[Freddy says with regards to there being worse than El Rey. True, they could have done better or far far worse. Ah but that clipped sour grumbling piques a fox's curiosity. His attention hyperfocuses on the old man's tone.]
[The detective instinct or cop sense will never quit. It didn't when he was a mechanic. Now that they're back in their own neck of existence with very real threats around them it is a part of life. Knowing it as well as he does, it rubs wrong.
Everything is rubbing wrong.]
On second thought might not be a bad idea. I'd get something out of it.
[His mouth hangs open. That's not what this is about!]
.....
[Hands flap around. Oh yeah he put his beer down so no messes here, Dimmy.]
You think I want space because I don't wanna fuck around?? [But also! Freddy points at Larry.] And you know damn well you shouldn't have gone to see him without me.
Yeah you're trying to get us ahead. We're supposed to be working on that together.
[Pointing resumes but then Freddy's backtracking to the first thing Larry said. More flapping begins. Again.]
In case you forgot I didn't exactly see this as my life at age thirty. [Twenty-nine until...fuck this world hopping has messed with his sense of time.] I can't think about fucking around! You think I don't want to?!
Two birds! One stone! I told you, nothing happened. And if something big did start to come on up, I'd say I need a day to think it over and haul you in. I told you, I know what I'm doing. This is for us. What the fuck am I to get out of it solo?
[Which he isn't, which they're not. But he sure feels like he's standing on his own at odds with the partner. Shit. Flapping this way and that.]
I dunno! You haven't given me the right chance! I'm not gonna fucking force you. If you did or didn't I wanna think you'd fucking talk to me, asshole.
[Lawrence Dimick starts name calling. Mighty big from a guy that's certainly not twenty something.]
[There's no ready defense for that. Some of his thought was to keep Freddy away from the heat. Well, there isn't any for the time, if there was it'd sure allow the guy still healing to keep his progress. Besides, there are other points of discussion that hold more interest.
At the push his arms come unfolded and he steps forward.]
What am I supposed to think! You won't let me touch you!
Don't be fucking retarded you've put your hands on me a dozen times since we peeled out on this fucking adventure!
[Don't expect the kid to back down just because the old man's stepping up on him. In fact Freddy's posture casually shifts into something taller, kind of like a police officer who has no reason or fear to back down from a thug or a bully of a bear...who happens to have thick arms and a broad chest....]
So you can't put your hands on me without fucking me is that it??
[What a bizarre thing to be yelling at each other...the kid's chest to chest with the old man now, hide puffed up. He's all but put his teeth and claws into Larry Dimick. It reeks of testosterone.]
[Caramel green eyes narrow not because of what he's said but because those paws are on him now. Here's the real fucking test...as if Freddy wants Larry to pass right now. The kid's temper is still flaring but being strong enough to fight and snap back has him feeling more like his old self.]
No.
[He admits in a clear solid defiant tone, not moving, not budging.
No? So even knowing that you still put yourself right fucking there in front of me.
[Rough fingers, not claws, dig into his shoulders. Larry cranes his neck to stare directly into his face.]
What the fuck are you trying to do to me? To yourself? Hoping I blow up or something?
[His jaw clenches. In a moment full of more breathing then words he can feel his own nostrils flare as he breathes. Whole fuck tone of testosterone in this small kitchen.]
[That almost sounds like Lawrence Dimick is accusing him of asking for it. Is it because of the way Freddy's dressed? Is it because of his attitude? Freddy Newendyke is no tempting twink, that's what they say after he's cuffed them and thrown them into the back of his squad car.]
You're an asshole.
[I'm not heartless, Freddy says to himself as he puts a tight grip on Larry's face and hair to kiss him.]
[Huffing. Puffing. He's waiting to get shoved off. Sort of hoping for it so then he can fuck off on his own and try to clear his head of all the dumb shit that is trying to cloud it.
No, Freddy's not asking for it. Maybe that's just it. He did once. And now he doesn't. It's worrisome. Troubling. After all they've been through they won't be the same. That much should be more than obvious.
Lawrence Dimick you're a fucking asshole.
Gripped, he can't pull back. The counter his behind him. And he doesn't want to. A paw stays clamped at his shoulder. The other takes a grip on the long honey locks that grow past his ears.]
A big one. Won't change.
[A rushed reply if he's allowed to say so much before he goes back for more.]
[Freddy doesn't think things will be the same either. He always knew coming back would be a gamechanger. However as this moment clearly illustrates, things changing or not being the same doesn't at all mean going back to the way things were before they met. It's highly unlikely they can ever go back to that.]
Fuck you.
[Freddy growls and it's practically convincing were it not for the way he holds onto Larry like he might lose him, or throw him through a window. Fortunately that's not his intention and the kitchen window is too small for one Mr. White anyway.]
["Sure." He wants to say. "Sometime would be great." A great deal of piss and vinegar has been taken out with the kiss.]
I'm already fucked.
[Win or lose. Keep perspective, you piece of shit. Larry grips the back of Freddy's tee and widens his own stance as he keeps still but close. He's not gonna let go. It's not fucking, okay? Senses are raw and pretty perceptive to all the small, important sensations. The way he smells, the texture of his jaw.]
[The kissing softens from hard and frantic to slow and steady but still deep. His hands haven't left Lawrence Dimick, he can't keep them off the guy.]
Totally fucked, man...
