FicWad

That was how their New Year's began; with a splatter of blood in the otherwise cold, still night, staining the snow crimson before the dark deepened it to black, even to the demonic vision that had been passed down to them by their father. In all honesty, it was nothing new, and they were both long used to sight and smell. Dante had stated earlier that evening, well before the midnight hour, that if the new year rung in with him killing something, it would bode well for business for the rest. It was all fairy tales and tomfoolery in Vergil's opinion, but he'd done nothing but covertly roll his eyes.

It just hadn't been worth it to hear Dante whine.

Dante's breath was misty in the sharp, clear cold, the sound of it slightly labored and heavy as he turned his head slightly to meet Vergil's gaze, as though he'd felt the elder twin watching, eyes wide with an unnatural tinting of purple and grey, before he broke into a grin. Dante was in his own element, at that moment, savoring the high of a kill, and while it was a sentiment Vergil could understand, for himself it wasn't quite the same. Dante enjoyed it because it was the younger twin's path to an imagined redemption to a crime he hadn't committed but blamed himself for, anyway.

Vergil, on the other hand...Well. He wouldn't lie. There was something about seeing the light of life fade, even from a demon, that had its thrills to the blood. Dante was a vigilante; Vergil was simply cold-blooded.

"Are you done?" Vergil's tone was bored, as though he'd been standing there twiddling his thumbs while Dante had played cat and mouse with his prey (something Vergil saw no point in doing himself, but he wasn't going to ruin Dante's fun), instead of watching carefully in the off chance Dante lost the upperhand. It was fortified as he moved to straighten his jacket collar and take a few steps forward, boots crunching in the snow.

"Spoilsport." It was slightly breathless, as Dante let the tip of Rebellion drop to the ground and sink into the snow, next to the corpse of the unnamed demon. It steamed, where it had been slashed open, the heat of the internals being exposed to the biting air. It was more than a human would emit, of that Vergil knew well, as demons had higher body temperatures to begin with. He wondered absently if Dante was aware of that, as the younger twin leaned against the hilt of his blade, taking a deep breath through his nose to steady himself. "I didn't get his name."

"I'm not surprised." After all, Vergil had watched the entire thing from the sidelines. "And it doesn't matter. There's always the next time." While the words were agreeable enough, there was there, in his tone, the slight tint of patronization; as though he hadn't expected Dante of being capable of doing more than one thing at a time. That was true, too. While Dante could be amazingly astute, and Dante could ferret information in ways Vergil would have never credited him with, in the beginning, he still did possess a very one-track mind. And Dante's mind had been on killing, not interrogating. But, then again, he was being honest with what he said: There was always the next time to rectify it. "They all come from the same place, anyway, I imagine. With the frequency we see them...Well."

Dante's grin dampened a little, though Vergil doubted it would have been apparent to anyone other than himself. "Yeah, I guess so." Being a twin was a troublesome thing, really, as Vergil knew very well that Dante was already starting to blame himself, for the 'one that got away'. For 'fucking up the plan', as the younger twin would say. But then, it wasn't in Vergil's nature to offer any sort of comfort for that, so he said nothing in response to the vibes, and instead waved a hand.

"And I ask again. Are you done?"

Dante nodded, straightening himself and slinging Rebellion, still coated in demon blood, to his back, and Vergil heaved a silent sigh. It meant he, no doubt, would be the one to clean it, because he knew very well Dante wouldn't, when they returned home. There was the thought, of course, that he could force Dante into doing so himself, but then the brat would have whined and temper tantrumed and pouted for days afterward, and really, even Vergil could admit there were times when keeping the peace was preferable. Which was why he resigned himself to the task, and annoyed as it inwardly made him.

"Let's get out of here. Fine fucking way to spend New Year's." It was said with a snort, as Dante started back toward the road, where the car waited. Vergil couldn't disagree; it was cold, and their kind didn't take too kindly to sharp, icy air. His skin had prickled at it at first, and parts were simply numb at that moment. The tips of his fingers felt as though there were no longer there, and his cheeks burned from the slight wind. All in all, not the most ideal conditions for himself, or his brother, and he had no doubt in his mind that the cold was seeping in, after the adrenaline had started to drain from Dante's system. And he knew - knew - there would be whining once they returned to shelter, be it the car or the shop.

"That's funny, little brother, because as I recall, this was exactly how you'd hoped to spend New Year's." Vergil drew his hands into the sleeves of his jacket, as his fingerless gloves offered little protection against the cold, before picking up his pace to match even with Dante, moving close to the younger twin in a silent and personally unacknowledged offer to share body heat. Luckily for Dante, he too kept silent on it as he took the offer, instead, offering Vergil a scowl.

"Yeah, well, I didn't mean that shit literally, you know? I didn't expect it to be colder'n a witch's tit in a brass bra, either." At Vergil's snort, visible due to the temperature, a side of his upper lip pulled upward, revealing one of his small fangs. "Oh, what. Go on, be an ass. C'mon."

"Dante." There was humor there, and it was obvious Dante had caught on to it, with the way he rolled his eyes. "It is, to put it into terms you would understand, little brother, ass o' clock in January. How you expected it to feel like June in the Bahamas I can't begin to fathom. So yes, Dante. It is cold. Congratulations. Your deductive reasoning knows no equal."

