060: Drink
Badou was confused when his fuzzy mind finally registered that he wasn't at the bar anymore, he could have sworn he'd been there a second ago…But when he noticed a pale white hand supporting his waist and the faint smell on gun smoke and everything that was essentially Haine, he knew he was safe and proceeded to stop thinking and just commit all his effort to remaining conscious and stumbling as upright as he could towards whichever destination the white-haired dog had chosen.
That is, until, he noticed they were approaching the church.
"Why're we here man?"
"To get all that alcohol out of your system, I'm sure Bishop has a concoction of some sorts"
"Whyzza that?"
"I want you to remember why your ass hurts in the morning"
That shut the photographer up, and he leaned into Haines shoulder, inhaling deeply and groaning.
"That sounds real nice" He slurred.
033: Too Much
With Badou moaning softly against his neck as he thrust deeply and slowly into the redhead, Haine realized he was too dependent on the man.
It was too late to change it, long strands of red hair, that cloud of cigarette smoke that constantly seemed to hover over his head, the knowing smiles.
It was too much to let go of now.
011: Red
The first time Badou stared straight into the stray dogs crimson eyes, he realized his dire mistake.
They were so full of anger, passion, need and want and the addict couldn't tear his eyes away even if he wanted too.
080: Why?
Haine stared in cleverly disguised horror at the small, genetically mutated girls, who had been given feathered wings or cat tails in exchange for voices and hearing and sight.
He tried to pass it off as simple curiosity, but Badou, wise beyong his appearance, just shrugged. "I don't know why" He stated, answering the unsaid question whilst lighting a cigarette, "These things just happen, s'the way the world works"
054: Air
Badou could never remember a time when he had breathed clean, pure air.
When he was younger, the city was always dirty with smog, and hate and anger and it was inhaled by everyone who, in turn, exhaled it back out. And now, with the constant stream of smoke and tar he pumped into his body, he realized he never would.
He didn't think he wanted to.
028: Children
"I hate em', I am so glad neither of us can get pregnant"
Haine merely raised an eyebrow in response, not taking his eyes off the T.V. where they were watching a sitcom about a family with, of course, snotty kids. The eye-patched man caught the unspoken question though, and exhaling from his cigarette softly, shrugged the answer;
"They're gross, and cost money, and can you imagine what we'd spawn? Nicotine-dependent, crazy ass gun-loving puppies"
030: Death
Haine accepted that Badou would die before he did, most likely sooner than later, at a time when he wasn't there to act as a shield that would not break. He would worry about it constantly, eyes taking on that apprehensive gleam whenever the redhead went on a solo-job or was at some particularly dangerous bar.
Badou had accepted this fact as well, but in the easy-going nature that would surely be his downfall, he took a different approach:
"That means we just gotta make everyday fan-fucking-tastic, yeah?"
004: Insides
He wondered if stray dogs had the same guts and body parts that humans did, and came to the conclusion that they probably did not as he watched Haine cough up another bullet.
056: Breakfast
Badou never got up in time for breakfast, whether it be from a hangover, a sore ass, and just plain laziness, he simply couldn't find the will.
Haine, however, was up every morning no later than nine, frying eggs and toasting bread and gobbling it all down with a cup of coffee.
It was always a funny sight for the redhead to stumble out into the land of the living and find Haine reading a newspaper, crossword already done, dirty dishes piled in the sink waiting for the photographer to clean them.
086: Choices
"Those things will be the death of you" Haine had said out of the blue one day, just as Badou began to light his seventh cigarette in a row.
"Well, I figured, I'm gonna die someday, either from some lucky mobsters shot, you, or these babies" He sighed through a haze of smoke, "A mans gotta have his choices, yanno?"
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There'll be total of 100, but I figured, 10 a chapter would be rather manageable, yeah?
Thanks for reading, I'd appreciate it if ya'll would leave a review, whether it is negative or not,
This is my first time writing DOGS fanfiction.