Dance Floor Metaphor

A/N: This is my first DMC
fanfic… and in fact, my first time even writing a fanfic in a long while. But
hey, whatever helps get me out of writer’s block, right?

Warnings: I only have a very sketchy plot in my head at the
moment, so I can’t give too many definitive warnings. What I can guarantee is
VxD shounen-ai and, very likely, full-on twincest sex. Also, there's an
extremely high probability of gore, even if only because of the very nature of the
DMC universe (hah, yeah right).

Full summary: Nostalgia – a bittersweet longing for
things, persons, or situations of the past. Many people look back on things and
wish they could relive events that took place in a time of innocence. But
sometimes, nostalgia brings back memories that are best left forgotten.

Dance Floor Metaphor

Chapter 1

“Daddy!” a young boy
shouted, tackling the man that had just walked through the door. He was always
enthusiastic in responding, but this time, something was different – something
was wrong.

“Daddy? What’s wrong?” an
identical twin of the first boy asked, looking (if not feeling) much calmer
than his brother did.

“Dante, Vergil, I’m afraid
I have to leave soon,” their father said, trying to avoid seeing the worry and
confusion on his children’s faces. It was heartbreaking enough to have to leave
his family, and he wanted to avoid giving in to their pleas to stay. It was for
their own safety.

The sound of the phone
ringing woke Dante up. Normally, he would roll over and try to go back to
sleep, but he didn’t want to risk that particular dream continuing. Some events
were better left in the past, and the devil hunter definitely didn’t need to be
thinking about that particular memory all day.

“Sorry, business hours start
at nine A.M. Call back then,” he grumbled, ready to hang the phone back up when
he heard a voice he thought long gone.

“Is that any way to treat
your brother, Dante?”

The man stopped abruptly,
half-tempted to hang up and never hear the voice of the twin brother he’d
thought dead for years. However, that dream - that singular memory from his
childhood - was calling to him, screaming that he regain at least this one part
of his past. “Well, well. Where’ve you been all these years? I thought you were
dead.”

A hesitant near-silence came
from the other end, the breathing that was barely being transmitted the only
clue that Vergil was still on the line. “I was, in a way. I died a long time
ago, and you could say I’ve been… resurrected.”

The cryptic answer was
definitely something that the gun-slinging hunter had to roll his eyes at.
“What the hell are you talking about, Ver? It’s too early for me to think, you
know?”

A very soft chuckle came
through, actually managing to surprise Dante. “You’re right. Perhaps I
should call back later, when I probably haven’t woken you up. I’ll see you
soon, baby brother.” *CLICK*

The cold dial tone rung in
the man’s ear for a moment before he slowly set the phone back on the hook.
Vergil was alive, and apparently in a good enough mood to actually laugh at his
twin’s cluelessness. Which meant that there was at least some semblance of his
old self after all these years…

Nostalgia was a bitch.

End A/Ns: Yes, I know it’s relatively short, but then
again, I’ve never been the kind of person to use one long chapter that could be
divided into several. My short ones get their point across much better, I
think. Anyways, please R&R, as this is my very first DMC fanfic, and the
first time I’ve written any fanfics at all in… well, in just over a year, I
think.

Oh yes… a note about the timeline: it takes place after
DMC1 (after DMC3 is a given), but before DMC2 (where, I think, Dante is around
40… if I’m wrong, someone please tell me?)