Dante's pace slowed, and Vergil gave him a slant-eyed, humored glance over his shoulder before moving on, seeing in mind's eye Dante bitching underneath his breath. Really, though, it wasn't like Dante could have expected anything different. The boy was a bit slow on the uptake, but he wasn't /stupid/. Of course a job in the dead of night in the middle of winter would mean it would be cold. And they were dressed accordingly (even Dante, much to Vergil's amazement) and their reaction to the cold was genetic. It couldn't be helped. However, that didn't mean Dante could freely whine about such a thing.

The train of thought was killed when something cold, hard, and wet slammed into the back of Vergil's head, and he froze in place, shoulders hunching to his ears in the event of another attack, and slowly, he started to turn around, finding his attacker, sure enough, grinning like a loon behind him, already patting together another projectile. "...Dante..." It was low, soft. The only warning Dante would receive, to be sure. A hand was slipped from the sleeve of his jacket, as he went to brush the remains of the snowball from his hair, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

Dante's grin only widened, as he packed and packed the snowball he was holding. He very well knew if he kept that up, it would practically be ice when he tossed it; he just didn't care. His brother was a big boy, and he could take something as silly as an overpacked snowball. "Yeah, bestest big brother in the world?" He was going to be in trouble. Dante plainly understood that. He just didn't really care about that, either. "Aw, don't tell me one little snowball fucked up that helmet hair of yours. C'mon. Loosen up. Live a little, bro."

Vergil's shoulder's unhunched, and he straightened, dropping his hand to his side, right over Yamato's hilt, and he fingered it lightly, eyes still narrowed. "Oh, I intend to 'loosen up', Dante. I intend to loosen every single joint in your body until you're nothing but a helpless ragdoll."

He started forward with every intention of beating Dante senseless, when the little fool leaned back and tossed his overly packed snowball. And it hit. Yes it did; it hit Vergil right in the face, and through the stinging pain and the flailing to remain upright as he brushed at his face (albeit a bit frantically) he could hear Dante's stupid, clunky boots beating a tattoo over the snow-covered ground. Which was very, very stupid of the younger twin, because he knew running would only make it worse, when Vergil caught him. And Vergil would catch him, as they both very well knew.

When the snow was cleared from his eyes, his damp hair hanging loosely in his face, Vergil whirled in the direction Dante had run, giving snarl as his eyes found a splotch of crimson and white, making a beeline for the car near the road. Dante was a stupid, stupid boy, because he had run. He had run, and therefore was going to make Vergil chase him. And he forgot one key element as he did so: Vergil was both faster and stronger than Dante, and much less forgiving, even for something as silly as a snowball to the face.

His own quick footsteps were practically silent as he moved after Dante, one hand clenched around Yamato, because he very much planned on using it as a bludgeon to beat Dante in submission, the other still tucked into the sleeve of his jacket. He saw the younger twin dart around the car, and as he came closer, he slowed his pace, until he was slowly, but surely, stalking Dante around the car.

The younger twin was laughing like a loon, one arm wrapped around his stomach as though he could hold himself upright enough that way to keep moving. "You...You shoulda seen the look on your /face/." Of course it was all nothing but a silly, immature game to Dante, but he was going to learn, as far as Vergil was concerned, that things didn't work out the way he planned. Not when the joke had been on Vergil. "It was beautiful. Fucking /priceless/."

"Hm." It was rather calm, much like Vergil's pace as he circled to the other side of the car, still prowling on Dante with silent footsteps. "I imagine it was. Now, imagine if you would, dearest baby brother, how priceless it will be when you find yourself unable to walk for a week." He'd reached the back of the car at that point, and Dante the front, because Dante honestly, honestly believed that Vergil was stupid enough to keep circling around the car. "Oh, Dante. One day, little brother, you will there are things you will not do."

"You big fucking baby." It was followed by a clucking of Dante's tongue, as he shifted his weight to one hip and folded his arms across his chest, his laughter having died to snorting and snuffling. "Listen at you. All pissy because, oh no, I messed up that fucking plastic ass hair of yours."

And that was it. They'd wasted enough time, out in the cold, and Dante had gotten away with far too much, with both his actions, and his mouth, and it was with no hesitation whatsoever that one foot found the bumper of the car, and then Vergil was scaling over it, faster than he knew Dante could react. He was going to beat the little brat, and then he was going to take him home, and he was going to ignore him for a week, because he very well understood how Dante hated being ignored. It would serve as good punishment for his little brother being immature and stupid.

Or so Vergil had thought. He hadn't expected Dante to be waiting for him on the other end of the car, reaching out to grab at Vergil the minute he'd moved to pounce from the hood and right onto to Dante, effectively tugging them both to the icy ground. And Vergil was many things, but keeping his balance on such a slippery surface, when he'd been jerked off center was not his strong point, and a moment later he found himself pinned to ground underneath his bony brother, as Dante's knees dug into his ribs, holding him there, his hands bracing themselves on Vergil's shoulders to keep him right where he'd landed.

"Hey. Guess this means I win, huh?" It was said with a grin, though Dante's face was shaded by his hair and the angle he held himself at, on the relatively lightless night. It didn't matter. Vergil could hear the grin in his voice, and he snarled, lunging upward as best he could, nearly breaking Dante's hold on him. "Whoa, slow down, babydoll. We got all night."

"You're pushing." Vergil, honestly, had given Dante more leeway than he should have. Had been all along, if he took the time to consider it, really.

"I know." Dante leaned in, so that his hair brushed at Vergil's face, inches separating them. Vergil could see the grin at that point; lazy and confident, like the cat that had gotten the cream. "Wonder how much farther I can get." And he had the audacity to end it with a insolent wink, his teeth biting into his bottom lip. "You know, for a guy who's gonna beat me senseless, Verg, you're not putting up much of a fight. Wonder if I should be offended."

