Drunken Baby

Travis Touchdown's little apartment was exactly that: little. It was small enough as it was, with him and Jeane occupying it to its full capacity. With just him and his cat, it was crowded as all hell.

So then why the HELL did he agree to let Dante crash at his place that night?

It was the hard booze they'd been drinking, that was it. It addled his brain, Dante's too. Except, the only thing different, Dante came in on his motorcycle – Travis walked, his apartment only a block away from the closest bar and titty club. Still, despite knowing Dante's special heritage—knowing all the rumors of Dante's abilities to heal super fast and shoot twin pistols with inhuman speed—Travis wasn't about to let the guy kill himself in a motorist accident.

Actually, he would've let Dante kill himself if the demon hunter was an opponent for a ranking fight. He did resemble Helter Skelter quite a bit…

However, that was not the case. They had gone on missions together a long-ass time ago—nothing too serious, a few kills here and there. Apparently, the guys they slayed weren't even human. Demons or some shit.

Whatever. The job got done one way or another.

Dante headed off after about a week's worth of working together with Travis, no ceremony to his departure. Said something about business calling him from another end of the country. Said he'd be in touch.

Tonight, after nearly five months of no contact, Dante just randomly showed up at Travis' place, asking if he wanted to get a few drinks with him since he was in town and craving a cold one. They went to the local watering hole, and while toasting to life and all the good things in it, got hammered.

Real fucking hammered.

"I don't know why I'm fucking doing this," Travis muttered, struggling to get the apartment key out while supporting a stone-drunk Dante on his right shoulder. He dropped the key as soon as he had it in his hand. "Dammit!"

Dante supported by the wall beside him, Travis reached down for the key and got the door open. The hinges cried softly as Travis opened the door. He heard paws pattering on the floor, a tiny bell jingling somewhere nearby. He flicked on the light switch, hard-faced from lugging Dante around. Who knew that Dante was such a goddamn drunk. Drank more than Travis.

Unbelievable.

Travis' expression softed when he saw who the paws belonged to. "Hey, girl." Not caring that Dante was still propped up against the wall outside, Travis crouched low just to give Jeane a loving pet all across her back, behind her ears. "There there…"

Jeane nuzzled Travis' hand, licked at his fingers.

Travis beamed at his beloved cat, stood up straight, then hollered outside, "Hey, asshole! Are you coming?"

There was a guttural moan that sounded a little X-rated, and then a pasty pale-looking Dante appeared in the door frame. "Uh, yah, I'm comin'." He stumbled in two steps, and would have landed on his ass when he tripped on the carpet if not for Travis there to catch him.

"You're such a pain in the ass," Travis bitched, grabbing Dante by the chest with both arms then heaving him on to the reclining chair.

Dante landed with a thump, his red leather coat tails scrunching up into the cushions under his intoxicated ass cheeks. He looked around, his neck barely lugging his dizzy head around. "Nice place you got here, Terrance."

"Travis."

"Yeah, that's what I said, Terrance."

"My name's Travis. Get it right," he said, "or I'm kicking your ass out on the streets."

"Okay, okay, okay, okay…okay." Dante snickered, his face all doped out and dazed. "Aww, dude, that's… that's so awesome that, you got a nice little pussy cat here to play with by yourself." He reached down to stroke Jeane; he ended up petting her fur the wrong way, causing her to yelp before running away.

"Don't hurt her, you bastard!"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Dante quickly said, repeating the word 'sorry' until it was nothing but a drunken whisper. "I appreciate this, man. There ain't no way I'm getting home."

Travis scratched the hair behind his neck. He was still standing by the doorway. "Want me to go get your bike for ya?"

Dante's eyes lit up in a gleam. "You do that for me? You'd do that… Aw, that's real sweet of you, Trav, I think I'll give you a nice thank you kiss." He tried to get up.

"Sit back down, asshole." Travis pushed him back down. "I don't swing that way."

