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This Isn't Me: Reservoir Dogs Fic

Author: Bitterfig
Title: This Isn’t Me
Fandom: Reservoir Dogs
Pairing: Orange/White (references to past Mr. White/Alabama)
Summary: I’ll turn 54 in a couple of months. By the time you get to my age you have a pretty good idea of who and what you are. This isn’t me.
Beta Reader: Fedink
Word Count: 2308
Rating: R
Warnings: Language, sexual situations.
Author’s Note: Written for lgbtfest  prompt #629: Mr. White/Larry Dimick. Mr. White is a man's man so why does he find himself attracted to a punk kid such as Mr. Orange?
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. Any illegal acts taking place within that fiction are NOT condoned by the author. Depictions of any questionable, illegal, or potentially illegal activity in said fiction does not mean that I condone, promote, support, participate in, or approve of said activity. I grasp the distinction between fiction and reality and trust that readers will do the same. I do not profit from the fan fiction I write, and all rights to the characters remain firmly in the hands of their creator.




This Isn’t Me

 

 

I’ll turn 54 in a couple of months.  By the time you get to my age you have a pretty good idea of who and what you are. 

 

This isn’t me. 

 

I’ve always spent most of my time with the guys – at work, in the army, in prison, and just hanging around drinking beers bullshitting.  The guys were always a big part of my life, maybe the biggest part.  Sex, romance, whatever you want to call it, that was something different.  They were two separate parts of me, like crime and honor, that were nothing to do with each other. 

 

So why are the lines blurring all of a sudden?

 

*****

 

Joe wants me to check out this new guy he’s thinking of maybe using on the jewelry store heist, some kid recommended by Longbeach Mike. 

 

“Mike’s a sort of a shifty character,” Joe says.  “You never can tell what you’re gonna get with him and since you’ve gotta work with this guy, I want you to take a look see at him before I bring him in.”

 

“Sure thing, Joe.”  

 

I meet them at Smoky Pete’s, a bar Joe likes.  Joe and his kid Eddie are sitting in a booth when I get there.

 

“So where’s our boy?”  I ask. 

 

“He’s getting some brews,” Eddie says.

 

“Yeah?” I say, real casual.  “Guess I’ll go and give him a hand.”

 

What I really want to do is get a look at this guy when he doesn’t know he’s being watched, get an idea of what he’s like when he’s not on show.   You can’t be too careful, I’ve learned the hard way.  The first job I was in on after things ended between me and my ladyfriend Alabama turned into a fucking mess.  Somewhere along the way somebody wasn’t paranoid enough and let an undercover cop in.  He got spotted eventually but it turned out being a big waste of time and money, not to mention lives.   Since then, I tend to err on the side of paranoia. 

 

I spot Longbeach Mike’s boy no problem.  In an hour, the place will be hopping but right now it’s still early and he’s the only one waiting at the bar. 

 

He’s a young guy, not more than twenty-three or twenty-four I’d guess.  He’s got floppy hair like some sort of a surfer dude but he’s no surfer, way too pale.  There’s a tension to the way he holds himself that I don’t like, a coiled energy like a watch spring that’s wound too tight.  Not a good quality to have in this line of work. 

 

Then I notice that his lips are moving, like he’s saying something, repeating something to himself over and over again. 

 

And I know I ought to think it’s weird, that he’s weird, and that this is a red flag and that he’s not the guy we want for this job but instead I think of Alabama.  The way she used to talk to Clarence, her late husband.  She’d just walk around, talking low.  They Call Her One Eye was on the late show last night, baby.  I thought of you.  I remember how you liked to watch it so much after you got your eye shot out that time…” Stuff like that. 

 

I wonder who he’s talking to.

 

Josie, the bartender, sets the drinks down in front of him. 

 

“Let me give you a hand with those,” I say.

 

He turns towards me. 

 

He’s got pale blue eyes, open wide cuz I’ve caught him off guard, just like I meant to.  There’s something about those eyes that makes him look so young it’s painful. Not something that’s there, something that’s missing.  Some essential thing that makes an adult, that makes a man a man and not a boy.  Maybe it’s all in my head but it seems to me like he’s looking to me for that missing thing, whatever it is. 

