orangetoughguy | log post II

[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.]

I coulda done without all the frou frou classy bullshit and sonnet talk.

[Orange adds before making use of their proximity to ball a fist into White's shirt, holding him close.] I like things just the way they are. No fuss. You wanna fuck you just ask.

[Ain't that more natural? More at home?]

[Since they're facing one another Freddy can likely catch the old man's face fall a little. Yeah, he liked that more than he thought that he would. The old man's never been all that articulate and he spent a long time trying to figure out the words to express something. Sure he's a grown man now but boy if he would have had even a little of that talent, where would he be now?]

Sure isn't a fuss. You're right.

[Though it sure was a private thing back then. Maybe even more than now. Larry's got nothing to back that up because history is not a strong suit of his. That fist balling into his shirt makes them hip to hip.]

...so you wouldn't even use please?

[Teasing, teasing, green eyes. It's helping him rebound.]

A little refinement don't hurt.

[Oh come on, really? Really, Larry? He can see the subtle split second shift in the old man's face and wonders why he would even feel that way. Does he want a softer side to this thing they have? A little more courtship before the cocksucking? Then again, this is the man who got him flowers. What's wrong with you, Newendyke, got the emotional depth of a dumb teenage boy. Or maybe you're the one overthinking it and Larry's just fine. Shit.]

Maybe, sometimes. How about please get on your knees and blow me like it's goin' out of style.

[See? Isn't that just as eloquent and elegant? Freddy's getting it all wrong but he's trying. Who better to serve as a distraction than the toucan who comes hopping in to flutter and do his bathing thing in some water puddles left on the countertop.]

[That pulls a smile on his mouth. Whether he's got long braided hair, a mustache or clean shaven the kid wants him. Words are only words, after all that was backwards then. All the not knowing all over again. It's not important. What they got, right here and right now is because they use the words they use.]

Thank you for your generosity, pal.

[Lip to lip, he's pulling up the kid's shirt. As for clothes, well, if you wanna fuck right you'll do it mostly naked. With full intent to work his way down to his cock, the ol' bear is thrown off track by the flurry of feathers. Crouching he is almost eye level with the bird at the counter top. Beady. Dark. Eyes.]

[That's more like it. The kid's happy his turnabout worked, whatever gets the old man smiling again. And that smile deserves the kiss it gets. Whoa hey, right now? Freddy was just talking in general, not that he's going to complain though. Right after Larry's just shaved means being able to hold onto a smooth jaw. Perks. He's about getting into it too when the toucan bounces right into the sink, flicking what's left of foam and stuff all over the place which admittedly isn't very far. It just happens to be right where Freddy and Larry are, and apparently at Larry's eye level.]

Aw! C'mon--Sam stop!

[Getting down and dirty, it's modern. It's not all about fucking. Though that brought them to that next level. After the bullets.

Fuck! Larry manages to blink and not get foam in his eyes but he grips the sink and straightens up.]

Damn it!

[Bird, why you gotta make him try and speak badly about you. They didn't have toucans back in the day. Not that he knew. Is there any winning at all. He keeps the foam sporting eye shut before taking a towel to it.]

Fuck.

[Rub rub. Huff, huff. When he's able to look he glares at the bird and then looks to the kid. Hands up in the air a moment he's exiting the bathroom.]

Forget it.

[Frou frou classic shit, no frou frou classic shit. Larry shakes his head.]

That's dirty bathwater! [Flappy hands manage to chase the toucan out of the sink but the damage is already done. Not that Larry's honestly mad though, is he? It's part of living with a big old bird and who can blame a toucan, a wet sink is tempting.] Shit man now I gotta wash you down.

[Oh, there goes a lumbering bear.] Maybe later!

[Freddy calls after Larry because it's just one small interruption out of how many times they've managed to fuck around? A whole fucking lot. What's one put on hold? No thing. In the meantime the kid's got a toucan to spray.]

[They can go a day. Hell, they done longer. Whatever. Nothing. Though the whole day it's bothering this old bear. The toucan and the statement about Freddy feeling like a girl. That was not what that was about. Did none of it touch him at all? None of that shit? Okay. That can be accepted can it? Why the fuck not. He's a young man.

Lawrence Dimick isn't a pussy. He likes softer, sweeter elements. Who the fuck knows why. Maybe because he's bent.

This is stewing in his brain as he sits back in his chair much later in the evening evening.

So far the score marks as Mr. White: 0 The Bird: 2.5 interceptions. The first in the bathroom something of a second attempt in the kitchen lead to some serious noise because it was expecting fruit. As for the half....well....Larry can't specifically remember but it feels like it is far more than it should be.

The only arms he slept with are the chairs.]

[E-e-e-ee-e-ee-e. Incoming. There's a toucan soaring down from the second floor to the first. It's the same old toucan Larry's seen before (the winner) but there's something different about Sam tonight. Could it be the splash of purple dangling from his bright bill? The bird lands on the coffee table carrying a short stem of orchids. Beady black eyes stare at Lawrence Dimick.]

