No. Not a KH/KH2 fic. Whut? Can I really do that? Why yes. Yes I can.

This is a Dogs fic...Badou and Haine are copyright to Miwa Shirow. Enjoy. Even if you don't recognize the characters.

It's the way Haine stares him down, gaze flat and calm, long albino fingers wrapping around the patterned grips of his guns; one white, one black. One for Haine himself and one for the Black Dog. One for the man and one for the feral beast that lurks inside him. I'm waiting for when you slip up, Boss. It gives Badou chills, goosebumps shuddering up and down his arms, back of his neck prickling with his instinct to run--

runrunrunawaygetawayfromme

--white for Haine, chained to his pants, keeping that symbol of his sanity close.

--black for the Black Dog, nothing else to add.

Haine gives him comfort in his silence with only small twitches at the corners of his lips for a smile, but the Black Dog laughs, cackling really, howling in his victory, grin spread over Haine's paper-white features, stretching his mouth into a grimace-esque grin that contorts the albino's face so horrifically.

Badou's watching him carefully, seeing Haine's control fray.

There's a chain around the Black Dog's collar, holding him back, permitting him to bark and snarl and howl, but never to go too far, never to let the chain break. There's a chain around Haine's sanity, and the more the Black Dog barks, the shorter and shorter the links get, frailer and more brittle until the chain at long last snaps, and the Black Dog is set running free. He feels the first link break.

It won't be long now, Boss.

The rest of the chain soon follows, shattering like so much proverbial glass as the Dog breaks free, on Badou in an instant, claws ripping through his coat, his shirt, forcing him down onto the fake wood floor of the redhead's apartment, between the torn and stained couch and the old fashioned black and white television set that sparks and fizzes even on a good day.

"Haine," it's a soft gasp from between bruised and cracking smoker's lips, murmured out like the so much sought-after nicotine filled smoke.

"It's not Haine anymore. How do you think he'll react when I break his toy?" He's got a knee on either side of the other's waist, hands on his shoulders. Haine's body, but not his mind. "Break you, break Haine; easy enough. It'll be back to the old Haine. The hot one." The Dog grins, a hand pressing down on Badou's wrists, the other shoving down his pants, grabbing his cock roughly. "But don't worry…you'll feel good before you snap."

Badou bucks up against him, arms wrapping around the albino's back, thin lips pulling over his teeth in a rough smile. "Haine." He's insistent upon this, leaning up to press lips against his neck, hips arching into the other's hand.

The Black Dog yanks the smoker's pants down, tongue sliding against his stomach and downwards. "You keep thinking that, babe…" He's grinning, smirking, destroying Haine's face as he pulls Badou's legs up around his waist. "You keep thinking that." The redhead moans, hands held down by the Dog's, hips bucking and back arching up off the floor. "Sexy. Keep doing that," He's a dog, complete with demands and wants and needs he's not afraid to let be known. He's nearly purring, licking the rim of his ear, dipping in and slipping against the inside, teeth fastening on the flesh, moving his tongue to flick against the blood. The Dog presses a dry finger into Badou, teeth meeting teeth through the other's ear.

"Haine, fuck, Haine!" Badou's yelling hoarsely as the other adds another finger, his own fingers scrabbling against the faux wooden flooring, some past tenant's attempt at luxury in a harsh and cruel world. 'If you can't control your life, you can at least control your floor.' "Fuck…that hurts…" And it's getting harder and harder to believe that the grinning figure above him is his partner, fingers pushing into him and those of his free hand dragging down his face, leaving furrows in his skin, pulling the eyepatch off.

"You know…we should put this empty eye socket of yours to use, but…" He shrugs Haine's shoulders, nipping at his throat. The Dog pulls Badou's hips up, pulling his fingers out and thrusting into him, smirking, panting softly, tongue lolling out of his mouth, self-satisfied smirk on his lips. "Ah…we should do this more often, babe." The albino digs nails into Badou's shoulders, freeing the other's hands.

Badou's skin is crawling, shivering, hips bucking. "Haine…please…it hurts, man!" He pushes at his chest uselessly, blind eye staring up at him, milky white.

The Black Dog sighs this time, nipping at his lips sharply. "I told you…it's not Haine anymore. He's not going to be able to rescue you…remember? He's always too late to really save you." He grins again, panting, sinking his teeth into the smoker's shoulder, tearing at the skin, biting into the flesh, growling possessively. "And you know…he doesn't want to come back. He doesn't want to have to deal with you like this. He knows you're going to break." He traces a black-painted fingernail over Badou's cheek, kissing him almost tenderly. "You're mine now. Mine. Minemineminemine." The Dog pauses, snarling against the smoker's cheek. "Too late, Haine." He's conversing with himself, hips bucking and thrusting into the other, ignoring his whispered pleas.

