They sat in silence for a while and then a voice came drifting over from across the room. “Larry?” the voice said, “Larry Dimmick?” Freddy looked up and there was this kid in a track suit shaking White’s hand and asking him when he got back into town. The one on one time had ended and instead they both got sucked into the back room, by the pool tables and became part of the loud, occasionally roaring, party.
White tried to introduce him but everyone was talking at once; this is Joe, and this is Eddie, and this is Vic. It was too many comic book names for Freddy to remember and he was starting to wonder if he even should. He shook hands with some big, bald motherfucker sitting in the corner and that seemed to be enough introduction for the celebration to resume.
Someone, not White, brought Freddy a Jack and coke with the next round and Freddy drank it down fast but it didn’t help any. A bunch of these guys knew White who they called Larry and they all knew each other at least a little. They bitched and hassled each other a lot like the guys down at the station. When the conversation got going, White draped his arm along the back of Freddy’s chair. Freddy leaned back into it, just a little, so that he could feel the warm solidity against his back. And just like, they closed the place.
It was two in the morning when they all filed out into the parking lot. Freddy slapped his hands against his arms and cursed, looking around. “You got a place to stay tonight?” White asked.
Freddy felt a little stab of guilt and turned away. “I’m fine, man.”
“The hell you are,” White said. “You didn’t make any money tonight and it’s all my fault. Let me help you out.”
Freddy let him. White held open Freddy’s door and shut it behind him. The guilt stabbed worse. Freddy put his head against the cold glass of the car window. He wished, suddenly and intensely, that the bench front seat would make a comeback because he wanted to lie down and put his head in White’s lap. Not like that, but looking up at White’s face while he drove and maybe White would put his hand on Freddy’s neck and he’d feel good again or at least in control of things.
“You okay kid?” White asked as he started the car.
Re: Orange/White: Rent Boy AU Fill 4/6
White tried to introduce him but everyone was talking at once; this is Joe, and this is Eddie, and this is Vic. It was too many comic book names for Freddy to remember and he was starting to wonder if he even should. He shook hands with some big, bald motherfucker sitting in the corner and that seemed to be enough introduction for the celebration to resume.
Someone, not White, brought Freddy a Jack and coke with the next round and Freddy drank it down fast but it didn’t help any. A bunch of these guys knew White who they called Larry and they all knew each other at least a little. They bitched and hassled each other a lot like the guys down at the station. When the conversation got going, White draped his arm along the back of Freddy’s chair. Freddy leaned back into it, just a little, so that he could feel the warm solidity against his back. And just like, they closed the place.
It was two in the morning when they all filed out into the parking lot. Freddy slapped his hands against his arms and cursed, looking around.
“You got a place to stay tonight?” White asked.
Freddy felt a little stab of guilt and turned away. “I’m fine, man.”
“The hell you are,” White said. “You didn’t make any money tonight and it’s all my fault. Let me help you out.”
Freddy let him. White held open Freddy’s door and shut it behind him. The guilt stabbed worse. Freddy put his head against the cold glass of the car window. He wished, suddenly and intensely, that the bench front seat would make a comeback because he wanted to lie down and put his head in White’s lap. Not like that, but looking up at White’s face while he drove and maybe White would put his hand on Freddy’s neck and he’d feel good again or at least in control of things.
“You okay kid?” White asked as he started the car.
“Don’t worry about me.”
“Let’s get you a place to crash, huh?”