100 Theme Challenge

Theme: Holding

Universe: DMC

Character(s): Nero, Dante

Genre(s): Romance is probably as close as it gets...

Warnings: Language, Slight D/N, Homosexual Pairing

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He was floating, drifting through warm darkness. Its tendrils snaked inside of him and robbed the breath from his lungs. It wasn't violent or uncomfortable; the darkness beckoned him to succumb, but, to what, he seldom knew. He didn't want to know. Instead, he resisted, twitching in the few places that his body would move. He tried to draw in a breath to keep from smothering, but he was paralyzed. The only worrisome part of it all was that his body seemed content to simply give in and lay there for all eternity. And surely enough, after a moment, it ceased all movement and went limp. However, it didn't relax against the resistance of a floor. Instead, he found himself suddenly plummeting into endless darkness, and, when a gasp managed to escape him, he opened his eyes.

Nero's lungs inflated and deflated in rapid cycles as his starved lungs desperately refilled themselves. His eyes darted around the room as if to confirm his location, but he was too dazed to think anything at that moment. Hasty, muffled thumps impinged upon his awareness before, a moment later, familiar eyes were peering into his own.

"You okay, kid?" asked Dante softly as if raising his voice would injure Nero. Confused, the young devil narrowed his eyes at the older man, waiting for his brain to restart and make sense of the whole situation. When Nero failed to respond, Dante repeated his question, enunciating each word slowly. After a silent moment of thought, Nero finally conjured a response.

"I just... had a weird dream," he muttered breathily. "I wasn't breathing."

Dante nodded understandingly. "Those pills'll do that to ya'."

Nero furrowed his brow at the halfbreed. "Pills?"

"Yeah, the pain killers," replied Dante as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then, his own brow tensed and he pursed his lips for a split-second. "You remember." It was a statement but an uncertain one.

Nero's face twisted in confusion. "Remember what?"

Dante watched him for a moment, eyes full of disbelief as if he was expecting Nero to say he was only joking. He never did, however, because he wasn't. Nero could remember nothing before he fell asleep. In fact, he couldn't even remember falling asleep. Searching his memory, the younger hunter located fuzzy fragments of whole memories, but they were too hazy to assist him in recalling the full picture. Finally, his eyes shifted back to Dante, and his obliviousness must have been written all over his face, for Dante sighed deeply and carefully set himself on the edge of the couch beside Nero's sprawled body, draping an arm over the younger man's waist.

"You really don't remember anything?" Dante asked, concerned. Even as his voice was fraught with disbelief, it seemed he had been anticipating Nero's memory loss, preparing for it.

"No," Nero breathed, shaking his head from side to side. It was only then that he began to notice how weak and raspy he sounded. Speaking softly seemed more comfortable, and, if he tried forcing himself to speak more loudly, his head felt a little light.

"What happened?" he asked when Dante stayed silent for a long, tense moment.

"You were fighting three Blitz all at the same time. And you were doing... great," the hunter breathed in surprised admiration. "But those fuckers are fast. They seemed to figure that out, and they started using their speed against you."

Dante paused to take a deep breath. Retelling what he had seen seemed to discomfort him. Despite making the halfbreed uneasy, Nero felt a strange warmth at the thought that his being injured had worried Dante so much. The warmth grew inside him when Dante's hand curved around his hip and hugged his body to the hunter's side as if afraid to let him go. Nero wasn't even sure Dante knew he was doing it, but, either way, he reluctantly welcomed the caring gesture with a light blush on his cheeks. Strangely enough, Nero found himself wanting Dante to tease him about like he always did. However, the older devil was clearly too, for lack of a better word, upset at that moment to find any humor within himself.

"They were all rushing toward you every second to try and shock you. You were dodging it like a pro, but..."

"But...?" Nero repeated, urging Dante to continue. Why was he so hesitant to retell such events? They were already over; what harm would come from retelling them?

"But," Dante continued, "you tripped."

Nero almost laughed at the absurdity of the idea that he was lying there apparently injured because he stumbled over something.

"They were just moving so fast you didn't have time to notice you were too close to the curb."

Curb? Nero thought. Had he been battling them in the middle of the street?

