(Untitled)

[iron_burger]

MORNING AFTER

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Dante | Devil May Cry

[badassness]

[So this fine example of an arrogant bastard is stretched out beside you, invading all your space, and drooling on his own shoulder.

You lucky dog.

Well. Not really.]

[peccatamundi]

[She comes awake fast, and there's a moment of horrified shock as she looks at him. Then she pushes at him, trying to reclaim her personal space.]

Move.

[badassness]

[And he's still asleep. And responds to this shove with a flaily, groggy attempt to get an arm around her and curl her closer. His voice is a nearly incoherent mumble.]

G'back 'ere. N'done w'you.

[His mouth twitches into a smirk, and now he's nuzzling into her shoulder. And oh yes. There's drool.]

[peccatamundi]

[She's too stunned to fight him off at first, and then it's too late. Her lip curls and she casts a desperate look around for her gun. The fact that it's over by the door, tangled up in her pants, doesn't improve her mood.]

Dante. Move. Now.

[The feel of something wet touching her shoulder makes her voice louder, sharper.]

Dante.

[badassness]

[And once he has a grip, it's iron.]

Jus' fi'e more min'tes.

[He jerks at the snap, turning his face into her neck and squeezing his eyes shut. Tight. Oh. God.]

Trish?

[Garbled. His mouth is still against her skin. He's very still. She's going to kill him.]

[peccatamundi]

[She doesn't move, her eyes locked very deliberately on the ceiling. After a moment's silence, she speaks calmly, too calmly, and almost poisonously sweet.]

Dante. What are you doing?

[badassness]

Uh.

[His voice smooths, arrogance returns, he pulls back enough to point a lazy smirk vaguely in her direction.]

Keeping you warm, babe?

[He's going to die. He might as well go out cocky.]

[peccatamundi]

[She snorts, not buying it for a minute.]

You're failing. Miserably.

[badassness]

...Can remedy that?

[Oh so careful shift closer.]

[peccatamundi]

[Her eyebrow climbs toward her hairline.]

Oh, can you now?

[A pause.]

What do you remember from last night?

[badassness]

[He's about to brag. About to say something cocky and full of it. You can see it hovering on the curl of his mouth. And then he breathes out. He decides he'd like to live.]

Not a thing.

Damn shame.

[Apparently he doesn't want to live that badly.]

[peccatamundi]

[Her voice turns thoughtful and almost sympathetic in its mock pity.]

It is, Dante. Certainly not a night I'm ever going to forget.

[badassness]

[He looks away, shifts. His hand smooths up her arm.]

Don't have a chance in Hell of a repeat, do I?

[peccatamundi]

[She flashes him a saccharine smile.]

Maybe.

[badassness]

[Well that's a green light, right?

Morning breath kisses. Coming for your face, Trish.]

[peccatamundi]

[It's a mad scramble, but she gets a hand clapped over his mouth before he manages to kiss her.]

Mouth wash first, lover boy.