It figured. It truly did.
There was no shock whatsoever written on Dante's face, as he instead glared at his brother. Of course Vergil would do this. Of course he would. It fell into that 'stalker' mentality the elder twin had, after all. He was such a freak, and always poked his overly-large nose (the same nose, in fact, that Dante himself possessed) into Dante's business like it belonged there, when it most obviously didn't. It was so fucking typical, and it pissed Dante off.
Between them, from where Dante stood, his hands clenching and unclenching unconsciously - as he just as unconciously ground his teeth and bared his fangs - to where Vergil stood serenely cleaning Yamato's blade of gore with the detachment of a madman was covered in carnage. Oh, it was neatly sliced carnage, to be sure, because Vergil wouldn't have had it any other way, but it was carnage all the same, that Dante could have avoided, had Vergil stayed out of things he had no business involving himself in.
It would have been a simple job, and Dante could have been spared being coated in demonic blood and intestines, had Vergil just stayed the fuck away.
The silence between them stretched, Dante's teeth grinding over it, before the younger twin could force the anger to make itself into something coherant. He drew a deep breath through his nose, and it, too, was loud, before pinning Vergil once more in a glare, this one all narrow black-and-red eyes that glowed faintly in the dimness of the room.
"And just what," he said, finally reaching over and prying Rebellion from the floor where it had spun and stuck, the hilt still swaying slightly to and fro, "do you fucking think you're doing? Why. Why, Vergil. How come every time I go to fucking kill something, you flap in like the overgrown fucking bat you are and fuck it up?"
"Hmm?" It was said with a feigned blink, as though Vergil had only just then realized Dante was speaking: Well, perhaps speaking wasn't the right word. Shouting like an overgrown baby was, perhaps, more appropriate. "I'm sorry, did you say something, little brother? All I caught were the wibble vibes of an overgrown infant."
And he didn't even bother to glance at Dante, either.
A growl started in the back of Dante's throat, his free hand still clenching and unclenching tightly. "You?" He paused, still glaring hotly at the elder twin. "You are some fucking piece of work. Just who the fuck do you think you are, coming in here and stealing my fucking kill? I can do it just fine without you, you fucking stalker." Because Vergil was a stalker, try as he might to deny it. He knew it, Dante knew it, and that was all there was to be said on the matter.
"Yes, which you so wonderfully proved by getting slammed into the walls." Vergil gestured at the walls of the overly large room then, in which distinctly Dante-shaped impressions, along with splatters of blood, could be seen, even in the slight light present. "Tell me, Dante, how one survives such head trauma and still retains any functionality whatsoever. Not that you had much to begin with, really, but I'm oh-so curious as to how the mentally retarded manage without the mental capacities the rest of us possess."
And the asshole didn't even wait for an answer, instead sheathing Yamato and starting for the door without once glancing at his brother, even though he had barged his way into a fight that hadn't even been his to begin with.
Dante's jaw tightened, his lips pulling back from his fangs further as his eyes darkened, red on black, before Rebellion was hefted up into a tight, one-handed grip and drawn back over his shoulder. And directly afterward it was flung, pinwheeling right for Vergil's exposed back. Dante was many things, and had many flaws, but his aim had never been one of them, and he was sure he'd see the blade sink right into that spot between Vergil's shoulder blades, perhaps going in far enough to come through the other side and pinning Vergil to the wall, effectively making a Vergilkabob.
That was what he was hoping for, anyway.
Instead, there was a blur of blue and white, and Rebellion sank at least a foot deep into the wall next to the wide, dark doorway, with no Vergil impaled upon its end. It surprised Dante, it really did, and his tightly held frame relaxed in a dumb sort of awe, as his clenched jaw loosened to something like a slack gawk. "...The fuck...?"
"And this is why, baby brother," Vergil's voice sounded, it seemed, from everywhere and nowhere particular, "we don't play with the big boys if we're not ready. Toodles, boopsie."
Okay, if that was the way the dick wanted to play it, they would play that way. Dante glared into the darkness of the room once more, before stepping over the gore on his way to Rebellion, already working on a plan to get Vergil, and get him good, once and for all.
Author's Notes: Still the AU pair, where they're partners, not...Well. Whatever you'd call them in canon. Personal chewtoys? Sock 'em Bop 'em robots? I don't know.
Haha, and oh. If you're wondering wtf I'm updating so much: I'm archiving two and a half year's worth of fanfic, so some of this is a little...Aged. Believe me, I wish I could write so much so fast.