"I'm going to butcher you." It came out levelly, though he was sure Dante could see the darkening of his eyes, even in what little light was present. "Butcher you /slowly/."

"Mmhmm." Dante both looked and sounded completely unconcerned at the prospect, being so confident as to released Vergil's shoulders, one hand going to tug at a stray lock of Vergil's hair. "Long as you promise to make it /good/, babydoll. S'all I ask. Make it a death worth having."

Every instinct screamed to jump then, and take the fool down. The fingers of his exposed hand flexed a moment, before he reached up, snaring Dante by the throat and holding him there in place, though Dante's grin didn't fade. If anything, it grew wider, and the fool had the nerve to sway at the hips slightly, from side to side, purposely taunting.

The fingers around his throat tightened, the flesh around flushing slightly, and he felt Dante swallow, though it wasn't hard, or nervously, at all. Which proved, right there, how big of a fool he was.

It was then that Dante's own hands came up to grasp at Vergil's arm, though he didn't try to pry himself loose. Instead, his fingers tangled loosely through the loops along the forearm of the sleeve, almost affectionately. "That the best you got? C'mon, baby. I thought I was supposed to be /scared/."

Vergil's eyes had completely changed at that point, red on black, which should have told Dante that backing off was a good idea. But of course not, because Dante - and Vergil was certain it was done purposely - swiped at his bottom lip with his tongue, grin stretching to Cheshire proportions as Vergil's gaze zeroed in on the action, before returning to Dante's own.

"Well?" There was another hip wiggle, as Dante pushed himself lower against Vergil's abdomen, never once loosening the grip he held with his knees. "Put up. Or shut up. Because it's cold as fuck out here, and I figure...I'm either gonna find a way to be warm here, or I'm gonna go home." His voice was slightly strained, where Vergil gripped his throat, but he didn't seem bothered. Unlike Vergil, Dante just wasn't all that concerned with sounding perfectly normal like that.

Vergil's grip tightened dramatically, before Dante found himself practically ripped off and tossed to the side, and he rolled to his knees, a scowl already starting, when a finger was shoved in his face. "Not a fucking word, Dante. Get in the car." And when he moved to protest, he found the front of his hair yanked, as Vergil stood, pulling Dante with him. And by his hair he was dragged to the passenger side, before being flung against the car. And it had happened so fast, it was obvious the younger twin had no idea what in hell to do, as he caught himself, groping for the door handle.

"Get in the car." It was with a flash of fang, and a deepening even more so of eye color, that it was said, before Vergil started away for the other side, leaving Dante gaping after him, wide-eyed.

"Just what the hell is your problem?" There wasn't an answer, as the driver side door was almost ripped from his hinges, as Vergil flung it open. Dante, really, had no choice but to follow suit, sliding into the passenger seat and making sure to stay completely on his side. "Dude. What the fuck. /Answer me/, goddammit."

And Vergil still said nothing, though the look he shot Dante promised him death, and lots of it, if he didn't shut his mouth. And Vergil meant that. Luckily, Dante was smart enough to know when he was beaten. For the moment. And he huffed and looked out the window, good mood ruined by Vergil's pissiness.

And Vergil didn't care. He didn't. Dante had pushed as far as he was going to get, and he'd tested his luck and come away unscathed...For that moment. But one more word from the younger twin, and Vergil knew he'd repeatedly bash his brother's head into the dashboard until he went unconscious. It, honestly, was not the night for those kind of games, and while Vergil had been...Tolerant before, his mood had changed like quicksilver, and the game had gotten old, and annoying. Right about the time Dante had flung the first snowball.

That was how their New Year's began; with a splatter of blood in the otherwise cold, still night, staining the snow crimson before the dark deepened it to black, even to the demonic vision that had been passed down to them by their father. In all honesty, it was nothing new, and they were both long used to sight and smell. Dante had stated earlier that evening, well before the midnight hour, that if the new year rung in with him killing something, it would bode well for business for the rest. It was all fairy tales and tomfoolery in Vergil's opinion, but he'd done nothing but covertly roll his eyes.

It just hadn't been worth it to hear Dante whine.

Dante's breath was misty in the sharp, clear cold, the sound of it slightly labored and heavy as he turned his head slightly to meet Vergil's gaze, as though he'd felt the elder twin watching, eyes wide with an unnatural tinting of purple and grey, before he broke into a grin. Dante was in his own element, at that moment, savoring the high of a kill, and while it was a sentiment Vergil could understand, for himself it wasn't quite the same. Dante enjoyed it because it was the younger twin's path to an imagined redemption to a crime he hadn't committed but blamed himself for, anyway.

Vergil, on the other hand...Well. He wouldn't lie. There was something about seeing the light of life fade, even from a demon, that had its thrills to the blood. Dante was a vigilante; Vergil was simply cold-blooded.

"Are you done?" Vergil's tone was bored, as though he'd been standing there twiddling his thumbs while Dante had played cat and mouse with his prey (something Vergil saw no point in doing himself, but he wasn't going to ruin Dante's fun), instead of watching carefully in the off chance Dante lost the upperhand. It was fortified as he moved to straighten his jacket collar and take a few steps forward, boots crunching in the snow.