[Quite literally. He's in the middle of fucking Mexico on the run more or less from a department that probably still thinks he's on their side or dead, just like The Onion Field.]
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orangetoughguy) wrote2010-08-06 11:39 pm
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[Freddy says with regards to there being worse than El Rey. True, they could have done better or far far worse. Ah but that clipped sour grumbling piques a fox's curiosity. His attention hyperfocuses on the old man's tone.]
What? What's wrong.
[The kid dares to ask.]
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Everything is rubbing wrong.]
On second thought might not be a bad idea. I'd get something out of it.
[To the fridge he goes for one more beer.]
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What's that supposed to mean.
[Freddy doesn't ask but demands...around the last bite of his sandwich. Practically inhaled the stuff.]
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You're the one who thinks I should have someone else on my ass.
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[Freddy clarifies as if Larry doesn't already know. Getting smart are we, old man?]
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[Chug. Chug. Refreshing as it is, sure don't hit the spot.]
Wanted to go.
[Except maybe being without him for a little bit again might be a good idea.]
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[Freddy flat out demands again, freckled hand free to flap now that it's not handling a sandwich.]
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[Plunk goes drink to rest on the counter top.]
You want more space. When I give you space I'm still fucking up.
[Larry leans back on the same counter top and crosses his arms.]
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[His mouth hangs open. That's not what this is about!]
.....
[Hands flap around. Oh yeah he put his beer down so no messes here, Dimmy.]
You think I want space because I don't wanna fuck around?? [But also! Freddy points at Larry.] And you know damn well you shouldn't have gone to see him without me.
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[Bristling but not budging he goes on.]
I know what I'm doing, okay? I didn't specifically head out or make plans behind your back. Jesus fucking Christ. I'm trying to get us ahead.
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[Pointing resumes but then Freddy's backtracking to the first thing Larry said. More flapping begins. Again.]
In case you forgot I didn't exactly see this as my life at age thirty. [Twenty-nine until...fuck this world hopping has messed with his sense of time.] I can't think about fucking around! You think I don't want to?!
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[Which he isn't, which they're not. But he sure feels like he's standing on his own at odds with the partner. Shit. Flapping this way and that.]
I dunno! You haven't given me the right chance! I'm not gonna fucking force you. If you did or didn't I wanna think you'd fucking talk to me, asshole.
[Lawrence Dimick starts name calling. Mighty big from a guy that's certainly not twenty something.]
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[Oh oh oh. He points a finger at Larry.]
Don't you call me an asshole! [Doesn't that sound familiar. Ahem.] You're an asshole for straight up thinking I don't wanna fuck you anymore!
[There it is. A provocative push to the old man's chest.]
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At the push his arms come unfolded and he steps forward.]
What am I supposed to think! You won't let me touch you!
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[Don't expect the kid to back down just because the old man's stepping up on him. In fact Freddy's posture casually shifts into something taller, kind of like a police officer who has no reason or fear to back down from a thug or a bully of a bear...who happens to have thick arms and a broad chest....]
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[Arms down, chest out. He's not backing down either. A pissed off Newendyke is sure posturing right.]
Ain't it great we're talking about it now?
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[What a bizarre thing to be yelling at each other...the kid's chest to chest with the old man now, hide puffed up. He's all but put his teeth and claws into Larry Dimick. It reeks of testosterone.]
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[It's an exasperated, angry hiss.]
I'm only a man. You think I got myself 100% handled all the fucking time?
[Hands on his shoulders now not quite a push but trying to get some space.]
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No.
[He admits in a clear solid defiant tone, not moving, not budging.
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[Rough fingers, not claws, dig into his shoulders. Larry cranes his neck to stare directly into his face.]
What the fuck are you trying to do to me? To yourself? Hoping I blow up or something?
[His jaw clenches. In a moment full of more breathing then words he can feel his own nostrils flare as he breathes. Whole fuck tone of testosterone in this small kitchen.]
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[That almost sounds like Lawrence Dimick is accusing him of asking for it. Is it because of the way Freddy's dressed? Is it because of his attitude? Freddy Newendyke is no tempting twink, that's what they say after he's cuffed them and thrown them into the back of his squad car.]
You're an asshole.
[I'm not heartless, Freddy says to himself as he puts a tight grip on Larry's face and hair to kiss him.]
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No, Freddy's not asking for it. Maybe that's just it. He did once. And now he doesn't. It's worrisome. Troubling. After all they've been through they won't be the same. That much should be more than obvious.
Lawrence Dimick you're a fucking asshole.
Gripped, he can't pull back. The counter his behind him. And he doesn't want to. A paw stays clamped at his shoulder. The other takes a grip on the long honey locks that grow past his ears.]
A big one. Won't change.
[A rushed reply if he's allowed to say so much before he goes back for more.]
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Fuck you.
[Freddy growls and it's practically convincing were it not for the way he holds onto Larry like he might lose him, or throw him through a window. Fortunately that's not his intention and the kitchen window is too small for one Mr. White anyway.]
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I'm already fucked.
[Win or lose. Keep perspective, you piece of shit. Larry grips the back of Freddy's tee and widens his own stance as he keeps still but close. He's not gonna let go. It's not fucking, okay? Senses are raw and pretty perceptive to all the small, important sensations. The way he smells, the texture of his jaw.]
How 'bout you?
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Totally fucked, man...
[Quite literally. He's in the middle of fucking Mexico on the run more or less from a department that probably still thinks he's on their side or dead, just like The Onion Field.]
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