Categories > Games > Devil May Cry

Don't Run Away, It's Only Me

by divinecomedy 1 review

I...This is nothing but pure crack. Another challenge, this time with songs for inspiration. Song in question is "Dead Man's Party" by Oingo Boingo. Set post-DMC2, with Dante, Trish, AND Vergil....

Category: Devil May Cry - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Humor - Characters: Dante, Trish, Vergil - Published: 2006-08-02 - Updated: 2006-08-02 - 1435 words - Complete

Normally, Dante was an easy-going kind of guy. He really, truly was. He figured he'd put up with a lot of crap in his life, continued to do so on a daily basis, and, really, he asked for very little in return. Just the basics, really. Porn, beer, and sleep were, in his opinion, his right, not a privaledge.

And at that moment, his right to sleep was being violated, and greatly, by some muffled noise coming from downstairs. He rolled over and peered at the clock, squinting viciously until the little red numbers came into focus, biting back a groan. For the love of all things holy...

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing, he gave his sagging pajama pants a half-hearted tug, and made his way to the bedroom door, tripping over every last thing in his path. Including his boots, which nearly sent him stumbling and flailing head-first into the wall by the door.

Fumbling for the doorknob, he flung the door open, as the one across the hallway was thrown open at the exact same time, and for a moment he was thrown off. He didn't remember putting in a mirror there, nor did he remember favoring blue to sleep in. Then he remembered: Right, Vergil. The two simply stared at one another for several long moments, forcifying the mirror theory by blinking at all the same times, before simply moving at the same time for the stairs, to find the source of the racket.

Regardless of how awesome their reflexes normally were, at the moment they were obviously taking a coffee break...Or still asleep themselves. Dante, in the short trip to the stairwell, collided with Vergil when he weaved into his path, and Vergil, being the pissiest pissant to ever stumble out of bed as a pissant, hissed and shoved him away, sending Dante, in his slow, shuffly, sleep-dazed manner, head-first into the wall. And it just went to show how half-awake they were when Dante simply bounced off and kept going, and Vergil failed to make fun of him.

Instead, they weaved and wobbled their way down the stairs, after a short-lived, half-hearted little shove match over who would go down first. Dante had obviously lost when he was the first to reach the door, and flung it open before realizing both he and Vergil were unnarmed. In retrospect, that could have been a really dumb decision, and something for Vergil to file away and bring up at a later date to taunt his 'little' brother with.

Luckily for the siamese nitwits, it was friend, not foe, that was making all the noise, and both realized this as they stepped into the office, both squinting around in the sudden bright light. And when they found the noisemaker, two sets of eyes hollowed, two mouths dropped open in disgust, and two fully grown men stood frozen in horror at a sight neither had ever wished to see.

Not that Trish cared, mind you, from where she was digging through a toolbox, nails stuck in her mouth, nightshirt hiked up revealing more skin than either twin had ever wished to see. She didn't even bother straightening when she noticed them, instead peeking between her legs and rolling her eyes.

Removing the nails from her mouth, she gave snort and drawled, "Aw. It's little miss Mary Sunshine, and her sidekick; Poke Along Sally. Mornin', boys."

Vergil, eyes unnaturally wide, stuck his arms out before him, slapping at Dante as though he couldn't see. "I've gone blind! Blind, I tell you."

Dante shoved him away, growling. "Then go out and play in traffic, assmar." And promptly turned his attention back to Trish, as Vergil dropped his arms with a huff, his fun taken away. "What in hell are you doing? It's five in the fucking morning."

"My side of the office is looking bare." And she still didn't straighten, nor did she pull down her nightshirt, leaving her frilly pink undies exposed. After all, Vergil was turning every shade of green and purple imaginable. And it was funny.

Normally, Dante would have been right there with Vergil, probably gagging as well. However, normally Dante wouldn't have been dead tired, up at that ungodly hour, staring at Trish's pink, ruffle-clad ass after getting drug from bed by her beating on the walls...And was that eighties pop coming from the direction of her desk? Icing on the fucking cake.

"And this couldn't have waited...Oh, I don't know...A few more hours until I was ready to get up?" Unfortunately, the effect of his biting sarcasm was ruined when his voice cracked from misuse, and Trish only snickered from her upside down position.

"Don't you mean rise from your crypt, Mr. Dracula?" Only then did she straighten, tugging the nightshirt back to mid-thigh. "And stop that, Vergil. We all know you're a sheltered virgin, but for God's sake, don't be so /obvious/."

Vergil flailed and sputtered before jabbing a finger at her, trying his best to look imperious and intimidating. Unfortunately, with his hair as messy as Dante's, and his being just in general sleepy and squinty, he looked more retarded than anything. "I will eat your face off."

Trish gave him a bland stare, popping her lips together. "Right." She waved a manicured hand at him dismissively, before scooping up the hammer once more and turning back to the wall. Really, those two were complete idiots sometimes. And Vergil had had such promise.

Dante watched all of this with slight disinterest (he who never missed a chance to nail Vergil or Trish to the wall with snark...He blamed it on lack of sleep.), as Vergil impotently fumed and Trish pointedly ignored it, before shaking his head. And shuffling to the kitchen and starting a pot of coffee, as he now deemed it that time.

Vergil trailed in after him, as the rhythmic banging began once more, hands over his ears, scowl firmly in place. "That...That.../She-devil/," he spat, removing one hand long enough to point back toward the office. Only to find Dante waving a spoon back and forth. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Conducting for the tapdancing elephants in my /skull/," Dante shot back, still waving the spoon in time to the banging. He didn't really feel the need to point out the irony of Trish being a 'she-devil', as she was, you know, a demon.

Vergil simply stared at Dante a long moment, before muttering under his breath and pushing past the younger, rifling through the cabinet. Looking for his mug. Which was missing. Again.

"For the love of-Where the hell is my-" He turned while speaking, to find Dante with his coffee...In Vergil's mug. Now it had sex germs on it. /Sex germs/. And the horror of that registered all over Vergil's face as he glared at Dante, hands balling into fists. "You bastard."

Dante blinked, lowering the mug and raising an eyebrow at Vergil, confused. "The hell I do /now/?"

Vergil snarled and reached over, snatching the mug away after making sure all the hot coffee slopped down Dante's front. "Now I'm going to have to /bleach it/, you filthy heathen."

Dante was, understandably, more occupied with his now coffee-scalded flesh, so Vergil really couldn't have expected a better response than the middle finger Dante presented him with. "God fucking dammit," he seethed, reaching for a towel to pat the sticky, hot mess off with, "you fucking freak."

Vergil sniffed, holding the now-empty mug against his chest like a treasured possession, looking absolutely put out and dumped upon. Pouty, even, if Dante was going to sling insults. "It is /mine/," he huffed, glaring at the younger twin. "Mine, not yours."

And it was important to note that, while, yes, there was still banging from Trish's one-woman frenzy to put things up on the walls other than skulls on her side of the office, there was also the serenade of popular eighties songs drifting in and out as well. Even if neither twin seemed to realize that. It was almost absurd, really, however, the way Trish's playlist had chosen to sort them.

In fact, if Dante had been paying attention, and hadn't been half asleep, he would have howled like a madman (and probably have rolled around on the floor, gasping for breath), when Trish was bent over the toolbox, choice of underwear exposed to the world, to two very unwilling twins. "She Blinded Me With Science", after all, and Trish's ass in the air did not a good combination make.
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