"Spoilsport." It was slightly breathless, as Dante let the tip of Rebellion drop to the ground and sink into the snow, next to the corpse of the unnamed demon. It steamed, where it had been slashed open, the heat of the internals being exposed to the biting air. It was more than a human would emit, of that Vergil knew well, as demons had higher body temperatures to begin with. He wondered absently if Dante was aware of that, as the younger twin leaned against the hilt of his blade, taking a deep breath through his nose to steady himself. "I didn't get his name."

"I'm not surprised." After all, Vergil had watched the entire thing from the sidelines. "And it doesn't matter. There's always the next time." While the words were agreeable enough, there was there, in his tone, the slight tint of patronization; as though he hadn't expected Dante of being capable of doing more than one thing at a time. That was true, too. While Dante could be amazingly astute, and Dante could ferret information in ways Vergil would have never credited him with, in the beginning, he still did possess a very one-track mind. And Dante's mind had been on killing, not interrogating. But, then again, he was being honest with what he said: There was always the next time to rectify it. "They all come from the same place, anyway, I imagine. With the frequency we see them...Well."

Dante's grin dampened a little, though Vergil doubted it would have been apparent to anyone other than himself. "Yeah, I guess so." Being a twin was a troublesome thing, really, as Vergil knew very well that Dante was already starting to blame himself, for the 'one that got away'. For 'fucking up the plan', as the younger twin would say. But then, it wasn't in Vergil's nature to offer any sort of comfort for that, so he said nothing in response to the vibes, and instead waved a hand.

"And I ask again. Are you done?"

Dante nodded, straightening himself and slinging Rebellion, still coated in demon blood, to his back, and Vergil heaved a silent sigh. It meant he, no doubt, would be the one to clean it, because he knew very well Dante wouldn't, when they returned home. There was the thought, of course, that he could force Dante into doing so himself, but then the brat would have whined and temper tantrumed and pouted for days afterward, and really, even Vergil could admit there were times when keeping the peace was preferable. Which was why he resigned himself to the task, and annoyed as it inwardly made him.

"Let's get out of here. Fine fucking way to spend New Year's." It was said with a snort, as Dante started back toward the road, where the car waited. Vergil couldn't disagree; it was cold, and their kind didn't take too kindly to sharp, icy air. His skin had prickled at it at first, and parts were simply numb at that moment. The tips of his fingers felt as though there were no longer there, and his cheeks burned from the slight wind. All in all, not the most ideal conditions for himself, or his brother, and he had no doubt in his mind that the cold was seeping in, after the adrenaline had started to drain from Dante's system. And he knew - knew - there would be whining once they returned to shelter, be it the car or the shop.

"That's funny, little brother, because as I recall, this was exactly how you'd hoped to spend New Year's." Vergil drew his hands into the sleeves of his jacket, as his fingerless gloves offered little protection against the cold, before picking up his pace to match even with Dante, moving close to the younger twin in a silent and personally unacknowledged offer to share body heat. Luckily for Dante, he too kept silent on it as he took the offer, instead, offering Vergil a scowl.

"Yeah, well, I didn't mean that shit literally, you know? I didn't expect it to be colder'n a witch's tit in a brass bra, either." At Vergil's snort, visible due to the temperature, a side of his upper lip pulled upward, revealing one of his small fangs. "Oh, what. Go on, be an ass. C'mon."

"Dante." There was humor there, and it was obvious Dante had caught on to it, with the way he rolled his eyes. "It is, to put it into terms you would understand, little brother, ass o' clock in January. How you expected it to feel like June in the Bahamas I can't begin to fathom. So yes, Dante. It is cold. Congratulations. Your deductive reasoning knows no equal."

Dante's pace slowed, and Vergil gave him a slant-eyed, humored glance over his shoulder before moving on, seeing in mind's eye Dante bitching underneath his breath. Really, though, it wasn't like Dante could have expected anything different. The boy was a bit slow on the uptake, but he wasn't /stupid/. Of course a job in the dead of night in the middle of winter would mean it would be cold. And they were dressed accordingly (even Dante, much to Vergil's amazement) and their reaction to the cold was genetic. It couldn't be helped. However, that didn't mean Dante could freely whine about such a thing.

The train of thought was killed when something cold, hard, and wet slammed into the back of Vergil's head, and he froze in place, shoulders hunching to his ears in the event of another attack, and slowly, he started to turn around, finding his attacker, sure enough, grinning like a loon behind him, already patting together another projectile. "...Dante..." It was low, soft. The only warning Dante would receive, to be sure. A hand was slipped from the sleeve of his jacket, as he went to brush the remains of the snowball from his hair, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

Dante's grin only widened, as he packed and packed the snowball he was holding. He very well knew if he kept that up, it would practically be ice when he tossed it; he just didn't care. His brother was a big boy, and he could take something as silly as an overpacked snowball. "Yeah, bestest big brother in the world?" He was going to be in trouble. Dante plainly understood that. He just didn't really care about that, either. "Aw, don't tell me one little snowball fucked up that helmet hair of yours. C'mon. Loosen up. Live a little, bro."

Vergil's shoulder's unhunched, and he straightened, dropping his hand to his side, right over Yamato's hilt, and he fingered it lightly, eyes still narrowed. "Oh, I intend to 'loosen up', Dante. I intend to loosen every single joint in your body until you're nothing but a helpless ragdoll."

He started forward with every intention of beating Dante senseless, when the little fool leaned back and tossed his overly packed snowball. And it hit. Yes it did; it hit Vergil right in the face, and through the stinging pain and the flailing to remain upright as he brushed at his face (albeit a bit frantically) he could hear Dante's stupid, clunky boots beating a tattoo over the snow-covered ground. Which was very, very stupid of the younger twin, because he knew running would only make it worse, when Vergil caught him. And Vergil would catch him, as they both very well knew.

