Log Post
Who: Badou and Renji
What: Swimming, and then drinking, and then zomfg HUGZ, and angst and wtf Badou actually TELLS Renji stuff.
Where: The hotel in NYC
When: Before they left NYC, duh
Why: Renji and Badou really were in need for talking.
Also: I suppose some of the vamps or Haine could have overheard, but I think that both Renji and Badou would prefer if THEY DID NOT. ALSO first person to get the joke that IS NOT RABID, I will make you/write you something.
Badou Nails was struggling. It could be said that that was a good description of the entire course of his life so far, but at this moment in time, it was far more literal. He was struggling to breathe air, not pool water, which he hadn't really had to struggle for before.
Flailing and half-sinking, even with his bright orange swimmies, the pool water was winning.
Renji stretched his arms along the edge of the pool, looking far more comfortable than he felt as he stretched his legs out before him and watched the other redhead flailing in the water. "Do you need any help?" he called, trying not to laugh.
"Goonlgk fuck yoousllm," said Badou, winging his arm ecstatically around. Coughing and giving up, he put his feet down and stood. He towered in the shallow end, and adjusted his water wings. Nose scrunched, he tried to remember what Bella had taught him the other day. "This shit is harder than it fucking looks."
"If you want, I can hold you up while you doggy paddle~"
"I don't need that anymore!" snapped the redhead, regaining his will to try. Sneezing a bit of chlorine, he let his legs fall out from under himself again, submerging into the water with a quiet sploosh. His arms were stretched out like a scarecrow as he tried to kick his legs in tandem, keep his head above the waterline, and not drown.
"The problem is," Renji critiqued, lifting something tropical-looking and colourful, with an umbrella in it, and pointing the drink at Badou, "you don't have enough body fat to keep you afloat." He wasn't one to talk, though. He didn't have any body fat, either, and muscle really should have made him sink.
"The probllmmb," Badou lifted his mouth away from the water and spat, "The problem is that I always have fucking assholes in the peanut gallery who won't shut the fuck- upplgl!" He sneezed.
"I did offer to help," Renji pointed out with a haughty sniff. "It really is ridiculous, you needing those floaties in the shallow end."
Badou's flailings suddenly became a little more calculated. SPLASH. The other redhead got a face full of water.
Luckily (for Badou), Renji's drink escaped the attack unscathed. He shook his head and sent droplets of water flying, and then directed his friend with an arched eyebrow. "Can I help you?" he asked again, this time utterly bemused.
After a bit of struggling, Badou managed to swim in a wobbly line to Renji. He gripped the side of the pool like a lifeline.
In one motion, he turned his head, and spit out a line of water into the other man's face.
That was it. Renji carefully set his drink down on the side of the pool and launched himself at Badou, seizing the smaller redhead around the waist (smaller was relative) and pushed him down, following him under the water and grinning into Badou's face as they submerged.
Under the water, Badou shouted profanity, and then subsequently got a lungful of water. His lungs, which were quite used to fire and smoke, had no idea what to make of this nonsense.
Renji leaned in, blew a stream of bubbles into Badou's face, and then shoved the other redhead to the surface, staying submerged himself, just because he could.
Badou came to the surface, leant on the side, and summarily coughed up a pint of pool water. Seeing Renji still underwater, he knocked his drink over on 'accident,' and kicked his foot at the shinigami's submerged form.
The shinigami gave an underwater growl, and summarily when he was kicked, he seized Badou by the foot and bit it. And then he stood up, water cascading down his body, and directed the other redhead with a glare. "Now what'd you have to go and do that for?" he grumbled.
Ignoring Renji's mumbles, Badou was yelping and whimpering, trying to angle his foot up the tiled wall to see it. "No blood! You can't break the skin! Vampires 101!"
"Oh, shut up," Renji growled. "I don't want your blood in my mouth anyway. I didn't fucking break the skin." He shivered slowly and dramatically. "Who knows what I might catch," he leered.
Badou's foot plunked back down into the water with a splash. He then discreetly turned his head away, squeezing water from his eyepatch and re-positioning it. "Don't talk to me about catching shit, I know who you fuck."
"I don't think he'd been with anyone before me," Renji replied quietly, softly, almost as if he'd been scolded, rather than had someone return a very obvious dig.
"I used to think the crazy dogs brothers were so fucking homicidal because they'd never fucked." Badou's lip curled slightly in distaste, and he produced a plastic wrapped pack of cigarettes from somewhere in his swimmies. "Guess that theory's blown outta the water." He splashed, a bit huffily.
"I'd apologize, if I meant it, and if I thought you'd believe it," the shinigami sighed. "Can I have one of those?" he muttered, glancing away guiltily. Eyes dropping to the gentle sway of the water in front of him.
"No," beamed Badou, a lighter seemingly conjured from thin air. One tried very hard not to think about possible bodily hiding places. "No, you cannot." Click, click, snap. Badou drew his first puff, tucking his tools away.
"Yeah, didn't think so. I've got some of my own somewhere..." Renji shrugged and sank below the surface again, sitting on the bottom and letting little bubbles float from his nose and mouth. He didn't even know where to start, but the muted sound from the water helped him concentrate a little better.
Badou sat with his back to the edge of the pool, smoking unconcernedly. While the shinigami was underwater, he blew a load of pool snot and wiped it on the tiles. Swimming was weird.
The redhead watched the spray of phlegm into the water with obvious disgust and made a face. Then he abruptly came to the surface (nowhere near where Badou had been) and got out of the pool. "As fun as this has been," he muttered, "maybe I should just go."
Badou gave the taller man a slanted look. He climbed out after him, with far less grace. "You came here to talk, not swim, man." He gathered and squeezed his hair out, the water splashing noisily onto the concrete.
"Can we go somewhere else?" Renji asked, biting his lower lip uncertainly. He still had no idea what he wanted to talk about. He didn't want Badou annoyed with him, really didn't want to be in the difficult position he was in any longer, but there was certainly nothing that could be done until they both acknowledged that there was a problem to begin with. "And I have a very strong desire for something alcoholic, because even if I did have a cigarette, they aren't euphoric for me like they are for you."
"Yeah, yeah. There's a sick bar in the lobby." Snatching up his towel [which had many cheerful purple orcas on it], Badou scrabbled it through his hair. He ditched the water wings, and cast about looking for his shirt, which he'd stripped off in a hurry to go half-drown himself.
Renji's own was basic hotel issue and sopping wet by the time he finished on his own hair. He slipped his clothes on almost as an afterthought probably not a good idea to give the humans a tattoo-induced heart attack). His hair hung damp but not limp, and he didn't bother putting it up as he looked through a few stray strands at Badou. "Lead the way?"
The other redhead wormed his way back into his shirt awkwardly, somehow emerging with his cigarette still in his mouth. He bumped Renji amiably as he passed, slinging his towel over his shoulder in a way that it whipped in the shinigami's face. They came out into an expansive lobby, drawing more than a few looks from the upper crust clientele. Badou's bare feet left a wet trail on the carpet as they b-lined for the cushy bar stools.
Renji noticed the down-their-noses looks some of the Manhattanites were giving them and growled softly under his breath. Even though he knew their opinions shouldn't matter, didn't, in fact, matter, it bothered him nonetheless. He leaned over Badou's shoulder as the smaller redhead sat down, and spoke directly into his ear. "I am not sitting at the bar," he murmured. "I am going to order my drink and sit in a booth. You may join me, or not." And, true to his word, he requested a fresh bottle of whiskey, put down a large American bill (so that some of the onlookers could see) on the bar, and didn't wait for change before taking the bottle and glass into one of the darker corners of the establishment.