"Haine…" Badou's toes curl, tightening his legs around the Dog's waist, body shaking as he comes, slumping against the floor, arms wrapping around his neck. "Haine…you…didn't…didn't come save me this time…" He swallows thickly, blood from his ear sticking to his cheek and the floor, blank eye closing half a second after his good eye. The Dog comes a moment after him, sitting up and pulling Badou against him, hugging him close.

"Badou." Haine kisses him quickly, pressing fingertips to his wound, red eyes fixated on him. "I'm sorry…" He can't match his gaze as he pulls away, standing and zipping his pants up. The smoker's sitting there, looking up, blood lethargically dripping from his ear and shoulder, weight resting on his palm.

"Haine..? Please! Where're you going?" Badou gets to his feet shakily, grabbing at the albino's sleeves and collapsing against him.

Haine shakes his head, pulling away. "Out. You should get yourself cleaned up." He's trying to leave, get away from his staring partner who he can do nothing for. He hates feeling useless, unable to help. "I'll be back later." If I can bear to see you like this…I can stand to see you beaten and bruised, but…not like this. Not this pitiful and pathetic.

Badou jerks as Haine frees himself and steps away, hand on the doorknob. "Oh…right…" He smiles, the expression wavering before he collapses on the couch, pulling his ripped coat up over himself, burying his face in the fur. "C-Could you get me some more smokes while you're out? I'm gettin' low." As he mentions it, the old itch is back; nicotine stained and calloused fingers fumbling with a cigarette, pulling it out of the crumpled package, flicking his lighter open to light the end, inhaling raggedly. "If you need cash to pay for it…there's some behind one of those books." The redhead pulls his legs up against his chest, face buried in his knees, cigarette held limply in his scarred hand. He looks up, eyes moving sluggishly up towards Haine's face, expression slack.

Haine's got a hand pressed against the other's cheek, skin cold against Badou's. "I told you…I'm sorry…" He leans down, lips ghosting over the redhead's, kissing his wounded ear, licking at the blood. You can't apologize for something you didn't do, Boss. And he can't forgive you. Haine lets his hand slip down to Badou's hip, pulling him up into a hug, arms wrapping around his waist. What? Are you horny now? Mad ya didn't get to get off, Boss? I did He's not too bad. Maybe you should try.

Badou's coat has fallen to the floor, leaving his naked body pressed against Haine's. His frame is quivering, shaking at the proximity. "G-Got my smokes?" He attempts a smile, exhaling smoke at him. "This is my last one…need a drink, too. Stiff one."

Haine's tongue is still licking at his ear, hands tightening on his hips and pulling him closer, breathing quickening into something akin to little pants. "No…you need to stop smoking. Makes you taste bad." He's cleaned the blood from Badou's ear, mouth moving to the scar over his eye, kissing it quickly. "You waste all your money, anyway. You could use it to fix this place up."

You aren't fooling anyone, Boss. You're so close to him, I bet he can feel it.

Badou shivers, a whimper crawling up his throat. "Don't…don't need to fix it up…" His words are scrambling out without input from his brain. There's something leaking down the inside of his thigh, so he locks he good eye with Haine's, trying to ignore the blood and the cum that'll no doubt stain the couch and his clothes. But he can feel the man (does he even trust him? It was a stretch to begin with. And now…) pressing him closer to the wall, breathing getting louder and more erratic.

That a boy. You know what you want and you're going after it. That's more like the old Haine.

"Haine?" The redhead's staring, back pressed up against the wall. The gunner's hand sliding inwards from his hip to the flat of his stomach, long nails tapping against his skin. "Haine…cut it out." 'It's not funny anymore! Stop it! Ohgodohgodohgodnotagain. PleaseHainestopitstopit.'

But Haine's staring back, eyes roving from his bruised and bleeding shoulder down to Badou's chest, unzipping his pants. He moves a hand to Badou's shoulder, forcing him down to his knees, eyes half lidded, focused on him. Think he'll do it, Boss? Think he'll try and run? He was enjoying himself when it was me, you know.

Badou looks up at him hazily, tongue sliding against the other's cock, closing his eyes tightly. "Haine…you're supposed to come save me, remember? That's what partners do…" The other moans softly, a hand tangling in the long red hair, hips bucking, pulling Badou close, forcing him to fight back a gag. "Hn…" Badou wraps fingers around his own cock, jerking his hand back and forth. He's moaning, pulling back from Haine, looking up at him and licking his lips. "Haine?" He leans back, looking up at him, fingers still playing over his cock.

Oh…looks like you've got him, Boss! Gonna fuck him here and now? I've already got him warmed up for you. And looks like he's turned on

Haine pulls the other onto the couch, kissing him roughly, blood smearing over the both of them, hands yanking his partner close.

The smoker nearly smiles, but only nearly. This Haine…this silent one with only the gestures for orders, who always shows up too late to prevent the beating, this is his partner, this is the man he knows. Loves? Nah. Not even he'll go there.