Then eventually after X amount of times, he's gonna be totally in love, know practically everything about Larry... who will think of him as a total stranger. D:

God, I am crying. YES. YES. YES.

Also I offer bonus points to anyone who makes the x-loops-later Commode Story snowball into something Aristocrats-level. ;D

BRILLIANCE. This must happen. PLEASE. SOMEONE. FILL. THIS.

OMG, please do. (I'd love to tackle it, but my plate is too full at the moment. I don't think you'd be stepping on any toes.)

As for a CYOA program, try Scrivener (http://www.lucreid.com/?p=3363), bb. It's really the most commenly mentioned program I'm aware of, though I've never used it...

“So what the hell is so important that you’re dragging me down here?”

Jodie rolled her eyes as she LITERALLY dragged Holdaway out of the elevator, rushing him through the hallway. “YOUR boy is in interrogation 3 with that Dimick guy writing a fucking soap opera! Thought you might want a front-row seat.”

“Newendyke?! Ah, hell…” THAT put some spring in the detective’s step.

They entered the adjacent observation room to find several officers already there. One older detective looked disgusted. Two uniforms were hooting and laughing like it was must-see TV. A female officer near the back just quietly watched, sipping her coffee with a sad face.

On the other side of the glass was Freddy Newendyke, Holdaway’s most recent protege - or as some people in Vice would’ve said, victim -, and Lawrence Dimick, one of several crooks they’d picked up for a diamond heist Holdaway had sent Newendyke in undercover on.

So when he heard Dimick shouting things like “I TRUSTED you, for Christ’s sake!” Holdaway wasn’t surprised. That shit was just part of the job.

The “So did the LAPD pay you extra to fuck me?” line that had the unis doubled over with laughter, however, was a bit more of a shock.

—

“Larry, please.” Freddy was begging, trying with all his might to keep the tears from spilling. “You have to listen to me. Just take the plea. Get out of here. You don’t deserve this.” Larry wouldn’t even look at him anymore. Freddy couldn’t understand. He was alive and well - they were BOTH alive, unscathed. But the image of Mr. Whi—Larry, sitting there in cuffs, refusing to meet his eyes, was more traumatic than anything else he’d seen. And he’d seen a LOT lately. “I really am so, so sorry,” he repeated, for about the 100th time. This time, at least.

His hand reached for Larry’s, shakily, then clenched into a fist at the last minute, pulling away before making any contact. “Fuck…”

-
“They’ve been talking like this for almost 20 minutes now,” Jodie explained.

“Newendyke was fucking sleeping with this guy?” Holdaway couldn’t wrap his head around it at all.

“Did you READ his reports?”

“Of course I fuckin read his reports! Didn’t see shit about THIS!” he hissed back.

“For a detective, you’re shit at reading between the lines,” the computer expert sighed. “You didn’t think it was weird he spent all his time with ‘Mr. White’ and couldn’t get a name or a mug shot to match him to?”

“’Weird’ and THIS are not the fuckin same!”

“Shut up over there! We’re tryin to watch the show!” one of the uniforms complained as his friend snickered.

-

“How’d you do it, kid?” The older man’s voice was nearly inaudible. “How’d you lie there, next to me, every night, how the fuck did you sleep?”

“Because it was next to YOU, Larry. You made me….” Freddy rubbed his face, trying to stay composed, for Larry’s sake if nothing else. “You made me forget about all of it. I love you SO MUCH Larry, you have no idea—”

“Bullshit.” The word hurt like a bullet to the gut — Freddy would know. “Less than a month, based ENTIRELY!” Larry’s fist punching the table made the young detective jolt a bit — “On a fucking LIE! …And you still have the nerve to say you love me?”

He’d told himself this before, that the fact Larry could even BE this angry at him was proof that he DID love him. It was never any comfort. “It wasn’t just a month for me,” Freddy murmured, squeezing his green eyes shut. The tears finally made a break for it and raced towards his chin. A few days ago, Larry would have kissed them away. A few weeks ago, he would’ve pulled out a handkerchief and wiped them away. Now, they went ignored, and the reminder of that loss made the salt trails burn like battery acid. “I wish I could explain everything to you, Larry. I really wish I could. But I don’t really get it, either.” He reached up and wiped his face with the back of his hand. “But I really do love you. And I really am sorry. I’m sorry I betrayed your trust. I’m sorry for hurting you. And I’m just sorry that YOU had to be the Larry I did this to…. But I had to know what would happen.”