Badou blinked.
After a moment, he stood up, making to follow Renji. Halfway through the motion, he jerked back around and grabbed the bowl of beer nuts.
Popping a peanut into his mouth, he made a deranged face at the bar tender, and followed the other redhead.
Renji poured a generous portion of the strong liquor into the glass and shoved it across the table to Badou, and then took a long swig straight from the bottle, baring his teeth in a grimace as it burned its way down. "How can you even stand it here?" he muttered, voice a little rougher than it should have been.
Badou shrugged, easing into the booth. He blew a careless cloud of smoke above their heads. "It's easier to deal with when you know most of their types are into crazy fucked-up shit in the bedroom." He gestured to a man adjacent to them, face straight. "Bet you anything he's into extreme water sports. You can tell by the mustache. Absorbant." He pointed to another patron of the bar. "Her? She can only get off if the dude she's playing hide the salami with pretends to be her grandfather. 'Come sit on Pappy's knee, come on.'"
The shinigami scowled, but the expression was directed at Badou and not any of the people he was pointing out. "I don't want to judge them for their kinks. I want them to stop judging us." Renji sighed and leaned back in the booth, stretching his legs out and then lifting his feet to rest them on the seat next to Badou. "But complaining about social injustice really is beside the point."
"Probably." Badou smirked into his scarred palm. "You know I pulled that shit outta my ass, right. I ain't working on our motherfucking holiday." He tossed a look over his shoulder, back at the bar tender. "Though that dude's either into necro, or seriously has to switch colognes."
As much as he tried not to, Renji couldn't help the tiny smirk that formed on his lips at that last. "Dead girls can't say no," he muttered, and then made a sour, gagging face, sticking his tongue out at Badou for even giving him that thought. "I hate you," he stated.
Badou toasted him cheekily, then took a sip of the glass Renji had poured him. The booze probably cost more than his fucking flat.
"I take it you're not still as angry with me?" Renji asked suddenly, completely switching gears and searching Badou's face as if he was an abused puppy, waiting for a kick.
The smoker set his drink back down, expression subtly turning from cheeky to wry. It was something in the twist of his thin lips. "I'm not angry at you, douchefucker. But what the shit do you expect, you know?"
"I don't know what to expect," Renji murmured miserably. "I don't know what to do, and I don't know how to make this right. It might be my supposed hero thing, or whatever you call it, but I can't change. It's selfish of me, too, you know." He grinned self-deprecatingly. "I want everyone to be happy even though they all hate each other."
"Love and fucking peace, raa raa shish boom ba." Badou took a deep drag, his stare gone vaguely calculating. "No offense, but I don't think you know what the hell you've stepped into by a fucking longshot."
Renji shotgunned some more of the whiskey and then stretched his arm on the table, leaning his head against it. "And I don't know what to do, either," he agreed softly.
Badou smacked the other man's prone head, almost carelessly. "There is no do if you don't fucking have any information."
A slow blink, completely unaffected by the blow. "Hai, hai," Renji sighed in agreement, nodding sagely. "I may be stupid, but the more I find out, the less I want to know."
"That is fucking stupid," agreed the other redhead, finishing off his drink and topping himself off. "Short-bus drool-cup special-Olympics stupid, even."
Renji stole the bottle back immediately after Badou finished pouring, not to drink, but maybe for comfort. "Hai, hai," he repeated in the same tone. "I'm like a caveman, even. Maybe I should just drag my mate back to a cave, that way none of you will ever have to deal with him again," he continued in a dull monotone.
"Will you hit him over the head with a club?" smiled Badou, perking.
"No."
"Please?"
Renji gave his friend a Look. It was sideways, and probably not as convincing as it should have been. "I'll save the violence for when he's trying to kill me, thanks."
Badou's face became pointed. "How many times so far?"
"Twice. The second time I walked into it, knowing what he was and the risk involved." The redhead shrugged one shoulder. "The dog fights like a wild animal. It's stronger than me, but I've managed to keep my throat relatively intact."
The redhead frowned, smoke curling from the corners of his mouth. "You should just book when it fucking comes out."
"This time...I probably would have lost him completely if I hadn't gone to face him..."
Badou glowered. "I have a hard time being fucking sympathetic."
Renji rolled his eyes. "As if I would be foolish enough to ask for your sympathy in this situation," he snorted. "But I'm not going to run away." He grinned sheepishly and turned his head to the other side, so that Badou could see where his throat had been gnawed on.
The other redhead looked unimpressed. "If it were Haine, he would've snapped your neck off your body."
"I have no doubt of that," Renji snapped back in the same tone. And then winced slightly. "Guess it's a good thing I'm not in this situation with him, then. I wouldn't have survived it."
Badou pursed his thin lips around his cigarette, a fire sparking behind his eyes. "Where I'm concerned, your little boytoy is practically betting on that."
Renji's expression melted into something so neutral it was almost cold. "What do you mean by that?" he asked blandly.
Badou's fist slammed on the table, prompting two patrons to skedaddle. His voice steadily rose. "Open your fucking eyes. He provokes the motherfucking dog outta Haine. And you know the first fucking thing the dog always does? You wanna guess?" The smoker leaned forward, the burning end of his cigarette slicing through the air. "It's not A, play frisbee. It's not B, go for walkies. It's not C, drool." Apparently, Badou hadn't been as unfazed as he would've liked, voice rising even more. "It's D, asshole, which is motherfucking kill Badou fucking Nails."
Renji knew that, too. Somewhere deep down, underneath the part of him that adored Giovanni (which made it infinitely easier to ignore the blonde's very obvious faults). However, hearing it, in that almost hysterical tone had the shinigami looking anywhere but at Badou, a hand over his mouth, struggling not to be sick with the overwhelming crash of guilt and self-loathing. This was not okay. Giovanni's behaviour was not acceptable. And yet Renji would never choose between his lover and his friend, not until his hand was forced. He was talking before he noticed he was talking, a low murmur from between his fingers. "Badou, I don't know what to do. I'm so, so sorry but I just don't."
"I ran," rasped Badou lowly, voice rough. "I ran until my fucking lungs practically gave out, up and up the stairs of this fucking hotel, terrified to reach the roof, but too terrified to change direction, too." He blew out a shaky plume of smoke. "The whole time, this fucking asshole monster taunting me, calling my name in my best friend's voice." Tapping ash onto the table, the colour drained from his face. "And afterwards? I had to act like none of that happened, like I wasn't fucking thinking I was gonna die, because my best friend was even more scared than I was and needed me."
And then, even though Renji was horrified, mortified at what his lover had caused, did not want to face the friend he could have lost, the redhead lifted his head, took one brief look at Badou's face, and got up, slid into the other side of the booth, and wrapped his arms around the smaller redhead. Even though he didn't do hugs. Even though he was probably the last person on earth Badou wanted to receive one. The other man looked on the verge of shock, and Renji had rarely felt more useless, more to blame.
Badou twitched a little, a clear fight-or-flight movement, but apparently opted not to do either. He slouched a little into the embrace, defeated. He'd very, very, very carefully had not thought about that day for a while, had certainly not talked about it to anyone. There was no one he could've, anyway; Haine was his sole confidant, and the albino would never hear of this. "And Giovanni knew what he was fucking doing," the smoker muttered into Renji's broad shoulder, still in that shell-shocked tone. "He's an evil goddamned asshole, but he's not fucking stupid."
