Dante was a childish imbecile.

That was never a question, of course, but the depths of his brother’s immaturity never ceased to amaze Vergil.  This was his idea of fun?  This is how he chose to spend his— their birthday?  Not that Vergil had any desire to “celebrate” this wretched day to begin with.  A restaurant themed after a jungle was not appropriate for a child, let alone men of their age.  The mere idea of dining here was foolish… Preposterous… Utterly beneath him.  He had no intentions of agreeing to this.  If it weren’t for Diva’s coaxing, he wouldn’t have entertained this at all. 

He looked across the table, eyes narrowing over the rim of his glass of mediocre pinot noir at the sight of her bouncing Angelo on her knee.  Perhaps the boy indeed took after him in more than just appearances because he appeared to share Vergil’s misery.  His bottom lip stuck out a mile and trembled as his wide blue eyes darted around, seemingly searching for the source of the cacophony of animal sounds.  The inevitability of his wails joining the harsh soundscape was certain; it was only a matter of when.  The atmosphere was hostile, dark and chaotic surrounded by false greenery and robotic creatures.  He’d say hell would be preferable to this restaurant, but hell was the exact environment he thrived in.  Rather than open his mouth to complain and receive some groan-worthy remark in response from his twin, he swallowed the rest of his wine.

“Would you like some more, sir?”

The sound of a young man’s voice behind his ear startled Vergil, causing his free hand to dart to his hip on instinct.  How fortunate for the waiter that he had been forced to leave the Yamato behind.

“Yes, please,” Diva said on his behalf. 

“And an Awesome Appetizer Adventure for the table!” Dante chimed in.  He looked around at his surrounding family and friends, then held up two fingers with a wink.  “Make that two!”

“Of course,” the waiter said, writing it down.  “I’ll put those appetizers in for you and be right back with refills.”

The waiter wandered off, leaving Dante grinning at Vergil.

“Another glass?  Damn.  Someone’s getting lit tonight,” he teased.

“I’m hardly ‘getting lit,’” Vergil snapped back in disdain.  “As if that’s even possible with this subpar wine.”

“Want to try my Panama Punch instead?” Dante held his tacky commemorative glass in Vergil’s direction, who in turn held his hand up, threatening to smack it away.

“Vergil.”

He cut his eyes over at Diva’s exasperated plea.  “What?”

She said nothing, just gave him a look.  He had half the mind to question why she was chiding him instead of his instigating brother, but instead scoffed.  Thankfully, a fresh glass of wine was dropped off as the waiter passed by on his way to another table.  At least the service wasn’t as abysmal as everything else.  He tipped the glass to his lips; still mediocre, but it at least tried to dull his irritation.

Dante had been drawn back to chattering away with his company.  Vergil cared little for participating in their drivel.  He observed Diva instead, whose focus was split between listening to the conversation and keeping the child calm.  She didn’t look any more thrilled to be here than him.  Her greatest gift was also her biggest weakness.  She was far too caring for her own good.  There was no doubt in Vergil’s mind that she knew this was a terrible idea, but did not want to disappoint Dante.  He expected that her intention was to make it up to him for forcing him to participate.  Perhaps a birthday celebration that was more their speed was in store for him as a reward for suffering through his brother’s whims?  A quiet, intimate evening together after putting the boy to bed might suffice.

The sound of his name again tore Vergil from this wishful thinking.  He snapped back to reality, raising a brow at Diva’s request for his attention.

“Can you take Angel for a moment?” she asked, rising to her feet.  “I’ll be right back.”

Though posed as one, it wasn’t a question.  She placed the boy in his lap without waiting for a response and walked away.  He immediately began to whimper and hold his arms over Vergil’s shoulder, reaching for his retreating mother.  The urge to follow her overwhelmed Vergil.

“I must excuse myself as well,” he muttered, lifting the boy and passing him over to Dante.

“Yeah, I bet after all that wine!” Dante said with a laugh.  He waved a hand at Vergil while adjusting his nephew to a more comfortable position on his lap.  “Don’t get lost.”

Vergil did not dignify this quip with a response.  He stalked through the maze of tables and décor to locate the restrooms.  He reached the corner of the restaurant just in time to spot the her skirt as it disappeared behind the door to the lady’s room.  A cursory glance around proved no one was in sight, so he slipped right in behind her.  The interior design in the women’s room was just as dark and horrid as the rest of the facility, with murals of animals and foliage painted on the walls and the same insufferable animal noises being piped in.  He walked right to the only occupied stall and rapped on the door.

“Occupied!”

“I’m well aware,” he replied.  “Open up.”

“Vergil?”

There was a quick rustling of clothing before the door cracked open enough for him to push his way inside and slam it shut behind him.

“What on Earth?” asked Diva.  “Why are you in here?”

“You know why…” he said as his hands found her waist.  He lowered his face to the crook of her neck, allowing her sweet scent to block out the foul stench of the world around them.  His lips brushed her nape and lingered there.  “I can’t endure this silly dinner.”

“You can,” she said, trying not to crumble completely in his embrace. 

“Cannot.”  The heady scent of wine stained his whispers.  His hands roamed her curves until they cupped her rear.  The bridge of his nose traced the shell of her ear.  “I have no appetite for overpriced hors d'oeuvres… I hunger only for you.”

“Vergil…”

“Hush.”

He silenced her by covering her lips with his own.  His tongue delved between them, offering her a taste of the cheap pinot noir he’d spent his evening nursing.  The hold she had on his shoulders weakened as her own resolve began to wane, but she ultimately broke away.

“Vergil, I can’t…” she confessed with an apologetic shake of her head.  “Not… here.  It’s so… trashy.”

Her words broke through his haze of inebriated lust.  There was nothing but truth in her reasoning.  This place was trashy.  She was deserving for far more dignity than this establishment had to offer.

“Fine,” he said, giving her behind one final squeeze before letting her go and folding his arms.  “But you will tend to me when we return home.”

“Of course, birthday boy.”  She reached up to tap the tip of his nose.  “Now, go back to the table and try to behave, okay?”

“I will… try,” grumbled Vergil.