When the snow was cleared from his eyes, his damp hair hanging loosely in his face, Vergil whirled in the direction Dante had run, giving snarl as his eyes found a splotch of crimson and white, making a beeline for the car near the road. Dante was a stupid, stupid boy, because he had run. He had run, and therefore was going to make Vergil chase him. And he forgot one key element as he did so: Vergil was both faster and stronger than Dante, and much less forgiving, even for something as silly as a snowball to the face.

His own quick footsteps were practically silent as he moved after Dante, one hand clenched around Yamato, because he very much planned on using it as a bludgeon to beat Dante in submission, the other still tucked into the sleeve of his jacket. He saw the younger twin dart around the car, and as he came closer, he slowed his pace, until he was slowly, but surely, stalking Dante around the car.

The younger twin was laughing like a loon, one arm wrapped around his stomach as though he could hold himself upright enough that way to keep moving. "You...You shoulda seen the look on your /face/." Of course it was all nothing but a silly, immature game to Dante, but he was going to learn, as far as Vergil was concerned, that things didn't work out the way he planned. Not when the joke had been on Vergil. "It was beautiful. Fucking /priceless/."

"Hm." It was rather calm, much like Vergil's pace as he circled to the other side of the car, still prowling on Dante with silent footsteps. "I imagine it was. Now, imagine if you would, dearest baby brother, how priceless it will be when you find yourself unable to walk for a week." He'd reached the back of the car at that point, and Dante the front, because Dante honestly, honestly believed that Vergil was stupid enough to keep circling around the car. "Oh, Dante. One day, little brother, you will there are things you will not do."

"You big fucking baby." It was followed by a clucking of Dante's tongue, as he shifted his weight to one hip and folded his arms across his chest, his laughter having died to snorting and snuffling. "Listen at you. All pissy because, oh no, I messed up that fucking plastic ass hair of yours."

And that was it. They'd wasted enough time, out in the cold, and Dante had gotten away with far too much, with both his actions, and his mouth, and it was with no hesitation whatsoever that one foot found the bumper of the car, and then Vergil was scaling over it, faster than he knew Dante could react. He was going to beat the little brat, and then he was going to take him home, and he was going to ignore him for a week, because he very well understood how Dante hated being ignored. It would serve as good punishment for his little brother being immature and stupid.

Or so Vergil had thought. He hadn't expected Dante to be waiting for him on the other end of the car, reaching out to grab at Vergil the minute he'd moved to pounce from the hood and right onto to Dante, effectively tugging them both to the icy ground. And Vergil was many things, but keeping his balance on such a slippery surface, when he'd been jerked off center was not his strong point, and a moment later he found himself pinned to ground underneath his bony brother, as Dante's knees dug into his ribs, holding him there, his hands bracing themselves on Vergil's shoulders to keep him right where he'd landed.

"Hey. Guess this means I win, huh?" It was said with a grin, though Dante's face was shaded by his hair and the angle he held himself at, on the relatively lightless night. It didn't matter. Vergil could hear the grin in his voice, and he snarled, lunging upward as best he could, nearly breaking Dante's hold on him. "Whoa, slow down, babydoll. We got all night."

"You're pushing." Vergil, honestly, had given Dante more leeway than he should have. Had been all along, if he took the time to consider it, really.

"I know." Dante leaned in, so that his hair brushed at Vergil's face, inches separating them. Vergil could see the grin at that point; lazy and confident, like the cat that had gotten the cream. "Wonder how much farther I can get." And he had the audacity to end it with a insolent wink, his teeth biting into his bottom lip. "You know, for a guy who's gonna beat me senseless, Verg, you're not putting up much of a fight. Wonder if I should be offended."

"I'm going to butcher you." It came out levelly, though he was sure Dante could see the darkening of his eyes, even in what little light was present. "Butcher you /slowly/."

"Mmhmm." Dante both looked and sounded completely unconcerned at the prospect, being so confident as to released Vergil's shoulders, one hand going to tug at a stray lock of Vergil's hair. "Long as you promise to make it /good/, babydoll. S'all I ask. Make it a death worth having."

Every instinct screamed to jump then, and take the fool down. The fingers of his exposed hand flexed a moment, before he reached up, snaring Dante by the throat and holding him there in place, though Dante's grin didn't fade. If anything, it grew wider, and the fool had the nerve to sway at the hips slightly, from side to side, purposely taunting.

The fingers around his throat tightened, the flesh around flushing slightly, and he felt Dante swallow, though it wasn't hard, or nervously, at all. Which proved, right there, how big of a fool he was.

It was then that Dante's own hands came up to grasp at Vergil's arm, though he didn't try to pry himself loose. Instead, his fingers tangled loosely through the loops along the forearm of the sleeve, almost affectionately. "That the best you got? C'mon, baby. I thought I was supposed to be /scared/."

Vergil's eyes had completely changed at that point, red on black, which should have told Dante that backing off was a good idea. But of course not, because Dante - and Vergil was certain it was done purposely - swiped at his bottom lip with his tongue, grin stretching to Cheshire proportions as Vergil's gaze zeroed in on the action, before returning to Dante's own.

"Well?" There was another hip wiggle, as Dante pushed himself lower against Vergil's abdomen, never once loosening the grip he held with his knees. "Put up. Or shut up. Because it's cold as fuck out here, and I figure...I'm either gonna find a way to be warm here, or I'm gonna go home." His voice was slightly strained, where Vergil gripped his throat, but he didn't seem bothered. Unlike Vergil, Dante just wasn't all that concerned with sounding perfectly normal like that.