Renji flinched, not as Badou relaxed--no, not relaxed, slumped--against him, but after, at the sound of the man telling him what he already knew. Knew, and was still trying to deny to himself. "No, he's not," the shinigami agreed, almost choking on the words, on the bile that rose in his throat. "But I sure as hell am." He buried his nose against Badou's neck, almost reveling in the stale cigarette smell. (How was that still there even after the pool?) "I'm so sorry," he whispered, the words a hot, frantic rush against the other redhead's skin. "I didn't know." He bit his lower lip hard. "I want to keep both of you and I don't know how to do that."
There was a long moment, as Badou struggled to shift his emotions back out of sight, as per the status quo. It didn't work, which frankly said a lot. "When you're in this deep, you can't keep your head in the sand. Man, I don't care if you're planning the goddamned wedding, so long as you know what the fuck is going down around you. The fucking truth, as much as anybody will tell you."
A shiver raced through the bigger man, though in response to what, exactly, he wasn't sure. "I know," he murmured. "Even though I wanted to stay out of this, I knew I wouldn't be able to. But how can I know this shit, and just ignore it? It's so hard. If I didn't care about him, there would be no doubt at all. No reason for doubt."
"It's not about-" The redhead took a long, quiet breath to calm himself, carefully slamming internal doors closed. He disengaged gently, having to manually take Renji's muscular arms and unfold them. However, he remained in close proximity to the other man, certainly not shooing him out of the booth. Taking a drag, he tried again. "It's not about ignoring it. Its about seeing everything on the table, and making a decision you can live with at the end of the fucking day, no matter what anyone else says."
Renji winced a little as space was put between them again, in more ways than one. He reached out, pulled the bottle over from the other side of the table, and drank deeply. "And if there isn't a decision like that?" He offered the whiskey. "The enemy has always been so clear before. I don't know what to do, now that there is no enemy." That was a lie. He was the enemy, the traitor. He could be loyal to neither of them. The shinigami shook his head, trying to clear it of a confusion the alcohol had not induced.
A slow, nicotine-sharp grin split the smaller redhead's lips. "Nah. We're all enemies, that's the fucking problem." He took the whiskey bottle, drinking only a little. With everything he'd just dug up out of himself, he didn't want to be fucking drunk. "The bottom line is. Is that we don't care about him. It's him that keeps coming after us. After Haine, I'm just a fucking-" he took a vaguely vicious drag, "-casualty."
"I don't believe that. If you didn't care, then you'd be better at ignoring him. Maybe you don't care directly, but the fact that Haine let's Giovanni get to him...that much you care about." Renji shook his head again. He didn't even want to be thinking about this. It made him think of Badou running, of that awful, hollow voice his friend had been speaking with. "He's living with me now, you know," he admitted softly, trying to change the subject, however slightly.
Badou's eye snapped onto Renji's, smoke twisting up from his lips. "Mama let him slip his leash? I don't believe it for a fucking second."
"The dog may be hers, but Giovanni is mine," Renji almost snapped, way too defensive, because he had that worry himself.
Badou shook his head, grinning like a skeleton, wide and mirthless. "I sure hope you're good at hide and seek."
The shinigami scowled. Hating the skepticism, and the uncertainty it evoked in him. The way it made his heart flip-flop like a dying frog. "Do you know what his eyes look like?" he whispered, looking away.
"I don't care," responded Badou, truthfully, with nothing but honesty. "I don't care if there's snakes hanging from his eyesockets or goddamned Christmas light bulbs screwed in. We all got problems, Renji, and I could give less of a shit about his. I tried once, and I won't do it again."
"It's not about his fucking problems," Renji all but snapped, head twisting around to focus on the other redhead again. "It's about the fact that he is mine, and I trust him because he trusts me. I've got him where he's fucking weak, Badou, and somehow he's okay with that. Fuck if I know how, or why, with the way I've hurt him." But that wasn't new, Renji couldn't seem to stop hurting people, causing trouble, pissing people off.
Rolling his cigarette between his fingers, Badou's expression had narrowed. One could almost see jaggedly toothed wheels turning in his head. "Are you saying you have leverage? That you can change the status quo?"
Renji glared. "If he changes, it's not going to be because I used the vulnerabilities he's trusted me with against him," he growled softly, tone a little deeper, more possessive than it normally was. He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his damp and tangled hair, wincing a little when he caught a snag. "Shit can't continue the way it has, though. I know that."
The smaller redhead's sharp gaze was obscured by curling smoke between them. There came a soft snort. "Fuck, you don't fucking say." Badou studied Renji's profile, focusing as externally as possible. "I don't think, if you cracked a whip and said, 'Stop fucking with brother, asshole,' he would do it. I don't think he can stop, even outta mother dearest's clutches." He shrugged. "But if you wanna talk to him, be my guest. See that wall for yourself."
"No, if you go about it aggressively, of course it isn't going to work," the shinigami snorted, then bit his lower lip pensively. "You didn't see him the other day. He was terrified to leave, and he came with me anyway. I think, if he's going to listen to anyone, it will be me." He hoped that was the case, anyway.
Badou's sudden smile was odd, a little too twisted at one corner. "What has he said to you? About Haine?"
"I haven't asked him about Haine." Too quick. Too quick too quick. They hadn't had that discussion recently. And Haine himself had told Renji more than enough unpleasant details, in his opinion. The shinigami hadn't pressed, because he'd wanted to wait until Giovanni was ready to tell him, but from what Badou was implying, there was no such time at all.
The quickness of the reply earned Renji a pair of raised eyebrows, and a single lidded eye. "If you're gonna start lying to me, man, you might as well just-" he grinned a bit nastily, "-leave me to the dogs."
Renji's eyes closed painfully. "I haven't asked him recently," he amended. "I kept telling him we'd have the discussion when he was ready to talk. Maybe I was just lying to myself, though, because I honestly thought he would bring it up when he trusted me more."
"He won't," rasped Badou, point blank. He lit a new cigarette off the death of the old, leaving the pack on the table, a subtle peace offering. "What do you think is going on with them?"
"Honestly?" Renji noted the pack, and contented himself to scoot a little closer to Badou and inhale the smoke from his friend's lit cigarette. They really didn't affect him, so he didn't want to take something that the other redhead actually needed. "The dog's made it pretty clear that Giovanni is considered second best." His eyes flashed at the thought, and he had to forcefully release his grip on the table, stretching his fingers flat on its surface instead. "If he's been told he's inferior, that Haine is better, I can understand why he might not like him. And with that thing whispering in his neck...well...I think it's more to blame for the bad behaviour than Giovanni is." Optimistic, maybe, but Renji was nothing if not that.
"Haine killed Giovanni once," responded Badou, flicking ash onto the table.
Renji blinked. Tried not to think about how ridiculous that sounded. (He'd died once, too, after all.) Tried to think. "Why?" was the most intelligent thing he could come up with.
"It's how Haine got out," muttered Badou, putting his cheek in his scarred palm. His voice seemed slightly detached. "The dog took over, but Haine was- in agreement. They killed every last one of them. Haine only regretted one death." There was a slight pause. "It wasn't Giovanni."
He wished he could have been surprised by that last bit of information, but the shinigami just sighed. "So then they're both entirely justified in hating one another. Giovanni is..." Renji couldn't even come up with an adjective for what Giovanni was.
"..probably harbouring the most severe case of LOVE ME HATE ME I've ever seen in my entire fuckin' life, and I deal with pill-popping mafia housewives on a semi-daily basis." He seemed to hesitate over his next words, and he broke eye contact with Renji, staring at the dark nicotine stains on his thin fingers. "A couple weeks ago Haine told me he was happy, actually really happy, for maybe the first time in his life. His entire life." There was suddenly a hard set to Badou's jaw. "He's finally starting to let go of that shit. And I am not going to let baby brother drag him back into the goddamned motherfucking dark."
