vergil as the argument for issuing such concerns now, but he's quick to cut that off at the pass.]
I appreciate that you care, but unless you happen to find me on death's door again somehow, there is little reason to exercise such concern.
[Throwing up and being a little dizzy are hardly anything compared to what Vergil has survived through in the past, and absolutely do no merit alarm in his opinion. He's not at some great risk and he is not suffering. There's simply no need for such an overreaction from Nero.]
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All this because the guy can't cop to having a little vertigo...]
I'm not a little kid. We're both adults. I get to look after you the same as you'd look after me.
[And FURTHERMORE...]
Why? What "little reason?" Do you guys not get sick or something?
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I cannot speak for your uncle. I only know that the last time I can recall being ill was before my mother died, and I've little memory of it.
[It's not likely that Nero would exist if he had been prone to illness after that, but that is a fact he keeps to himself.]
Severe and significant injury has only ever posed a threat to my physical well-being for nearly forty years. And while I will concede that you struck well today, you haven't the power to do that much harm to me in a single strike as of yet. So, there is no reason to be worried.
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[But that is certainly not the point of contention here, not really. Not the one he's going to let Vergil wriggle out of the discussion with. Yes, he does notice how he tries to do that from time to time.
But at the same time, he's not going to sit here and argue with him about whether or not he's feeling okay. If it's such a big damn deal he'll take Vergil's word for it.
So after a long, suspicious glare, Nero rolls his eyes and turns around to keep walking.]
Fine. Whatever you say. But don't get your panties in a twist over an honest question.
[One more Look back over his shoulder for good measure.] I'll worry about you if I damn well want to.
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[And a good thing, too. It's questionable he would have been able to walk and talk at any great length for long. Vergil unfolds his arms after a bit of walking, opening his chest up a bit as the air he inhales feels a little...thinner somehow. It does very little to alleviate the sensation. Even with as leisurely as their pace ultimately is, Vergil starts to feel increasingly winded. Vergil finds himself wanting to slow down, but he utterly refuses and keeps the same pace he has been. It's not long after that he begins to cough. It's not the retching coughs that came earlier, but a much drier cough.]
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But you know, maybe he is being a little overbearing... he'd hate it too if he randomly puked and he had Vergil hovering all over him. Though he's hardly hovering, asking if he's okay twice and saying he maybe ought to rest when they go home... like what, does he got a hot date tonight? Gonna go swordfight with Mizu some more? Mizu will probably be delighted he's under the weather if it means he can get a few good stabs in. God damn, is this family fucking weird.
Vergil is slowing down behind him, so Nero does too. Then he hears the cough. Stops. Turns around. And gives Vergil this absolutely withering look of concern in lieu of asking if he's okay.]
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Oh for the love of... [he mutters at that look he's receiving, rolling his eyes and folding his arms.] You might as well say it if you're going to look at me like that.
Or might we move on and return home?
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[Okay now he IS kind of being a shitty brat, but the last vestiges of offense at Vergil's earlier tone have now been worked out of his system. He's over it.
He shakes his head and turns around to walk again, albeit slower and at a pace Vergil can keep up with.]
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[He is fine. And he refuses to be treated like he's a moment's notice from collapsing.]
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But okay, sure. If he's feeling fine enough to rush ahead like a petulant little shit, who's Nero to tell him to stop? He just shakes his head and keeps going at the same pace as before, now free to watch his father from behind.]
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[Vergil can only mask so much even without scrutiny. The vertigo, he can hide well enough in motion with controlled steps, but just how much he feels he's exerting himself right now? Vergil can only do so much to keep his breathing even before that sensation of not getting enough air has him trying to take a deeper breath. Vergil pushes himself though. He's pushed through worse than this. Much worse.]
[That does not stop the pit of dread in his stomach though—which seems to be determined to remain somewhat cramping and uncomfortable—at the prospect of walking the entire way home. If he's already feeling this wiped, he is going to be laid out by the entire walk. And more or less proving Nero's point that he's not fine. He clenches his jaw, but he does not yet yield. Even with as much as he just wants to sit down and stop moving, Vergil cannot bring himself to do it.]
[He coughs again, this time the fit longer and stronger. Before, he could have written it off in the absence of any other symptoms as just having swallowed wrong or something similar. This fit, however, clearly tickles in the back of his throat and he has to stop walking. Vergil doubles over where he stands. The motion is dizzying, but the coughing has more of his attention at the moment to be concerned about that.]
[That and well, now that he has stopped walking, he can feel how distinctly exhausted he is from that alone.]
That damned Fox... [he growls between coughs.]
[Because he cannot think of any reason why he feels like this. He doesn't get ill. He's never been unable to push through fatigue and exhaustion. He barely knows what it is to be sore. And yet...]
