Disclaimer: I do not own Devil May Cry.
These drabbles are part of my Devil May Cry General Series claim at the livejournal group drabbles100. I plan to post the last set on March 9, if anyone else wants to claim it. If you want to get started as a writer, I highly recommend drabbles: they're low-stress and relatively quick.
She didn't think they had ever been friends. What did you call someone you first shot at, then let be your knight? When they delivered you your vengeance, when you comforted them when they cried? When you'd both lost mothers because of demonic fathers? Too much in common
She'd hovered on the edge the first few days, knowing that even though they said they were friends he was in love with her, telling herself she wasn't in love with him but knowing that if she went, she could break free, but if she stayed it would end up as more.
Their first encounters had been thus: he'd cracked a joke and she'd shot him; he'd tried to save her and she'd shot him; she'd pointed a gun at him and they'd stood back to back; she'd though he'd ended her father's evil life and shot at him; they'd fought, her to kill, him to save her life (and the attempted kiss); and he'd returned from the quest he'd undertaken in her name. Some romantic gesture.
Humans and demons were natural enemies. Demons were evil. Both sides at war within him: she had to trust the human side would always win.
When she'd realized that it was possible their relationship had gone physical she'd researched birth control. She was already on the pill: she'd gone on it at thirteen because she had really, really horrible PMS, but condoms, implant thingies, diaphrams…
Exercising within thirty minutes after sex helped prevent pregnancy… every scientific and home remedy for the condition was made ready.
She didn't tell Dante about the ones he didn't notice and took as reasonable precautions. She didn't want him to know she'd abort rather than carry a demon. He was the exception that proved the rule: Vergil was the rule.
Their fathers were dead demons, their mothers had died because of them: she lacked an evil twin, but wondered if that girl Alice who had become her father's servant counted as his replacement daughter and in some twisted way her demon-loving sister.
All they had was each other, and she knew for him she was the symbol of all he fought for, of his valiant and loving mother just as she knew that he was all that she fought, the demons that corrupted humanity.
In each other's arms they could rarely forget where, who and what they had arisen from.
Don't see me, don't see me, Lady pleaded, hiding in the shower stall from the man who had fought the little girl that had turned out to be a, a thing like out of her father's stories.
She didn't know why she was so terrified, he sounded lighthearted, but that was it: what kind of person didn't react to something like this with horror?
He must be terribly brave: his voice sounded young and she just knew he was handsome.
But the damsel was too distressed to seek out her knight, and knights didn't intrude on ladies in the bath.