AN: I don't care if they are ooc or not. so don't bother telling me so. I just wrote this cause I am bored an I want to write the hundred and eighty third Dogs fanfic, cause that's my number.
Of Needles and Nill
Days with no work were boring. No climbing buildings or escaping shoot 'em ups. No having to help Nill patch up Heine's abused, bullet holed clothing while the white dog coughed out bullets onto the polished stone floors of the blind priest's church. And no money coming in for Badou to buy cigarettes with.
So. Slow, boring days, where Heine would sit in the dusty window of Badou's apartment watching the acidic city rain fall, and Badou would poke him with sharp objects, watching the little pinpricks heal in seconds as his cigarette stash dwindled to alarming new lows. The static of the television mixed with the pattering rain to create a loud sort of silence that penetrated the mind to make thoughts disappear.
Badou tapped ashes onto the floor and watched a little bubble of bright red blood form on Heine's stark white skin, only to dry a moment later. The albino sent him a apathetic, withering look, and exhaled deeply. He couldn't really complain because the pricks didn't really hurt (well, compared to 30 bullets in your chest, nothing really hurts) but he couldn't help but imagine what Nill's expression would be if she could see Badou's pastime.
He imagined that she would frown disapprovingly, her wings falling in an unhappy manner, and she would tug on Badou's sleeve with her delicate bird-boned fingers, sending him looks that would read 'Hey, stop that.' Badou, of course, had developed a sort of soft spot for the girl, despite how he tried to hide it, would laugh, subsequently blowing smoke in her face, but would stop, if only to pat her on the head like a puppy.
Heine's usually cold face seemed to soften as he thought this, and when Badou saw the ghosts of a smile playing across Heine's lips, he couldn't help but smile a little himself. He knew the white dog must be thinking about Nill, because somehow she had penetrated that hard, snarling exterior and found Heine's heart. She was something that could bring Heine a little bit of happiness in his weary life of secrets and darkness, and that made Badou like her. Because Heine had enough freaky mutant people in his life, so if at least one of them wasn't trying to kill him all the time, well, at least there was one.
Not to mention that it was quite amusing to watch her try to sew. No matter how many times Badou tried to teach her, she was still painfully slow. She was lucky to have him around to help her fix Heine's clothes all the time.
Although, really, why wasn't Badou teaching Heine to sew instead of Nill, so he could fix his own clothes for once?
Badou's mind immediately conjured the image of growling, mad dog Heine delicately sewing clothing with that typical scary look on his face, growling as he did so.
And the thread was pink.
He couldn't help it. He let out a sort of half stifled giggle that cut through the static silence like Naoto's sword.
Heine looked over at him, one barely visible eye brow raised in a questioning, 'Do I want to know?' manner.
Badou saw his face, then burst out laughing. Heine seemed to get the point that he was being laughed at, joined in the laughter for a moment, then plucked the sewing needle from between Badou's fingers and stabbed the redhead in the arm with it. Then he really did laugh, because watching Badou laugh while spitting profanities and trying to hit him with a TV remote was actually pretty funny.
That, and Badou's arm just dripped blood all over his last cigarette. And if that didn't make the boring day a little more interesting, then what would?