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Nero waits for the coughing fit to really escalate before he steps up to him, setting a hand on his shoulder. He's not gonna say "I told you so." What's the point in rubbing it in and making this worse and more embarrassing than it must already be for him?
But like also... they ain't walking all the way back home when Vergil can barely walk.]
Come on, old man. [His tone is gently pressing, not mocking or smug.] Let's get home.
Is a portal out of the question?
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[For all that he doesn't really know what to do with it, anyways.]
[Historically, if Vergil found himself injured beyond what his healing ability could more immediately handle, he was always left on his own to manage the situation. He had to get himself somewhere safe. He had to vaguely tend to his wounds with his limited knowledge and resources. He had to remain vigilant for signs of a follow-up attack and be prepared to defend himself. It was always down to Vergil whether he lived or died.]
[Oh, sure. When he was still a young child and adolescence had not changed the interpretation of his condition from helpless innocent to suspicious miscreant, he perhaps could have hidden himself with some well-meaning family of humans. But there was a difference between using them for warm meals and a roof over his head for a few nights, and relying upon them to care for him. Even soon after his mother's death, Vergil doesn't think he would have tolerated it well despite how much he secretly craved it.]
[So, it's foreign still to acknowledge that he physically is not perfectly fine, and stranger yet to accept anything remotely close to help. Asked for or otherwise. His time as V had not changed that, and neither had that night Nero stayed with Vergil after Vergil had a nightmare.]
[He feels a small relief that Nero does not make the suggestion of carrying him. At the very least, Nero appears to be granting Vergil his dignity and still allowing him to broadly handle this.]
I should still be able, [he says with a slight nod. If it were under his own demonic power, Vergil doesn't know that he would be able to do it if walking has wiped him out as much as it has. But the portals are under the power of Yamato, not his. And he should yet still possess the strength now to wield it for that purpose if he managed it while he was dying.]
[Vergil doesn't hop to opening a portal though, standing there a moment to let himself breathe and allow the coughing to fully settle first. With his free hand, Vergil reaches for Nero's shoulder and pulls himself back upright by it, allowing Nero to help as he wills. The world spins again, but he leans some of his weight onto his son to maintain his balance. Vergil gives it a moment to lessen before releasing Nero and reaching to draw Yamato.]
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It's a relief when Vergil doesn't start griping about it or trying to argue that he's fine to make the long walk back home when he's now stumbling and on the verge of hacking up a lung.
He's dreading the response to this, but has to put it out there...]
I can try too, if need be. [But for the moment he lets Vergil do it himself with no further insistence or comment.
He's letting him handle it for now... but Nero is not above whacking him on the head and fireman-carrying him home to give him the Tombstone into bed.]
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[But now is not that time to be so prudent. There are more immediate matters for them to concern themselves with than that. Vergil simply nods to the suggestion, not commenting on the merits of Nero trying one way or another. Straightened out, he takes a few steps away from Nero to provide himself with space to work.]
[Yamato has never felt quite so heavy in his hands before. Not even a child can he recall it feeling like this. Still, he draws the blade, slicing the air to draw open the portal. Little criticism can be given to his form. Even if Vergil's swings are slower to avoid potentially setting him off-balance again, he maintains his form. Tempting as it is to hold his breath until success or failure makes itself known, Vergil continues to match and maintain his breath as something alongside his movement. He draws a long, slow exhale until Yamato is fully sheathed, not allowing his posture to slack until the portal opens before him as expected.]
[He looks back to Nero, and waits for him rather than immediately stepping through.]
It would behoove you to learn one day, but it is not necessary today.
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There's also the fact it used to be his arm now, which... is weird, and actually way weirder than Nero even imagines it is. But that's beside the point.
He watches Vergil open the portal, frowning when he can see how much effort it is. The fucker didn't struggle with it so much when he was staggering out of the garage with Nero in a bleeding heap behind him. He must really be sick. But like he said, does Vergil even get sick? He'd muttered something about the damn Fox... was this her doing again?
Nero just nods at his assertion and steps through the portal. Shit will never feel less weird, but it's undeniably convenient at a time like this. He reappears in their driveway on the other side, and once Vergil has joined him he offers him that shoulder again.]
C'mon. You should sit and rest for a bit. You want some tea, or like a ginger ale?
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Ginger tea is fine, [he says, heading for the front door. Even if he's still perhaps a bit too prideful and stubborn to let Nero help him walk, Vergil doesn't adopt his usual pace and takes it a bit easier in getting there.] If you're feeling adventurous and wish for some yourself, you may add a squeeze of lemon and a bit of honey to the pot.
