Mr. Orange (Freddy Newendyke) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
orangetoughguy) wrote2010-08-05 05:20 am
orangetoughguy) wrote2010-08-05 05:20 am
Entry tags:
log post II
third person narrative, action bracket spam, anything goes
log post I | log post II | log post III
third person narrative, action bracket spam, anything goes
log post I | log post II | log post III
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The thirty dollars and staying at his place so I wouldn't have to book room.
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Only?
[Have an elbow nudge to the side, Lawrence Dimick, before his own arm curls around Larry's waist. It's just to make walking easier, nothing more nothing less, right?]
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I really wanted to stay with him. Wasn't meant to be though. I got my thirty dollars and forty winks on his couch. [Fuck that touch feels good.]
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[Another surprise and it shows in the kid's voice. Was George someone more than just a friend? Someone Larry hoped could become more? Well don't think too far ahead, Newendyke. He leans against that big old body, because he's exhausted. Yep.]
What was it like?
[The horse ride? George's place? Not being able to stay with George? Freddy doesn't specify.]
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Liberating. I kinda felt like an old time cowboy. My friend got a kick out of it. Not quite the effect I went for.
[One head tilt and he's brushing his lips near the kid's hairline as they pass through a poorly lit alley.]
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[Green eyes slide shut for the brush of lips. The timing doesn't escape him, darkness where they don't have to think about who might seem them. He takes his last drag of the Chesterfield then flicks it aside. You're fucking lucky, Newendyke.]
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He mentioned he liked cowboys one time. [Don't think less of him, kid trying stupid tricks. It's different, as Freddy should know. Black Magic Woman wasn't there.] I read shit wrong though. When he said he wanted me to visit, he only meant as a friend.
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[Freddy remarks, putting two and two much better this way. He doesn't think any less of him, knows it's different. It's the stories he likes to hear so he knows he's not the only messed up boy on the block. And 'messed up' is putting it strongly, maybe just not like the other boys.]
Hard time, old man.
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[Especially this one. And he's not hesitant to say it anymore. Just as well because he means it.]
Luckily I waited until the morning to tell him [Larry laughs a little at himself and kisses Freddy on the cheek.] That was a hard time.
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[Yeah, he says it like he would never, because Freddy never has. Well except for that one punk under the bleachers. He doesn't count. Never will. Black Magic Woman is the only one who has as far as Freddy's concerned. So sue him for not being as bold as one Lawrence Dimick here. Part of that's why this kid likes him so much.
The kiss to his cheek helps too. Oddly soft and affectionate. Men don't do this kind of thing, even the ones who fuck other men. The kid likes it.]
Did he throw you out or somethin'?
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[The old man has them stop just short of coming out of the alley. Nothing in mind but holding this man who bled out for--the third time?--without dying. He's fucking lucky for this right here. Freddy could have shoved him off too.
Sorry, he's getting so sentimental it's fucking sick.]
I haven't talked to him since. He told me I wasn't welcome ever again. A few other thing too.
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I'm sorry baby.
[Freddy wishes he could say more, offer something comforting or even just a slice of his own experience with that kind of treatment, but he has none. What he does have Larry's already heard and since then the kid's kept it inside until cleaning out that microwave with Santana playing. The old man's got heaps more experience on him.]
I wouldn'tna done that to you. [On the contrary, Freddy here might have let him go all the way, being that desperate for some kind of affection at that age.]
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It's alright right now.
[It's easy to say that now with this in his grasp. Larry rests his head against Freddy's. Here they don't got to run and hiding, protecting moments like this it's second nature.]
I could have taken the hint with that guy. ...but you, you never let me down.
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[Freddy jokes because the affection's almost too much. He just relived nearly fucking dying and here's Lawrence Dimick, being as sweet as can fucking be, telling him he never let him down. Except, Freddy told him he's a cop and that didn't go over too well. Who knows if they can survive that after this place.]
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You're right. Don't want it to go to your head.
[It's dangerous to let people know how much they mean to you, besides the obvious risk of rejection. The kid is a walking weakness. Larry does stupid things when he's around him, because of him. His only regret is having zero restraint when the kid went out on a limb to confess that he was the rat. That took balls. A big hand ruffles his hair.]
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[To his head? Freddy's already out of his head when Larry's not around. Maybe it's fair enough to say that ship's sailed. The kid doesn't say much with regards to that though. Instead he reaches up to take hold of the hand ruffling his hair, as if to say 'Stop.' or 'You don't have to.' He brings that paw to his cheek, fitting the side of his cold dirty face to the old man's palm. Freddy felt sick not too long ago, like he ought to throw his guts up. Now he just feels tired, exhausted, used up by the city.]
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[The old man looks into that kid's face. The day is wearing on him hard. A meal, a shower and sleep will do him good. Larry stoops to taste his cigarettes on the kid's lips. Only a little, only because the bleachers and a joy ride had to happen to get here.]
Let's go home, baby.
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Super cool, baby.
[The kid tightens his hold around Larry's waist. Let's go, among other words could fit here in the silence.]