orangetoughguy | log post II

Fresh.

[A small slice for now as an appetizer.]

Whenever.

[Chew, chew. It's nothing. They can talk over meat. Though his grin is a dead giveaway of what he's thinking.]

Big? Small? Long? Thick? Spicy? Come on, you gotta work with me you know.

[He's playing the entire charade up, fully aware of that grin. Freddy takes a slice for himself too, delicious salami accompanied by the flavor of his Marlboro. Oh and he's still shirtless.]

[Working like a magnet, the old man steps around the counter. One hand on the kid's torso, feeling downward.]

Hot. Cold. I like it with a lotta flavor. Nothing too spicy, don't want to be over powered. I like em long.

[A second bite, but not before purposefully bumping the kid as he's getting another.]

Bullshit you don't want to be over powered.

[The kid boldly counters. That paw on his skin is real nice and warm and the bumping does not go unnoticed...but seriously. 'Don't want to be overpowered' he says. Freddy knows for a fact sometimes Lawrence Dimick does.]

Size yes. Flavor, I think I could be swayed.

[This old man is licking the tips of his fingers. Yeah, Freddy wold know as a matter of fact now wouldn't he?]

I think you got an excellent sense of taste. I'd be down for some of your cuts.

Edited 2011-03-25 09:57 (UTC)

Do you? I mean you're not just sayin' that cause I'm here with you, are ya?

[The kid can be a tease too. Those green eyes aren't blind to how the old man goes all finger lickin' good on him. It wasn't too long ago Larry was questioning his judgment in associates, though that doesn't really come to mind at the moment. He blows smoke aside.]

Why would I say that because you're here. I bought the meat.

[Ho ho. A new development to change it up a little. Freddy's no fucking fool though. No sir. This entire subject feels good and has nothing to do with any venom spewed out from any previous conversation. Don't want to wreck the flavor.]

I like what you got, what you're puttin' out.

Whoa whoa wait a second. So I'm the one who's got to put out? What the fuck am I on display or somethin'?

[Nothing serious, just dicking around. With salami.]

Nah, but your particular tastes, they're enough to get other people to try it.

[He'll take another bit and put it in his mouth. A few chews before saying]

You made me like cereal more than I did. Got me eating it out of your hand practically.

Really? You like my Fruit Brute, Capn Crunch, Rice Krispies, Cheerios, and Honeycombs?

[As a reward, have a slice of salami from Freddy's hand, Lawrence Dimick.]

I always liked Cheerios. I had never tried Fruit Brute.

[The kid is too fucking kind. Larry keeps his hands flat on the counter top as he leans forward to get it. Teeth first, then tongue swiping to make sure he's got it. More tongue after chewing.]

[Nicotine stained fingertips do a little wiggling at those lips, getting them slightly wet before he tastes them himself.]

Well I'm glad to be some kinda service to you.

[Why do they keep eating out again? Oh. That's right. Two grown men can't live on finger food alone. Still though, they should try and do this more often.]

More than that.

[Larry gives him a bump on the way back to the fridge for beer.]

Talk to that friend of yours?

[He's banking on the fact that the reestablished harmony is solid, rock steady even. They're on speaking terms. And it's one simple question. The kid can answer however he pleases. And hey, if he evades, well, Larry can't say he doesn't blame him. One of these days though, these questions are going to bite him in the ass again.]

[Oh here we go. Keep it cool, Newendyke. He's a jealous old bear and you know what he wants to hear but you know he'll take what you've got to say too. Will it wreck this salami peace?]

Yeah, I did. I told him all that wholesome organic shit and whatever's a noble cause but I ain't gonna stop eatin' tacos and cheap Chinese, so maybe we shouldn't be friends anymore.

[It's a joke that answers nothing beyond cementing the fact that he'll always have a preference for this bear's diet than that...what is he anyway, a lynx? Anyway, that Lynx's diet.]

[A beer for Freddy too. Larry pops off the top of his, no opener needed. Then on to Freddy's. He's listening, calm even. He doesn't trust much, but he trusts the kid. And if he's gonna make an ass of himself with this suspicion business and ruin their reconciliation that'll be his own damn fault. Waiting, breathing, listening like a good bear in a friendly environment.]

Oh yeah? What did he say to that?

[A smile is breaking way to easily over his face as he takes a drink. It's got to be bullshit, but fuck it's nice bullshit to hear.]

[Watching him twist those caps off raises his temperature just a bit. He gives a nod of thanks for his own bottle. Larry's playing along, Freddy can tell that much, and it makes him smile too.]

He called me a Republican.

[Good thing he swallowed before he heard the kid's reply or else he might have spat some of the brew out while laughing.]

A Republican? Dirty son of a bitch. Shouldn't be friends with that.

[Maybe that was slightly too sincere but look, Freddy he's laughing.]

Bet you gave him a piece of your mind then?

[All fabrication sure, see though, a man can't make a magic carpet out of normal material.]

You're kidding me right? What fear do I got from a hippie? I just gotta keep my ass out of Eugene, Oregon.

[You're supposed to ask him 'why', Lawrence Dimick.]

So why that? I mean, of all the things to say...and why Eugene, Oregon?

[Another sip. He's enchanted. What is that flappy jaw and flappy handed body gonna deliver now?]

There's no work there.

[Freddy takes a smug sip of his beer. Okay so the guy actually has a job and isn't a dirty hippie but that's just part of the whole joke ain't it? Larry knows he's got nothing to fear...right?]

[There's still the nagging suspicion but it's nothing that Freddy's done. It's that fucking shrink. Larry's not sure what it is that makes him feel so fucking suspicious but his hunches never cut him a break. Let's forget the hunch that this man standing with him shirtless in the kitchen of their apartment was innocent. It's all relative though. Cops can be innocent he's come to find out.]

No work.

[He repeats it, snickering.]

Well, thank goodness.

[That they can joke about it a little. Larry leans over and grabs a hold of Freddy's chin to lay one on him.]

[Flappy jaws are about to flap some more when the old man takes him by the face though not really by surprise. Freddy has to quickly find space for his smoke and beer, somewhere on the counter, so he can rest his hands on that thick clothed torso.]

Uh huh. [He sounds through their mouths. Crazy kids.]

[There's a whole lotta good flavors in that mouth. Beer, smokes, salami...chocolate somewheres. A whole damn meal. The bottom line of this issue with the therapist friend is that Larry is certain that he knows a good thing when he sees one.]

You were gonna say somethin'?

[That's what he says when he feels like he can pull back. Not out of the reach of those hands. Give the man some space, huh? He'll use that cigarette a moment.]

[A damn fine mix of flavors, this. Warm and in those paws, green eyes could close up and ignore everything outside of this apartment--say what? Green eyes open up again.]

Uh.

[What was he gonna say again?]

Right uh... [Freddy shrugs because yeah, that kiss totally made him forget. Oops.]

[He puts the Marlboro between Freddy's lips to let him have another smoke while Larry gets another sip.]

Hippies sure don't like Republicans.

[Larry shrugs then. It'll come back to him right? Besides, not like they got anywhere to be today.]

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