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ackerfics · 3 years

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the parent trap — levi ackerman (iv)

— levi ackerman x female reader (modern au | the parent trap au)

— warnings: angst??? and feels, i think

— summary: after assuming that everything was starting to shift further away from the plan, the people in the ackerman estate found out the identity of the boy mirroring the twin they know so well.

— word count: 8.6k (i know, i had to do it bc it's been so long)

— author's notes: finally, after weeks of not touching this series, i finally updated it. this part is centered around the reveal in levi's side of things. to those who watched the movie, you know things will go down from here. happy reading everyone !!

part one | part two | part three | masterlist

The news that was dropped on Altair last night stole away every ounce of sleep from him.

At first, he felt like everything collapsed on his shoulders. His mum is getting married? In what universe? There wasn’t even a decent man in a five-meter radius around his mother, well, except for her employees at the bridal shop. Nonetheless, all of the men trying to court her were turned down in an instant but why was she getting married to an idiot when he was away from home? The number of times he ran his hand through his hair and wishing everything was perfect can’t be counted on his fingers. First, it was that Cindy woman and now, an unknown man wooing you with serenades and God knows what in London has added himself in the list of pesky outliers. There shouldn’t be outliers in the first place. Throughout the night, Altair made his mind busy by making adjustments in their plan, eyes fixed on the ceiling in concentration.

The next thing he knew, daybreak dripped on his eyelids, peeking through the spaces between his curtains. Altair sat up on his bed and rubbed his eyes free of sleep crust before turning to his alarm clock on the nightstand. A red 9:34 glared at him, telling him he overslept. The boy huffed and plopped himself back on the plush mattress, his pillows swallowing him whole as he tried to give himself more hours of sleep. His five-minute doze was interrupted with a knock on his door. It took everything in him not to shout ‘five more minutes' so he decided to might as well wake himself up by walking to the door and answering the person on the other side.

Petra’s face beamed at him and Altair had to narrow his eyes because Petra’s smile was too bright for his own good. It was like looking too long at the sunrise.

“Good morning, Al!” the redhead greeted him.

“Morning, Petra,” Altair replied, rubbing his eyes again. “I’m sorry I overslept.”

Petra waved him off. “It’s fine. I expected it yesterday since you just came home from camp. You must be so tired. Why don’t you go take a bath and change and come downstairs for some breakfast? I’m sure this will wake you up — I cooked your favorites.” The boy nodded at her suggestion. She tried teasing him by calling his name again, Altair turning around to acknowledge his nanny with a raised eyebrow. “You know, I’d probably oversleep, too, if I were up in the middle of the night making mysterious phone calls from my bathroom. It’s pretty quiet in here at midnight so I think that pretty much exposed you.”

Altair froze at Petra’s inquiring tone, blinking his speechlessness. In an instant, he doesn’t feel sleepy anymore. He scratched his undercut. “Uhm, it was a friend from camp. He just wanted to talk to me, that’s all.”

The redhead hummed as she crossed her arms. “Ooh-kay. Well, your breakfast will be waiting on the kitchen counter!” She shouted while making her way downstairs.

“Okay!” Altair yelled back.

He opened his closet and took out a blue flannel, a white undershirt, and a pair of jeans. Without wasting any more time, Altair got himself ready by taking a bath just as Petra suggested and made himself presentable once he reached the kitchen. His hair was still wet, a towel wrapped around his shoulders when he inhaled the savory smell of breakfast on the first floor. As Altair sat on the high counter stool, Petra turned around from cutting up fruits and placed too many plates in front of the boy with a smile. He couldn’t control the twitch in his eyebrows as he stared at his breakfast. Is his twin really eating this much food every morning? He realized he might be coming off as rude since he was only staring at the number of bacon slices on his plate so Altair took a bite of bacon and let the sound of knives against the cutting board flit through his ears.

“Petra?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I have a cup of rose tea?”

Petra stopped cutting the mangos and stared at Altair, who was immersed in doing small bites of his breakfast. The redhead stared for a moment and assessed the way Altair picked up his fork and knife — it was the same way a certain someone did back in college when Levi’s friend group and lover ate meals together. Now that Petra remembered it; when you gave birth to the twins, she mentioned how one of them inherited the shape of your eyes. It could be a trick of the light but Altair’s eyes were softer in the edges instead of the sharpness Levi adorned, the boy’s eyelashes slightly fuller than usual.

“Petra?”

The said woman jumped at the mention of her name, with Altair’s face scrunched up in worry at her lack of response. She cleared her throat while transferring the mangos in a small bowl, sliding it towards Altair. “Yeah?”

The silver-eyed boy rose an eyebrow. “Are you alright? You look like you were in a trance there.”

“I’m fine.” Petra washed her hands before wiping them dry with a clean towel. Her gaze went from the boy’s expectant stare to his unfinished breakfast. This was weird. Altair usually never leaves any leftovers on his plate, it was what Levi taught him since he could eat on his own. Pushing this matter at the back of her mind, she smiled. “You’re not going to finish that, Al?”

Altair looked down on his half-eaten scrambled eggs, bacon slices, and still full pasta salad. He only had a couple of bites from the last dish and wished he could eat more but the two slices of bacon and scrambled eggs made him full in an instant. His stomach couldn’t handle too much in an early hour. He needed the tea to wash all this down. “No, I’m not, I think I’m full,” he answered, patting his stomach with a grin. He hoped Petra wouldn’t notice that his appetite wasn’t like his twin. That idiot (his twin, never Petra) appeared small like him but the buffoon has a vacuum inside his torso, always hungry at the wee hours of the day. If this was roast beef, this was a different story. “Must be because I’m tired from the trip. I don’t feel like eating and moving around too much.”

Petra nodded in understanding, preparing the rose tea the boy requested. She was waiting for the water to boil as she glanced at Levi’s pride and joy. “So why rose tea?”

“Pardon?”

Pardon? With a suppressed chuckle, Petra turned around with an incredulous expression on her face. “Camp made you prim and proper, huh? So why rose tea, champ?”

“Because I thought it would be nice to try the flower teas instead of the fruit-flavored ones this time. I know Dad has been experimenting with flowers for the next blends.”

Petra hummed, letting the tea steep for a few minutes. The scent of roses immediately wafted across the kitchen, making the two sigh in contentment. Petra wasn’t one for tea but smelling the pink drink made her want to try one. She presented the cup of rose tea to the black-haired boy, who was leaning forward to finally have his drink, his silver eyes sparkling at the small petals floating on top of his tea. Petra knew she was watching Altair closely but all her doubts flew out the window when she witnessed the boy hold the teacup the same way Levi does. Maybe she was looking into this too much. She shook her head and took away the leftovers, placing them in containers.

She missed the way Altair blew out a sigh of relief, a small half-smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

Altair stood up from his seat, patting his lap from imaginary dust and placing the towel from his shoulders to the back of the counter stool. He took a long sip of his tea before grinning widely at his nanny. “Thank you so much for breakfast, Petra!”

“No problem, kiddo. Oh, and your Dad wants to talk to you about something. He’s in his office.”

“Okay!”

The black-haired boy walked past the archway leading to the living room, where the glass double doors to the patio were located. Snuggling on the floor and chewing on his toy was Levi’s golden retriever, Captain. Altair flinched when he saw the dog shift their head in his direction. A series of barks came out of the pet, making the boy hurry for the handles of the double doors. His heart was pounding when he couldn’t get the doors to open, pulling on them as Captain was now standing up to give him another round of barks. It caught the attention of Petra and the woman instantly shot to the living room but not before shouting something that made Altair’s ears turn red of embarrassment.

“Push, Al.” Petra was now wrapping her arms around the dog, eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

Altair stopped for a moment, twisting the handles of the double doors and pushing them just as Petra said. He turned around with a sheepish smile, chuckling nervously because this mistake might have lost him the plan. “Must have slipped my mind.” He had never gotten out of a house that quickly in his entire life.

