Dad

Dad

Lady and Morrison both stared down at the infant sleeping in the little oval basin he'd swathed in blankets, their expressions eerily the same; blank as a wall. Dante felt a twinge of worry for a moment, until Lady heaved a sigh and proceeded to call him a few dozen scathing insults, topping it all with her familiar 'asshole', and Morrison started interrogating him as to the baby's mother. Neither of them were surprised when he said he didn't know; Lady could read him better, and he saw her lips tighten when he'd mentioned that Nero had been caked in old blood. He sat back in his chair now, one hand rocking the basin from side to side gently.



"I'm serious, guys. I'm keeping him; totally aside from the fact that he is actually my son, I wouldn't let some baby die....not like that." He smiled, just a little, up at his two closest, and really, only friends, and relaxed as they both nodded.



"We know you wouldn't, Dante. But...this is going to be a big change for you. You won't be able to do any hunting, you know; not until the baby is older." The younger man nodded, quiet, and gray eyes lit on his child's restful face.



"I can do research, and offer up papers for publishing. Gods know I know more about Devil Arms than anyone else alive now, and with the revenue from those, I'll get this place fixed up."



"I'll help you, man."



"I'll help too." He blinked, a little surprised to hear the vehemence in Lady's voice, and nodded a little warily.



"I appreciate it. And before you so much as insult me with it, I've already changed three diapers today. There is nothing demons or mortal man can do to possibly disgust me now." Never mind the fact that he'd routinely come home covered in guts and gore, and probably the same effluent mess that had soaked his son's washrag diapers this morning, but it was just...it was so goddamn sticky. And all nasty black. Ick.



"Speaking of which, we need to go shopping. I barely made do with breakfast for him this morning, and lunch is coming up soon. So, who's up for hitting downtown?" Lady's cheer made him laugh as he picked up his son and the three of them stepped out the door. A short drive, and five hundred and seventy-two dollars later, Nero was happily sucking down formula from a fresh bottle in the food court while Dante somehow managed to pick up pizza slices with just his lips, teeth, and tongue. After his fourth slice, Lady had dismissed herself, saying that she couldn't watch a guy give his pizza oral sex any longer, sending Dante into hysterics until he startled Nero.



Knocking the bottle to the floor, the demon hunter was treated to the very first scream from his infant son, and ears ringing, he found the bottle, wiped it off, and had it in the boy's mouth in record time, while Morrison was laughing so hard he fell off his damn chair. Eventually, though, they did have to stuff everything in the convertible, and Morrison drove them home, helping Dante fill his shop up before the agent left for the night. That night, Dante gave his son a proper birthday, and half his old bedroom became the boy's. They both slept like logs till morning.

 

---

A few days later, Dante had shooed both his friends away and sat down on the floor of his bedroom with one tiny infant and several toys, one of which was currently locked in Nero's death grip, one ear being chewed on as his father deftly cleaned him up once more, this time from spit up and diarrhea. The demon-hunter himself was stripped down to his leather pants, and cooed a little to his baby boy as he finished tossing the soiled diaper in the trash and set to redressing his son, making sure nothing was too tight around his itty-bitty legs or arms, and especially not his head.



In fact, he'd been intensely protective of his little man all day long, allowing Morrison and Lady a scant few minutes to cradle him before Dante claimed him again, the demon on the other side of his DNA possessive and none too pleased with their casual disregard for his need to keep the baby close. The human in him understood, but still...it was a little insulting. He might have been a fuck-up, but he wasn't a total waste of space. He might not know everything about child-rearing, but a little judicious gossiping and showing off to the neighborhood slum mothers had earned him a wealth of knowledge at his fingertips.



And besides, he thought as he smiled and pressed little kisses to the cooing baby's feet, at least he was being affectionate and caring, unlike a great many fathers in this day and age. And he didn't scoff at the little things he had to do; most of it was simply a change in his normal routine, and though even under pain of torture he wouldn't admit it, the dinner he'd had tonight had been pretty damn good, even if it wasn't pizza. And feeling Nero's content as he was being fed...that made up for all the discomfort when they were buying baby clothes and toys and a crib that could turn into a full-sized bed when he grew up.



He hadn't imagined that so many people would be so...cruel about a single father carrying around a newborn. He knew that part of it was his heritage, and presumably Nero's. Normal humans didn't walk around with silver hair and dressed in a red duster with two guns strapped to the back, and they didn't hiss at strangers when said strangers asked whose baby he was carrying, but still...it was unnerving, and frankly, it was depressing. But that was to be expected, he supposed...besides. His kid was a bundle of occasional crying and solemn stares, and a lot of giggling laughter. He'd have to be a fool to let a bunch of assholes get in between them.



He kept playing with the baby while the thoughts from the last week or so roamed his head, occasionally laughing as Nero kicked up, grinning when little fingers tugged at his large, calloused ones. The baby carrier he'd 'bad-assified' with a few strips of black and blue leather got him a lot of flak, and too often in the last week, he had police officers follow him, sure that he was up to no good, because what tough guy carried a baby around? One with a damned decent agenda, that's who. Fucking assholes; suck on donuts by day, Twinkies by night. And all the damn time, they rag on me for being a lazy fuck. I wish I dared to go 'Su-weeeeeee pigpigpigpig' again...



But that was on Morrison's 'Don't you fucking dare' list, and with Lady to back him, Dante didn't feel like getting something blown through him. Again. As Nero played a light tug-of-war with Dante, the demon hunter felt a dark smirk touch his eyes. Well, at least the summoner was taken care of. The whole human sacrifice/baby sacrifice bit had sealed his sorry fate, and Dante had left Nero with Lady for the hour it had taken to kill the fucker, standing as a witness to his death. It'd given him no end of pleasure to give the sorry fucker the finger as he croaked it, and knowing that Nero was, at least, safe from him soothed his conscience, tiny as it was. At least he knew he wasn't going to Hell; he'd been there already, and it had spat him out.



At last, though, Nero's little eyelids were drooping, and Dante was feeling pretty worn out himself. So he picked the baby up and settled him in his crib, turning his mobile on before Dante sank into his own bed and pulled the crib over the ragged rug, still a little nervy about having Nero so far away from him. He had to smile, though; less than a week, and he was smitten. He supposed there was something to be said for love after all...As he drifted off into slumber, he felt a tiny hand wrap around his index finger, and for the first time in his life, Dante allowed himself the freedom to take comfort in that tiny gesture.



"Good night, little buddy..."