Nero was growing tired of it.

You started working at the Devil May Cry branch months ago. It was never intentional, until you discovered the existence of demons through the sudden murder of close friends one night. Seeking vengeance and the want to protect others, you joined demon hunting. Support you provided to the real killers from behind a desk where you sorted paperwork.

During your shifts, Nero was always your chance for a break from numbers and countless reports. You were a hard worker for sure, but your easy distractions made you seem like a slacker.

That was only because of Nero, though.

The young man was a distinctive, tall, white-haired, gothic-themed hottie—you once partly confessed to him. If Nero didn't act so flustered at that sudden tease, you would have never become a pain in his ass.

Every mission he returned from, you would flirt, tease, mock him in ways that riled him up just so. And Nero hated the effect you had on him. He could be stained with crimson blood, bruised with cuts, or simply calculative— and there would always be something that caught your eye. The swipe of his hair, the red on his lips, the cut through his shirt. Every little comment was a flirt, a way to get through to him.

Your drawls, that loose smirk, the way you'd lean forward from your desk just to whisper something strictly between the lines of being suggestive and innocent—it set his chest on fire.

But it wasn't anger, no. He was growing tired of wanting you.

What stopped him? Seeing you win.

It was all a play, was it not? You wanted to see him trip, fall, and say something that expressed his annoyance, the way you got on his nerves. Nero was doing a good job at ignoring you most of the time, but when he'd return to his room with the door closed—his erection wasn't something he could avoid.

Summer crossed. Demon sightings became few with the heat, as they were more common during the colder seasons. It didn't stop the paperwork though. Nero joined in with everyone else. Or who decided to show up in the warm.

And it just had to be you in the office. Every. Single. Time.

It was hard to focus without something to stab or shoot at. Perhaps, the pink on his cheeks could be mistaken for the humidity in the office. Fans were set on blast, but that didn't help.

Neither did his attempts to get you out of his head.

You were everywhere all the time. The office, his head, his dreams. Your voice, your face, your gaze—looking down at him in the back of his head.

He couldn't make it through this summer, he swore.

Your skirts got shorter, your shirts seemed tighter, and your attempts to get through Nero never failed—even if he tried to hide it. If anything, the heat made your smirk hang wider, your voice seem more lower, and your eyes to linger longer.

Today was no different. Nero returned from a pointless hunt and found you in the office.

Your glasses hung a little low on the bridge of your nose.. Your fingers worked fast, gripping a pen in a permanent grip as you scribbled notes with focus and exhaustion in your eyes. You were a hard worker, that was no lie. Filing documents and bringing them together required a lot of intellectual skills, effort, time. For hours to an end, you sit in one place and never complain. Not about headaches or an aching hand. Despite his annoyance and intrigue, he admired you. He shook his head when softer thoughts started to fill his head. With a quiet, preparing deep breath—he made his way towards your desk.

Your name, soft on his lips during this sunset. "{{user}}," he murmured, careful not to scare you in the trance of focus you were trapped in. When your head snapped upward and hand froze, Nero felt the thump in his chest at the sight of your parted lips. You looked up at him through your lashes, and his heart skipped too.

His fingers slid a few papers towards you. "From today's hunt." He sighed, placing Red Queen over an emptier desk next to yours. With the single strength of his arm, he used it to push himself up on the oak. "Nothing. Seems like the sun scared away the freaks."