"I want to, damn," Freddy argues, already resentful less so because of Larry and more so annoyed he isn't better at hiding it when something's wrong. Whatever it is.

"I wanna spend some time with you," the kid asserts.

His caramel green gaze falls low and to one side but he doesn't pull away from the touch. Instead Larry's hand on him comforts him, a reminder of why he's still fucking MIA in Mexico. Sometimes he wishes they would rule him killed in action and close that chapter of his life for him. He's careful not to dwell on it too long, knowing his family has no official closure is a killer. Knowing they'll never get to meet Larry Dimick is a heartache he shuts far far away. Freddy Newendyke's no domesticated sap, no way no how. He's living in luxurious hiding with his career criminal boyfriend. That's no fairytale.

"Gimme five minutes to change," Freddy nods, wanting to reassure the man they'll head out for the night.