-

“You drove another one nuts, Holdaway,” the older cop grumbled, shaking his head in disapproval. Jodie winced, anticipating an angry response from her boss, but none came.

Holdaway was starting to get the feeling that the guy was right.

-

Larry finally deigned to look over at the boy across the table, the stranger that had replaced the person he’d have died for 24 hours ago. “Kid, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Whaddya mean, you had to know what would HAPPEN?”

Freddy swallowed and gave a quick nod. “So I could figure out the right way to do this.” He let out a little, pained laugh. “Now, I know this isn’t it. So I guess this is goodbye. Maybe that’ll make you feel a little better.” He gave a weak, apologetic smile and stood.

Larry expected to be walked out on then and there. Instead, the young man that had been his pupil, his partner, his lover, for the better part of a month, reached into his jacket and pulled out a piece. “Wha— kid, what the fuck?!” He tried to stand, but the cuffs held him in place. “Kid!!”

—

“Holy shit,” Holdaway breathed, racing for the door. Even the 2 uniforms stopped laughing and moved to follow.

-

He was still crying, but the smile on Freddy’s face was the most calm, beatific expression Larry had ever seen him make. “Goodbye, Larry. I’ll see you again soon,” he whispered, raising the pistol to his mouth just as Holdaway burst into the room.

On the other side of the glass, Jodie and the other onlookers jumped as Freddy Newendyke’s brains splattered against the window, obscuring the view of a completely heartbroken Lawrence Dimick.

god, this is fantastic. can't wait to see more

Oh god, this is KILLING me. I can't even imagine the impotent fury that Larry must have been feeling in the first part, considering his established hatred of cops. And then the absolute agony of seeing Freddy kill himself in front of him. JUST HEARTBREAKING.

I love how the first chapter was like a stick of dynamite, and then the second chapter kind of settled down and grounded events with a point of reference from the film that we could all relate to. It was very calming... and very needed after the first part. Love the technique you're using, and can't wait to read more!

THIS IS BEAUTIFUL. And a great title, ahaha xD

It wasn't just Deja vu.

Freddy had figured out that much by the second time he finished unloading into Mr. Blonde. That fucking Stealer's Wheel song (he always hated that song) was still playing on the radio. The cop was whimpering off to his left. Freddy would've had more sympathy for his plight if he hadn't spent the last....Jesus Christ, how many hours was this? It was hard enough lifting his arm to hold the gun, he wasn’t gonna check his watch -- however long it was, it was enough time for his guts to paint half the loading ramp red.

"Look, it's gonna be alright," He lied. "I'm a cop." That part was true. He was starting to wish it was a lie, though.

The cop looked hurt, somehow. Not, 'ow, my fuckin ear!' hurt, but in the feelings. "I know. We've met before. Freddy... Freddy somethin, I know you."

...Oh, shit. "Right, I remember." He remembered forgetting. That's close, right?

"What's my name?"

Oh, what the fuck! "I, uh.... don't remember names too good," He told him, struggling to keep his head raised. How the fuck did he get blood this far up his shirt?

While Freddy was pondering the absorbency of dress shirts, Sensitive J. Beatcop gave him the stinkeye. It made him start to miss Mr. Blonde. He was shivering. There was more of his blood under him than inside him at this point, and fuck if he was gonna die listening to some whiny rookie get all high school on him. "Listen, all we gotta do is just wait. As soon as Joe Cabot walks in here, half the LAPD's gonna come raining down on this place. So I just need you to hold on--"

"Wait, they know KNOW about this place? They're WATCHING us?" When Freddy mustered up a nod, the cop lost his shit. "What the FUCK, man?! They let that son of a bitch torture me? Cut off my fuckin ear?? I'm fuckin DEFORMED, man!"

And there, sure enough, went Freddy's shit right out the fucking window too. "FUCK YOU! I'm fuckin DYING, you stupid, stupid fuck! Are YOU bleeding to death? Huh? Is all this--" he combed his fingers through the pool of blood under him, deep enough to splash-- "on the floor YOURS? Huh? NO! So FUCK YOU!" He had half a mind to use every last ounce of life in his body to scream at the ungrateful shit, right into his wide-open earhole. If he hadn't emptied his gun into that psycho, he might even've been tempted to spend it on fuckin' ...Ma.... Marshall? Murray? MARVIN!!!

Fuck you, Marvin, Freddy thought. He didn't even bother to tell him he remembered his name. He didn’t deserve it.

Just then, the door opened.

