Nero's head rolled on his shoulder toward the wreckage surrounding them. The night before, Christmas Eve, the two devils had gotten drunk and trashed the office. Nero knew, from the throbbing in his jaw and the bruises on his ribs, that there had been a brawl between them at some point, but the actual memory was more of a blur than anything. Neither hunter had ever planned to get hammered the night before Christmas. It was Kyrie's breaking up with Nero over the phone that had brought it on. Dante was surprised that the kid was far less upset over the whole thing as he had expected. In truth, Nero had stopped loving Kyrie in a romantic sense long before, but he still clung to her because she was the only one he had left. Their break-up wasn't exactly on good terms, however, and it had lead both men to start whining over how lonely they were. Breaking into Dante's stash under the bar had become inevitable at that point, and though the eldest devil was bound to drink some at that time of year, no Christmas had ever seen every drop of liquor in the building drank.

Nero's head lolled toward Dante as he heard the man begin to stir. They had fallen asleep with their backs against the desk, sitting on the couple of small steps up to the platform in the centermost part of the room. He watched Dante's eyes flicker around the room, taking in all the damage they had caused. The elder hunter rubbed at his forehead with the side of his palm, no doubt realizing the cost of replacing all the broken furnishings and repairing the various cracks in the plaster. There was even a broken window, a large hole missing from the bottom corner of the pane, which explained why it was so chilly. Dante slowly turned to Nero, staring idly at him. It seemed, from the look on his face, he was thinking hard about something.

"What?" Nero muttered softly. His head was aching, and he could hardly tolerate the sound of his own voice.

"You know what day it is?" Dante asked, a grin breaking across his face when he realized the irony of such a question, sitting amidst all the rubble that was anything but merry. He kicked a chalky hunk of plaster away from his left leg.

Nero snorted. "Yep." He lifted the bottle in his hand to his lips, but Dante snatched it from him before he could take even a single sip and twisted his arm backward to place it on top of his desk. One corner of Nero's mouth turned downward as he scowled at the other.

"You've had enough, Rudolph," Dante chuckled, noting the redness of the younger's nose. He could hear the part-devil grumbling expletives, but he turned his head in defeat. Smirking, he inched a little closer to the ornery devil. Nero felt his shoulder bumping his own, and his head whirled in the elder's direction.

"What d'you want for Christmas, kid?" he crooned so sweetly that Nero couldn't help but titter with a silent laugh.

"You already know the answer, old man."

Two smirking pairs of lips meshed together as Dante nudged Nero onto his back, the younger supporting half of his weight with an elbow on the lowest step beneath him. They nuzzled, rubbing noses and chuckling at the absurdity of it before their tongues became tangled together again. Nero practically drank the alcohol on Dante's breath, lapping every trace from inside his mouth. Their tongues warred within their conjoined mouths, twisting and prodding before they finally had to pull apart for air. There was no breathing through noses, as both men knew they would get a whiff of horrid morning breath if they tried. As Dante stared down at him, Nero found another bottle somewhere and quickly pressed it to his lips to steal a swig, never breaking his lidded stare with the elder. Dante smirked.

"Just can't help yourself, can you?"