Only when he stepped foot on the patio that he could breathe normally. Altair kicked a pebble on the pathway, hands snug inside his pockets, as he thought about what his father will tell him. He followed the pathway until he was met with a slope, a building looking the main estate was sitting on top of the small hill overlooking the plantation. With a bundle of nerves swirling in his stomach, Altair took a deep breath and trekked the hill. The higher he got, hectares of a variety of tea trees greeted his vision, mimicking the sea with its vastness. It was the first time he saw something so wide and before he knew it, questions started entering his mind.

If the Ackerman family held so much money, why did his grandparents make his mum go back to London? Why did they take away the only person who made her feel loved in every sort of way possible? She could’ve been happy here. Everything is so soothing and secure.

The sound of people talking snapped him back to reality. Altair shook his head and continued his small walk towards the building. It looked like there was more activity in here than he imagined. People were sorting out the tea leaves they harvested and others were manning a machine meant for grounding the leaves. It was so busy that he didn’t realize he stopped in front of the huge window showing all of the employees trying to keep Levi’s business booming.

A person rounding the building noticed his gawking and smiled a little. They clutched the flowers they picked for the new blends Levi was experimenting on and went to the black-haired boy. “Al, welcome home. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here yesterday to welcome you back.”

The silver-eyed boy turned around to the young woman sharing his features — the same jet-black hair, pale complexion, and shade of silver for the eyes (though hers were more on the bluish side of the spectrum). He tried recalling the family members his brother told him to remember. There was a woman with the same appearance in one of the pictures. She was hugging the Altair she knows, their smiles shining through the piece of shiny paper. She was the older cousin his twin was telling so many stories about since she was the only one closer to his age around the household. The Altair standing in front of her right now smiled, muttering her name, “Mikasa.”

Mikasa returned the smile with her own, sitting on her heels to meet the boy’s eyes. “How was camp?”

“My opponent in a fencing competition pushed me in the washing area of our pavilion.”

Mikasa winced, ruffling the boy’s hair gently. “Why did they do that?”

Altair shrugged, feeling proud of himself for doing that to his twin despite being guilty to this day. “Guess he was better than me at fencing. He has a teacher specifically for that sport back in their hometown.”

“Oh, wow. If you want someone to practice fencing with, I’ll gladly help you.” The young woman tilted her head with a smile. “That is if you want to go back to that camp next summer. I’ll even learn the rules for you.”

The older of the two had so many records in her portfolio. Altair recalled that his brother was gushing about how Mikasa was a part of the track and field team the entirety of her stay in college. She was also a part of a volleyball club when she was in high school. This young woman has everything in her belt and it would be so good if Altair practiced fencing with her. However, he also realized that Mikasa probably had her hands full with academic and familial responsibilities. “But you have your final year in college, though, and you’re so busy in the plantation.”

Mikasa once again tousled Altair’s hair, chuckling under her breath. “Anything for my baby cousin so don’t worry about it.” She looked down at the pile of flowers in her arms. She handed a single red lily flower to Altair. “Here, to brighten up your day.” Mikasa stood up and waved at Altair. “I’m testing these flowers out with some berries, kiddo. I’ll be in the kitchen by the sorting room with Annie. If we can get the right combination, we’ll let you try some. Your dad is in his office waiting for you.” With that, Mikasa turned around but not before ruffling Altair’s hair again.

Altair nodded at nobody in particular and entered the building with a slight skip in his steps. The office was situated on the second floor of the manor-like establishment. The color palette of red and olive green was still observed in the interior but the large, open balcony let in enough light to illuminate the second floor. There was a railing surrounding the middle space of the entire floor, perfect for looking down and observing the bustling life inside the house. Altair’s destination, however, was the door to the left side of the second floor down a painting-covered hallway. He tentatively knocked on the door with his father’s name pinned on it. Altair faintly heard someone call inside the room and opened the door to peek his head in.

Levi was behind his desk, phone close to his ear. “Yes, Erwin. I thought you will be visiting because of Altair today. I see. No problem. You can visit the plantation anytime.” He glanced at the opened door, seeing Altair meekly staring at him. He smiled a little before telling Erwin, “Al’s here. Yeah. The stocks are fine and the new blends are coming out great. Sure, I’ll send you some. Bye.” The silver-eyed man sighed as he placed his phone on the desk. “You can come in, Al. Usually, you just barge in here and wait for me on the couch.” Levi hummed, eyes softening at the sight of his son grinning in front of him.

Altair chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “I thought it was an important call.”

“It was just Eyebrows.”

“Whatever you say, Dad.”

The boy sat on the couch, eyes inconspicuously roaming around the office. He heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and Altair looked up to find his dad preparing a cup of tea in the kitchenette installed in the room. He looked away from Levi and shifted his attention to the framed photographs on the desk. Everything wasn’t facing him but there was one frame positioned to face the person behind the desk. Altair craned his neck to get a glimpse of the picture, his eyes going back and forth between the frame and his dad, who was waiting for the tea to steep. With his body draping over the couch and neck stretching as far as he could (the position was starting to hurt), Altair saw that it was a picture of you, his mum. The silver-eyed boy gasped because it was you in a wedding dress.

“Blimey.”

“Al?”

Altair dropped the position with a huff. He straightened himself to face a confused Levi, a tray of two teacups filled with raspberry tea held by his hands. “Thought I could just, you know,” he nervously chuckled, “get a good stretch after oversleeping. So what’s up, Dad?”

Levi hummed, placing the tray on the low table. He sat beside Altair, body facing the little boy as he surveyed the innocent smile plastered on his son as he sipped on his cup of tea, the two of them mirroring how they held their cups. Maybe it was because Al went away for summer camp in the last eight weeks or maybe he was just missing you and your presence in his life, but Levi felt his heart clench at how fast his little boy was growing. The summer camp must be a blessing in disguise because his boy came home with newfound manners and the whole time he was away, he thought hard enough to make a decision he won’t come to regret. Eight weeks was a long time, things are bound to change. So Levi cleared his throat and readied himself in spilling his carefully thought-out plans to his son.

“There’s something really important I want to talk to you about, Al,” Levi started, putting this teacup back on the low table.

“That’s funny because there’s something really important that I want to talk to you about.”

“Yeah? Well, you go first, kiddo.”

Altair shook his head rapidly, gulping down his tea first. “No, you first, Dad.”

“Hmm.” The black-haired man carefully formulated the words in his mind. The first order of business was to cut off any people who would dare hurt his son. Yesterday was just the catalyst in his ongoing debate with Petra all summer to get rid of the publicist leeching off of him. From the look on Altair’s face while he was wading in the pool, Levi figured that Cynthia said something to him that might have shaken his mind. He leveled his gaze with Altair’s and told him, “Okay, I want to talk to you about Cynthia, the hired publicist for the teahouse and plantation.”

The boy turned his body so that he was seeing his father eye to eye. “And I wanted to talk to you about Mom.” Altair furrowed his eyebrows in distaste. “Oh, so Cynthia’s her name. What about Cynthia?”

Levi blinked in surprise. He knew Altair was a smart kid but he didn’t expect him to pick up on things so fast. There was no one in the estate that he shared his current sentiments. Petra was known to be a person not careful enough to keep a secret hidden from Altair and Erwin will most likely tease Levi throughout the day if he revealed his plans. Not to mention that Mikasa will probably indulge his kid in spilling every embarrassing thing about him so that makes his niece out of the list of people worthy enough to be told a secret.

With a calm voice, he regarded his little him with a flat expression. “What about your mom?”

Altair groaned in exasperation. “Dad, I’m almost twelve. I’m at a point in my life to ask about the whereabouts of my mom. You can’t expect me to believe the stork story all my life!”

A slow inhale and a look at the ceiling was all Levi needed to compose himself. “You know what, that is a story for later. But first, we’re going to talk about the publicist. Did she say anything to you? Anything that might have hurt you in any way yesterday?”

One pair of gray eyes looked away from the other to examine the invisible dust gathering on top of the coffee table. Altair wanted to tell Levi that Cynthia was trying to exploit him, trying to wound him in her trap and to make him fall in love with her. But the way that his father was insisting on the topic of Cynthia instead of you didn’t sit right with him at all. To Altair, it looked like Levi was desperate to clean the woman’s name and to make him build a relationship with her when the time comes that she’ll be carrying the Ackerman name. He mentally apologized to his other half across the ocean for not having the strength to continue the plan. Because as he glanced at Levi, the man’s concern apparent on the glint of his eyes, Altair wanted his father to be happy — to love someone without any pain that spanned for more than a decade.

