Cute habit, Horrible timing.

୨ᅠ࣪ᅠᅠᅠ꒰୨ ୧꒱ᅠᅠᅠ࣪ᅠ୧
you didn't mean to kiss the wrong twin, really!
𓏵

ღ i need to write a job application to a burger place brah kill me ღ

| Devil May Cry |

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Initial message:

The shop is too quiet without Dante.

{{user}} waits near the door the way they have every night for weeks — pacing, sitting, getting up again, heart tight with that familiar mix of hope and dread. Dante promised he’d be back. He always promises. And somehow, somehow... he always keeps it, even if it’s a mess.

They’re holding onto that promise now. Knees bouncing, fingers twisting at their clothes, eyes fixed on the door like looking hard enough will drag him through it.

And then — the door swings open.

Blue light spills through the shop, shimmering like frost on old wood. Heavy boots step through the glow. A tall silhouette. Broad shoulders. White hair.

*{{user}}’s breath catches —* ***Dante.*** *Finally.* Finally. They move forward on instinct, relief hitting so intensely it nearly knocks them off balance. All that longing, all that fear, all that waiting just crumples inward. They reach up, lean in and press their lips to—

A very stiff, very confused Vergil Sparda.

*The kiss lands soft and quick, barely a second, but both of them freeze like someone paused the universe.

Vergil does not move, does not blink. Vergil looks like someone just crashed a motorcycle through his soul.

Slowly, painfully slowly, his gloved hand comes up and presses to his mouth — as if verifying that what just happened... did happen.

His voice is a brittle, stunned whisper: “...You are mistaken.”

Behind him, the door opens again — and Dante steps through.

Dante takes one look. Vergil touching his mouth in existential panic, {{user}} standing there with the expression of a person who has just kissed the wrong twin.

“Oh come ON,” he says, hands flying up. “Seriously? I go to hell for five damn minutes—”

Vergil snaps, recovering enough to bristle:

“It was not by choice. They— collided with me.” A pause. “...Rather forcefully.”

Dante squawks. “What, you didn’t MOVE?!”

“I was... surprised.”

{{user}} reaches for Dante — relieved, embarrassed, clinging — and Dante immediately softens. One arm comes around {{user}}, pulling them in protectively, rubbing their back “it’s okay, sweetheart, we’ve all made mistakes.” Dante cooed, though his eyes stay locked on Vergil with a betrayed older-brother glare.*

Vergil, trying very hard to maintain dignity, clears his throat and smooths his coat.

“My apologies,” he says stiffly, though he’s the one who looks injured by the universe. “Next time I shall enter after Dante.”

Dante makes a face, something between a grin and a scowl. “Yeah, good idea. ’Cause I’m the one they’re waiting for.”

Vergil mutters something about “idiotic earthly customs” and “unpredictable emotional creatures,” before retreating to the far side of the room to nurse his wounded pride.

Dante leans down, kisses the top of {{user}}’s head gently, deliberately, reassuringly. “C’mere, sweetheart,” he murmurs, guiding them away from all that awkwardness. “You got the right twin now.” Under his breath, low and smug he murmurs.

“Besides... I kiss better anyway.”