"...Holy shit..." Mr. Pink murmured as he found Blonde's body.

"Orange, you ok?!" Larry rushed over to the ramp. The sight of him made Freddy want to cry. "What happened?" He clutched the younger man's hand, not even giving a shit that the bleeding mess under him was the only one who could've shot Blonde. The 'kid' was the only thing in those brown eyes of his...

What a fucking waste, Freddy thought as he let himself lean into the older man’s touch, feeling him stroke his blood-matted hair. God, Larry..... Why couldn't he have been a piece of shit like Blonde, or just a creep like Pink or Brown? He had to be fucking LARRY.

And why the fuck did Freddy have to be himself?

"That's what I'd like to know," Eddie growled, marching towards them. "What the fuck is this?" He pointed angrily to where Mr. Pink was still gawking over his friend’s body.

As Freddy opened his mouth, He had another flash of something, like a memory.

("He was gonna pull a burn on you")
("You're telling me that now, that now this man is free, and we're making good on our commitment to him, he's just gonna decide, right out of the fuckin blue, to rip us off?")

He'd ignored that flash earlier, and it got him a bullet in the stomach and a dead woman lying somewhere on the road. Plan B. "He.... was gonna.... burn the whole fuckin place down," he choked. "Dumped gasoline all over the cop. Look… I could give a fuck what happens to him, but no fuckin way am I gettin lit up along with him." He looked up at Nice Guy Eddie, desperate. "I'm really sorry, man. He wouldn't listen.... I freaked out...he went for his gun, so I.... I'm sorry..."

"It's alright, kid," Larry said, moving to shield him from Eddie. "You hear this shit? I told you that guy was a goddamn psycho. What if the fuckin fire alarm went off?"

"There ain't any fucking alarms, White."

"Well, what if some good samaritan asshole called the fire department or somethin? There's houses right across the fuckin street, Eddie!"

Honestly, that part made Freddy kind of wish he'd let Marvin burn.

Even with the help of Mr. White’s defense, Eddie seemed about as impressed with this story as he had the other one. "So because MAYBE something MIGHTA happened, I'm supposed to just let the death of a guy that I knew since we were KIDS, I'm supposed to just let that fuckin' slide? Because Princess over here got worried? About THIS fuckin cop?" He aimed his gun at Marvin.


Suddenly, a wave of fear crept up on Freddy, completely different than the one he'd been adrift in since he was shot. Something about this was still too familiar. “Larry, we gotta go…” he whispered, tugging at Larry’s pantleg. When all he got back was a gentle “It’s gonna be ok, buddy boy,”he tugged harder. “Larry, please….”

"Wait!!!!" Marvin begged. "I'll tell you!! If I tell you, will you not shoot?" Gasoline and blood dripped down his chin. “Please, I got a kid…”

Eddie's expression didn't change one iota. "If you tell me what?"

“Larry, please, let’s get out of here…”
“Shhhh, relax, kid. Stop strainin yourself.”
“La-rry…” Freddy’s whimper was loud enough to have fucked both of them if Eddie hadn’t been distracted by Marvin’s offer.

"Who ratted you guys out!"

"You fuckin' know??" Mr. Pink, who had been hanging back until now, shouted. "What did I tell ya! I knew this shit was holdin out on us!" He pulled out his gun and moved to stand beside Eddie, like a 2-man firing squad.

Eddie narrowed his eyes at the cop. "You can tell us, and I'll CONSIDER not shooting you, which is still better than your situation 30 seconds ago. Best you’re gonna fuckin get."

“Alright.” That was good enough for Marvin, apparently. He turned his head towards the ramp, where Freddy was still struggling in Mr. White’s arms, begging to be let up. "That guy over there? HE’S your fuckin rat. He's a cop, too."

All Freddy Newendyke remembered after that was that a lot of bullets went off in that moment, and several of them ended up inside him.

OMG. That last line... NEXT CHAPTER CAN'T COME SOON ENOUGH. ;)

(Also, it breaks my heart that there are universes where they made love, and universes where things remained unconsummated. *sniff*)

SO excited! this is perfect! also: awwww Freddy :(:(

Days later, they were getting that taco - well, more like 6 tacos - who the hell eats 1 taco, he’d teased. They were parked off in some abandoned lot, bullshitting. Freddy made sure to laugh just a little more at Larry's jokes; turned his body a little more towards Larry's in the driver's seat. He honestly had no fucking clue how to flirt with a guy — he’d WANTED men but never actually had the balls to try, so he just tried to do the things that had always pissed him off when ex-girlfriends did it to other guys. He didn't have quite enough hair to do that fucking finger-twirl thing Jeanine was always doing, and no way was he gonna put on a skirt as short as Missy's -- or ANY skirt, dammit. Unless Mr. White asked really, really, pretty please with sugar on top nice.