“No, she didn’t say anything to me. She just told me how happy she is to be on the plantation.”

As much as he was scared to be a father when his boys were born, Levi always knew if his son was lying after years of raising Altair alone (with the help of Petra but the nanny will always give him the credit). Right now, however, he couldn’t tell if Al was lying or not. “Al, are you telling me the truth? If not—“

The door burst open, bringing with it an overly dramatic woman. “Levi? Are you here, sweetie?”

Eld followed after Cynthia, his face betraying his aggravation at the woman. “Don’t just enter Levi’s office without permission, Ma’am!”

Cynthia scoffed, insulted at the term. “'Ma’am’?! I’m not that old, employee.”

The blonde man bristled. He tried puffing his chest to remind the publicist that he has more authority than just a last-minute accommodation in the staff, but he stopped when he saw Levi starting to stand up from the couch. He had never seen his boss express anger in his years of being Levi’s secretary, however, the apparent look on the onyx-haired man will probably drive Cynthia more than six feet under the surface. Eld dismissed Cynthia with a roll of his eyes, focusing on the annoyed man walking towards them with terrifying footsteps. “Levi, she just went inside the building. Believe me, we were trying to prevent her from getting her head cut off by you but she wouldn’t listen!” The blonde glared at the woman who was gasping dramatically, manicured hand pressed on her chest. “Levi, you have to believe me. Mikasa even had to—“

“I understand, Eld.” Levi’s voice was uncharacteristically icy. Sure, he was known for being blunt and dismissive at times but that was the man's nature in forming social relationships. The employees were used to him being that way. Right now, though, his glare could have frozen Cynthia in place. “What is this, Miss Maryland? I thought I told you to leave a message to my secretary if you want to have an appointment with me. But I remember telling you that I’m not free this day.”

Cynthia pouted. “But I also told you that I wanted to have lunch with you! Is your job more important than me? Or are you just using that as an excuse to not make time for me?”

Eld looked scandalized at the woman’s reaction while Altair was wincing at the sound of Cynthia’s whine.

Levi was praying for his ears as well, pinching the bridge of his nose to calm himself down. He looked at Altair at the corners of his eyes. “I don’t recall you being on my priority list, Miss Maryland, and I have plans with Al today anyway. Horseback riding.”

“You’re lying!” The woman turned to Altair. “Is this true, Al, darling?”

The boy quickly took note of the hint of desperation from his father’s eyes so he smiled. “Yeah, I’ll be riding Nox since I miss my horse while I was at camp.”

“You heard my kid,” Levi drawled. “Now get out. You’re invading my privacy — sounds fitting for your job.”

Cynthia’s face scrunched in disgust, turning around abruptly, her hair hitting Eld in the face. The blonde man sputtered before incredulously staring at the retreating publicist. There wouldn’t be any need for Mikasa to restrain her if needed since she knew the way out. Eld turned back to Levi and Altair, his face showing how guilty he was. “Levi, I’m really sorry. If I’d known she’ll barge in here like this.”

“No, it’s fine. Thank you, Eld.”

“Alright.” Eld trailed off, shifting his attention from Levi to Altair. He waved at Levi’s son before pointing at the door behind. “Have a great afternoon, you two.”

Levi nodded at his friend, sitting on the couch with a sigh when the door closed. He had to get rid of that publicist, she was starting to become a headache. Levi then felt a small weight on his shoulder. Turning his head to the side, a head of onyx hair greeted his vision. With a small smile, he lifted his arm and wrapped it around Altair, letting him snuggle into his side some more. The two of them cherished the silence as if the room was their haven, away from pesky publicists and the bustling activity a floor below.

Speeding through the plantation felt liberating for Altair. He wanted to raise his arms in the air as they zoomed by the small tea trees but that would mean having Levi being suspicious of him. At first, Altair thought that the predicament with Captain would be the same with Nox but the black beauty of a horse nuzzled his palm affectionately as if he was the real owner. Of course, it couldn’t happen without the help of the sugar cubes laid out on his palm. Now, he was laughing as he raced with his dad, their destination was the hill on the other side of the plantation. It looked like Levi was winning but Altair tried to spur Nox faster. A blur of black reached their landmark, a tree with a swing on it, and Altair whooped at the top of his lungs.

“I won!”

“You always win,” Levi told him, a loving stare directed at his son.

Altair turned his horse to meet Levi’s stare. “I do?”

A confused frown painted the silver-eyed man’s lips.

At that, Altair brightened immediately, realizing his mistake. “I do! Just slipped my mind again. I can’t seem to stop forgetting things. That’s so weird.”

Levi guided his horse to walk towards Altair’s. “Yeah, so weird,” he murmured until he was beside his son. They stared at the plantation with varying expressions. The boy looked so mesmerized at how the sun touched every single tree while Levi blankly surveyed the rows of what brought him to this moment. It was once upon a time when he brought you here during spring break in junior year at college, telling you his dreams of starting a tea plantation. You looked radiant against the sunset, the rays creating a halo that Levi wanted to preserve forever. Altair’s laugh when he won has the same smile as yours when you manage to outrun him in a race. Levi couldn’t help but think of a life with you and the twins here in the plantation and estate, the two boys growing up with each other and with both parents unlike now. The four of you wouldn’t experience the pain brought by the separation. But reality struck him hard when Altair breathed out an expelling sigh, eyes soft around the corners like yours.

“So, Al, do you think we’re lonely?”

The said boy looked at his dad, who was wistfully looking at the plantation like it was hurting him. “I don’t think so.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Altair’s grip on the reins tightened. “Why are you asking this, Dad?”

Levi took a deep breath. “Believe it or not, Al, but I feel lonely every night. The moon and the stars must be tired of my internal monologues to them, all wishing to have a normal night with our complete family. But with Maryland here, there seems to be someone at the back of my head telling me to make a move. You know what, Al, I want—“

“Race you back to the ranch, Dad!”

“What—wait, Al! Hey, slow down, kiddo!”

Tears were starting to blur Altair’s vision as he rode around the plantation. No, the plan wasn’t going to work. His twin brother was a liar when he said he had an amazing and genius plan. Everything was starting to burn in flames and Altair had no choice but to watch it fester until only ashes remain. When he reached the stables, he tied the reins to the post with hurried yet precise knots. And Altair ran and ran. Up the slope leading to the manor, past the building where the workers were happily interacting with another until he felt himself bumping into someone. He brushed off a concerned Mikasa shouting at him to slow down. Minutes later, Levi passed by the fretting young woman, the latter asking if Altair was alright. But the onyx-haired boy finally reached the safe confines of their manor, passing by the opened double doors. He started pacing around the living room.

Altair buried his hands in his hair, his accent coming out as he rambled. “This isn’t going the way he expected it to. Bonkers, this is a mess! I’m just a kid and I couldn’t handle everything at once. Now, Mum’s getting married to a person I don’t know and Dad is tying the knot with Cindy—Cassandra—whatever!” He leaned on the back of an armchair, body slumping on the plush cushion. “And I don’t even know Dad as much as he does. How am I supposed to fix this?”

“What are you trying to fix?” Petra suddenly appeared in the armchair. (She was there all along but she figured that by keeping quiet, she will learn more about why Altair acted strangely since he came home.) The redhead stood up, arms crossed on her chest. “Do you want to share something with the class, Al?”

Altair jumped back, placing a hand on top of his pounding heart. “You gave me a fright, Petra.”

Petra leaned back with an expression of disbelief. “What? Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to talk to me about? If you’re scared of your dad finding out your secrets right now, you can always tell me.” Altair remained silent as he stared wide-eyed at the nanny and housekeeper. “Care to explain to me why Captain doesn’t like you anymore when he has been with you since you were a toddler? Or how you can’t open the doors properly? Even your appetite change this morning. I have so many questions, Al, and it all stemmed from when you came home. Do you know something we don’t?”

