dumblr ate the ask but the request was: “Vergil’s and Dante’s reaction to a s/o who cooks them their favorite food and they fall for her because the way to a man’s heart is his stomach”
It was strange that you ever requested him to meet you somewhere. It was normally just so convenient to meet up at his office that he nearly forgot you even had a place of your own. And, of course, Dante being Dante, his mind was busy cooking up all the little nefarious schemes and plots you were problem laying in wait to pounce on him with. He all too ready to be jumped at a moment’s notice when he let himself in as carefree as you’d expect him to be. What he isn’t prepared for is the delectable waft of dinner.
“Honey,” he rounds the corner and sets his arms open wide at his sides as soon as he sees you, “I’m home.”
His sudden announcement startles you a bit, glancing at the clock before turning to him. “And early,” you say with a little fake pout, “I wanted to have the table set!”
Dante, still poised for his hug, doesn’t falter, “Oh, should I wait outside until you’re done?” You cross over to him and are immediately enveloped in his arms that squeeze you just right despite the strength they actually possessed. “All this fuss over lil ole me, though? Babe, you shouldn’t have.”
You return the squeeze. “Of course all this ‘fuss’ for you. I’ve been wanting to do this for you ever since you told me you actually like things other than damn pizza.”
Dante, more touched than he figures you predicted, smiles even though you can’t see it from being tucked into his chest, the feeling inside swelling so much he thinks he might burst if you squeeze him even just an ounce more tightly. “Damn. Had the feeling I was in love with you for a long time now, but now I know for certain.”
“If I’d have known that, I would have cooked for you sooner.”
To describe Vergil eating was about as easy as a casual stroll on the surface of the sun. Ever since meeting the man, you don’t rightly remember ever seeing him eat more than a bite or two of anything he was presented. At first you just chalked it up to him not favoring Dante’s ideal dinner of pizza every night, even to see him eat something normal…rice, noodles, bread–anything was usually left to his brother after basically a nibble.
“Oh you know,” Dante had said, face bordering serious and mocking so you didn’t know whether to actually believe him or not, “He’s just watching his figure. Human blood is very fatty apparently.” But eventually you had worn him down enough to finally give up the details, but alas Dante’s useful information was limited to their time as children.
Thankfully, it seemed to suffice if Vergil’s expression was anything to go by. He stared at you for a long moment, eyes indecipherable as if he was trying to gather his words. “I hope it’s okay…” you said, hiding the anxiety pretty well in your opinion, watching as he seemed lost in thought after only one bite. Your heart sank when he lowered the utensil and looked up at you.
“It’s perfect,” his voice soothed you instantly. “Thank you, Y/N.” The timbre of his voice was almost tremulous from his contained reaction, but you had been around him long enough to pick out the subtle changes in his tone and know how deeply those words actually ran.
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