orangetoughguy | log post II

[The modern miracle that is running water is perhaps the noisiest sound. Lawrence--Larry is in his casual finery of a t-shirt and denim. He looks into the mirror and examines his progress. Usually he is a faster shaving but now that he's been given the idea he's experimenting. How much? How far? A mustache wouldn't take too, too long. It can be done.]

Move it.

[Says the ever charismatic socialite--er, floppy haired dude in is Fantastic Four boxers and a t-shirt. He's not really demanding Larry get out of his way, it's just how a Newendyke thrives in this kind of living condition. A brightly colored beak looms in after Freddy before flap flap flapping to perch on the top edge of the shower. Sam just likes spending time with his humans okay?

Meanwhile, the kid makes a grab for his toothbrush when he notices...it.]

You missed a spot.

Easy there. I got somethin' sharp.

[Like that is a concern at all. He's got it handled.

Uh oh. Here comes the peanut gallery. Lucky for them they've got a spacious bathroom. Larry rinses his razor blade and looks from one beaky somebody to the feathery, beady eyed, beaky somebody.]

You mean here?

[Larry taps under his nose.]

[It should be a concern but mostly to the feathery beady eyed beaky somebody. Fortunately Sam's not a stupid bird, the toucan's in yellow-breasted lime green beak mode and yes. Sam's just staring.]

More like here.

[Freddy sweeps his finger like a windshield wiper over the entire stretch of his own upper lip for Larry's benefit.]

[Hey there to you too, Sam. Man, those little dark eyes really just don't give the guy a break. You think it would have let up by now.

As for the help from the roommate...]

I was thinking of leaving it. Not so bad, right?

[Not like Sam can change how the toucan species evolved or anything, fff. Still staring, twitching that big beak this way, that way. E-e-ee-e-e-e. Maybe the bird's looking at his mustache too.]

Really? Gonna go with handlebars too?

[Freddy's trying to decide if Larry's pulling his leg or not. Is this about France? Is this about not the Queen but Queen?]

[Now, now the bird can change beak colors. Who said that he can't be trained or adapt. Somehow he doesn't look at Freddy with as hard of a gaze. Or maybe it's his imagination. Who wouldn't go soft on that guy? C'mon.]

Nah. Just this. More trimmed sure, but what do you think?

[Larry asks because he really wants to know. It's because he kind of likes the look, and that wasn't such a bad time.]

[Honestly that depends on the kind of softness in question but that's neither here nor there. Freddy's putting toothpaste on his brush like it ain't no thing. He looks at the growing mustache.]

It's fine. If you're moonlighting as Magnum P.I. [He stuffs the brush into his mouth to foam it all up in there. Good timing yes?]

I could get your back then you know.

[It's presented like it's nothing. After all, it is a mustache not a limb. He is an adaptable man after four decades. Though he also cares about how the kid perceives him. After all, the shirts have become more slim fitting. Larry leans closer to the mirror and draws his top lip downward to watch it flex.]

And if I'm not though?

[Spit. Swish swish swish. Spit. There's a clean Newendyke mouth.] Don't you watch TV? P.I.s and I ain't friends.

[Freddy's rinsing his brush now. What? Is Larry serious about wearing one? He's watching the old man studying himself in the looking glass. Up above Sam is doing his headtilting shtick, curious toucan, or maybe he's just waiting for his turn to get blowdried, spoiled toucan.]

You really wanna wear one? Why? [This genuinely perplexes the kid.]

I'd get to rub elbows more freely.

[Like he's rubbing right now. P.I. would be a more acceptable friend.]

I haven't in a long time. Besides, it wouldn't make a bad memento.

[Already it looks like the kid isn't wild about it. Larry's eyes stray to that toucan. Big ol' beak hanging over, watching and waiting. Yeah, well, wait your turn buddy.]

[Ahah...hahaha. He's laughing but not raucously or anything. Just standard Freddy-finds-something-funny humor.]

You had one? When? [Er, but about the momento.] I'm not putting that fuckin' wig on.

Every guy had a mustache in the 70s at one point.

[Wait. No. Freddy probably didn't. Larry huffs out a breath and touches the offending area.]

Don't get it clipped or anything either. Looks okay right now. Though you sure did look good anyway.

[Can he say that? It was like they were in a movie.]

I didn't.

[Freddy counters knowing full well Larry knows why he didn't, of course age is just a number and all that. Drawing attention to it just makes the kid feel like a rebel, sneaking around with an older man, a man in general.]

What?

[He asks with his own razor in hand now. Sorry Larry, it's a safety razor, but at least it's an old fashioned sliding cartridge sort. He learned it from you, old man. Freddy's swirling his own brush and soap mug.] I looked like a drag reject.

You musta had someone draw one or you or had it for a costume.