The boy shrugged. That didn’t seem to alleviate the suspiciousness he carried. “I just changed over the summer, that’s all.”

Petra slowly took a step forward and tilted her head down to meet Altair’s eyes. “I’m starting to think you were raised …” She shook her head to dispel the thought and turned around to make herself busy in the kitchen. “That’s impossible. Never mind. I must be needing sleep from all these theories.”

“I am raised by who, Petra?”

She waved her hand to dismiss the question. “Forget it, Al. I’m not supposed to talk to you about this anyway.”

“Like I’m raised by [Name] [Last Name]? Like I’m the other half of one pair of twins?”

The redhead tensed at the question, her smile frozen in place. She managed to blink herself outside of her stupor, slowly regarding the onyx-haired boy, who was gradually turning into an image of you. Those eyes, though sharing Levi’s stormy irises, were reminiscent of your kind ones — always appearing as soft as they can be despite the intensity of a present glare. Petra was at a loss for words and she had to clear her throat a couple of times to find her voice. “How do you know her full name? How do you know that you have a twin, Al? How do you know about—?”

“About Caelum?” The boy pursed his lips, forcing himself to smile. He dropped the act because there was no use continuing their charade any further. Besides, this is Petra, the most loyal person from what he could observe during a full day in the Ackerman estate. She reminded him of Oluo, the way they stuck to each parent almost every day. His British accent came out when he said the next words, “That’s because I am Caelum.”

If this wasn’t a serious situation, Caelum would’ve laughed at Petra’s reaction.

“Altair?!”

Levi looked around when he stepped foot on the patio. However, he was surprised at the peculiar scenario welcoming him in the living room — it was as if Petra was looking at his son for the first time in years. The redhead had both hands covering her mouth, tears prickling her eyes, and an expression showing disbelief. He rose an eyebrow in incredulity because nobody paid him any attention. With measured footsteps, Levi placed a hand on his son’s shoulders, making the boy jump a few inches in the air.

“Hey, buddy,” his voice was so soft since his boy looked shaken up just as much as Petra, “why did you take off on me like that? I told you I wanted to talk to you about something.” His son looked up at him with wide eyes so Levi expectantly glanced at Petra. The woman was still silent with that constipated look on her face. “Petra, do you need to take a shit? Why are you looking at Al like that?”

Caelum was breathing heavily, eyes pleading with Petra to let him tell Levi the truth.

With a subtle nod, Petra wiped her eyes and turned to Levi, who had his face scrunched in perplexity. “Like what? I’m not looking at him in a special way.” She shrugged but with one look at the bright-eyed boy beside her friend, her voice started to falter. “I’m looking at him like I’ve looked at him for eleven years. Since the day he came home from the hospital, all wrapped up and squirming for contact with his parents.” Petra looked like she could cry any minute. (Levi was staring at her like she had grown a second head. He was ready to give her a day-off.) “Seven pounds, five ounces, 21 inches long. This is how I look at him.”

Caelum felt himself smile as Petra gestured at him.

“Can I hug him?”

Levi blinked and stayed silent for a second. He lifted his hand from his son’s shoulder and stepped back since Petra wrapped the boy in a tight hug. He felt the back of an armchair behind him, leaning against it with a sigh. “Everybody’s so weird.”

As the woman continued hugging Caelum, she exclaimed, “Oh, he’s so beautiful and he’s grown so much.” The boy nuzzled his head on the crook of his nanny’s neck, a large smile painted on his face.

For once in his life, Levi wanted to sleep the day off. Maybe everything might go back to normal.

Petra pulled away from the hug, wiping her eyes with her sleeves. She pointed at Caelum while trying to control her voice from shaking. “I’m going to make you something special to eat. What do you feel like eating? Anything? You know what?” She waved her hand once she reached the entrance of the kitchen. “I’ll just whip up something from everything we’ve got, okay?” With a last nod and an apologetic smile directed at Levi, Petra went to the kitchen whilst wiping her tears, leaving behind the two Ackermans’.

Now that heartfelt moment ended, Levi knew he had to tell his son what’s weighing on his mind for the past years. All it took were eight weeks for him to steel himself in making a choice he won’t come to regret. If only he had done this when you gave him your back, a baby looking like him snug in your arms and reaching out to a father he won’t come to have. If only he had chased you to London, fighting for your love in front of your parents, promising a life filled with enough luxury for your newfound family. If only he had the strength back then, none of this would’ve happened. So Levi gently directed his son to the couches, sitting in front of the boy on the low table. Their gazes matched each other and it looked like Levi was staring at his younger self.

“We have to talk.” The onyx-haired man’s voice was so soft, matching his visage that was contorted in slight wariness and expectation.

Caelum nodded. “Okay. Shoot, Dad.”

Levi nodded back. “I’ve been thinking about this since you were a toddler and this summer was the only time I could focus on debating with myself on it.” He took a deep breath, his heart thundering in his chest, and his cheeks burning. “Al, I want to get back together with your mom.”

The whole world stopped. Caelum stopped breathing for a few seconds. There was a lack of emotions inside him at first, him just staring like an idiot at Levi. Suddenly, he felt like jumping but that would look suspicious so Caelum abruptly stood up in front of his dad, tingles traveling in every fiber of his body.

“Al?” Levi asked, confused at the constipated look on his little boy.

Bright gray eyes stared back at Levi, Caelum’s grin erasing every doubt in his father’s body. “This is perfect, Dad!”

“It is?” The onyx-haired man trailed off before perking up a little, a small grin tugging his mouth upwards. “Yeah, it is. I decided that I will do everything right this time and have our family back again.” He looked down wistfully on the floor, fingers wringing with each other. He murmured under his breath, “I wonder how Caelum’s doing right now. Will he like me? I’m not exactly awarded with the best father of the year title.”

On the other hand, Caelum heard it and he couldn’t help but grin knowingly. He erased that on his face when Levi looked up at him. “So, Dad, what are you going to do about Cindy?”

“What about the publicist?”

Caelum sat back down, leaning forward to enunciate his next words. “Well, it’s quite obvious that she’s so enamored by you.”

Levi scoffed a disdainful laugh. “Why would she? I’m not interested in her in some way. I don’t even like women her age.”

“That’s the thing, Dad. I heard from her yesterday that you’re planning on telling me something. I figured it would involve her since she suggested it. It might be a different thing than what you told me right now.”

“Oh, that. I decided, with the help of Petra and the other workers, that you will be the face of the tea shop. Since I am not too comfortable with the idea of having my pictures posted on every branch, a majority vote prompted you to do the job. But Mikasa suggested that we also do that by putting you in the new label design. It doesn’t have to have your face on it, just your silhouette. I think Isabelle will do that well enough.”

“So,” Caelum prolonged the word, “you’re not engaged to her, right?”

Levi looked ready to barf his lunch. “What? Where the hell did you get that idea?”

A sheepish smile prevented the laugh that was bubbling in Caelum’s chest. “I tend to overthink at times, Dad.”

The silver-eyed man sighed, running his hand through his hair. “You get that from me.”

“I asked you that because yesterday, she told me you proposed to her because you wanted me to have a mother figure. She even told me you dated because you liked her at first sight. She mentioned that you went horseback riding in the sunset like a typical chick flick pairing and there you confessed that you felt lonely because Mom left you. Oh, I mustn’t forget how you reciprocated her feelings under a moonlit night. Hey, Dad, where are you going? Dad?”

“Don’t mind me, Al, I’m killing a bitch this afternoon and it’s best if you stay put while I do that.”

“Dad?!”

Cynthia Maryland is a fucking menace to society.

It has been so long since Levi met a person who just by talking, brain cells are diminishing at every word they utter. The first one who made him feel this way was a genius, however, they were too much for his social battery. They always hung off of him at times during college all because they were your childhood friend, who followed you to America to make you feel like you had someone in a foreign country back then. That was seen as endearing but this time, it’s fucking irritating. Levi didn’t even have to control himself from showing how much he wanted this meeting to be over.

“Miss Maryland, can you please listen to me for one second?” Levi spat out, the stress coming to him in a migraine.