 

“Are you Mr. Cabot’s friend?”  He finally says.  Him calling Joe Mr. Cabot makes me feel a hundred years old but I sort of like it at the same time, it seems deferential, respectful. 

 

“That’s me,” I say.  “I’d introduce myself but Joe said no names.”

 

*****

 

He’s a queer one, this kid.  Half the time he’s so quiet you almost forget he’s there but he’s watching and absorbing with the eager intensity of a school kid.  The rest of the time he’s over the top verbose, talking a mile a minute, animated almost to the point of being hyperactive. 

 

He’s iffy for the job but for some reason, I want him on it. 

 

“What do you think?”  Joe asks me later when we’ve got a minute alone. 

 

“I think he’s a keeper.”

 

“You don’t think he’s a little off?” 

 

“A little but overall I got a good feeling.” 

 

Joe claps me on the shoulder.

 

“That’s what I’m looking for,” he says. 

 

Eddie brought the kid to Smoky Pete’s; I offer to give him a ride home. 

 

He’s quiet during the drive.  I can tell he’s tired, that he’s exhausted himself trying to make a good impression. 

 

I stop the car in front of his place.

 

“You did fine tonight, kid,” I tell him.  “And you’re gonna do fine on this job.  The stakes might be a little higher than what you’re used to, but you got nothing to worry about.  If you want, I’ll help you out.  Walk you through things; keep an eye out for you the whole time.”

 

“You’d really do that?”  He sounds amazed that someone would do something for him.  That makes me kind of sad.

 

“Sure.”

 

“Thanks,” he says.  “And thanks for laughing at my story.”

 

“It was a funny story.”

 

“Not that funny.”  I feel his hand on my thigh.  “You want to come inside?”

 

“What are you doing?”  I ask.

 

“Ain’t it obvious?” 

 

I go to push his hand away but somehow I end up taking it in mine.  Our fingers wrap around each other.  I should be punching his lights out instead I’m holding his hand. 

 

“You know who you remind me of?”  He says it low, drawing close.  “Clint Eastwood.  I always thought Clint Eastwood was the coolest motherfucker on the planet.”

 

“You got it all wrong, kid,” I tell him.  “I’m not like that, I’m not that way.  I don’t go for guys.” 

 

“Yeah?  You could have fooled me.” 

 

“Meaning what?”

 

“Meaning you been looking at me like you wanted to eat me up for the last five hours.”

 

“I’m not gonna argue with you.  I know what goes on in my head a hell of a lot better than you do, buddy boy.  You got it wrong, end of story.”

 

He shrugs.  “If you say so.  Look, thanks for the ride.  Sorry about the misunderstanding.”  He starts to get out of the car. 

 

I don’t want that.  I don’t want him to go. 

 

I put my hand on his arm.  He looks skinny but I can feel the hardness of his muscles through his shirt. 

 

Maybe that’s what I’m thinking of when I say; “Hey, there’s no need for hard feelings.  I’m not gonna say anything about it to Joe.  I mean, you seem like a good enough kid.  I like you, but not like you’re thinking.   I know this is your first big job and I’d like to help you out, show you the ropes.”

 

He looks at me intently, nods. 

 

“I get it,” he says.  “Take your time.”

 

“It’s not like that,” I say again.  “I feel towards you in a fatherly way, that’s all.”

 

“Whatever you say, daddy,” he says.  Then he smiles, coy, maybe a little trashy.  He doesn’t believe a word I just said. 

 

Hell, I don’t know if I believe it myself anymore. 

 

*****

 

The next day Joe brings the whole gang together for the first time, goes over the particulars of the job, and gives us names.  I’m White.  White seems old to me but I don’t complain, there are plenty of others doing that. 

 

The kid, who’s now called Orange, is in schoolboy mode at the meeting, watching, listening, soaking up everything.  I’d say he’s on his good behavior except he shows up dressed like some kind of a rough trade hustler. 

 

I suspect it’s for my benefit.  If so I guess it works because I can’t take my eyes off him. 

 

God damn it.

 

I know I ought to steer clear, stay away from him till the job’s finished and get on with my life but the thing is I really want to be around him. 