Vergil's grip tightened dramatically, before Dante found himself practically ripped off and tossed to the side, and he rolled to his knees, a scowl already starting, when a finger was shoved in his face. "Not a fucking word, Dante. Get in the car." And when he moved to protest, he found the front of his hair yanked, as Vergil stood, pulling Dante with him. And by his hair he was dragged to the passenger side, before being flung against the car. And it had happened so fast, it was obvious the younger twin had no idea what in hell to do, as he caught himself, groping for the door handle.

"Get in the car." It was with a flash of fang, and a deepening even more so of eye color, that it was said, before Vergil started away for the other side, leaving Dante gaping after him, wide-eyed.

"Just what the hell is your problem?" There wasn't an answer, as the driver side door was almost ripped from his hinges, as Vergil flung it open. Dante, really, had no choice but to follow suit, sliding into the passenger seat and making sure to stay completely on his side. "Dude. What the fuck. /Answer me/, goddammit."

And Vergil still said nothing, though the look he shot Dante promised him death, and lots of it, if he didn't shut his mouth. And Vergil meant that. Luckily, Dante was smart enough to know when he was beaten. For the moment. And he huffed and looked out the window, good mood ruined by Vergil's pissiness.

And Vergil didn't care. He didn't. Dante had pushed as far as he was going to get, and he'd tested his luck and come away unscathed...For that moment. But one more word from the younger twin, and Vergil knew he'd repeatedly bash his brother's head into the dashboard until he went unconscious. It, honestly, was not the night for those kind of games, and while Vergil had been...Tolerant before, his mood had changed like quicksilver, and the game had gotten old, and annoying. Right about the time Dante had flung the first snowball.

That was how their New Year's began; with a splatter of blood in the otherwise cold, still night, staining the snow crimson before the dark deepened it to black, even to the demonic vision that had been passed down to them by their father. In all honesty, it was nothing new, and they were both long used to sight and smell. Dante had stated earlier that evening, well before the midnight hour, that if the new year rung in with him killing something, it would bode well for business for the rest. It was all fairy tales and tomfoolery in Vergil's opinion, but he'd done nothing but covertly roll his eyes.

It just hadn't been worth it to hear Dante whine.

Dante's breath was misty in the sharp, clear cold, the sound of it slightly labored and heavy as he turned his head slightly to meet Vergil's gaze, as though he'd felt the elder twin watching, eyes wide with an unnatural tinting of purple and grey, before he broke into a grin. Dante was in his own element, at that moment, savoring the high of a kill, and while it was a sentiment Vergil could understand, for himself it wasn't quite the same. Dante enjoyed it because it was the younger twin's path to an imagined redemption to a crime he hadn't committed but blamed himself for, anyway.

Vergil, on the other hand...Well. He wouldn't lie. There was something about seeing the light of life fade, even from a demon, that had its thrills to the blood. Dante was a vigilante; Vergil was simply cold-blooded.

"Are you done?" Vergil's tone was bored, as though he'd been standing there twiddling his thumbs while Dante had played cat and mouse with his prey (something Vergil saw no point in doing himself, but he wasn't going to ruin Dante's fun), instead of watching carefully in the off chance Dante lost the upperhand. It was fortified as he moved to straighten his jacket collar and take a few steps forward, boots crunching in the snow.

"Spoilsport." It was slightly breathless, as Dante let the tip of Rebellion drop to the ground and sink into the snow, next to the corpse of the unnamed demon. It steamed, where it had been slashed open, the heat of the internals being exposed to the biting air. It was more than a human would emit, of that Vergil knew well, as demons had higher body temperatures to begin with. He wondered absently if Dante was aware of that, as the younger twin leaned against the hilt of his blade, taking a deep breath through his nose to steady himself. "I didn't get his name."

"I'm not surprised." After all, Vergil had watched the entire thing from the sidelines. "And it doesn't matter. There's always the next time." While the words were agreeable enough, there was there, in his tone, the slight tint of patronization; as though he hadn't expected Dante of being capable of doing more than one thing at a time. That was true, too. While Dante could be amazingly astute, and Dante could ferret information in ways Vergil would have never credited him with, in the beginning, he still did possess a very one-track mind. And Dante's mind had been on killing, not interrogating. But, then again, he was being honest with what he said: There was always the next time to rectify it. "They all come from the same place, anyway, I imagine. With the frequency we see them...Well."

Dante's grin dampened a little, though Vergil doubted it would have been apparent to anyone other than himself. "Yeah, I guess so." Being a twin was a troublesome thing, really, as Vergil knew very well that Dante was already starting to blame himself, for the 'one that got away'. For 'fucking up the plan', as the younger twin would say. But then, it wasn't in Vergil's nature to offer any sort of comfort for that, so he said nothing in response to the vibes, and instead waved a hand.

"And I ask again. Are you done?"

Dante nodded, straightening himself and slinging Rebellion, still coated in demon blood, to his back, and Vergil heaved a silent sigh. It meant he, no doubt, would be the one to clean it, because he knew very well Dante wouldn't, when they returned home. There was the thought, of course, that he could force Dante into doing so himself, but then the brat would have whined and temper tantrumed and pouted for days afterward, and really, even Vergil could admit there were times when keeping the peace was preferable. Which was why he resigned himself to the task, and annoyed as it inwardly made him.