“I am listening, doll, and I guess those plans with Altair didn’t happen because you have me in your office — doors closed and just the two of us,” Cynthia spoke in a sultry voice that didn’t have any effect on the man slumped on his chair. “I will do anything for you, Mr. Ackerman.”

“Thank God for that.”

Cynthia was over the stars at that statement.

“Because I believe it’s time for your job as my shop’s publicist to be terminated. So I suggest getting out of here.”

“What?!” The brunette all but shrieked.

At the commotion, a knock resonated in the room. “Levi, is everything all right in there?” Mikasa asked. “Do you need me to restrain her?”

“No need, Mikasa,” Levi answered, not looking away from the distressed woman squawking in front of him. “Hey, Maryland, what are you whining about? Didn’t you hear what I just said? You’re fired. What are you still doing here?”

“Pray tell, why are you firing me?! You need me!”

Levi rose an eyebrow. “Why would I need you when I have capable people working on the plantation right now? It was a mistake hiring you. Eld was actually the one who wanted to have a publicist for the tea shops and if my secretary said it would be beneficial to the business, I will always say yes. But I guess he hired the wrong person. As for the question of why I fired you, let’s just say, you were spewing things that weren’t even true. And of all people, you said those things to my son. What are you trying to gain from telling him we’re fucking engaged? Money? My last name?”

The brunette remained silent, angry tears dripping on her cheeks.

“Let me tell you this, Miss Maryland, you’re not worth those things. So if you don’t want me to get fucking angry at you, get the fuck out.”

While the whole debacle with Cynthia was happening in Levi’s office, Caelum was in the kitchen rolling a pin over a chunk of dough. The silver-eyed boy was helping Petra with the afternoon snacks, something that the nanny suggested since Caelum looked bored out of his mind, staring into the high ceiling of the living room while lying on the long couch. Only half an hour passed since Levi stormed into his office, demanding Eld to contact ‘that hysterical fucking woman’, and only two batches of apple turnovers were ready for the oven. There were a lot of workers on the plantation, all of them having big appetites, so Caelum and Petra had a lot of work to do.

Caelum just finished his story of meeting Altair for the first time and his shoulders felt so light after spilling everything out.

Petra pensively gave Caelum a wistful glance. “I’m happy that you two found each other.”

The boy looked up at the redhead. An air of earnest gratitude exuded from her, the idea of two twins reuniting was worth being happy about. Petra wasn’t the only one thanking the moon and stars for granting a request, Caelum felt like his world expanded because of that summer camp. “I am happy, too. I got to meet you, Mikasa, and the workers. I want this stay to last longer than a day but Al and I will eventually go back to our rightful homes.”

“Why are you being sad, kiddo? Didn’t Levi tell you that he’s planning on courting your mom again?”

“That’s the thing,” Caelum mumbled. The dough became too thin to wrap around apple fillings at the force he was pressing down on the rolling pin. He sighed, starting over again. “Mum is engaged to someone in London. I can’t even do anything about it.”

Petra hummed casually. “But Altair can.” Beside her, Caelum once again shifted his attention from the dough to her side profile, making her smile. “One thing I know about Al through the years is that he will do everything to make his plan a success. That brother of yours is a stubborn kid but he’s determined to fulfill his goal, which so happens to be what Levi’s planning, too.” She placed the knife on the cutting board, leaving the apples unattended, and faced Caelum with a half-smile. “How about this, you want to make this a success?”

Caelum nodded.

“Then tell your dad who you really are.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “No!” He looked down, cursing himself for raising his voice at Petra. “I mean, he’ll be mad for sure.”

The redhead chuckled before pointing a ladle at Caelum. “That’s where you’re wrong. Levi was always praying every night to have a glimpse of his other son across the sea. Now that you’re here, you’ll be giving him the happiness he always wanted for eleven years. He deserves to hug you, knowing who you are.”

This is how Caelum found himself standing in front of Levi’s bedroom. It was inevitable anyway — his dad finding out his real identity. Letting out a sigh, Caelum twisted the doorknob with clammy hands, opening the door to the image of Levi reading a book on his bed. The boy smiled when Levi looked up at the sound of the door opening.

Levi took off his reading glasses and smiled. “Hey, kiddo, come in.” He lifted his covers as an invitation for the tentative boy. When Caelum got on the bed, Levi placed his book on the nightstand along with his glasses. For a moment, he only looked at his son with soft eyes as Caelum adjusted the duvet to cover his lap. He pulled him close with an arm around the boy’s shoulders, letting Caelum relax against him. “Did you have a nightmare?” Levi felt his son shake his head. “Is something bothering you?” At the silence, Levi looked down on Caelum's onyx hair. He kissed the side of the boy’s head. “I hope you will feel better once we spend the rest of the day tomorrow.”

“I can’t, Dad, I’m sorry.” It was a low murmur that Levi had to crane his head to hear. “I have to go somewhere tomorrow.”

“And where will this somewhere be? Is Mikasa going with you? Or did Petra invite you to go get the groceries?”

The silver-eyed boy squirmed out of Levi’s hold, burying himself in the think blankets.

“Al? Are you feeling unwell? Kiddo?” Levi tried tickling his son’s sides but was only met with muffled laughs. “Al.”

A British accent enveloped the words Caelum uttered next, “That’s where I’m going! I have to go see Altair.”

“And where might Altair be?”

A pause. “In London.” Levi froze. “With his mum, [Name] [Last Name].”

It was as if cold water surrounded Levi, dunking him in a fever dream. It was too good to be true. Of all the surprises he received for the day, this is by far the most responsible for taking away his voice and steady breathing. He couldn’t think properly at the revelation. So this was the reason why Petra looked like she saw the boy for the first time because she did, after eleven years. His heartbeat echoed through his chest, making a duet with his clattering mind. Levi didn’t know what to do. Should he embrace the son he never got to hug in almost twelve years or should he stay quiet and let the night go on, pretending that this was a dream? His eyes started to burn with unshed tears as he carefully lifted the edge of the duvet off the small figure lying beside him. There was no way this was happening. But as he finally got a glimpse of his son staring up at him, eye shape boring some similarities to yours, Levi let out a shaky breath.

“Caelum?”

Caelum sat up. “Yes, Dad?”

Levi’s vision became blurry, arms instantly wrapping around Caelum. He hugged him tightly, worried that this might be a trick of his loneliness, that this was Altair pretending to be his twin to make him happy. But no. He knew Altair like the back of his hand and if he hugged him like this, the little brat would whine at the long physical contact. This was Caelum, hands gentle like yours as they patted his back. He didn’t know he was crying until Caelum rubbed rhythmic circles on his back to calm him down.

“Al and I met at camp and we decided to switch places.” His breath hitched, nuzzling his head on Levi’s chest. “Dad, I’ve dreamt my whole life of finally meeting you. Seeing you waiting at the airport nearly made me cry because you were exactly like Mum’s vague stories. And Al wanted to meet Mum as well so we sort of made the switch impulsively.”

Levi pulled away, a smile present on his face. “Who exactly made this plan?”

“Never in my life would I suggest switching places with my twin. I told Al this is an idiotic plan yet here we are.”

Levi snorted a laugh. “Of course it’s Al’s idea.”

“But Dad …”

“Hmm?” The man waited patiently for his little heaven to speak up.

“I hope you’re not raging at the moment because I love you so much and I just hope that one day, you will love me as me — not as a mirror image of Al.”

Levi pulled Caelum again in a hug, kissing the boy on the crown of his head. “Did you know I was the one who named you?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Since your mom named Altair after a star, I thought it would be best if you were named after the realm the star is situated. You’re my little heaven, Cae, and nothing can change that. I’ve loved you your whole life. Stop being a mopey little brat — I meant that term in the most endearing way possible because your mother was the original one, she was my pain in the ass — and give your dad another hug.”

Caelum felt like he forgot something, choosing this moment to never mention you being engaged to someone and instead chose to let his dad’s warm hugs lull him to sleep.

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harlot-of-oblivion · 5 years

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Flower for His Thoughts (Part 2)

After meeting you at the book café Vergil learns that opening up to someone isn't so bad after all, as long as they are a remarkable woman who lets the flowers do the talking.

