whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

I'm surprised tasting everything don't upset your stomach.

[Talking about food more. Yeah. Man is it hard to shake the notion otherwise. Why is the kid being so damn---shy isn't what you would call a guy that steals from anothrt guys plate. Ballsy. Possibly baiting.

Don't make the first move and fuck it, old bear. It may not even be that way.]

About anything goes good with ice cream.

[Blowjobs do. ...Fuck.]

I got a cast iron one remember?

[Whoops talking like they have a past together, which they do, but is it right to bring it up? Shit. Freddy rubs a hand over his belly anyway, ballsy as he is, it just seemed like a natural thing to do. It's hard trying not to be comfortable in Larry's presence. Sometimes it's just that, a natural unspoken way between them, the kind Freddy absolutely adores. Other times he questions, doubts, second guesses. Striking a balance between the two wasn't on the menu.]

Even bacon.

[Freddy says in agreement without thinking much. He can't help how he feels...about ice cream and bacon.]

Oh I remember. That's not shit a guy forgets. [Chuckle, chuckle. Oh. That's too fond. He clears his throat.] I mean, after watching you shovel away so much canned pasta.

[Ravioli, Spaghetti-Os... That still is bringing on up the history they have. Pretending it never existed is about as hard as retaining this balance of friendliness.]

Not bacon in ice cream. It's just not right. You can't have it all.

Canned pasta's good to eat any way or they wouldn't sell it, man.

[Om nom nom. He shovels more of this pie into his mouth and proceeds talking with his mouth half-full.]

You ever try it? I bet you haven't so you dunno what you're talkin' about.

I think that it tastes best piping hot and heavily salted.

[Shoveling is not what he's going to do with his melting brownie delight. However his spoon fulls have become larger.]

It sounds rotten to me. ...More power to you.

[Trying everything. They're talking about food so it's okay.]

My stomach's pretty sturdy but they don't put nukes in there to die.

[Despite his breath and healthy burps. For a moment he is about to say it's a good thing Freddy knows what real food tastes like. Food like the restaurant by the sea with the menus mostly in French. He keeps on filling his maw with walnut and ice cream covered brownie.]

It ain't containing the blast it's called de-escalating the situation.

[Freddy explains because...because it's just food right? Bacon and ice cream, brownies, pie, food and a time spent not fighting. For all the bumps in tonight's road it hasn't been bad, right?]

[Smooth joyride for today. Except Lawrence Dimick, like a criminal he is keeps on checking his mirrors.

Don't ask nothing. Don't ask!]

De-escalating.

[Another lick of his lips to see if he's got all of the ice cream before his napkin.]

Are we de-escalating a situation right here?

[Between them, from one plate to the other. He's trying not to look so serious, trying to leave it wide open if they're gonna keep on talking about food.]

[Caramel green eyes flick upward to look right at brown ones. Did he really just ask? Yes, yes he did. Freddy quickly shutters his gaze. He focuses on the rest of his pie and ice cream.]

I don't know.

[And that's all he's got to say on the matter. He keeps forking bites into his mouth like it ain't no thing.]

Oh.

[Yield. Detour. Merge traffic.]

Okay.

[He nods even as he says it. Larry takes a grip on his coke, it's hardly enough at the bottom of the ice. By now it is pretty watered down. And to top it off, it's a noisy slurp.]

This was a good place.

[Is their conversation and time all run out? Shit. What a dumb thing to say, Dimmy.]

Yeah. It wasn't bad.

[Freddy says in agreement, tone lighter, spoon scraping the plate for ice cream. His eyes don't meet Lawrence Dimick's this time despite his more enthusiastic voice.]

Gotta remember this place.

[For the reasonable pricing and pretty good flavor. It's not tacos. Shit, the people at the stand are going to think they died or just left the City. He hasn't been since Freddy moved out.]

Lotta bang for your buck.

[Words all seem and feel hollow even though he too is carrying on the same tone. Light, easy going. He pushes away whatever is lingering on his own plate. That's about all that he can take. Of food.]

I've already got the address up in here.

[He taps the side of his head to indicate his memory. Freddy's considered going to their favorite taco place too but he can't stand the idea of having to field questions as to why he's there alone. Those people know a lot more about them than they let on and the kid knows it. It's part of what made the place so cool. Fuck.]

Thanks for showin' me.

[He gives Larry a quick glance, honest but brief.]

Good.

[He's shifting in his booth seat. As comfortable as it is to be at the booth, in the same breathing space, he knows that it would be best to get a move on now. One flub is enough. The second could result in World War III.]

Just don't close the place out.

[Deadpan as though he believes it is in the realm of possibility. Ironclad guts and hollow legs would make it happen.]

You're welcome.

[Sifting through his wallet provides a distraction. He will pay his share. It feels so alien.]

Edited 2012-04-08 08:22 (UTC)

No way, I got self-control.

[Freddy counters and no it's not a knock against any flub that may or may not have transpired, but the kid doesn't clarify either. He's got his own wallet out to throw in his share. Yes, it feels weird on his end too, but what can he do about it that doesn't involve just rushing right back into Larry's arms like nothing fucking happened?]

Maybe I'll find a way to surprise you next time.

[The kid suggests. About food. Just food....]

[Self-control? Maybe. Larry has no words for that so he smiles just a little bit.]

You're welcome to try. I've been to plenty of establishments around here.

[With the kid. Without the kid. He's an eater, no kind of still slim. It has a trim desert fit that hasn't gone away just yet. Almost.]

You'll know where to find me if a place comes up.

[This is it. This is the see you later, near about goodbye. The old man misses him already.]

[He hasn't seen that trim desert fit form in over a week. How the fuck is Freddy supposed to live? Shit Newendyke that's exactly the kind of thinking that's going to keep things the way they are when you want some kind of change. Something he can't even define neatly for himself.]

I got your number.

[Freddy finally manages a natural smile, small sure, but large in its sincerity. He's up on his feet now, ready for the inevitable goodbye. No no, not goodbye. Don't say goodbye.]

Have a goodnight, okay?

I got yours.

[With one mailing address besides that. To his credit he doesn't sigh. Larry reaches out to pat him on the shoulder. That is the maximum of masculine touching. Last time was a kiss. You can't always get so lucky. Last time also had far more talking about where they stand, about feelings.]

You too, have a good one.

[Maybe alone.]

Thanks...

[Funny how they think on the same wavelength but translate the thought to words in different languages. The kid returns the pat to the old man's patting hand. No kiss, not here where people can see them, not because Freddy's ashamed but because that gesture is too special to share at a buffet. Especially when they won't be going home in the same direction.]

I'll see you around.

But I ain't no madman.

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