[Kidding of course. Though it makes him feel like something of a lecherous old fuck.]

No you didn't.

[Keep your voice down, geezer. Shit. The kid can feel about however he wants to feel. But seriously, he would know what a drag reject looks like.]

I totally did and I talked funny too. At least you dressed like a dude.

[Lather lather lather. Hey Freddy why don't you draw a line between A and B; Larry looked like a dude, Larry had a mustache. Yep.]

I didn't see you in a skirt.

[Why would he even say that he looked like a woman. Okay, ruffles and frills yeah he got that. Larry rinses his own blade. Again he's thinking over the mustache. It was a nice time.]

I think it came down to how you wore it. Sure wasn't like a lady.

[Fuck it. He's going for scissors. It's going to go. After all, sure ain't the 70s anymore. Or seventeen eighteen odd hundred years or whatever.]

Hose and heels, man.

[Another point-counter point. It escapes him that Larry here may have genuinely liked something about that curse because Freddy can't fathom liking any part of it at all. Well, besides still somehow meeting together in secrecy, and Larry's braids, and the way they fucked...but the words, the clothes? The big dramatic words? He can do without.

Maybe the kid rejects the idea cause he can't imagine ever being that smart and polished in this life. Look at him now, Freddy Newendyke's shaving in his t-shirt and boxers, the absolute opposite of class. Green eyes catch the scissors and the man holding them. Okay, White doesn't find it as laughable as he does, sure, but he doesn't even look annoyed--the endearing charming sort of annoyed when he's got Toby the Jap and Madonna's big dick fucking his ears.]

You look younger without it. [Freddy adds, maybe trying to make peace.]

Could have been trouser socks. Knee highs.

[Snip. Snip. Snip. Bits of hair are falling into the sink.

Talking like he was a fucking poet that was a mind trip, and maybe in his way it was expressing words and feelings that would normally be pretty damn creampuff got to the old man. Whatever it was, he finds himself thinking more and more that he actually liked it. It was a over the top, refined time. Everyone seemed to be like that. Wasn't he thinking of giving the man a lock of hair?

...that too, the old man sure had a fucking mop of hair. That was a curse though.]

I don't need nothin' making me look any older.

[Now he'll get to shaving that himself.]

[Shaving shaving rinse shaving. They've got brown and dirty blonde hairs around the sink. Ain't that the absolute top in domestic bliss? But the kid still thinks something's not quite right now. He's still watching Larry much like a toucan is, except it's a lot easier to read Freddy's caramel green eyes.]

Nothing's wrong with lookin' older.

[Talk about mixed messages, but really Freddy's just trying to make up for whatever he might've said that didn't settle right.]

[The old bear's eyes are set on his reflection as he makes the 'stache disappear.]

I don't need it though. Got enough years of my own.

[Down the middle nice and easy. He makes quick work of it. After all he's practiced with his straight razor.

Don't be sore, Dimmy. Just a curse. No big deal. Not one worth fighting over.]

Lookin' better now?

[Most of it is gone already. The day is working its way and the curse will be a memory.

(They rode horses together.)]

Okay.

[Freddy shrugs, conceding to not argue about it as he rinses his own blade then his face. Looking up again to analyze the old man's face he can't help but think when it comes down to it he'd like Larry just about any way. Except female. He draws a line there.]

You're lookin' supercool, man.

[The kid says with dramatic flare, a far cry from verbose and poetic but kind of the same thing in his own way. Right?] I'm still not gonna put on a wig.

[Doesn't matter where or when, they got one another. So they don't have fancy ass ways of saying it or showing it. It's there. No body can doubt that, well, nobody who knows.

Swipe and rinse. Larry puts down the razor and wets his hands to completely rid his face of any lingering hair. Turning off the faucet he flicks his hands a few time.]

You don't need a wig.

[Watch it now, kid. The old man puts those damp hands into his hair.]

So you didn't like nothin' at all about that weekend, right?

[Comb, comb. First gripping and making it stand up between his fingers then combing it back.]

[Hdksdk;lvdasod;ksdsdfl. He may as well have a huge toucan bill trying to groom him. Freddy makes a face and sort of waves his hands but he doesn't exactly do anything to stop Larry from messing with his hair. He just deals with it.]

The classy booze came cheap?

[That's one of the things the kid can think of that was a nice touch. Sure they didn't have any good old canned beers and Freddy's not quite one for being a wine connoisseur but he can't deny it was good stuff.]

[Hey it gets less like big ol' paws when there's order to the chaos. Smoothed and now being parted the way that he likes it...or at least the way Larry knows that he does it.]

It was pretty fucking cheap.

[Okay. The kid didn't care about the curse. He can. It's his choice. Whatever. Right old man?]

There you go, slick.

[Hair lay just so.]

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