"I don't want him to do that, either," Renji whispered, and felt a sharp pang of guilt when he realized that while, yes, that was true, it was more because of what it would imply about Giovanni, than for Haine's sake. Even when there hadn't been the strain of the relationship between he and Giovanni, Haine had never been particularly friendly, and maybe it was a fact of the young man's nature to be reserved, but it was a sort of personality Renji just didn't deal well with. Far too much time spent with Kuchiki Byakuya. "I am hoping, with the opportunity to be around him more, that we might figure this out, that I might get to know him better," Renji admitted, voice a little tighter than he'd wanted it to be.
Badou's smile was, finally, a little less rigor mortis, with the faintest tinge of warmth. "Aren't you just so excited to make new friends. You don't have to bite that bullet." He bumped Renji's shoulder, almost conspiratorially. "Haine is not the socialest of butterflies. I'll deal with the pigmentless motherfucker." Taking a short drag, he surveyed his friend, expectant.
Rather unexpectedly, Renji stuck his tongue out at Badou as he nearly fell out of the booth with the shoulder bump. He caught himself on the table, wondering just where his balance had gotten to, because it had been there just a few minutes ago. "What do you mean, 'deal with him'?" Renji frowned, straightening back up slowly. "Are you expecting some sort of trouble?"
"You," rasped the other man patiently, "need to get your head in the fucking game." He tapped on Renji's striped forehead, ash falling onto his nose. "Haven't you realised by now, there's always some sort of trouble? Shit, I wish I weren't always right about this kinda crap."
The shinigami wrinkled his nose in vague disgust and wiped the ash away, shoving his friend amiably. He stretched his arm out on the table and pillowed his temple against it, gazing up at Badou and blinking slowly. "So you deal with yours, and I'll deal with mine, and try to keep him from pissing yours off in that batshit insane way?"
"Mmhmm," hummed Badou wryly. He frowned a little at his cigarette. "Wish it were as easy as it fucking sounded." He pushed some errant strands of hair back, eyes locked on Renji's. "Do you think you can really make a fucking difference?"
"Anything is possible," Renji mumbled, knowing that Badou probably agreed, but not in the optimistic way that he did. He sighed and dropped his head, long hair curtaining around his face. "I wish it could be that easy," he muttered.
"I could kill him for a minimal fee," muttered Badou, half-joking, half.. well.
Renji rolled his eyes and snorted. "No, you couldn't. I couldn't, even if I wanted to." He didn't continue that train of thought, however, wincing as he began to feel queasy at the very thought of such a thing.
There was a somewhat painful silence. "In the head, Renji," the smaller redhead rasped. He had to know, just in case.
The redhead hissed as if he'd been burned, glaring at the far wall of hotel bar. "I won't kill him, Badou. Not to save myself, anyway. You, Matt, or Rukia, but not myself, and no one else. I'm going to do my damnedest to make sure those first three are non-issues, though."
Badou froze a little. "Don't touch Haine."
Renji's head turned back to Badou so fast he could have given himself whiplash. "What?" His eyes were wide with shock and something wounded. "Why the hell would you say something like that?"
Badou's took a forceful drag like a very confused asthmatic. "It's the first thing the dog wants to do, remember?" His smile was a little frantic. "If it happens, don't touch Haine. Okay? I will seriously haunt the shit outta you."
"Look, I may have a hero thing or whatever, but I'm not stupid. I'd never kill him, either. He's too important to you for that." The shinigami frowned to himself. "Wouldn't stop me from roughing him up a little to give you some time to get the fuck away, though."
"I mean after the fact," said Badou quietly.
"I mean, there's a pretty good chance, if your boyfriend doesn't shut the fuck up." His smile crossed over from frantic to deranged.
Renji's lip curled. "I'm not the sort for revenge. Or did you forget how I got after Matt's death. After the initial shock wore off, anyway. And if Haine did it..." Whywhywhy was he thinking about this at all? "Well, let's just say I wouldn't be the worst enemy he had..." He ignored the dig about Giovanni. He knew what he had to do. To try to do.
"What?" Immediately, Badou's hackles raised. It was much, much more subtle than Renji's fierce possessiveness of Giovanni, but there was a sharp tension there all the same. "Who?"
The shinigami shrugged with an air of put-on nonchalance, and reached out to brush his knuckles against Badou's jaw. To convince himself that they were just having a hypothetical conversation, because none of this would happen. "It's just. If he did." Even with the reassurance of touch, Renji's words were stilted. "Well, it would be the dog, but it would still be him, and wouldn't he hate himself?" He looked away, took away his hand. "If I were to do something like that, forced hand or not, physical and mental control aside, I would not be able to live with myself, knowing what I had done."
Badou's face was expressionless, manic smile faded from view. He smoked, his constantly twitchy hands almost eerily steady for once."Yeah. That's the only reason why I give a shit about even- I couldn't-" He cut himself off, not wanting to be vulnerable again. One pity hug had been enough.
It was Renji's fingers that twitched, halfway back to Badou's shoulder. "You care more about surviving to keep him sane," he reasoned quietly, nibbling at his lower lip. "Sounds like hero stuff to me, even if you do it in a different way," he added, no trace of the wry amusement that normally would have coloured his words.
Badou barked a laugh at that. "He's a gloomy pigmentless fucking asshole with the social skills of a goddamned mollusk, but he's all I got. Hardly fuckin' heroic."
Renji dropped his eyes to the table in front of them. "I know I've been a complete ass recently, but you ought to know that's not quite true," he muttered. Mumbled, really, like some sulky child being forced to tell the truth. "You've got me, too, for what little it's worth."
The redhead's head turned away a little, his bad eye facing Renji. He grinned down at his cigarette. "I don't need a hero, man. Focus on your bug-eyed boyfriend."
"I'm not offering to be your fucking hero," Renji growled, reddening slightly. "You're the only one that thinks of me like that, anyway."
Exhaling a graceful plume of smoke, Badou looked back at Renji, a small but genuine smile on his lips. "I'll get you some fucking spandex for your birthday."
"But I like my clothes loose and flowy," Renji pointed out. He didn't miss that smile, and he memorized it, the way it softened his friend's face, warmed his eye. Slightly. Barely noticeable. And who knew when the next time would be that Renji would catch him like this?
"The cape can be loose and flowy, but that's it." Badou didn't notice his friend's intent study, putting his pack of smokes into the pocket of his swimming trunks. "Everything else has gonna be skin-tight. Yes, your banana too. Ain't you ever seen Superman? Shit."
Renji covered his mouth to stifle what would have been an extremely unattractive giggle, trying to figure out whether he was amused or disgusted by the image Badou was painting. He was also trying to figure out whether now would be an amusing point to mention Zabimaru. Instead, he settled on the question that had risen to the forefront of his thoughts. "Who's Superman?"
The redhead appeared to think about this question carefully before answering. "A pussy," he decided. "Batman's better. And Spiderman's better than him."
"I know who Batman is," Renji grinned. "He doesn't wear spandex though. He wears form-fitting rubber. Which probably isn't much better," he concluded, expression souring.
"He has rubber nipples in that one film," hummed Badou thoughtfully. "Batnipples."
"He was totally fucking hot in that one movie," Renji corrected, grinning as he leaned his face in his hand. "Fine, you can dress me up like a superhero if I can look like him." It was at that point that he realized that he'd drank most of a bottle of whiskey. Not because the bottle stood as disapproving evidence in front of him on the table, but because he'd approved the idea of himself wearing an anatomically correct rubber Batman suit.