[Oh boy. Here we go. Brown eyes look up and watch the bird swoop down. Though...wait a second. Larry sits up. ]

What do ya got there?

[Is that an orchid? What the fuck is Sam doing with an orchid? Where would he get it? On his feet now to stand over the perched bird.]

I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to eat that.

[Nice and slow now he is moving down to be eye level. Though to be honest it isn't without reservation. No foam here to get flung in his face. That doesn't mean a damn thing though. Sam here is crafty.

The more he thinks about it and really gets a look at the bloom he sees that it isn't anything from outside on a window box.]

[The same way Larry's looking down Sam is looking up like they're the same damn height. Big bill big balls or something or...he's just a toucan and that's how toucans roll. Who knows. But yeah, he's staring and his head pivots at the same pace that White takes to meet him at eye level. It's almost horror show material. Then suddenly snap. The bird snips the stem in two, leaving a half stretch of blooms for Larry and a half stretch of blooms for his own cage, which the toucan promptly flaps towards to decorate.]

[The beak isn't that sharp. And since the old man doesn't want to go through the bird visiting no doctor again, he braves the cage to make sure the flowers are out.]

Not for you, buddy boy. Hear me? Not for you.

[Looks like he's got about everything in his hand and then he dips to get whatever fell on the floor.]

Where'd this come from?

[Like he'll get an answer. The bear is on the move. If the bird is out chances are Freddy is out and about someplace. But where?]

[E-ee-e-e-e-ee-ee-e-e. That's toucanese for pleeeeeeaaaaase...let me have something, even if it's not orchids--shiny. Sam stretches, noticing his awesome supercool tambourine is in here. Time to play. Effectively that means there's a red butt pointed your way, Lawrence Dimick. Sam's no threat now.

As for the other beast who lives in this den, that fox hound Freddy is somewhere upstairs doing what he does best; trying to figure out what's what and failing in it. The kid doesn't know the first thing about flowers or how colors look good and if that vase can go over there or if this one should be over here. He's still trying to adjust them, knowing full well there's a bear downstairs and that bear is up and about. The clock is ticking, Newendyke.

For the tenth time he puts this vase back on the left while putting the one on the left back in the other corner then switching these two over here.]

[Toucanese isn't a language he speaks but he knows back talk when he hears it. They may never be able to understand each other. Could be a reoccurring theme in this household.

Is the kid hiding out? Since it only takes a good look around to find out whether he's on the lower level, the old man tries to make quiet on the stairs.

Fee. Fi. Fo. Fum. Ah. There he is. One step in from the threshold and he sees the colored blossoms.]

Woah.

Heeey Larry.

[Freddy greets with a not so smooth turn around to face Larry which almost knocks a couple blooms off. These vases are in the old man's room by the way, but there's another bowl-bouquet type in the bathroom. The most important (uh, interesting) part is how the upstairs level smells like some kind of floral fiesta.]

[Smells like a garden up here. And that's something for not one but two smokers in this house. How many vases are there? Larry steps close to the first one for a sniff, briefly because there's something else worth nosing.

All this? Really?]

Hell of a collection.

[He's about face to face with Freddy now. Hands on his hips. Can a fella look visibly touched? Grinning from ear to ear, standing toe to toe with the clever fox.]

[A few, because the kid couldn't decide on a theme so all in all there are roses, orchids, tulips, and some other stuff in total.]

Yeah well. [Is he being bashful? Maybe, but in his own Freddy Newendyke sort of way. He tucks his hands into his pockets, still wearing the hoodie, shirt, and jeans he went out in. There are some leaves and remnant petals on his sleeves. Yeah, he hauled each and every vase up himself.] I don't wanna be caught up in some cold war crap. So I'm sorry I pissed you off, whatever I did.

[He wants to get all of that out before he feels he can even return a smile to Lawrence Dimick.]

[Somewhere between a snort and incredulous laugh Larry accepts that he can't hide shit sometimes, not with this kid and his nose for trouble. What the fuck was he thinking anyway. The guy went out and did this. It's no cheap stunt, no cheap stunt at all. His paws hover to brush away the flora.]

Baby. [Task done he grips the kid at the elbows. Huffing out a breath, he licks his lips. It's gonna sound fucking stupid. Then again he guesses it would still be difficult to say if he had a period silver tongue.] I kinda thought you were nobody's romantic. You proved me dead wrong.

[Damn right it ain't cheap. The kid's sworn off flashy toys and comics for the rest of June even though he kind of knows the old man won't have him penny pinching over that stuff. Paws are free to hover and brush.]

I'm not romantic.

[Freddy admits with the slightest shrug. That definitely answers what upset Larry although he's pretty sure the toucan's timing still had something to do with it as well.]

I don't know I guess I don't think about it...

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