whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

Jesus fucking Christ. It's my back, not yours.

[Head rubbing right now, like it's a sympathetic pain.]

Just stop, it okay. Its hard to do shit sometimes. It happens. Fuck, not like I never told you I had problems.

[Except it hadn't been bad like this in a long while.]

[Pointing again. At least he's still sitting on the floor next to him.]

You've never gone to the doctor for your damn back. Maybe it's time you did, Larry.

[Oh. Great. Now the guy is all worked up about it. Larry has good sense not to roll his eyes but he cannot mask his frustration in his tone.]

It's going to go away, okay. always does. Just one bad day. Fuck.

Bad enough I gotta come home to you lyin' on the floor. Bad enough you don't even want to fuck.

[Yes. Not wanting to fuck is one of the clearest indicators of something being not right for Freddy Newendyke.]

You just came home. I haven't even been here five minutes.

[Lie. A Mr. White lie. He doesn't want to be here laying on the floor, he doesn't want to turn down a chance to fuck around.]

Don't fucking put words in my mouth, okay? I do wanna fuck just--not right now. What's the rush? Gotta flight to catch?

You don't look like you've been there for only five minutes. [Freddy counters, arms folding across his chest now.] No, I thought we'd play another game. Maybe just me and you.

[Not trying to guilt trip or anything.]

[What is he like not fresh or something. Pft. Brown eyes look at him.]

We can. Just not now. Stop busting my balls. Fuck, it hurts. I just wanna be here awhile.

[It hurts. It makes him cranky. It makes him talk crankily.]

But you don't think it hurts enough to go to a doctor. I don't fuckin' get you. You won't even let me touch it.

[Make that two cranky men.]

I don't want you to sit on me. I didn't say don't touch me.

[Don't glare. Don't glare. Aughgugh. He tries at sitting up again. Not going so hot so he rolls onto his side.]

I'll suck you off if that's what you want so fucking bad.

No. I don't want it anymore.

[And isn't that a big indicator of Freddy's mood.] You act like it's no big deal but you're flippin' your fuckin' shit over it. You don't want to go to a doctor but you don't want to get up. Jesus which is it?

[Up and off the floor now to go to the kitchen for his smokes and maybe a beer.]

You're pissed like I can control how my goddamn body chooses to be.

[Working on getting up. Slowly. It doesn't feel pleasant. Maybe he'll sit. That could be something to try.]

I can't. You know that, right?

[Grunting, even though he's trying to keep it down.]

What's a doc gonna say? Yep. Don't look good. Take a shower. Relax. Something like that. I don't need to pay big money for that. You---you're the one all-all worked up about it.

[Sitting in his chair. That's it.]

Get over here and talk to me.

I didn't say that. I'm pissed cause you don't want me to help you, like I can't do anything for you.

[Waving his unopened beer at the old man...from the kitchen still. At least he's looking at Larry.]

[Looking is good and all but it's not listening. If he were listening the old man figures he would cut him some slack and already be sitting closer.]

You wanna give it a try? Fine.

[Because that really solves anything.]

Just don't sit on me.

[Which would require Freddy to come closer.]

[What? Put on the spot the kid has to admit he doesn't know a thing about fixing back problems. The point was that Larry wasn't even giving him a chance when he so desperately wants to believe he's all the old man needs. Now he's on the spot and Freddy doesn't think he can make the cut.]

Just go back to laying down. You can take care of yourself.

Wait? What the fuck?

[Grumbling he shoves off on the chair, toes pointed to the kitchen.]

You come in here, ready to jump my bones. Get pissed off that I tell you know. Flip your shit when I tell you I'm experiencing a set back then--[vague gesture.]

It don't happen all the time. Happens now and then, the last time it wasn't so bad.

[...because he wasn't one whole year and heist older. That thought hits him between the eyes. And aging, getting older has got nothing to do with Freddy. Oh God. Is that what he's thinking?]

I'm not no feeble old man.

I didn't say that either.

[That he's a feeble old man. But he just wanted to help, because one day he is going to be an old man and Freddy will still be a good twenty-something years younger.]

I didn't say you're a feeble old man.

[Freddy repeats, finally cracking his beer open.] Just forget about it, Larry.

No. [Because it's started. And if they don't finish things it may drag on for days.] You wanted somethin' else then?

[Not sex. Closer to the kitchen he goes. It's not a smooth typical stride. Working on it. He twists some and there's a crunch. It feels better than it sounds.]

Jesus Larry I can hear it from here.

[A gesture to the old man's not so swaggerly swagger. Also he's not answering that question. Yet.]

[And he's got one paw on the counter top, leaning just so.]

Then lemme talk real, real fucking low. What else did you want?

[Because whatever it is, he's shy or unsure.]

[Freddy leans back just barely. He's not going to back down but when Larry gets like this well it just makes a man want to shrink a little.]

I--I want to help. I don't wanna be useless if you're hurtin', if you're gonna be hurtin' like that. [As he gets older. Ugh Newendyke don't even think that way who knows if this is going to be long term to begin with.]

[The lean and the delivery are things he didn't see coming. Its not a flinch, just a lean. Enough to sting.]

I didn't say you're useless! And it's only right now! Did you even listen? Probably just-just one day kind of bullshit. We don't need no doctor or big ol' fuss about it.

[Okay he lied about talking low.]

Why in the flying fuck do you think you're useless?

[The kid steps out around the counter now, from shrinking to getting mad in a split second.]

Because you won't let me take you to one! If it ain't no big fuss then it shouldn't be a big fuckin' deal to go! So fuckin' sue me I don't know whatever the fuck it is you're goin' through.

[There. He said it. Implied it. It's not just a back problem to Larry either, at least Freddy doesn't think so, or else a quick check up would be no big deal.]

You think I didn't see after you got off the field last time? I live with you. I fuckin' pay attention. [It's not quite the same as listening though. Freddy's doing his best to keep his other concern out of this, facing their age difference because again...who knows if he'll still be with Lawrence Dimick when he's his age.]

[He was trying to hide it, trying to keep up with everyone isn't the easiest. Going to the doctors would mean that there's a big problem. It'd also mean that they should accept that he may have a few physical limitations. Huff and puff.

That thing you wanted to avoid, Freddy well....]

Y'don't fucking get it so lemme tell you. You got an old piece of shit in the game and he feels like an old piece of shit. Are you happy now? I don't want some quack to go on and tell me what I can and can't do because of my goddamn age. Can you fucking gimme a chance to relax a bit, recover and then go again?

[Paws spread like he's waiting to physically catch the answer.]

I wanna enjoy it all while it lasts.

[He doesn't know where to fucking begin with this one. He really doesn't. And he's scared. Freddy shakes his head.]

You're right I don't fuckin' get it. Maybe if I was older I would, so just forget it. Sit back, relax, do whatever the fuck you want, Larry.

[This kid is heading for the door with his beer and cigarette.]

[That's the problem with lashing out. You do it out of instinct and when you get shit back, you forget what you expected reacting. Larry huffs.]

Where are you going?

[And more importantly, when will he get back.]

(no subject)

orangetoughguy - 2011-12-09 08:51 (UTC) - Expand