"You stumbled backward and fell on your ass. You got back up as soon as you hit the concrete, but that fraction of a second that you couldn't dodge out of the way gave one of them time to charge at you."

Dante shook his head, swallowing what must have been a lump in his throat. His eyes refused to meet Nero's, but the younger hunter was unsure if that was simply because the images in his mind had overtaken his vision, making his eyes distant, or for some other reason. Finally, he took another breath and continued.

"The bastard rammed you with that fuckin' horn thing on its face. Stabbed you right in the chest... You screamed so loud..."

Suddenly, Nero's memories returned with overwhelming clarity, and it was all thanks to being reminded what it had felt like to be electrocuted. Nero had been shocked before, but only for a fleeting moment. He had never endured it for such a long moment. He remembered the excruciating pain of the electricity coursing through his body. It made his nervous system go haywire, every nerve in his body torturing him with a stinging, burning pain. His brain had short-circuited, and he had been unable to think anything at all. His actions were purely mechanical, and his body did what it instinctually knew to do. It screamed. Nero could remember that blood-curdling, horrifying sound that he never before thought he was capable of producing. With one lung punctured from the Blitz's horn, a weak, airy sound added an unsettling ambience to the noise. He had sounded more animal than man, and only as he was remembering it at that moment did Nero realize the sound had come from him.

"I'm sorry, Nero," Dante breathed, ripping him from his thoughts. "I saw you were outmatched. It was inevitable that you got hurt. If I had jumped in, you wouldn't have gotten hurt at all, but I just kept telling myself you could handle it."

Nero wanted desperately to disagree with Dante that he had been outmatched, but he knew it was the truth even if he didn't want to admit it. Instead, he placed his demonic hand on Dante's knee, though the movement pained him. Dante's eyes finally met his again, surprised at the tender, intimate touch. It made things a tad awkward but seemed to comfort both of them.

"I'm just glad they didn't get me where it counts," Nero declared with a slight smile, tapping a finger over his heart. Dante nodded, sighing in relief.

"Me, too, kid," he said softly. His worry seemed to be gradually fading away. "They really battered you after they stunned you, though. You've got broken ribs, some nasty gashes, and you're covered in bruises. I'm honestly surprised they didn't do more damage."

Nero was surprised, too, but mostly by the fact that he was feeling very little pain at all. Mostly, he only felt a tiny stab of it when he breathed or moved his right arm. His thigh was a little sore, too, but he was feeling nothing excruciating. Whatever pain killer Dante had been giving him must have been one Hell of a drug.

"So you feel fine?" Dante asked again. "You don't need anything?"

"I'm holding on," Nero replied with a grin. Dante's hand fell over his own on the hunter's knee and squeezed slightly.

"You better," he said as if afraid Nero might slip away.

"What? You think I'd leave your sorry ass here all by yourself? You couldn't survive without me."

Dante smirked. "And why's that?"

"You kidding?" Nero asked rhetorically, grinning mischievously. "You'd eat nothing but pizza until you died of a heart attack if I wasn't here to force feed you something else every once in awhile. And you'd never clean. The trash would get so high you'd have t'wade through it!"

Dante grinned and chuckled. "That's probably an accurate assumption. I'd rot without you around, wouldn't I?" That was more of an accurate statement than he was brave enough to admit. The halfbreed's hand clasped tighter around Nero's, the hard plates on his demonic claws digging into his skin. Nero's fingers hesitantly wrapped around Dante's that were pressing into the soft, blue flesh of his palm. Both hunter's stared at their joined hands, their breaths elevated along with their heartbeats. Both yearned to say something to the other, but words failed them, and the moment soon became awkward. However, neither hunter moved to let go for fear of sending the wrong message. They simply stared and breathed until Dante's thumb caressing his palm made Nero's lungs stop working.

"Um," he hummed, pausing to clear his throat though it didn't need clearing, "some water would be nice."

"Oh..." Dante exclaimed, detaching his hand from Nero's before clearing his own throat excessively. "Okay, I'll, uh... I'll get you some."

Nero smiled in gratitude at the older hunter, but it seemed more like a grimace. He sighed disappointedly as he watched the man walk away, wishing with every step that he would turn in the opposite direction.