When I ask if he wants to come with me when I go case the jewelry store we’ll be robbing I expect him to smirk like he did the night before.  Instead he beams like I’ve asked him out. 

 

Which only makes me like him more. 

 

So we check out the jewelry store.  Both of us act like everything is normal, like we’re just a couple of ordinary guys taking a look around, like we’re not crooks coming back to rob the place.  This is what I’m used to doing; this is what I’m good at.  I pretend I don’t feel the electricity between us, that I don’t want to pin him to the car seat and make him writhe. 

 

I play the old hand and impart my wisdom.  The one thing I don’t tell him is that 90% of being a criminal has nothing to do with committing crimes.  It’s all about keeping your mouth shut and pretending you don’t know what you know damn well. 

 

We get tacos.  I drop him off at his place.

 

I drive away.

 

*****

 

I drive for hours.

 

This isn’t me.  This isn’t who I am.  I’m not sexually attracted to other men.  I’m not falling for some punk kid. 

 

I could be his father.

 

I had a kid once, a little girl named Marianne.  I never knew her.  I was doing a two-year sentence back in Wisconsin when she was born.  Her mother divorced me while I was still inside.  It was fine by me.  I didn’t much like having a wife.  Having a wife and kid really would have cramped my style. 

 

I never really thought much about Marianne.   

 

About four years ago my ex-wife got in touch with me.  She wanted me to know that Marianne was dead, that she’d been killed in a car accident.  She was seventeen when it happened.  If she had lived, she’d be twenty-one.

 

After that, I thought about Marianne.

 

I never really had her to begin with, but for some reason losing her shook me.  Really shook me.  Maybe that’s when I started getting drawn to all these troubled young things.

 

I think of Alabama, the way she’d hid her sad, sad eyes behind movie star shades.  For two years I tried my hardest to make that sadness go away but I never could.  I think of Orange, looking to me like I’ve got something he needs.  Maybe it’s not so crazy that he of all people should get under my skin. 

 

Maybe it had to do with Marianne dying, maybe it had to do with turning fifty, maybe it was a combination of both but three or four years ago my whole life turned around.  It was like I stopped being myself and changed into someone else.  I’d spent the better part of half a century making damned sure that no one had a hold on me, that I was accountable to no one, that there was nobody depending on me.  I left more women than I can count because they wanted to tie me down.  Then a girl I never even knew dies in a car accident halfway across the country and suddenly I’m wondering what my legacy is and who I’ll pass it on to. 

 

I start falling in love with the ones who seem to need me the most. 

 

Or maybe it’s the ones who actually believe I’ve got something to give them.

 

*****

 

 

I go back to his apartment.  It’s three in the morning but he opens the door on the first knock, like he’s been waiting for me.  He opens his mouth to say something and I kiss him, hard.  Kiss him all the way across the room till his backs against the wall.  I’ve never kissed a guy before.  Only time I’ve ever been this close to another guy has been getting in a fight and this feels like it might turn into that because that’s how confused I am but he’s kissing me back and that doesn’t feel so different than kissing Alabama, or my first wife or any of the other ones I’ve loved over the years.

 

“What do you want from me?”  I ask him, like this is something he’s doing to me and not something I’ve been doing to myself.

 

“I want you to do what you’re doing,” he says.  “I want you to take charge.”

 

Take charge?  It feels like losing control.  It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and one of the easiest, making love to this nameless kid. 

 

I wake up sometime before dawn.  He lies still beside me but he’s not sleeping.  His eyes are open and he’s staring at the ceiling.  I wonder what’s going on inside his head, if this is something he’s done a hundred times before or if it took him by surprise like it did me.  I wonder what he was saying to himself the other night at Smoky Pete’s when I caught him off guard.  If he was talking to someone the way Alabama used to or if he was talking to himself. 

 

I wonder who he is.  I wonder who he thinks he is.

 

I wonder the same damn thing about myself. 