What: Swimming, and then drinking, and then zomfg HUGZ, and angst and wtf Badou actually TELLS Renji stuff.
Where: The hotel in NYC
When: Before they left NYC, duh
Why: Renji and Badou really were in need for talking.
Also: I suppose some of the vamps or Haine could have overheard, but I think that both Renji and Badou would prefer if THEY DID NOT. ALSO first person to get the joke that IS NOT RABID, I will make you/write you something.
Badou Nails was struggling. It could be said that that was a good description of the entire course of his life so far, but at this moment in time, it was far more literal. He was struggling to breathe air, not pool water, which he hadn't really had to struggle for before.
Flailing and half-sinking, even with his bright orange swimmies, the pool water was winning.
Renji stretched his arms along the edge of the pool, looking far more comfortable than he felt as he stretched his legs out before him and watched the other redhead flailing in the water. "Do you need any help?" he called, trying not to laugh.
"Goonlgk fuck yoousllm," said Badou, winging his arm ecstatically around. Coughing and giving up, he put his feet down and stood. He towered in the shallow end, and adjusted his water wings. Nose scrunched, he tried to remember what Bella had taught him the other day. "This shit is harder than it fucking looks."
"If you want, I can hold you up while you doggy paddle~"
"I don't need that anymore!" snapped the redhead, regaining his will to try. Sneezing a bit of chlorine, he let his legs fall out from under himself again, submerging into the water with a quiet sploosh. His arms were stretched out like a scarecrow as he tried to kick his legs in tandem, keep his head above the waterline, and not drown.
"The problem is," Renji critiqued, lifting something tropical-looking and colourful, with an umbrella in it, and pointing the drink at Badou, "you don't have enough body fat to keep you afloat." He wasn't one to talk, though. He didn't have any body fat, either, and muscle really should have made him sink.
"The probllmmb," Badou lifted his mouth away from the water and spat, "The problem is that I always have fucking assholes in the peanut gallery who won't shut the fuck- upplgl!" He sneezed.
"I did offer to help," Renji pointed out with a haughty sniff. "It really is ridiculous, you needing those floaties in the shallow end."
Badou's flailings suddenly became a little more calculated. SPLASH. The other redhead got a face full of water.
Luckily (for Badou), Renji's drink escaped the attack unscathed. He shook his head and sent droplets of water flying, and then directed his friend with an arched eyebrow. "Can I help you?" he asked again, this time utterly bemused.
After a bit of struggling, Badou managed to swim in a wobbly line to Renji. He gripped the side of the pool like a lifeline.
In one motion, he turned his head, and spit out a line of water into the other man's face.
That was it. Renji carefully set his drink down on the side of the pool and launched himself at Badou, seizing the smaller redhead around the waist (smaller was relative) and pushed him down, following him under the water and grinning into Badou's face as they submerged.
Under the water, Badou shouted profanity, and then subsequently got a lungful of water. His lungs, which were quite used to fire and smoke, had no idea what to make of this nonsense.
Renji leaned in, blew a stream of bubbles into Badou's face, and then shoved the other redhead to the surface, staying submerged himself, just because he could.
Badou came to the surface, leant on the side, and summarily coughed up a pint of pool water. Seeing Renji still underwater, he knocked his drink over on 'accident,' and kicked his foot at the shinigami's submerged form.
The shinigami gave an underwater growl, and summarily when he was kicked, he seized Badou by the foot and bit it. And then he stood up, water cascading down his body, and directed the other redhead with a glare. "Now what'd you have to go and do that for?" he grumbled.
Ignoring Renji's mumbles, Badou was yelping and whimpering, trying to angle his foot up the tiled wall to see it. "No blood! You can't break the skin! Vampires 101!"
"Oh, shut up," Renji growled. "I don't want your blood in my mouth anyway. I didn't fucking break the skin." He shivered slowly and dramatically. "Who knows what I might catch," he leered.
Badou's foot plunked back down into the water with a splash. He then discreetly turned his head away, squeezing water from his eyepatch and re-positioning it. "Don't talk to me about catching shit, I know who you fuck."
"I don't think he'd been with anyone before me," Renji replied quietly, softly, almost as if he'd been scolded, rather than had someone return a very obvious dig.
"I used to think the crazy dogs brothers were so fucking homicidal because they'd never fucked." Badou's lip curled slightly in distaste, and he produced a plastic wrapped pack of cigarettes from somewhere in his swimmies. "Guess that theory's blown outta the water." He splashed, a bit huffily.
"I'd apologize, if I meant it, and if I thought you'd believe it," the shinigami sighed. "Can I have one of those?" he muttered, glancing away guiltily. Eyes dropping to the gentle sway of the water in front of him.
"No," beamed Badou, a lighter seemingly conjured from thin air. One tried very hard not to think about possible bodily hiding places. "No, you cannot." Click, click, snap. Badou drew his first puff, tucking his tools away.
"Yeah, didn't think so. I've got some of my own somewhere..." Renji shrugged and sank below the surface again, sitting on the bottom and letting little bubbles float from his nose and mouth. He didn't even know where to start, but the muted sound from the water helped him concentrate a little better.
Badou sat with his back to the edge of the pool, smoking unconcernedly. While the shinigami was underwater, he blew a load of pool snot and wiped it on the tiles. Swimming was weird.
The redhead watched the spray of phlegm into the water with obvious disgust and made a face. Then he abruptly came to the surface (nowhere near where Badou had been) and got out of the pool. "As fun as this has been," he muttered, "maybe I should just go."
Badou gave the taller man a slanted look. He climbed out after him, with far less grace. "You came here to talk, not swim, man." He gathered and squeezed his hair out, the water splashing noisily onto the concrete.
"Can we go somewhere else?" Renji asked, biting his lower lip uncertainly. He still had no idea what he wanted to talk about. He didn't want Badou annoyed with him, really didn't want to be in the difficult position he was in any longer, but there was certainly nothing that could be done until they both acknowledged that there was a problem to begin with. "And I have a very strong desire for something alcoholic, because even if I did have a cigarette, they aren't euphoric for me like they are for you."
"Yeah, yeah. There's a sick bar in the lobby." Snatching up his towel [which had many cheerful purple orcas on it], Badou scrabbled it through his hair. He ditched the water wings, and cast about looking for his shirt, which he'd stripped off in a hurry to go half-drown himself.
Renji's own was basic hotel issue and sopping wet by the time he finished on his own hair. He slipped his clothes on almost as an afterthought probably not a good idea to give the humans a tattoo-induced heart attack). His hair hung damp but not limp, and he didn't bother putting it up as he looked through a few stray strands at Badou. "Lead the way?"
The other redhead wormed his way back into his shirt awkwardly, somehow emerging with his cigarette still in his mouth. He bumped Renji amiably as he passed, slinging his towel over his shoulder in a way that it whipped in the shinigami's face. They came out into an expansive lobby, drawing more than a few looks from the upper crust clientele. Badou's bare feet left a wet trail on the carpet as they b-lined for the cushy bar stools.
Renji noticed the down-their-noses looks some of the Manhattanites were giving them and growled softly under his breath. Even though he knew their opinions shouldn't matter, didn't, in fact, matter, it bothered him nonetheless. He leaned over Badou's shoulder as the smaller redhead sat down, and spoke directly into his ear. "I am not sitting at the bar," he murmured. "I am going to order my drink and sit in a booth. You may join me, or not." And, true to his word, he requested a fresh bottle of whiskey, put down a large American bill (so that some of the onlookers could see) on the bar, and didn't wait for change before taking the bottle and glass into one of the darker corners of the establishment.
