Devil May Cry and Hellboy, their characters and settings, are all property of their respective owners. I do not claim credit for them. This is just a random crossover ficlet I needed to get out of my brain—it’s a harmless PG rating, but with a mild warning for slash. Enjoy ^^

House Call

John Myers could smell the rain coming, even buried several dozen meters below the earth’s surface, his nostrils filled with dust. Somewhere high above him, the leaves were just starting to turn up. He had a knack for it—not a gift, as some people would say. Nothing so boring as ESP or a sixth sense. He didn’t even believe in that kind of thing until a few weeks ago. He preferred to consider it instinct, and insisted to anyone who asked that it was not that hard for the common person to do.

Myers sighed quietly as he leaned back in his chair, removing the reading glasses he rarely wore. It was only on occasions like this, when trying to make out tiny lines of text in some damned old book that he was forced to resort on a reading aid. It was late, and the tall shelves of the old library were beginning to make his head spin. His research of the ancient Chinese rat demon was going to have to wait until he got some coffee in him.

He was just considering seeking some out when the far door creaked open; he couldn’t see who had entered, his view obstructed by another heavy bookshelf, but the footsteps were too light to be Hellboy and too heavy to be anyone else. Myers straightened subtly in his chair. “Hello?”

There was a rustle of soaked fabric, and Myers was just starting to wonder if he had his gun on him when the figure of a man came out from around the bookshelf. His pulse quickened a little; the man was tall and cloaked in black, with a strange, hidden shape rising behind his head. The stranger’s steps were slow and easy as he came further into the room, hood turning back and forth as if taking a good look at everything. When he spoke his voice was casual, maybe even friendly, but the sound of it still made Myers jump. “Place hasn’t changed, has it?”

Myers pushed slowly out of his chair, feeling the weight of his watch against his left wrist. There was an alarm there he could set off, if he needed to. He told himself this a few times to be reassured as he faced the stranger. “How did you get in here?”

“How I always do,” the man replied with a shrug. “Like I said, the place hasn’t changed.” He stopped abruptly, only a few feet away, and Myers was sure he saw a pair of crimson eyes gleam at him from under the darkness of his hood. But then a gloved hand pushed the fabric away, leaving only the face of a man. A…peculiar man, but a man. “You must be the new guy.”

Myers’ eyes narrowed on the stranger. He was tall and his features stern despite the easy expression he wore; both contrasted with the softness of his hair and pale blue eyes. It was not the kind of face one forgot easily, and Myers was still trying to put his finger on where he’d seen it before when the man began removing his coat. As the material fell away it revealed another coat beneath it of deep red and, more importantly, a long and ornately decorated sword strapped to his back.

“You’re….” Myers wagged a finger at him as he tried to pull back the man’s name, unconsciously taking a step back at the same time. “They warned me about you—you’re that man—”

“Yup.” He smirked. “I’m that man ‘Dante’ everyone’s warned you about.” He took a step closer, and again Myers retreated, running into his chair. “And you’re the new guy. Right?”

“Um…I guess so.” Myers moved around the chair, considering his alarm again. But it didn’t seem that the man was about to do anything dangerous—save ruin the chair he was draping his soaked coat over—and he was supposed to be an officer now…. He could handle this on his own.

Myers gathered himself up, watching Dante carefully as he sank into the chair he’d just occupied. He was just quick enough to save the text he’d bee studying from Dante’s boots on the table. “What exactly are you doing here?” he asked, trying to sound accusing.

“I was in the neighborhood,” Dante replied with a shrug, reclining easily in his selected chair. “Wanted to check in on the big guy.” He cocked an eye up at the young officer. “I heard you fellas had a bit of trouble…?”

“Something like that.” Myers placed his book aside, moving a few other items out of reach as well—to his visitor’s apparent amusement. “Listen, um…is this normal? You barging in here like this….”

Dante raised his eyebrows at him. “I thought they ‘warned’ you about me.”

“Well, sort of.” Myers began to relax a little; despite the huge sword he was packing, it looked like Dante hadn’t come for trouble. He placed a hand idly against the table beside him. “They mentioned you were a demon hunter out west. That sometimes you and HB would fight over targets.”

“That’s about right.” Dante removed his gloves, tossing them lightly onto the table as well—onto another text Myers hadn’t moved quite far enough. “Horn-Head and I have a cozy little relationship, you could say,” he went on casually. “Both being demon-bred and all. We keep an eye on each other.” His eyes glinted, almost dangerously, in the dull yellow lighting of the room. “He takes a step out of line, I put him back in his place. You get me?”

