orangetoughguy | log post II

[For this Larry gets a faint smile out of Freddy.]

That's a long time. [He nods, considering his own thoughts for a moment, before he finally asks, because Freddy wants to know as much as Larry wants to tell.] What happened to him?

After the first go through the joint I thought I was hot shit. Baptized by fire or something. Bobby warned me. I was doing stupid shit, runnin' around. Thought I could handle anything, everything. Pushed my luck at every turn. With him too. He put up with my shit, looking the other way when he didn't agree.

[Another sip from the hot spiked chocolate.]

[Sam flaps over to sit with Freddy now, nosing his way into a little narrow space where a toucan can roost warmly next to his favorite human. The kid doesn't protest and idly pets the bird on the head, but his focus is still completely on Larry.]

Sounds like some kinda guy.

[Another sip. He means it too, someone who can stay friends with another for so long, through all the good times and all the bullshit, especially serious shit like the joint and whatever else Lawrence Dimick has done. Things he may not be proud of.]

Nothin' on you.

[Who is ballsy, funny and sure can take his knocks. Freddy's seen him in so many shades of fucked up and still is hanging on. Big, thick fingers thread together after setting the mug down.]

I want you to understand that.

Larry. I've seen you shoot and get shot for me. [No way around saying it, it needs to be said. He places his hand over the old man's.] I want you to understand you don't gotta--[Come on Newendyke, you know it's right.] You don't gotta tell me I'm the best out of everyone.

[Funny because secretly that's something the kid's always selfishly wanted, to be put on a pedestal or labeled the one that got away, to be somebody to someone. Now though, after all this time with Lawrence Dimick, he just wants to be the guy he fell in love with. What a fucking fool for love you are, Newendyke.]

[No? What? Maybe now wasn't the right time for this kind of a conversation. That can be respected. All the stress. The pain that Freddy's enduring. What does that kind of talk matter, really. There is no Alabama or Bobby here. No Joe. No Eddie. No kidnapped cop.

The old man feels something like that feather head snuggling close striving for attention from those hands.]

Baby, I love you.

[What else can he say? Now those hands want to hold him, touch him, appreciate that both of them are alive.]

[Feathery head, big beak, comfortable right where he is and thus making it impossible for Freddy to get up and pull Larry into his arms without crushing the toucan. Maybe that's Sam's plan, maybe Sam's just a dumb bird who doesn't know better.]

I fuckin' love you, Larry.

[So instead he squeezes that paw, hard and firm. Almost too hard and slightly shaking.] You can have a thousand Bobbys and Bamas, it don't change a thing.

[Seeing the old man die twice (Three times? Does the gunshot he suffered when they came here count?) really fucking gets to him.]

[That damn bird. Is Sam able to feel meaningful looks in the same way that he deals them out? He's got one right now however short. Since he can't hold him or go into his arms Larry lifts his hands to his mouth to kiss before leaning forward.]

One Freddy.

[All this man needs. And Freddy needs one Dimick. The other two...not so hot.]

One Larry. Good enough from there.

[E-ee-e-ee-e-e-e-e. What? Oh. The toucan stares at Lawrence Dimick for a few beats before beating it. Hop hop flap flap. Up to perch on the back edge of the couch instead, fff.]

Good enough for me, man.

[He presses his fingers to that mouth before freeing his other hand to pull Larry towards himself. Freddy utters with conviction and fear.] I don't wanna see you down like that again, you stupid son of a bitch.

[That's what he thought. Get a move on little bird. This bear is being pulled. Larry lays however he can with the kid, half on the couch not putting anymore weight than he has to on Freddy.]

You won't.

[Not in his book. The city is never going to ask what he thinks. Until that day he can only offer up his word.]

I'm right here, cowboy. I'm right fucking here.

[Lips touch his forehead. His paws touch against his stomach.]

Are you still hurting?

[Half on him, half not. That's how that's gonna work. Freddy locks his arms around Larry, green eyes half-lidding when he feels the other man's mouth on him.]

A little. I'll fuckin' live. [That's the goddamn important part.]

[This close Larry can breath in Marlboro, chocolate and booze flavoring Freddy's breath. His own eyes shut a few moments to appreciate the warmth of his skin. Not much bloodshed for putting a body to rest, no matter what he looks like. It don't matter. This here is worth fighting for, worth all the bullshit from all directions.]

You better. Don't make me go and get you. You wouldn't like it.

[He's mildy impressed with his own delivery, like it was possible. A long exhale and he opens his eyes again.]

log post II

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