Badou blinked.
After a moment, he stood up, making to follow Renji. Halfway through the motion, he jerked back around and grabbed the bowl of beer nuts.
Popping a peanut into his mouth, he made a deranged face at the bar tender, and followed the other redhead.
Renji poured a generous portion of the strong liquor into the glass and shoved it across the table to Badou, and then took a long swig straight from the bottle, baring his teeth in a grimace as it burned its way down. "How can you even stand it here?" he muttered, voice a little rougher than it should have been.
Badou shrugged, easing into the booth. He blew a careless cloud of smoke above their heads. "It's easier to deal with when you know most of their types are into crazy fucked-up shit in the bedroom." He gestured to a man adjacent to them, face straight. "Bet you anything he's into extreme water sports. You can tell by the mustache. Absorbant." He pointed to another patron of the bar. "Her? She can only get off if the dude she's playing hide the salami with pretends to be her grandfather. 'Come sit on Pappy's knee, come on.'"
The shinigami scowled, but the expression was directed at Badou and not any of the people he was pointing out. "I don't want to judge them for their kinks. I want them to stop judging us." Renji sighed and leaned back in the booth, stretching his legs out and then lifting his feet to rest them on the seat next to Badou. "But complaining about social injustice really is beside the point."
"Probably." Badou smirked into his scarred palm. "You know I pulled that shit outta my ass, right. I ain't working on our motherfucking holiday." He tossed a look over his shoulder, back at the bar tender. "Though that dude's either into necro, or seriously has to switch colognes."
As much as he tried not to, Renji couldn't help the tiny smirk that formed on his lips at that last. "Dead girls can't say no," he muttered, and then made a sour, gagging face, sticking his tongue out at Badou for even giving him that thought. "I hate you," he stated.
Badou toasted him cheekily, then took a sip of the glass Renji had poured him. The booze probably cost more than his fucking flat.
"I take it you're not still as angry with me?" Renji asked suddenly, completely switching gears and searching Badou's face as if he was an abused puppy, waiting for a kick.
The smoker set his drink back down, expression subtly turning from cheeky to wry. It was something in the twist of his thin lips. "I'm not angry at you, douchefucker. But what the shit do you expect, you know?"
"I don't know what to expect," Renji murmured miserably. "I don't know what to do, and I don't know how to make this right. It might be my supposed hero thing, or whatever you call it, but I can't change. It's selfish of me, too, you know." He grinned self-deprecatingly. "I want everyone to be happy even though they all hate each other."
"Love and fucking peace, raa raa shish boom ba." Badou took a deep drag, his stare gone vaguely calculating. "No offense, but I don't think you know what the hell you've stepped into by a fucking longshot."
Renji shotgunned some more of the whiskey and then stretched his arm on the table, leaning his head against it. "And I don't know what to do, either," he agreed softly.
Badou smacked the other man's prone head, almost carelessly. "There is no do if you don't fucking have any information."
A slow blink, completely unaffected by the blow. "Hai, hai," Renji sighed in agreement, nodding sagely. "I may be stupid, but the more I find out, the less I want to know."
"That is fucking stupid," agreed the other redhead, finishing off his drink and topping himself off. "Short-bus drool-cup special-Olympics stupid, even."
Renji stole the bottle back immediately after Badou finished pouring, not to drink, but maybe for comfort. "Hai, hai," he repeated in the same tone. "I'm like a caveman, even. Maybe I should just drag my mate back to a cave, that way none of you will ever have to deal with him again," he continued in a dull monotone.
"Will you hit him over the head with a club?" smiled Badou, perking.
"No."
"Please?"
Renji gave his friend a Look. It was sideways, and probably not as convincing as it should have been. "I'll save the violence for when he's trying to kill me, thanks."
Badou's face became pointed. "How many times so far?"
"Twice. The second time I walked into it, knowing what he was and the risk involved." The redhead shrugged one shoulder. "The dog fights like a wild animal. It's stronger than me, but I've managed to keep my throat relatively intact."
The redhead frowned, smoke curling from the corners of his mouth. "You should just book when it fucking comes out."
"This time...I probably would have lost him completely if I hadn't gone to face him..."
Badou glowered. "I have a hard time being fucking sympathetic."
Renji rolled his eyes. "As if I would be foolish enough to ask for your sympathy in this situation," he snorted. "But I'm not going to run away." He grinned sheepishly and turned his head to the other side, so that Badou could see where his throat had been gnawed on.
The other redhead looked unimpressed. "If it were Haine, he would've snapped your neck off your body."
"I have no doubt of that," Renji snapped back in the same tone. And then winced slightly. "Guess it's a good thing I'm not in this situation with him, then. I wouldn't have survived it."
Badou pursed his thin lips around his cigarette, a fire sparking behind his eyes. "Where I'm concerned, your little boytoy is practically betting on that."
Renji's expression melted into something so neutral it was almost cold. "What do you mean by that?" he asked blandly.
Badou's fist slammed on the table, prompting two patrons to skedaddle. His voice steadily rose. "Open your fucking eyes. He provokes the motherfucking dog outta Haine. And you know the first fucking thing the dog always does? You wanna guess?" The smoker leaned forward, the burning end of his cigarette slicing through the air. "It's not A, play frisbee. It's not B, go for walkies. It's not C, drool." Apparently, Badou hadn't been as unfazed as he would've liked, voice rising even more. "It's D, asshole, which is motherfucking kill Badou fucking Nails."
Renji knew that, too. Somewhere deep down, underneath the part of him that adored Giovanni (which made it infinitely easier to ignore the blonde's very obvious faults). However, hearing it, in that almost hysterical tone had the shinigami looking anywhere but at Badou, a hand over his mouth, struggling not to be sick with the overwhelming crash of guilt and self-loathing. This was not okay. Giovanni's behaviour was not acceptable. And yet Renji would never choose between his lover and his friend, not until his hand was forced. He was talking before he noticed he was talking, a low murmur from between his fingers. "Badou, I don't know what to do. I'm so, so sorry but I just don't."
"I ran," rasped Badou lowly, voice rough. "I ran until my fucking lungs practically gave out, up and up the stairs of this fucking hotel, terrified to reach the roof, but too terrified to change direction, too." He blew out a shaky plume of smoke. "The whole time, this fucking asshole monster taunting me, calling my name in my best friend's voice." Tapping ash onto the table, the colour drained from his face. "And afterwards? I had to act like none of that happened, like I wasn't fucking thinking I was gonna die, because my best friend was even more scared than I was and needed me."
And then, even though Renji was horrified, mortified at what his lover had caused, did not want to face the friend he could have lost, the redhead lifted his head, took one brief look at Badou's face, and got up, slid into the other side of the booth, and wrapped his arms around the smaller redhead. Even though he didn't do hugs. Even though he was probably the last person on earth Badou wanted to receive one. The other man looked on the verge of shock, and Renji had rarely felt more useless, more to blame.
Badou twitched a little, a clear fight-or-flight movement, but apparently opted not to do either. He slouched a little into the embrace, defeated. He'd very, very, very carefully had not thought about that day for a while, had certainly not talked about it to anyone. There was no one he could've, anyway; Haine was his sole confidant, and the albino would never hear of this. "And Giovanni knew what he was fucking doing," the smoker muttered into Renji's broad shoulder, still in that shell-shocked tone. "He's an evil goddamned asshole, but he's not fucking stupid."