"Let's get out of here. Fine fucking way to spend New Year's." It was said with a snort, as Dante started back toward the road, where the car waited. Vergil couldn't disagree; it was cold, and their kind didn't take too kindly to sharp, icy air. His skin had prickled at it at first, and parts were simply numb at that moment. The tips of his fingers felt as though there were no longer there, and his cheeks burned from the slight wind. All in all, not the most ideal conditions for himself, or his brother, and he had no doubt in his mind that the cold was seeping in, after the adrenaline had started to drain from Dante's system. And he knew - knew - there would be whining once they returned to shelter, be it the car or the shop.

"That's funny, little brother, because as I recall, this was exactly how you'd hoped to spend New Year's." Vergil drew his hands into the sleeves of his jacket, as his fingerless gloves offered little protection against the cold, before picking up his pace to match even with Dante, moving close to the younger twin in a silent and personally unacknowledged offer to share body heat. Luckily for Dante, he too kept silent on it as he took the offer, instead, offering Vergil a scowl.

"Yeah, well, I didn't mean that shit literally, you know? I didn't expect it to be colder'n a witch's tit in a brass bra, either." At Vergil's snort, visible due to the temperature, a side of his upper lip pulled upward, revealing one of his small fangs. "Oh, what. Go on, be an ass. C'mon."

"Dante." There was humor there, and it was obvious Dante had caught on to it, with the way he rolled his eyes. "It is, to put it into terms you would understand, little brother, ass o' clock in January. How you expected it to feel like June in the Bahamas I can't begin to fathom. So yes, Dante. It is cold. Congratulations. Your deductive reasoning knows no equal."

Dante's pace slowed, and Vergil gave him a slant-eyed, humored glance over his shoulder before moving on, seeing in mind's eye Dante bitching underneath his breath. Really, though, it wasn't like Dante could have expected anything different. The boy was a bit slow on the uptake, but he wasn't /stupid/. Of course a job in the dead of night in the middle of winter would mean it would be cold. And they were dressed accordingly (even Dante, much to Vergil's amazement) and their reaction to the cold was genetic. It couldn't be helped. However, that didn't mean Dante could freely whine about such a thing.

The train of thought was killed when something cold, hard, and wet slammed into the back of Vergil's head, and he froze in place, shoulders hunching to his ears in the event of another attack, and slowly, he started to turn around, finding his attacker, sure enough, grinning like a loon behind him, already patting together another projectile. "...Dante..." It was low, soft. The only warning Dante would receive, to be sure. A hand was slipped from the sleeve of his jacket, as he went to brush the remains of the snowball from his hair, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

Dante's grin only widened, as he packed and packed the snowball he was holding. He very well knew if he kept that up, it would practically be ice when he tossed it; he just didn't care. His brother was a big boy, and he could take something as silly as an overpacked snowball. "Yeah, bestest big brother in the world?" He was going to be in trouble. Dante plainly understood that. He just didn't really care about that, either. "Aw, don't tell me one little snowball fucked up that helmet hair of yours. C'mon. Loosen up. Live a little, bro."

Vergil's shoulder's unhunched, and he straightened, dropping his hand to his side, right over Yamato's hilt, and he fingered it lightly, eyes still narrowed. "Oh, I intend to 'loosen up', Dante. I intend to loosen every single joint in your body until you're nothing but a helpless ragdoll."

He started forward with every intention of beating Dante senseless, when the little fool leaned back and tossed his overly packed snowball. And it hit. Yes it did; it hit Vergil right in the face, and through the stinging pain and the flailing to remain upright as he brushed at his face (albeit a bit frantically) he could hear Dante's stupid, clunky boots beating a tattoo over the snow-covered ground. Which was very, very stupid of the younger twin, because he knew running would only make it worse, when Vergil caught him. And Vergil would catch him, as they both very well knew.

When the snow was cleared from his eyes, his damp hair hanging loosely in his face, Vergil whirled in the direction Dante had run, giving snarl as his eyes found a splotch of crimson and white, making a beeline for the car near the road. Dante was a stupid, stupid boy, because he had run. He had run, and therefore was going to make Vergil chase him. And he forgot one key element as he did so: Vergil was both faster and stronger than Dante, and much less forgiving, even for something as silly as a snowball to the face.

His own quick footsteps were practically silent as he moved after Dante, one hand clenched around Yamato, because he very much planned on using it as a bludgeon to beat Dante in submission, the other still tucked into the sleeve of his jacket. He saw the younger twin dart around the car, and as he came closer, he slowed his pace, until he was slowly, but surely, stalking Dante around the car.

The younger twin was laughing like a loon, one arm wrapped around his stomach as though he could hold himself upright enough that way to keep moving. "You...You shoulda seen the look on your /face/." Of course it was all nothing but a silly, immature game to Dante, but he was going to learn, as far as Vergil was concerned, that things didn't work out the way he planned. Not when the joke had been on Vergil. "It was beautiful. Fucking /priceless/."

"Hm." It was rather calm, much like Vergil's pace as he circled to the other side of the car, still prowling on Dante with silent footsteps. "I imagine it was. Now, imagine if you would, dearest baby brother, how priceless it will be when you find yourself unable to walk for a week." He'd reached the back of the car at that point, and Dante the front, because Dante honestly, honestly believed that Vergil was stupid enough to keep circling around the car. "Oh, Dante. One day, little brother, you will there are things you will not do."