“And likewise, I’m sure,” Myers replied with a frown.

“Yeah, whatever. Is he in or not?”

“He’s, um, not,” Myers reluctantly admitted. Not that he dared disclose where. “So you might as well just, well, go. Right?”

Dante regarded him silently a moment, looking vaguely unimpressed. But then his lip twitched, and something in his eye glinted that drove Myers back another step as the devil hunter pushed to his feet. “What’s your name, kid?”

Myers frowned sharply at his choice of address, but answered anyway. “It’s Myers. John Myers.”

“John. Well, we can’t all have interesting names, can we?” Dante smirked, and Myers finally recognized his sly expression for the predatory gleam he’d seen on far too many demons. “You’re a little young to be in this business, aren’t you, Agent Myers?”

“Not much younger than you,” he retorted. Though by now his words probably held little credibility, as they were slowly making their way around the circular table.

“Heh. You don’t know that.”

“And we don’t need you ‘checking up’ on us, all right? We’re just fine here.”

Dante chuckled. “Sure, kid. That’s what your predecessor said.”

Myers’ heart jumped a little at that; between Dante’s sharp expression and his already mounting ill ease, it wasn’t difficult to take that as a threat. He reached for the alarm on his watch, but Dante’s thick fingers were wrapping around his wrist long before he made it. His body jerked as his hand was forced to the table, and another grip twisted around the thin fabric of his shirt. Myers didn’t even realize what had happened until he was trapped between a larger body and old wood. He lifted his gaze hesitantly to Dante’s pale eyes.

“Let’s just make sure we understand each other very well,” Dante said, his grin careless, but his grip on Myers’ wrist tight enough to be painful. “Your friend’s a demon—full blood, straight outta Hell. Been there myself, and it’s not pretty. So you watch yourself close, and you watch him even closer. And if you see him so much as wag his tail the wrong way you’d better be calling me.”

Myers met his glare directly, unwavering even though his pulse was fluttering rapidly in his ears. He wasn’t scared—he’d known bigger and more terrifying demons than a blonde in tight pants. But there was something beneath Dante’s voice, a kind of flicker he would have missed if not for being his close, with the man’s breath hot against his face. The heat coming off his body was thick and unnatural, and it made him shiver beneath his sudden sweat.

“Do you….” Myers licked his lips. “You really think you could do something about him?” he challenged. “If something did happen?”

Dante smiled, slow and thin, his eyes narrowing like a cat’s. “You don’t think I could?”

Myers gulped. He didn’t move, but he felt Dante’s hand shift against his chest. “I don’t know you,” he tried to reason.

“Maybe you should.”

Dante tilted his head slightly, and Myers’ eyes widened as, for a moment, all he could make himself see was the subtle parting of thin lips. His hand twitched in Dante’s hold, and his heart skipped.

“Hey. What the hell’s going on in here?”

Myers flinched with recognition of that voice, but he didn’t turn to look right away. It wasn’t until he’d felt Dante’s soft snort against his temple, the hand around his wrist loosen that he dared glance to the door. As he’d feared Hellboy was there, glaring at the pair with confusion, Liz close at his side. He gulped again.

“Hey, Kool-Aid,” Dante sang under his breath as he pulled back.

Hellboy scowled, starting into the room, but by then Dante was already retrieving his things. “We were just talking about you,” Dante chuckled. He tugged his coat on and shoved his gloves in the pockets. “Hot date?”

This time it was Liz who scowled, drawing laughter from him as he approached. “Take it easy, kids. I didn’t touch your little librarian.”

Myers pushed away from table to protest. “I’m not—”

“John.”

Myers stopped, frozen suddenly by the icy gaze on him. For a moment Dante’s expression was stern, but it broke quickly in another easy grin. “I’ll catch ya later.”

He couldn’t have replied if he’d wanted to; Dante was already on his way out. Hellboy gave him a shove as he passed, but he seemed to be expecting it, and allowed it to spin him around before continuing faultlessly toward the exit. It allowed Myers one last glance of his face before the door closed behind him.

“Hey John.” Liz had come up next to him without his realizing, and he flinched a little as she touched his arm. “You okay?”

“What did he want?” Hellboy added in irritation.

“Just to say hi, I guess,” Myers replied, letting his shoulders droop at last. He sighed. “He didn’t want anything. And…I’m all right.” He glanced away; by placing his hands against the table behind him, he was able to hide that they were still quivering. “I’m just fine.”