Renji flinched, not as Badou relaxed--no, not relaxed, slumped--against him, but after, at the sound of the man telling him what he already knew. Knew, and was still trying to deny to himself. "No, he's not," the shinigami agreed, almost choking on the words, on the bile that rose in his throat. "But I sure as hell am." He buried his nose against Badou's neck, almost reveling in the stale cigarette smell. (How was that still there even after the pool?) "I'm so sorry," he whispered, the words a hot, frantic rush against the other redhead's skin. "I didn't know." He bit his lower lip hard. "I want to keep both of you and I don't know how to do that."
There was a long moment, as Badou struggled to shift his emotions back out of sight, as per the status quo. It didn't work, which frankly said a lot. "When you're in this deep, you can't keep your head in the sand. Man, I don't care if you're planning the goddamned wedding, so long as you know what the fuck is going down around you. The fucking truth, as much as anybody will tell you."
A shiver raced through the bigger man, though in response to what, exactly, he wasn't sure. "I know," he murmured. "Even though I wanted to stay out of this, I knew I wouldn't be able to. But how can I know this shit, and just ignore it? It's so hard. If I didn't care about him, there would be no doubt at all. No reason for doubt."
"It's not about-" The redhead took a long, quiet breath to calm himself, carefully slamming internal doors closed. He disengaged gently, having to manually take Renji's muscular arms and unfold them. However, he remained in close proximity to the other man, certainly not shooing him out of the booth. Taking a drag, he tried again. "It's not about ignoring it. Its about seeing everything on the table, and making a decision you can live with at the end of the fucking day, no matter what anyone else says."
Renji winced a little as space was put between them again, in more ways than one. He reached out, pulled the bottle over from the other side of the table, and drank deeply. "And if there isn't a decision like that?" He offered the whiskey. "The enemy has always been so clear before. I don't know what to do, now that there is no enemy." That was a lie. He was the enemy, the traitor. He could be loyal to neither of them. The shinigami shook his head, trying to clear it of a confusion the alcohol had not induced.
A slow, nicotine-sharp grin split the smaller redhead's lips. "Nah. We're all enemies, that's the fucking problem." He took the whiskey bottle, drinking only a little. With everything he'd just dug up out of himself, he didn't want to be fucking drunk. "The bottom line is. Is that we don't care about him. It's him that keeps coming after us. After Haine, I'm just a fucking-" he took a vaguely vicious drag, "-casualty."
"I don't believe that. If you didn't care, then you'd be better at ignoring him. Maybe you don't care directly, but the fact that Haine let's Giovanni get to him...that much you care about." Renji shook his head again. He didn't even want to be thinking about this. It made him think of Badou running, of that awful, hollow voice his friend had been speaking with. "He's living with me now, you know," he admitted softly, trying to change the subject, however slightly.
Badou's eye snapped onto Renji's, smoke twisting up from his lips. "Mama let him slip his leash? I don't believe it for a fucking second."
"The dog may be hers, but Giovanni is mine," Renji almost snapped, way too defensive, because he had that worry himself.
Badou shook his head, grinning like a skeleton, wide and mirthless. "I sure hope you're good at hide and seek."
The shinigami scowled. Hating the skepticism, and the uncertainty it evoked in him. The way it made his heart flip-flop like a dying frog. "Do you know what his eyes look like?" he whispered, looking away.
"I don't care," responded Badou, truthfully, with nothing but honesty. "I don't care if there's snakes hanging from his eyesockets or goddamned Christmas light bulbs screwed in. We all got problems, Renji, and I could give less of a shit about his. I tried once, and I won't do it again."
"It's not about his fucking problems," Renji all but snapped, head twisting around to focus on the other redhead again. "It's about the fact that he is mine, and I trust him because he trusts me. I've got him where he's fucking weak, Badou, and somehow he's okay with that. Fuck if I know how, or why, with the way I've hurt him." But that wasn't new, Renji couldn't seem to stop hurting people, causing trouble, pissing people off.
Rolling his cigarette between his fingers, Badou's expression had narrowed. One could almost see jaggedly toothed wheels turning in his head. "Are you saying you have leverage? That you can change the status quo?"
Renji glared. "If he changes, it's not going to be because I used the vulnerabilities he's trusted me with against him," he growled softly, tone a little deeper, more possessive than it normally was. He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his damp and tangled hair, wincing a little when he caught a snag. "Shit can't continue the way it has, though. I know that."
The smaller redhead's sharp gaze was obscured by curling smoke between them. There came a soft snort. "Fuck, you don't fucking say." Badou studied Renji's profile, focusing as externally as possible. "I don't think, if you cracked a whip and said, 'Stop fucking with brother, asshole,' he would do it. I don't think he can stop, even outta mother dearest's clutches." He shrugged. "But if you wanna talk to him, be my guest. See that wall for yourself."
"No, if you go about it aggressively, of course it isn't going to work," the shinigami snorted, then bit his lower lip pensively. "You didn't see him the other day. He was terrified to leave, and he came with me anyway. I think, if he's going to listen to anyone, it will be me." He hoped that was the case, anyway.
Badou's sudden smile was odd, a little too twisted at one corner. "What has he said to you? About Haine?"
"I haven't asked him about Haine." Too quick. Too quick too quick. They hadn't had that discussion recently. And Haine himself had told Renji more than enough unpleasant details, in his opinion. The shinigami hadn't pressed, because he'd wanted to wait until Giovanni was ready to tell him, but from what Badou was implying, there was no such time at all.
The quickness of the reply earned Renji a pair of raised eyebrows, and a single lidded eye. "If you're gonna start lying to me, man, you might as well just-" he grinned a bit nastily, "-leave me to the dogs."
Renji's eyes closed painfully. "I haven't asked him recently," he amended. "I kept telling him we'd have the discussion when he was ready to talk. Maybe I was just lying to myself, though, because I honestly thought he would bring it up when he trusted me more."
"He won't," rasped Badou, point blank. He lit a new cigarette off the death of the old, leaving the pack on the table, a subtle peace offering. "What do you think is going on with them?"
"Honestly?" Renji noted the pack, and contented himself to scoot a little closer to Badou and inhale the smoke from his friend's lit cigarette. They really didn't affect him, so he didn't want to take something that the other redhead actually needed. "The dog's made it pretty clear that Giovanni is considered second best." His eyes flashed at the thought, and he had to forcefully release his grip on the table, stretching his fingers flat on its surface instead. "If he's been told he's inferior, that Haine is better, I can understand why he might not like him. And with that thing whispering in his neck...well...I think it's more to blame for the bad behaviour than Giovanni is." Optimistic, maybe, but Renji was nothing if not that.
"Haine killed Giovanni once," responded Badou, flicking ash onto the table.
Renji blinked. Tried not to think about how ridiculous that sounded. (He'd died once, too, after all.) Tried to think. "Why?" was the most intelligent thing he could come up with.
"It's how Haine got out," muttered Badou, putting his cheek in his scarred palm. His voice seemed slightly detached. "The dog took over, but Haine was- in agreement. They killed every last one of them. Haine only regretted one death." There was a slight pause. "It wasn't Giovanni."
He wished he could have been surprised by that last bit of information, but the shinigami just sighed. "So then they're both entirely justified in hating one another. Giovanni is..." Renji couldn't even come up with an adjective for what Giovanni was.
"..probably harbouring the most severe case of LOVE ME HATE ME I've ever seen in my entire fuckin' life, and I deal with pill-popping mafia housewives on a semi-daily basis." He seemed to hesitate over his next words, and he broke eye contact with Renji, staring at the dark nicotine stains on his thin fingers. "A couple weeks ago Haine told me he was happy, actually really happy, for maybe the first time in his life. His entire life." There was suddenly a hard set to Badou's jaw. "He's finally starting to let go of that shit. And I am not going to let baby brother drag him back into the goddamned motherfucking dark."
