orangetoughguy | log post II

No. But something about you, I can't say no to. There's about one other thing I can think of that makes it go down like that. [Before anyone thinks of something unsavory he'll answer with] Tacos.

[The hard part is over--and literally separating is damn hard right now. It's the last thing the old man wants to do. This man fits him like a glove.]

You mean about the noise? I think they'd be hollering cuz they're not involved, cuz it's over already.

[He'll flop close to that sprawled body. The better to dot his skin with a few presses of his mouth like they're freckles.]

Tacos. [Good save, Dimick. Freddy snorts anyway then shakes his head.] I'm not hungry, I'm kinda full.

[And in need of a shower shit they didn't hit the bath after coming from a sweaty game of catch either. These sheets will need to be washed. Later though, like this weekend. If only Larry could have seen Freddy's place in all its clutter. He would have liked to show him his music set up, no one appreciates a good record anymore except music aficionados and old dudes. Guess which one Larry fits.]

It's a private party anyway, except for that guy.

[He waves a hand at the alien. Ooh, those kisses are nice. Freddy reaches up to run his fingers through Larry's hair.] Thanks, Larry.

Still?

[Paw pats at his back end, it's a pat not a blow.]

I wouldn't wanna step out again anyways.

[Laying here is where it's at. A year ago he put down a month's rent for a place on Joe's turf. Nothing fancy, all he had was a few suitcases. That's the lot of a rambling man.]

Anytime, baby.

[Closer now to meet his mouth. That metallic faced man keeps on scowling. What the poor man don't know can't hurt him.]

Yeah, still.

[He repeats with a mild dose of sarcasm for the pat to his reddened rear. Fff. Oh but he'll roll onto his side and meet that mouth halfway, kissing once, twice.]

Whenever we get back. [Not if, when. Maybe Freddy Newendyke dreams too big.] I'm gettin' you a Dodgers cap and you're gonna wear it.

[How come he tastes so good? Makes a grown man cry. The old man pulls back to look at the kid skeptically.]

How come? It was only one win. That's all. Fluke. Baseball is full of em.

[That's not a no Freddy.]

[Strrrreeeetch. He bridges his fingers behind his head and lays staring up at the ceiling now, looking a little smug. Somehow they're not even on the right end of his bed either, the pillows are where their feet are oops.]

Do I gotta beat you at Dodger Stadium too?

I'll wear a Dodger hat when they go up against the Brewers and win. Then you gotta wear mine.

[Unless the old man plops it on the kid's head again. Larry is sure to clear away the lube and find a spot that's not too dirty to also lay.]

And we'll both place a bet because they'll be money coming in from either end.

[And he'll grab a pillow too.]

Okay I'll take that bet.

[He sits up enough to hold his hand out to shake on it while Larry does whatever it is he's doing. Always the one to get the bed ready for actual sleeping, this man. This kid could sleep anywhere, on a bed, on the floor, on a couch, in a backseat, at a desk, under a car (true story), but his favorite place is admittedly right next to a bear these days.

Can things really return to normal like that once they get back to LA?]

[Oops. He was all wrapped up in the pillows. Now he'll shake that hand, a good solid one. He'll maintain that hold to pull the kid down to rest against the pillow too.]

Thanks, kid.

[For the year. For this moment. Larry has to believe that there's going to be more to this. It's the fuel that keeps this engine rolling.]

[Oof. Okay he has to admit (again) that pillow is pretty comfortable. Freddy shifts here and there to get more snug against Larry, sheets pulled up to his waist. Fucking surreal, living here, being with him...like a good comic book or a Rush album that keeps him company when he's got no one else.]

Don't sweat it, old man.

log post II

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