[He doesn't call Nero directly out for the faces he makes at some of the tea blends Vergil drinks, but that doesn't mean he doesn't notice how much Nero is trying very hard not to make any of them when he knows Vergil is looking in his direction.]
And if you are so dedicated to treating me as an invalid, you ought to return some of my books to the library before the end of today. [Because he had plans today, but it's clear that Nero will not allow for any of them.] Just bring the stack in my room to me and I will separate the ones that need to be returned from those I am keeping for a while longer.
And extend an apology to Mizu for my absence if you happen to cross paths.
[Since those plans are similarly tossed out the window now.]
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Even he he follows it up with an absolute load of self-pity guilt shit, which makes Nero verbally scoff.]
Oh, shut up. Treating you like an invalid. Don't be such a drama queen.
[He closes the door behind them. His backpack gets tossed to one side of the doorway. Red Queen is delicately slid off his back and placed on the other, like an umbrella.]
It's not anybody's fault you're sick. Sucks, man! But what, are you gonna go to the library like this? Or be in any shape for Mizu?
[He claps Vergil on the shoulder as he passes by, on the way to the kitchen.]
Just take it easy. I'll take your books back, you take a nap. Maybe you'll sleep it off and feel better after.
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I don't nap.
[Which is less about Vergil being particularly stubborn and more just a statement of fact. Vergil's sleeping habits have not changed since they moved into the house from his studio apartment. He sleeps when he must, but he limits that to sleeping at night. He gets the minimum amount required. Nothing more, nothing less.]
[But if his suspicions that this is the Fox's doing are at all correct, he doubts very much that any amount of sleep will alleviate it. There will inevitably be some other kind of trick to curing what ails him, and it's most likely deeply unrelated to any sort of medical intervention. Most likely he needs to confess some deep dark secret or complete a random act of kindness or some other such interpersonal nonsense to appease her.]
[Vergil sits on the couch, using Yamato to control his descent to sitting. He's not really in any danger of collapsing, but he doesn't want to provide any impression that he's close to doing so. It feels much better to be sitting and he must stifle the relieved sigh at being off his feet.]
If you do happen to see Mizu, I do not particularly care what excuse you provide, but do not mention of any of this to him, [he says, moving Yamato to rest against the arm of the couch nearby. There's a small beat before he adds a quieter,] Please.
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[There come the sounds of clinking and cabinets closing as Nero goes digging for the tea. The sink runs as he fills the kettle with water, then a click and a clunk as he places it on the burner and cranks the heat up high.
Nero then comes out to the couch, but doesn't sit. He leans over the back beside where Vergil is seated, resting his chin on his fist as he studies his poor, ill, pleading father.
His voice takes on that gentler tone again. It's the one he uses when Julio or one of the other boys starts getting outrageously fussy. He is not ever going to tell Vergil that.]
Dad, there's nothing wrong with not feeling well. Why would Mizu hold it against you?
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That's not—... I— [It's with a huff that he comes to fold his arms and looks off towards the fireplace. Vergil purses his lips to keep himself from continuing until he can manage to speak without sputtering again.] Just do as I ask, Nero.
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[He doesn't really intend to pry, either. Didn't know it was such a touchy thing to leave Vergil actually sputtering about it.
And in the interest of not prying, he tries to change the subject before it seems like he might be.]
Listen. [He sets one hand squarely atop Vergil's head, ruffling his hair in a familiar manner.] If you want me to fuck off, I will. But being sick sucks ass, and you shouldn't have to deal with it by yourself. I wanna help.
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[Nero presents it as a binary choice, and Vergil supposes it is. Either he allows Nero to help or he denies him. (Although, who is to say that the stubborn child will not still force the issue even if Vergil says he does not want any help?]) Vergil does not truthfully know what he wants. Glaring at them as though the answer might present itself if he glares long and hard enough, his hands curl into light fists in his lap. Everything within him loathes the idea of allowing himself any sort of dependency upon anyone else. It bristles and goes on the offense immediately, ready to do whatever it might take for him to hide away until this illness passes. But a part of him... A part of him knows the promises he's made to Nero about not handling things alone. It also knows how that night wasn't nearly as long or terrible as it could have been when Nero stayed with him after her a nightmare.]
I've looked after myself for nearly forty years. There was no one else. [Part of him wants to be uncharitable and say no one ever wanted to be there, but he knows that's not true. Vergil never gave anyone the opportunity to try. He never asked them to stay, and he always ran. And then he was so far removed from even himself that... But regardless still of the reasons why no one was ever there to look after him, Vergil was still alone.] Even if there had been, they could not have done anything.
[They would have died. And then Vergil would have as well. Simple as that.]
I'm fine on my own. [He tightens his fists in his lap, pursing his lips.] But if you wish to make yourself useful, I am not exactly in a position to stop you.
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