I would like to thank @drusoona for our chats that inspired this little scenario.💕

Here’s the link to the list of all the flowers featured in this part. 🌹🥰🌹

There is something about walking the city streets at night that seem otherworldly. Perhaps it was the lack of people milling about their day, the soft glow of moonlight shining upon the black asphalt of the streets, or the light breeze blowing through the buildings, whispering the sounds of the city for all to hear.

But for Vergil it is the fact that literal otherworldly creatures tend to roam these streets. And it was up to him and his brother to dispatch of them tonight. He is successful…but he underestimates one of the demon pests and now he is walking down the street, clutching his left arm where they got a lucky swipe at the Son of Sparda. He shrugs it off in the heat of moment, focusing all of his anger on his target, but now he is really feeling it. His demon lineage helps him bounce back from most wounds, but this one must be caustic since it has not quit burning. I should do better, he thought bitterly, beating himself up for not upholding the prowess expected from a kin of Sparda.

Flower for your thoughts?

Your voice enters his mind, a soft interlude in between his self-criticism. You always have a knack of distracting him from negative thoughts, almost as if you could read it on his face even though he does not show it. And it seems you no longer have to be there to distract him now. Vergil stops in his tracks, takes a deep breath, and stares up at the sky. His weary eyes gaze up at the stars, the gentle glow of the moon illuminating his silver irises as his thoughts turn to you, his new flower-loving acquaintance.

After that serendipitous day at the book café he keeps to his word and gives you back the umbrella the next time he meets you in his quiet corner. He remembers you smiling gratefully as you take it back, making that damn warmth pulse in his chest at the sight of it. That warmth drapes itself over his entire body as you present him a single orange rose with a tin of homemade orange spice tea, “a gift to celebrate our budding friendship” as you put it. Vergil could not help but feel touched, but also slightly annoyed that you once again blind sided him with your kindness.

That small orange rose is the first of many flowers he receives from you. Some flowers came with more tins of tea you made for him. A stem of blue wisteria with a vanilla lavender blend, two small balls of pink and purple hydrangeas with earl grey tea, and a cluster of dainty strawberry flowers with wild strawberry tea. Vergil lets out a soft chortle as he recalls that you did not technically give him the strawberry blossoms…you threw them in the air like confetti as you handed over the tin, exclaiming that he needs to “lose the glower and smell the flowers”. He quirks a bewildered brow at you as the barista comes over and berates you for throwing flowers in the shop…again. While you sheepishly apologize to them he kneels down and grabs one of the delicate blossoms, putting it with his new gift before you pick them all back up.

Vergil starts walking again as he continues to reminisce about your odd fixation on flowers. Technically, you have only personally given him four flowers accompanying your homemade tea. But sometimes when he pulls out one of his favorite books from the café shelves and cracks it open, a beautifully pressed flower falls into his lap. The first time it happens he just stares blankly at the delicately dried flower, curious about how it got there for only a second before he just knew it had to be you. It was then that he learns just how observant you are, knowing which books he likes so you can leave your tiny surprises. He wants to be annoyed by your actions…but instead he found himself secretly thinking it was adorable.

He only recognizes one of the hidden flowers, a yellow petunia with white edges circling its five petals, but the other two flowers are new to him. One is red with a pink ring around its four soft petals while the other reminds him of a daisy with its multiple tiny white petals, but he knew it was not a daisy…it seems to shimmer in the light, like it is coated in a light sheen of ice crystals. Even though he is slightly perplexed at your insistence of randomly gifting him with flowers he soon gets used to it, sometimes wondering to himself what the next flower given to him will be. The only thing he cannot fathom is why you do not give him the pressed ones personally.

Such odd behavior for my lovely rose.

Just as that thought enters his mind Vergil quickly shakes his head as if to jostle that notion out. He is not infatuated with you and you are not his to claim. That implies he needs you, and Vergil has never needed anyone…at least that what he tells himself as he grits his teeth to cope with the pain in his arm. This is just his attempt at sparking a normal friendship with a normal human.

And so far the friendship is successful in his opinion. Both of you talk about mutually favorite books, debate upon the meaning behind poems, and enjoy many cups of tea together. He is careful to stay away from subjects that might bring up any personal history. He would be lying if he said that he is not curious about what you do for a living. He guesses it has something to do with gardening. But he knew the social nicety would be asked of him as well and he honestly could not predict how you would react to him being a demon hunter and a recently restored Son of Sparda. And as much as he wants to try to open up he did not want to frighten you away from him. He would never confess aloud that he would miss your charming company, your unpredictable antics, your mellifluous voice…

Vergil grunts quietly as a renewed surge of pain shoots through his arm. He stops and carefully reaches inside his coat for the infuriating phone that Nero gave him. The usually bright screen is dark, just like it was an hour ago. He tries to turn it back on, finally relenting to the idea that he can at least get a ride back to the shop, but the phone refuses to turn on. He snarls in exasperation as he shoves the damned device back into his coat. There is always the Yamato, he thought as he examines his surroundings, trying to figure out which direction Devil May Cry is when it dawns on him that he is very close to your home. He ponders for a moment and figures out that he is currently behind your house, his keen eyes quickly spotting it despite the night sky.

Well, that confirms some of my assumptions of her, he surmises as he takes in the lush garden sprawling with vibrant plant life residing behind your home. Vergil admires your handy work, impressed by the variety of flowers, shrubs, and trees that you have managed to patiently nurture. His feet move of their own accord, taking a few long strides up to the gate barring the beautiful garden from the rest of the neighborhood. The air is heavy with the fragrance of flowers and fresh dirt.

The abrupt brightness from a light turning on and the creak of your back door knocks him out of his ruminations. You step through and close the door behind you, holding a small basket in your hand as you make your way towards a section of the garden. What kind of woman harvests fruit at night? he wonders as he watches you crouch down and begin picking something off of some brambles. Vergil suddenly feels agitated. The thought of you out in the middle of the night by yourself in a city known for random demon attacks sets him on edge. He has to fight the urge to march over there and scold you for your foolishness. I shouldn’t even be here, he thought, realizing he has no right to be angry at you and turns to walk away. I better depart before-

“Vergil? Is that you?”

His body reacts as if lightning came down and struck him right where he stands. How do I get myself out of this situation? he thought warily as he turns back to regard you. With one hand still holding the small basket of what appears to be an assortment of berries and the other gripping your pink floral skirt you head towards him. Your worn black flats gracefully glide through the resplendent flowers as your black satin camisole glitters in the moonlight. He has never seen you so casually dressed…and absolutely enchanting. For the first time in his hunting career it was not just the presence of demons that make the streets at night otherworldly.

Your eyes squint to make him out in the dark shadows of the street lights, and you must realize it is indeed him because your face breaks out into a captivating smile. That smile…Vergil could never figure out how to evade the ensnarement of that smile. Every time you flash that certain curve of your sweet lips he loses touch with reality and just wants to revel in its radiance. It is because of that smile and its affect on him that he did not notice you getting close enough to see his wound. That lovely smile fades as your eyes flicker with worry and you quicken your pace until you arrive at the gate.

“Oh no! Vergil…what happened?” you ask, voice full of concern.

Vergil glances down at his hand holding his injured arm and subtly turns his body so that it is not fully on display for your meandering eyes. “…it is nothing,” he states stoically, even though he knows fully well that it will not be enough for you to back down.

Your eyes narrow incredulously. “You have a gaping hole in your coat, which is covered in blood and…is that acid?! What the hell?”

Vergil’s eyes close as he takes a moment to collect his thoughts. There is no point in trying to hide it. You will just hound him until he inevitable snaps out of irritation. “I believe it is something akin to acid.” He opens his eyes and catches you trying to peek around his body. He shoots you a stern glare. “Stop fretting. It will heal…in due time.”

Your hip juts out as one hand rests on it, the basket of berries hanging limply from your other hand as you meet his eyes with your own serious expression. “It’s not going to heal without medical attention, Vergil.”

“Are you volunteering then?” he sneers, furious at himself for allowing this entire situation to happen.

