Borrowed Time
Sometimes Haine felt like he was living in borrowed time. As though he was about to wake up from a surprisingly nice dream. But then he would go to sleep and wake up right where he had been—in Badou's flat, curled up under covers, bite marks evidence under a mess of red locks for what had happened. Marks that said, "No, fucker, it was real." But there were, of course, never any such marks (evidence) on his own skin. He remembered one time that Badou had tried to give him a hickey that would last. The attempt itself lasted for twenty minutes (while he watched one of five channels that Badou had), until he had to remind him that he had gotten shot (how many times?) and if getting shot didn't leave a mark, how the hell did Badou expect this to?
Sometimes, when they were back from a job and covered in blood from head to toe (their own or some asshole's?) they would just rinse off in the shower (so much red) and then settle down into the tub to nurse aching muscles and be human again.
But most of this borrowed time, Haine found himself, bit by bit, tearing down his walls around Badou. After they had decided to live together (Badou had offered after finding out that Haine just broke into apartments or houses while they were away), the bits he tore down started coming down easier.
And now that he was becoming more exposed (more and more and more), he was finding that he had no idea what to do.
He was finding that more and more often.
It was just that he found himself caring about Badou. This sappy sort of shit wasn't shit he had ever fucking dealt with before.
It was sort of like swimming blindfolded and not knowing which way was up.
It had been a long time since he knew which way was up, though.
But when he did notice that he cared for Badou he had disappeared for a week to work out this fucking confusion. A motherfucking idiot, that's what Badou was, and he was a motherfucking idiot for being in love with him.
He sort of hated the term (so goddamned sappy it made him cringe), but how the fuck else were they gonna say it?
Sometimes they beat the shit out of each other.
Sometimes they were caught in a tangle of limbs and barely suppressed gasps and moans.
Sometimes they inhaled gun smoke with their bat-shit insane grins widening as they sent those bastards to Hell.
Sometimes, though, they fell asleep wrapped around each other on Badou's shitty couch and just lived.
In a pocket of borrowed time.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading ;3; There needs to be more HainexBadou out there. There's so much complexity to them and they're such beautiful characters ;D Well, this is my first official Dogs fic, so again, thank you for reading, and if you find the time, I would really appreciate knowing how I did!
Inspired by Peppermintmocha ;D My dear Badou when we roleplay.