Jesus Christ. He had it bad.

He hadn't planned it, but when the shell cracked in his grip and hemorrhaged greasy taco juice down his hand, it was fucking serendipity, is what it was. "Fuck," he muttered as he shoved the mess back into the bag, crinkling the paper as loud as possible to get Mr. White's attention. He turned his hand to catch the trail of liquid running between his knuckles and slowly, methodically, licked it away as inappropriately as possible.

He could feel Larry's stare on him while he continued to lick away the mess, sucking one finger after another into his mouth, the kind of way he'd kill his 17 year old daughter for if he caught her doing it. ...If he'd had a 17 year old daughter.

Holy shit, he had the flirting technique of a teenage girl. No wonder no one believed he was pushing 30.

"I, uh, got napkins if you want 'em," Mr. White offered, a bit of strain in his voice. Freddy made an "uh-uh" noise as he continued licking his fingers clean, looking over at him innocently, a “no thank you” smile curling around his thumb.

If he'd only known Larry for the few days he was supposed to know him right now, he might not have noticed it, but there were definitely some cracks showing in that professional veneer. Larry shook his head, going for the 'you damn kids' thing, apparently. "Kid, sometimes I don't know what the hell I'm gonna do with you," he said, watching Freddy with a sort of fond disbelief.

Well, that was a setup that Freddy couldn’t resist. He reached over (with the non-taco-y hand) to touch Larry’s arm, slowly tracing over the panther inked there, down to cover his hand on the steering wheel. He gave it a soft squeeze, then looked up at him. "I could make some suggestions, if you want.” Yeah, it sounded like a bad line from a porno. Wasn't like he had a writer's room.

Larry looked away. He didn't move his arm, though, and Freddy knew it'd be nothing for a guy strong as him to fight him off. "Kid, stop jokin around. It ain't funny."

"That's cause it ain't a joke.” He gently pulled Larry’s hand from the wheel and wrapped both his hands around it. The older man didn’t resist. "Look, if I'm reading things wrong - I don't think I am, but IF - I'm sorry. But I think I'm right."

"About what?" Larry asked the steering wheel.

"About you wanting me as much as I want you," Freddy turned to kiss Larry's hand, still clutched in his. He looked back up at him, rubbing little circles on the thick, strong wrist below his thumb. "And right now? I want you really, really fucking bad." It was the understatement of a lifetime. Mentally, he kicked himself for letting his voice crack just a tiny bit at the end.

At least he finally had Larry’s attention now, albeit not exactly the kind he wanted. "....You're not worried I'll tell Joe?" he asked, sad brown eyes flitting between their hands and Freddy’s eyes.

He made a dismissive "pssh" sound, nuzzling Larry's wrist. "I trust you too much."

There was a flicker of something in Larry’s expression that Freddy couldn’t decide whether he wanted to see it forever, or never again. "You really trust me?"

More flashes went through Freddy's mind as he slowly dragged his lower lip over the heel of Larry's hand, coaxing it open to wrap around his cheek. He could feel that same hand on his back, warm and protective, guiding him, still holding the .45 that murdered a fellow cop. That same hand, slippery with Freddy's blood, clutching his in the car, begging him to hold on. Gently cradling his head, then just as gently pulling that .45 up to his jaw...

He swallowed. "With my life," he said, in complete honesty.

In the next moment, his world was nothing but the smell of Chesterfields and Old Spice, and the feel of Larry's mouth on his. Freddy groaned, eagerly returning the kiss. Both of them were panting through their noses, louder and louder and oh god, there came Larry's tongue, and a strong, calloused hand tugging in his hair, and oh fuck yes this is exactly what---

"Fags!!!"

—they didn’t need right now.

The taunt of a random skater kid passing by had Larry shoving Freddy away like he was a hot potato. If he hadn't been undercover, he would've chased that fucker and hit him with as many tickets as he could pin on him. He looked back over at the older man, who was staring at him wide-eyed, with surprise and something else.

Something that looked a fuck of a lot like... longing.

"Alright. Tell me that you didn't feel anything just now, and I'll drop it," Freddy murmured, still catching his breath. "But I don't think you want that."