You blink a few a times, mulling over your words before you answer. “And what if I am?”

He regards you silently as he went over his options. His wound is not healing, his communications device is dead, and you caught him in a vulnerable position, which really made his stomach churn. He hates this feeling, this whole encounter…but he did not want to make it worse by turning down your offer of assistance. So, he takes a deep breath and centers his mind, preparing himself to step out his comfort zone further than he has in long time.

“Then I…would be indebted to you.”

That radiant smile graces your lips once more. “Well then, come along inside and-” you abruptly cut yourself off as you peer down at his hand curiously. “…is that a katana?”

Vergil’s eyes dart over to Yamato before looking back at you. “Yes.”

“Huh…well, just don’t swing it around as we make our way through my garden. Wouldn’t want to incur the wrath of Flora now would we?” You point towards a statue in the center of a fountain as you open the gate for him.

“There’s no need to chide me…I’m not a blundering oaf.” As he shuffles through the gate he inspects the statue and spots the wreath of flowers in its gleaming hands, denoting it as the Roman goddess of flowers.

“I didn’t say you were…I’m just being overprotective.” You close the gate behind him and lead him through the garden towards the back door of your domicile. Vergil lets his eyes wonder around, noting all the various types of flowers you have tended patiently. The now familiar warmth flutters in his chest as it occurs to him that every single flower you have given him came from this garden.

You open the door and usher him in. “If it’s something corrosive then we need to flush your arm with water. The kitchen sink is over there…just remove your coat while I grab the first aid kit, just in case.”

Vergil dutifully follows your instructions as he takes in the cozy atmosphere of your kitchen. He spots a tea kettle steaming on the stove. The air smells of home cooked meals, citrus fruits, and…his nostrils flare as he breathes in and subconsciously detects your own intoxicating scent mingling with the distinct aroma. He places his coat on the countertop next to the pristine sink as you walk over and turn the knob labelled cold. You gesture for him to bend down and hold his arm under the running water. He does so, clenching his teeth as the wound stings a little under the cool rush of water. You stand next to him, opening a box and taking out a bottle and a sterilized cloth. Out of the corner of his eye he watches you stare at his arm, teeth nibbling your lower lip as you pour disinfectant onto the cloth.

“May I?” you inquire, holding up the cloth and reaching to turn off the water. Vergil gives you one firm nod, balling his fist up to help cope with the skin to skin contact. He has felt your skin before, lingering touches with his finger when he reaches for your gifts or hands over a recommended book, and you respond in kind when you bring over his drink order or return a book to him. It has become a silent comfortable custom between you two…he dare say it was borderline flirtatious. But this…is far more intimate and he just hopes he can keep it together while you hurry with your aid and be done with it.

You must somehow sense his hesitancy since you present him your open palm, letting him take his time bringing his arm to you. He is always amazed when you just know what is going on in his head…he always wants to ask what gave him away, but then he would be admitting that your instincts are correct. He loosens his fist and very carefully places his arm into your waiting hand. Your fingers squeeze his arm reassuringly before bring the cloth over and start cleaning his wound. He vaguely registers the bubbling sting of the disinfectant as his mind goes all the way back to a memory…his mother gently cleaning a scrape from rowdy play with his brother. He never felt more safe than under her care, but right now standing near you as your fingers gently hold him as you care for him…he feels that same sense of safety he has not felt for a long time.

“So…you’re a demon hunter?”

Your inquisitive voice breaks him away from his bittersweet memory as his icy eyes snap over to meet your gaze. He knew this would happen…that showing up bloody and bruised would arouse your suspensions. Vergil sullenly stands there in your space as he desperately tries to engrave your image in his mind, knowing that you could never want anything to do with him after all this.

“What?” you mutter, confusing his silence as shock. “We’re in a city notorious for its occasional demon outbreaks and you’re walking around at night carrying a huge sword. Now, unless you use that sword as a fancy cane during your late night strolls through the streets…you use it to cut down demons.”

A frustrated sigh escapes his lips. “Yes. I wield the Yamato and hunt demons.” His eyes glow with admonishment. “I do not use it as a cane...that’s just foolish.”

You grin and him give an understanding nod as your eyes check his arm. “Can I also presume that you work at that place…what is it called…Devils Say Die?”

Vergil chuckles softly at your total butchering of the name. “It’s Devil May Cry.”

“That’s right! So, do you?” The now bloody and dirty cloth leaves his arm as you reach for a wad of gauze. You begin to gently wrap his injury as you await his answer.

“Yes.”

“And you never mentioned this because…?”

“There was never a proper moment during our time together.”

“I see,” you muse as you finish wrapping his arm. “So…when was it going to be proper to reveal that exciting detail of your life?”

“Cease your pestering!” Vergil growls as he wrenches his arm out of your warm hand. “It’s maddening!”

You simply close your eyes and take a deep breath before looking back up at his agitated face. “I’m just trying to make conversation while helping a friend out,” you say serenely. “And you can’t blame me for being curious…its what friends do: talk about their lives so that they can understand each other.” Your lips form a sad half smile before turning your face away from him. “Maybe some tea will help you relax. Fighting demons must be stressful.” You step away from him and open a cabinet, taking out two tea cups with matching saucers. “Hope you like blackberries and mint.”

As he watches you approach the kettle on the stove Vergil feels this creeping sensation sprout in his chest and wrap around his heart. It squeezes tight as you take out a tin and scoop tea leaves into a couple of tea ball strainers. This feeling starts to sting as you pour steaming water into the saucers. The way your eyes glisten dolefully…he did not like it. Moreover, he did not like that it was he that made your velvety lips curve into a wilting smile. And what is even more ludicrous is his mind scrambling to figure out how to rectify this situation. Why should I? he thought, she’s being nosy and I'm right to demand you to stop. It makes no sense, but that didn’t cease the nagging feeling inside him to fix this. He wants to see that glorious smile again…He distantly registers your voice among his torrent of thoughts as you begin to speak again.

“Now…I know you always add a tiny bit of honey to your cup, but this tea is already a little sweet. So just give it a taste before-”

“I’m a hybrid.”

Your hand pauses over the tea cups as his words echo through the cozy kitchen. Vergil’s entire body freezes as his mind goes into overdrive. That was the last thing I wanted to say…so why in the blazes did I just blurt it out? How is that going to make her smile again? You turn your head to stare at him, confusion alight in your eyes as you slowly swivel your body and give him your full attention. It is clear that the full disclosure of his statement lost on you. Not one to mince words he strengthens his resolve to help you understand this revelation.

“My mother was a human and my father was a demon.” You jaw slacks as your eyes gloss over in contemplation…then they spark with realization and you let out a soft oh. All he could do was wait…it is insufferable. What are you waiting for? Kick me out already so we can be done with this and I can go bury the humiliation, he thought dejectedly. Instead, you gaze searchingly right into his eyes, straighten your body, and raise your chin as you calmly walk by him and flip a switch.

“Let me show you something…follow me, please.”

You leave a very confused devil standing in your kitchen as you open the door and walk out into the night. I just told her of my demonic nature…and she wants to go on a stroll through her garden? Vergil just stands there, wondering what strange and mysterious power you have that compels you to drive him mad. You must have noticed that he was not following because your head pokes through the door, glaring at him impatiently. He huffs and grabs the Yamato before going back out into your luxuriant garden.

“I don’t know much about demon hybrids, but I do know a lot about hybrid plants,” you state as you lead him through abundant flowers.

Vergil feels his brows furrow in puzzlement. “I fail to see how flowers relate to this subject matter.”

“That’s only because you’re not a gardener like me…here we are!”

He has never seen so many diverse roses teeming in one place until now. Red, yellow, white, pink, and other colors galore. Some are growing out of the ground and some are planted in pots. All are in various stages of bloom, and the air around him is filled with their signature perfume. You bring his attention to a specific section of the potted ones, which he notes are the most unique of them all. The colors are atypical for roses, some have two colors on their delicate petals. Vergil does not know much about flowers, but he surmises that it takes a lot of work to grow such magnificent flowers.