"You big fucking baby." It was followed by a clucking of Dante's tongue, as he shifted his weight to one hip and folded his arms across his chest, his laughter having died to snorting and snuffling. "Listen at you. All pissy because, oh no, I messed up that fucking plastic ass hair of yours."

And that was it. They'd wasted enough time, out in the cold, and Dante had gotten away with far too much, with both his actions, and his mouth, and it was with no hesitation whatsoever that one foot found the bumper of the car, and then Vergil was scaling over it, faster than he knew Dante could react. He was going to beat the little brat, and then he was going to take him home, and he was going to ignore him for a week, because he very well understood how Dante hated being ignored. It would serve as good punishment for his little brother being immature and stupid.

Or so Vergil had thought. He hadn't expected Dante to be waiting for him on the other end of the car, reaching out to grab at Vergil the minute he'd moved to pounce from the hood and right onto to Dante, effectively tugging them both to the icy ground. And Vergil was many things, but keeping his balance on such a slippery surface, when he'd been jerked off center was not his strong point, and a moment later he found himself pinned to ground underneath his bony brother, as Dante's knees dug into his ribs, holding him there, his hands bracing themselves on Vergil's shoulders to keep him right where he'd landed.

"Hey. Guess this means I win, huh?" It was said with a grin, though Dante's face was shaded by his hair and the angle he held himself at, on the relatively lightless night. It didn't matter. Vergil could hear the grin in his voice, and he snarled, lunging upward as best he could, nearly breaking Dante's hold on him. "Whoa, slow down, babydoll. We got all night."

"You're pushing." Vergil, honestly, had given Dante more leeway than he should have. Had been all along, if he took the time to consider it, really.

"I know." Dante leaned in, so that his hair brushed at Vergil's face, inches separating them. Vergil could see the grin at that point; lazy and confident, like the cat that had gotten the cream. "Wonder how much farther I can get." And he had the audacity to end it with a insolent wink, his teeth biting into his bottom lip. "You know, for a guy who's gonna beat me senseless, Verg, you're not putting up much of a fight. Wonder if I should be offended."

"I'm going to butcher you." It came out levelly, though he was sure Dante could see the darkening of his eyes, even in what little light was present. "Butcher you /slowly/."

"Mmhmm." Dante both looked and sounded completely unconcerned at the prospect, being so confident as to released Vergil's shoulders, one hand going to tug at a stray lock of Vergil's hair. "Long as you promise to make it /good/, babydoll. S'all I ask. Make it a death worth having."

Every instinct screamed to jump then, and take the fool down. The fingers of his exposed hand flexed a moment, before he reached up, snaring Dante by the throat and holding him there in place, though Dante's grin didn't fade. If anything, it grew wider, and the fool had the nerve to sway at the hips slightly, from side to side, purposely taunting.

The fingers around his throat tightened, the flesh around flushing slightly, and he felt Dante swallow, though it wasn't hard, or nervously, at all. Which proved, right there, how big of a fool he was.

It was then that Dante's own hands came up to grasp at Vergil's arm, though he didn't try to pry himself loose. Instead, his fingers tangled loosely through the loops along the forearm of the sleeve, almost affectionately. "That the best you got? C'mon, baby. I thought I was supposed to be /scared/."

Vergil's eyes had completely changed at that point, red on black, which should have told Dante that backing off was a good idea. But of course not, because Dante - and Vergil was certain it was done purposely - swiped at his bottom lip with his tongue, grin stretching to Cheshire proportions as Vergil's gaze zeroed in on the action, before returning to Dante's own.

"Well?" There was another hip wiggle, as Dante pushed himself lower against Vergil's abdomen, never once loosening the grip he held with his knees. "Put up. Or shut up. Because it's cold as fuck out here, and I figure...I'm either gonna find a way to be warm here, or I'm gonna go home." His voice was slightly strained, where Vergil gripped his throat, but he didn't seem bothered. Unlike Vergil, Dante just wasn't all that concerned with sounding perfectly normal like that.

Vergil's grip tightened dramatically, before Dante found himself practically ripped off and tossed to the side, and he rolled to his knees, a scowl already starting, when a finger was shoved in his face. "Not a fucking word, Dante. Get in the car." And when he moved to protest, he found the front of his hair yanked, as Vergil stood, pulling Dante with him. And by his hair he was dragged to the passenger side, before being flung against the car. And it had happened so fast, it was obvious the younger twin had no idea what in hell to do, as he caught himself, groping for the door handle.

"Get in the car." It was with a flash of fang, and a deepening even more so of eye color, that it was said, before Vergil started away for the other side, leaving Dante gaping after him, wide-eyed.

"Just what the hell is your problem?" There wasn't an answer, as the driver side door was almost ripped from his hinges, as Vergil flung it open. Dante, really, had no choice but to follow suit, sliding into the passenger seat and making sure to stay completely on his side. "Dude. What the fuck. /Answer me/, goddammit."

And Vergil still said nothing, though the look he shot Dante promised him death, and lots of it, if he didn't shut his mouth. And Vergil meant that. Luckily, Dante was smart enough to know when he was beaten. For the moment. And he huffed and looked out the window, good mood ruined by Vergil's pissiness.

And Vergil didn't care. He didn't. Dante had pushed as far as he was going to get, and he'd tested his luck and come away unscathed...For that moment. But one more word from the younger twin, and Vergil knew he'd repeatedly bash his brother's head into the dashboard until he went unconscious. It, honestly, was not the night for those kind of games, and while Vergil had been...Tolerant before, his mood had changed like quicksilver, and the game had gotten old, and annoying. Right about the time Dante had flung the first snowball.