Comments

( 22 comments — Leave a comment )
life_of_amesu
May. 26th, 2008 05:44 pm (UTC)
beautiful. This story was great, I loved it. Poor White, so confused! *pets*
Keep it up, I enjoyed this so much. ^_^ *can't write good comments*
bitterfic
May. 26th, 2008 11:58 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much.
nice_faces
May. 26th, 2008 11:55 pm (UTC)
“Whatever you say, daddy,” he says. Then he smiles, coy, maybe a little trashy. He doesn’t believe a word I just said.

Oh my! *loves*
bitterfic
May. 26th, 2008 11:58 pm (UTC)
Someday, someday I will find the nerve to write the full-on Orange/White daddy/boy PWP story that's been languishing in my mind for so long.
nice_faces
May. 27th, 2008 04:36 am (UTC)
Haha, oh please! I feel like a perv for thinking that kink would be great... *hides*
roboplege
Mar. 16th, 2009 05:01 pm (UTC)
I know this is almost a year late, but please do write that *also hides*

All your RD stuff is brilliant :)

bitterfic
Mar. 17th, 2009 10:58 pm (UTC)
Thanks so much. It's still an idea I'm pondering. Maybe I'll write it someday...
hecates_wings
May. 27th, 2008 12:48 am (UTC)
This was seriously the best Orange/White I've read in a reeaaally long time. You captured White perfectly, and Orange too. Seriously. So good.
bitterfic
May. 27th, 2008 02:21 pm (UTC)
Thanks so much, I'm really pleased to know you liked it.
(Deleted comment)
bitterfic
May. 28th, 2008 03:55 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much, I'm so glad you liked it.
(Deleted comment)
bitterfic
May. 29th, 2008 03:43 pm (UTC)
Thanks so much, I'm really pleased to know you liked it.
acidic_flower
May. 30th, 2008 05:20 am (UTC)
Oh wow, this is perfect! Great job on the voice of Mr. White, not a particularly easy character to write, and you did it very well. Also- backstory is fucking GREAT. Love the details you added about his kid...

<3
bitterfic
May. 30th, 2008 03:37 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much for reading and commenting. I'm glad you liked the back story, I'm always a little nervous about filling in the gaps in character's biographies like that.
nathskywalker
Jun. 27th, 2008 05:11 pm (UTC)
I haven't seen Reservoir Dogs and have no idea about the characters; just read the first paragraph and it got me interested and while I don't know the characters, the story, any of it, I genuinely enjoyed it.
bitterfic
Jun. 27th, 2008 11:49 pm (UTC)
Thanks so much for reading and commenting, I'm glad you liked it even though you're not framiliar with the fandom.
fallen_woman
Jul. 7th, 2008 07:38 am (UTC)


Sex, romance, whatever you want to call it, that was something different. They were two separate parts of me, like crime and honor, that were nothing to do with each other.

I think you really struck at the truth of White's character -- how he keeps himself sane by cordoning off ambiguity, sectioning off two different sides of himself, and how Orange comes along and melds everything together in a personal/professional, son/lover, male/female, innocent/wicked hodgepodge. I also liked the Alabama backstory a lot, since it shows how White finds himself drawn to a certain wounded-but-hopeful type. To his inevitable detriment.

On a shallower note, slut!Freddie will always be my fandom weakness, and his "daddy" line & the rough trade outfit had me palpitating. ;)

bitterfic
Jul. 12th, 2008 12:40 am (UTC)
Thank you so much for reading and for your very thoughtful comments. I"m really pleased to know you liked the way I handled the characters. Thanks.
undersea
Aug. 22nd, 2008 06:06 pm (UTC)
Great characterization of both of them. I loved:
"I should be punching his lights out instead I’m holding his hand."
"Take charge? It feels like losing control."

*thumbs up*
bitterfic
Aug. 30th, 2008 09:11 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much for reading and commenting. I'm really pleased to know you liked this.
(Deleted comment)
bitterfic
Mar. 31st, 2009 11:57 am (UTC)
Thank you so much for reading and commenting. I'm really pleased to know you liked it.
bionic
Apr. 12th, 2009 07:13 am (UTC)
This was so perfect..... I just watched the movie so White's voice is fresh in my head and I can hear his voice in this piece. Love it!
bitterfic
Apr. 14th, 2009 02:34 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much, I'm really pleased to know you liked this.
( 22 comments — Leave a comment )

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