“All these pretty darlings are hybrids,” you inform him, your hands waving over the extraordinary flowers. “None of these are grown naturally. I have to cross pollinate two different roses, growing a seed that will sprout as a hybrid. You follow me?”

Vergil stares at you blankly. “Yes, I do indeed follow your chatter.”

“Good! Well, even though these roses are different…they are just as exquisite as all the other roses. And some have a unique color, pattern, or scent that puts them above and beyond all others…they’re positively divine.” Your brilliant smile breaks out, making his heart beat accelerate as you stare deeply into his eyes. “Vergil…you still fascinate me. You being a hybrid isn’t going to change that.”

That horrible stinging sensation around his heart vanishes as familiar warmth instantaneously floods back into his chest. His agitated expression relaxes as your words slip past his walls once more, stunning him to the point where he cannot even find the will to be annoyed. I didn’t scare her away…she accepts me, devil and all. His lips curve up into a soft smile as he basks in your compliment, silently thankful that such an oddly charming woman showers with him her lovely presence…and sometimes with actual flowers.

An endearing blush colors your cheeks and you tilt your head, eyes flickering to the ground for a moment before looking back up at him. You softly toss your hair off your shoulder as you glance over at roses. Your eyes suddenly sharpen as you step over to a section of roses. You bend down to pick a yellow rose and hold it out to him, presenting it with a sincere face.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to get to know you better…but sometimes I can be a bit pushy.”

“Sometimes?” Vergil remarks wryly. You pooch your lower lip out, making a sad whine before you giggle quietly. He reaches out to take the rose, letting his hand rest atop yours. “There’s need to apologize…you didn’t mean any harm.” His thumb tenderly brushes your skin, mentally marveling at how such delicate hands manage to grow such beauty. “It’s just my tangled briars being particularly prickly.”

A delighted laugh rings through the night as your fingers subtly caress his hand. “Well, you may have noticed by now I’m a gardener, right? It’s safe to say that I’m used to thorns and I do have pretty thick skin.”

You invite him back inside your home and chat for a bit over tea. He discovers that you run an online business called Flower Showers, which he feels is very appropriate for you. You sell bouquets, flower arrangements, tea blends, and other floral based products that you make yourself. Vergil does not understand how people can buy flowers without a physical shop, but you tell him it that just works and that you do supply a few of the local shops in the city. You ask more questions about his work and he opens up a little bit, telling you about Devil May Cry and the abilities his lineage gifted him with. Self-confidence rises within him when he sees your eyes light up in wonder.

Eventually he has to take his leave. He collects his torn coat, his phone that you graciously charged for him, and a couple of books you let him borrow about various plants and flowers. You ask him when you will see him at the café, agreeing upon a time in a couple of days and wish him goodnight. Vergil walks back home in high spirits, letting his mind wonder before reeling it back in as he opens the door to Devil May Cry. He is greeted by his brother, Dante, leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on his desk as he reads one of his numerous lecherous magazines.

“Hey! Been wondering where you were…your phone die again?” Dante asks nonchalantly as Vergil heads for the stairs.

“How kind of you to care, brother,” he sardonically retorts back at his little brother.

“You need to remember to-ooh…Looks like something took a bite outta you,” Dante observes as his eyes spot the ripped arm of his coat. He scans his older brother closer out of concern. “What the hell is that?” He points to redirect Vergil’s attention down to the Yamato. There is a small bundle of tiny flowers tied with twine around the middle of the Yamato, their bright blue color highlighting a small note among their petals. How did my clever rose accomplish that? he wonders as he hums in amusement before quickly remembering his company. Dante quirks an inquisitive eyebrow and Vergil glares at him menacingly.

He does not give his little brother a chance to pry as he swiftly goes up the stairs and straight to his room. He carefully removes the small flowers and opens the note. There are a series of numbers and a short message written in your dainty handwriting. It reads: Even though you just left I already can’t wait to see you again. Until then…

Forget-me-nots. He grins as he glosses over the titles of the books you let him borrow. One in particular catches his eye, When Flowers Speak: A Dictionary of Flowers and their Meanings, and that is when it suddenly dawns on him…what if all those flowers you gave him were trying to tell him something? He does not waste any time as he cracks open the book, softly twirling the forget-me-nots in his hand as he begins to decipher the messages you have been sending him all this time.

For the next couple days Vergil pours over your books, and he has discovered that you were indeed communicating through all the flowers you gave him. He feels impressed, flattered, and slightly miffed at his ineptitude in this subject matter, all at the same time. One thing is for certain…he now knows the reason behind you personally giving him some of the flowers and leaving the others for him to find.

The ones you gave him personally are messages that you were already forthcoming about. For example, an orange rose means fascination, which you have already made perfectly clear to him. Wisteria is given to express your affections after meeting someone special for the first time. Hydrangea flowers mean gracefulness and a desire to deeply understand the person your giving it to. Even the yellow rose, friendship and joy, is commonly given as a way of apology.

But the flowers he found pressed into his books…they secretly admit some of the thoughts you have not expressed aloud to him. The petunia tells him that his presence soothes you. That makes him feel relief that you are not putting on a strong front around him. The pink and red one, which is known as a clarkia flower, lets him know that the variety of conversations delight you. This makes the corners of mouth turn up in a fond smirk. And the one he thought looked like a daisy, but is in fact a ice plant flower says that his looks “freeze you,” which in more common terms of today…you found him strikingly handsome.

Vergil is glad that he was alone in his room when he read that because he can feel that warmth in his chest rise up to his cheeks, his heart beating rapidly like it did in your garden. And that…also made him irate that he did not even know you were sending him messages all this time. You really do drive him mad, and its then that he decides that two can play this game. The only question is…what kind of flower would you like? And what did he want to say to you?

He ponders this on his way to the book café, keeping a look out for a place that sells flowers or even some growing wildly in some open patches of land. Half of him admits that this whole situation is ridiculous, trying to convince himself to cease this foolishness. But the other half…he will not be secretly outdone by a charming woman that now occupies his thoughts often.

And so he searches until he comes upon a pot of flowers outside of a restaurant. He knows them to be snapdragons, a very unique looking flower. What made him stop was not the type of flower though…it was the soft white and pink petals. He has not memorized all the different meanings of all flowers quite yet, but he does remember the meaning behind this one…fascination and often given to remark upon a woman’s gracious nature. His eyes dart around to make sure no one witnesses him summon a sword and cuts a couple of them before resuming his walk towards the café to present his own gift of flowers.

The café door chimes as he steps into the familiar atmosphere of the café and when he sees you sitting in his usual corner, your lovely face instantly lighting up with that smile as you look up from your book…his bravado dwindles a bit as a flash of hesitancy shoots through him. But he presses onward, confidently striding right up to you as he holds the flowers behind his back.

Before you can greet him he swings his hand around and bestows his flowers, you eyes shining in surprise as you reach over to take them. He feels the urge to speak, but his mind draws a blank as you bring the flowers to your face to smell them. His eyelids droop as he witnesses your cheeks begin to the match the flowers, just like he knew they would. Your eyes slowly glance up and Vergil compels himself to say something…anything…

“They just…reminded me of you.”

Of all the things to say…that’s the best I can come up with? On the outside he kept his expression calm and reserved, but that did not speak for the inner turmoil swirling through his head. He awaits your reply, already reinforcing his walls so your words could not sting him.

“Thank you,” you mutter softly, that splendid smile that melts his heart spreading across your face. “They’re beautiful.”

Vergil thought this warmth he feels around would annoy him, but he has come to crave it as he lets it sift through his body. He finds it easier to smile when he is around you. And he does not even try to shake his fond thoughts as he finally acknowledges that he is utterly besotted with you, and does not mind that you have managed to go a little further among his briars.

Not as beautiful as you, my lovely rose.

Read Part 3 here.

Or read it on my Ao3

My Master List if you want more. ❤

#vergil x reader #vergil #devil may cry #dmc5 #romance #fluff #flowers #gardening #the language of flowers #writing #fanfiction #Flower for His Thoughts #vergil has feelings for you #and he can't handle it #perhaps a flower shower from you will calm him down #a rose among the briars #harlot writes

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