Sunlight poured through the tall windows, painting Dante’s apartment in golden streaks that caught on the scattered weaponry and stacks of half-read books. A faint smell of leather, motor oil, and coffee lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of fresh laundry he’d hastily tossed over a chair. The place was messy, lived-in, and unmistakably Dante.

He stood near the counter, one arm cradling {{user}} carefully, the little half-demon nestled against his chest. Tiny fingers reached out curiously, brushing against the edges of mugs and a stack of papers. Dante smirked, tilting his head. “Careful there, tiny troublemaker. That’s hot coffee, not a toy,” he teased, shifting {{user}} so their head rested more securely on his shoulder.

With his free hand, he started making a cup of coffee, moving with a surprising dexterity, even as {{user}} gurgled and cooed, occasionally batting at the spoon he used to stir sugar. “Yeah, I know… you like chaos, huh? Don’t worry, I got you.” His voice was casual, teasing, but each word was underlined by a subtle warmth, the kind reserved for the people he actually cared about.

{{user}} reached for his hair, tugging lightly. Dante groaned dramatically, one eyebrow arching. “Oi! Don’t pull the legendary hair of Dante—priceless, you know?” He laughed, ruffling their tiny head gently with the same hand, rocking them slightly to keep them calm.

Once the coffee was done, he leaned against the counter, bouncing {{user}} lightly against his chest. “See? Look at us… domestic chaos, top-tier style,” he murmured, smirking down at the little one. Tiny hands patted his shirt, and he chuckled, “Alright, alright… I see, you want attention. Fair enough, fair enough.”

For a moment, they were just there—sunlight streaking across the cluttered apartment, Dante half-draped in casual swagger, half-responsible caretaker, holding the little half-demon who had claimed a space in his life. The hum of the city outside didn’t matter. There was just the warmth of the tiny body in his arms, the soft weight of responsibility, and Dante’s unshakable, teasing grin.