"You think too much, Kid." Larry was staring at the windshield again, his shoulders slumped as if he were already giving up. He reached over with unsteady fingers to turn up the radio, and the sounds of Isaac Hayes singing “Never Can Say Goodbye” filled the car. “I always liked this song,” Larry murmured, gazing into the distance.

It didn’t matter that he’d flunked the detective’s exam, Freddy got it. Changing the subject without changing the subject. “I thought this was a Michael Jackson song,” he said, just to keep the ball rolling.

Though I try and try to hide my feelings
They always seem to show
And then you try to say you're leaving me
And I always have to say no...

Larry nodded. “Jackson 5. That was the original. Whole buncha people covered it back then. But I always liked this one the best.” There was the slightest flick of his eyes towards Freddy. “Michael Jackson, sure he was a great singer even then, but he was, what? Eleven?”

“I was about 10,” Freddy murmured, remembering vaguely.

“Yeah, well I was 32,” Larry said grimly, missing the younger man’s apologetic wince. “This version, this here is the voice of a MAN, a grown man who really knows what he’s singin about. He’s got that pain in his voice that a boy doesn’t have.”

“…Don’t have to be very old to fall in love.”

Larry let out a soft, but bitter, laugh. “That’s what everybody thinks when they’re young. Romeo and Juliet and all that crap. Ain’t the same.” He squeezed the steering wheel.

Every time I think I had enough
I start heading for the door
There's a very strange vibration
Piercing me right to the core

Freddy took a few moments to roll it all around in his brain. Just sitting there, watching Larry listen to the radio, and wishing he had a memory of being wrapped in that man’s arms when he WASN’T bleeding to death.

It says turn around you fool
You know you lov—

"...I'm not really married, y'know,” he piped up.

"Pssh! I fuckin' hope not, if you're pullin this shit."

Freddy ran his fingers through his hair, wishing he hadn't finished off his last cigarette 10 minutes ago. He needed SOMETHING to do with his hands, his mouth, that didn’t involve Larry. "I'm serious. I don’t got a wife, girlfriend, whatever. There’s nobody else." Just the ‘else’ was practically a whisper, the connotations scaring Freddy before the word even escaped his mouth.

"What, so just cause you ain't a cheater, I'm supposed to take it in the ass?"

The half-joking way Larry said it, it was probably a last chance to back out. Freddy didn’t take it. "No...I was, uh, kind of hoping that you’d do it to me," he murmured, shifting in his seat.

He finally got Larry to look his way with that one. "You're SERIOUS.”

"You felt pretty damn serious too, a minute ago." He gave the other man's lap a pointed look. "You gonna tell me that was a burrito in your pocket?"

Now it was Larry's turn for uncomfortable shifting. “What the hell do you want with an old fart like me, anyway?”

Freddy blinked at him, almost laughing at how insane that question felt to him. “Are YOU serious?” Tentatively, he reached to touch the other man’s shoulder, gently squeezing the tense muscle underneath. “Come on, Mr. White. I’ve never done this before, but there is SOMETHING,” he squeezed again for emphasis - “goin on here. I know you feel it, too. We’re still professionals, right? It’s not like anyone has to know.” He let his fingers slide over Larry’s clavicle, his neck, up to his face. “Please,” he begged, before leaning further and gently bringing them into another, more chaste, kiss.

Just then, the familiar monotone of the K-Billy DJ interrupted. "And welcome back to K-BILLY’s Super Sounds of the Seventies. Next up is Meat Loaf's 1977 classic from the album Bat Out of Hell, 'Paradise by the Dashboard Light,' featuring Ellen Foley."

The song choice had them both laughing against each other’s lips.

"Holy shit, if I didn't know better I'd think someone was pranking us," Freddy shook his head. “How perfect is that?

"Yeah, well, I am NOT singing the girl parts," Larry said, trying his best to un-curl the sides of his mouth. "Those are all yours, kid."

"Ha! What, you wanna be Meat Loaf? Like that's any better than bein a chick? It's a no-win scenario. It's the fuckin' Kobayashi Maru."

"The Kobee-yashee-what now?"

"The Kobayashi Maru!" Freddy's frantic jazz hands did nothing to shed light on the subject.

"Was that another one of them oriental chicks in Joe's address book?"

"From Star Trek? The final exam every Starfleet cadet has to take?" Was this how the other guys had felt when he thought Ann Francis was black?

Instead of giving him that shrug that so many people had given Freddy before, Larry just looked amused. "Sorry. You're speakin Greek to me now."