"I don't want him to do that, either," Renji whispered, and felt a sharp pang of guilt when he realized that while, yes, that was true, it was more because of what it would imply about Giovanni, than for Haine's sake. Even when there hadn't been the strain of the relationship between he and Giovanni, Haine had never been particularly friendly, and maybe it was a fact of the young man's nature to be reserved, but it was a sort of personality Renji just didn't deal well with. Far too much time spent with Kuchiki Byakuya. "I am hoping, with the opportunity to be around him more, that we might figure this out, that I might get to know him better," Renji admitted, voice a little tighter than he'd wanted it to be.
Badou's smile was, finally, a little less rigor mortis, with the faintest tinge of warmth. "Aren't you just so excited to make new friends. You don't have to bite that bullet." He bumped Renji's shoulder, almost conspiratorially. "Haine is not the socialest of butterflies. I'll deal with the pigmentless motherfucker." Taking a short drag, he surveyed his friend, expectant.
Rather unexpectedly, Renji stuck his tongue out at Badou as he nearly fell out of the booth with the shoulder bump. He caught himself on the table, wondering just where his balance had gotten to, because it had been there just a few minutes ago. "What do you mean, 'deal with him'?" Renji frowned, straightening back up slowly. "Are you expecting some sort of trouble?"
"You," rasped the other man patiently, "need to get your head in the fucking game." He tapped on Renji's striped forehead, ash falling onto his nose. "Haven't you realised by now, there's always some sort of trouble? Shit, I wish I weren't always right about this kinda crap."
The shinigami wrinkled his nose in vague disgust and wiped the ash away, shoving his friend amiably. He stretched his arm out on the table and pillowed his temple against it, gazing up at Badou and blinking slowly. "So you deal with yours, and I'll deal with mine, and try to keep him from pissing yours off in that batshit insane way?"
"Mmhmm," hummed Badou wryly. He frowned a little at his cigarette. "Wish it were as easy as it fucking sounded." He pushed some errant strands of hair back, eyes locked on Renji's. "Do you think you can really make a fucking difference?"
"Anything is possible," Renji mumbled, knowing that Badou probably agreed, but not in the optimistic way that he did. He sighed and dropped his head, long hair curtaining around his face. "I wish it could be that easy," he muttered.
"I could kill him for a minimal fee," muttered Badou, half-joking, half.. well.
Renji rolled his eyes and snorted. "No, you couldn't. I couldn't, even if I wanted to." He didn't continue that train of thought, however, wincing as he began to feel queasy at the very thought of such a thing.
There was a somewhat painful silence. "In the head, Renji," the smaller redhead rasped. He had to know, just in case.
The redhead hissed as if he'd been burned, glaring at the far wall of hotel bar. "I won't kill him, Badou. Not to save myself, anyway. You, Matt, or Rukia, but not myself, and no one else. I'm going to do my damnedest to make sure those first three are non-issues, though."
Badou froze a little. "Don't touch Haine."
Renji's head turned back to Badou so fast he could have given himself whiplash. "What?" His eyes were wide with shock and something wounded. "Why the hell would you say something like that?"
Badou's took a forceful drag like a very confused asthmatic. "It's the first thing the dog wants to do, remember?" His smile was a little frantic. "If it happens, don't touch Haine. Okay? I will seriously haunt the shit outta you."
"Look, I may have a hero thing or whatever, but I'm not stupid. I'd never kill him, either. He's too important to you for that." The shinigami frowned to himself. "Wouldn't stop me from roughing him up a little to give you some time to get the fuck away, though."
"I mean after the fact," said Badou quietly.
"I mean, there's a pretty good chance, if your boyfriend doesn't shut the fuck up." His smile crossed over from frantic to deranged.
Renji's lip curled. "I'm not the sort for revenge. Or did you forget how I got after Matt's death. After the initial shock wore off, anyway. And if Haine did it..." Whywhywhy was he thinking about this at all? "Well, let's just say I wouldn't be the worst enemy he had..." He ignored the dig about Giovanni. He knew what he had to do. To try to do.
"What?" Immediately, Badou's hackles raised. It was much, much more subtle than Renji's fierce possessiveness of Giovanni, but there was a sharp tension there all the same. "Who?"
The shinigami shrugged with an air of put-on nonchalance, and reached out to brush his knuckles against Badou's jaw. To convince himself that they were just having a hypothetical conversation, because none of this would happen. "It's just. If he did." Even with the reassurance of touch, Renji's words were stilted. "Well, it would be the dog, but it would still be him, and wouldn't he hate himself?" He looked away, took away his hand. "If I were to do something like that, forced hand or not, physical and mental control aside, I would not be able to live with myself, knowing what I had done."
Badou's face was expressionless, manic smile faded from view. He smoked, his constantly twitchy hands almost eerily steady for once."Yeah. That's the only reason why I give a shit about even- I couldn't-" He cut himself off, not wanting to be vulnerable again. One pity hug had been enough.
It was Renji's fingers that twitched, halfway back to Badou's shoulder. "You care more about surviving to keep him sane," he reasoned quietly, nibbling at his lower lip. "Sounds like hero stuff to me, even if you do it in a different way," he added, no trace of the wry amusement that normally would have coloured his words.
Badou barked a laugh at that. "He's a gloomy pigmentless fucking asshole with the social skills of a goddamned mollusk, but he's all I got. Hardly fuckin' heroic."
Renji dropped his eyes to the table in front of them. "I know I've been a complete ass recently, but you ought to know that's not quite true," he muttered. Mumbled, really, like some sulky child being forced to tell the truth. "You've got me, too, for what little it's worth."
The redhead's head turned away a little, his bad eye facing Renji. He grinned down at his cigarette. "I don't need a hero, man. Focus on your bug-eyed boyfriend."
"I'm not offering to be your fucking hero," Renji growled, reddening slightly. "You're the only one that thinks of me like that, anyway."
Exhaling a graceful plume of smoke, Badou looked back at Renji, a small but genuine smile on his lips. "I'll get you some fucking spandex for your birthday."
"But I like my clothes loose and flowy," Renji pointed out. He didn't miss that smile, and he memorized it, the way it softened his friend's face, warmed his eye. Slightly. Barely noticeable. And who knew when the next time would be that Renji would catch him like this?
"The cape can be loose and flowy, but that's it." Badou didn't notice his friend's intent study, putting his pack of smokes into the pocket of his swimming trunks. "Everything else has gonna be skin-tight. Yes, your banana too. Ain't you ever seen Superman? Shit."
Renji covered his mouth to stifle what would have been an extremely unattractive giggle, trying to figure out whether he was amused or disgusted by the image Badou was painting. He was also trying to figure out whether now would be an amusing point to mention Zabimaru. Instead, he settled on the question that had risen to the forefront of his thoughts. "Who's Superman?"
The redhead appeared to think about this question carefully before answering. "A pussy," he decided. "Batman's better. And Spiderman's better than him."
"I know who Batman is," Renji grinned. "He doesn't wear spandex though. He wears form-fitting rubber. Which probably isn't much better," he concluded, expression souring.
"He has rubber nipples in that one film," hummed Badou thoughtfully. "Batnipples."
"He was totally fucking hot in that one movie," Renji corrected, grinning as he leaned his face in his hand. "Fine, you can dress me up like a superhero if I can look like him." It was at that point that he realized that he'd drank most of a bottle of whiskey. Not because the bottle stood as disapproving evidence in front of him on the table, but because he'd approved the idea of himself wearing an anatomically correct rubber Batman suit.