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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[Not the day before that or before that...
Click, click of his cigarette to light the kid up. Then another few clicks for himself. Larry rubs the shirt over the kid's belly to get anything that's there before tossing it someplace. An inhale then an exhale. He tells himself he's turning off the TV and movie because it's wasting power...not one more thing to do to keep busy.]
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[He says like this is an accurate reason for his unhappiness. What man wants to have tits? Honestly. Having tits doesn't let a man make a mess of himself like Larry here is cleaning up.]
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[Leaning, positioning, this old bear is gonna lay up against the kid.]
That really got to you.
[Freddy was crying. That's not something that happens just because he doesn't have a dick but... at the time hey, he didn't know how they were going to be the next day. Still, Larry ventures on.]
All I wanna know is that you're better now.
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[For various reasons Freddy can't quite figure out right now. Too many, some not even related to tits except having them gave him a good excuse. The kid blows his smoke away from the old man's face.]
I'm better now, baby. [While he can't say how or why necessarily, it's the truth.]
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Good.
[He holds his cigarette away as he leans to kiss the gunshot wound to his shoulder.]
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[He asks because it's worth knowing. The kiss to his scar is so hot, almost searing him like a brand even though he's already cooling off from their fucking. Freddy also feels a little tired but that's par for the course after two rounds.]
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[For a return from the dog house. It's soothing and quiet now without the TV or the speakers threatening to die any moment. The kid really should make a point to turn it down. Don't want to blow them out or anything.
The quiet is better than arguing. They know each other enough to be okay with saying jack shit at all. Larry sucks down more of his cigarette before keeping at the kid. Why waste another fucking moment with apologies...but just in case.]
You know I'm sorry, right?
[Another kiss. That second bullet of Joe's could have hit bone. He could have never played ball again.]
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[Does he have to say sorry too? Surely Larry knows that. Hell he said it yesterday at some point in the middle of bitching and moaning over his tits. Freddy brings his hand up to brush through Larry's slightly peppering hair.]
Just chill out for a little bit, then maybe we can go get tacos.
[As men, the way they're meant to be. Fff.]
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Okay, tough guy.
[Leaving the apartment is something worth saving his strength for.]
You don't get sick of tacos do you?
[They're just talking about tacos. Not anything else.]
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You don't get sick of cereal do you?
[Either eating it or having to see boxes upon boxes of it in the kitchen cabinets, in Freddy's room, on Freddy's fingertips...]
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[Who wants to go without it though. Cereal is good for you. And as for tacos that's what, two or three food groups. Brown eyes look into green and he shrugs.]
I know I like tacos all of the time.
[Does Freddy like tacos because the old man is crazy about em? Or did he just develop a taste of his very own?]
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[The kid nods. He's always liked tacos but not as much since enjoying them with the old man. A lot of things he's used to doing feel more enjoyable whenever Lawrence Dimick is around. But Freddy doesn't have to say that for Larry to know, does he? That's sentimental and affectionate, the equivalent to those three strong words.]
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Shit. When did he get so fucking soft?]