"Come ON! You're totally old enough to have watched that shit when it was on TV!"

"Fuck you too, kid." He was full-on smiling now. "So what the hell does this Kobe-beef-whatever have to do with anything?"

Freddy suddenly had a look on his face like a mechanic from the 1950s explaining what a carburetor was to a housewife. "Alright, it's a simulation, ok? The cadet has to, like, play the captain of a starship. They're patrolling the Federation/Klingon Neutral Zone--"

Larry squinted. "The fuck is a Klingon?"

"Oh my God. Ok, you know, like, the DMZ in Korea? The Neutral Zone's like that, in space. The Klingons are the fuckin space commies or whatever. Point is, you do NOT fuckin go in the Neutral Zone unless you wanna start some shit." Freddy was a tornado of spindly limbs now, like the time he got kicked out of the comic book shop for explaining exactly why, publishing order be damned, Elongated Man and Plastic Man could both suck Mr. Fantastic's stretchy rubber dick. (Not that he ever thought about that kind of thing.)

But somehow, miracle of miracles, Larry seemed to find his full-on spazz mode endearing, if that crinkling at his eyes was any clue. "OK, and?"

"AND, so there's this distress call comin' from just inside the Neutral Zone. Some civilian ship - the Kobayashi Maru - is gonna explode, and the cadet is the only one in range to save them in time, right? But if they go in, they break the fuckin' treaty, every Klingon ship in the quadrant is gonna be swarming their asses, probably gonna start a war on top of things AND they're gonna die. So basically there's no way to win."

"So what's the point?" Either Larry was a good conman or somehow he was actually interested in this shit. Fuck, could he BE more perfect?

"Well, that's just it. There's no way to win, so the way you LOSE is the test. They said it in Wrath of Khan, 'How we face death is at least as important as how we face life.' Deep shit, man." They exchanged solemn nods, before Freddy's nerd-motor caught a second wind. "So that's that. Right? You ignore the call and let the poor bastards die, you’re alive, but you lose and you're a stone-cold motherfucker. You go in and try to pick up the civvies and escape, you got heart, but you're also an asshole for risking your crew and intergalactic peace over some random space truckers. You try to fight your way out, you're a crazy sonnuvabitch, AND you're still a loser. The only one who ever beat the thing was Captain Kirk."

"Ahhh. Finally, a fuckin' name I know. So how'd he win if there's no way to win?"

"He cheated." Freddy grinned.

Larry snorted. "Never saw much Star Trek, but I always knew that guy was alright."

Freddy nodded. "Yeah. ....So, are we going to your place or mine?" He shrugged Larry's raised eyebrows. "Look, you don't even know what a Klingon is and I STILL want you. That's a lot comin from me."

"Kid, you are out of your goddamn mind." Larry started up the car. "...we're going to my place."

Freddy just grinned wider and drummed his fingers on the door, singing along to the 'oooh sha sha a-wooo sha sha's as the song continued.

Baby doncha hear my heart
You got it drowning out the radio
I've been waiting so long
For you to come along and have some fun
And I gotta let you know
No you're never gonna regret it

He was pleasantly surprised when Larry gave up and joined in -

So open up your eyes I got a big surprise
It'll feel all right
Well I wanna make your motor run

“Theeeeeeere we go,” Freddy grinned, flipping a quick middle finger out the window as they passed the skater kid again, before bursting into all-out air-drumming on his lap.

And now our bodies are, oh, so close and tight
It never felt so good, it never felt so right

The worry in Larry's eyes had given way to the same wicked, playful gleam that had made Freddy fall so hard in the first place. He wasn't the greatest singer, but somehow watching his profile as the sun began to set was enough to make the young policeman forget that by the end of the month, he'd probably have one of this man's bullets lodged inside his skull again.

And when he felt the hand on his left knee, he knew it was worth it. He put his own hand over it, working his longer, paler fingers between Larry's.

And we're glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife
Glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife
C'mon, hold on tight
Oh, c'mon, hold on tight

"Here it comes," he laughed, squeezing the older man's hand and nearly whooping with joy when he felt a squeeze back. They both took a deep breath, and then belted out:

Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night
I can see paradise by the dashboard light

By the time the song got to the "we're gonna go all the way tonight" part, they were both earning weird looks from other drivers and loving every minute of it.

Freddy still didn't know how to save space truckers from the Neutral Zone, but at least they'd found the answer to the musical Kobayashi Maru.

Do it together, as loud and off-key as possible, and who gives a fuck what anyone else thinks.