"Eh, neither did I… well, maybe a little curiousity here and there, but never did anythin', till I met that Nero boy…" Dante's voice was beginning to sound sleepy, and his eye lids were matching his slowly uttered words. "That Nero boy… Goddamn him for what he did to me, goddamn him."

Travis wasn't interested in hearing the story of Dante's love life woes. "Riiight, well, hand me your keys, and I'll go out and bring your bike back."

Dante blinked at Travis, one eye at a time. He grinned stupidly. "You're gonna have to come over 'ere and get it yourself…"

"Dammit, Dante, I don't feel like fucking doing this tonight. It's two o'clock in the fucking morning, and I'm stuck taking care of a drunken baby the size of a full-grown man."

"Okay, okay, okay, chill out, okay? Just playing ya, just messing with ya, just…" Dante reached in his pants pocket and tossed them to Travis in the doorframe. "Make sure you watch the left side. It leans a little 'eavy."

"Got it, now stay here, and don't get in to any trouble. I'll be right back."

Dante didn't say anything. Eyes shut, head back on the chair, and he gave him a thumbs up.

Cheeky bastard.

It only took twenty minutes to get Dante's bike and park it next to Travis' own set of wheels, but the number one-ranked assassin had a sneaking hunch that something was going to be going on as soon as he set foot in his apartment.

"Goddammit," Travis cursed preemptively. He wasn't inside just yet.

Dante wasn't in the living room when he opened the door. Wasn't in the bathroom either.

"Fuck!" Travis kicked the door to his bedroom, fuming. He somehow already knew this to be the appropriate choice of action. "What the hell are you doin'?!"

Groggy-drunk Dante looked up from the magazine he was reading on Travis' bed. "You've got some nice porn here."

The "porn" in question was actually a celebrity gossip magazine.

"Dammit, you weren't supposed to snoop! My business is my business, fucker! Get the fuck out of here!" Travis snatched the magazine from the demon-hunter's grip. "Fuckin' a."

"Chill, bro. Chill," Dante said, standing with a stagger. "There's no shame in liking Lesley Stein."

"Damn right there isn't! She's one hot babe!"

Dante stumbled over to Travis and managed to pat him sloppily on the shoulder. "Hate ta tell ya this, Trever, but Lesley's a dude."

"No fucking way," Travis spat. "Just look at that –"

"That's a guy you've been beating off to."

Hearing it repeated made Travis completely sober. "Oh fuck… You gotta be shitting me… There ain't no…" He faltered as it hit him a lot harder than he thought it could. "You're just a fucking drunk, you don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"Trust me," Dante said, "I know a dude when I see one…slept with plenty."

Travis crushed the magazine in his hand, the paper crinkling loudly into a balled up mess. Paper still in his fist, he plopped down heavily on to his bed, bouncing up slightly from the mattress recoil. He merely sat there, numb, staring.

He then proceeded to sigh.

Dante blinked a few times to steady his blurry vision. "Don't be so down… Riding the horse both ways ain't so bad…"

It was all Jeane's fault. No, not the cat. He was talking about that damn bitch, his ex-girlfriend and sister. Fuckin' a.

"It's official," Travis said, throwing the paper across the room. "My sex life is eternally fucked up."

No truer words were ever spoken for the rest of the night. Travis let Dante sleep on the couch, and he crashed on his own bed. When morning came, it was just Travis and the cat.

The apartment felt small again, like it was supposed to be.

All that was left of Dante was a hastily scribbled note resting on Travis' pillow for him to find when he woke up:

Couldn't help but notice it, you have a nice ass.

-D.

Travis wasn't going to be too happy about that note. He would also end up feeling slightly flattered when he eventually got up and read it .

Goddamn, his sex life really was fucked up...

-END

;I own nothing but the situations and words I control.
Sorry for the OOC-ness of Dante and Travis. I really just wanted to write something with the two of them.
All exaggerations or comedic effect.
I really don't care for this fic. The quality is shoddy, but oddly, I was compelled to post.
No harm, no foul.
COMPLETE.