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gribouilleTitle : White's Visit
Author : Mélie
Fandom : Reservoir Dogs
Pairing : White/Orange
Rating : PG-13 (words, words, words again…)
Note : I used one of the deleted scenes, where we learn that Orange actually discovered White's real name.
Disclaimer : Both belong to Quentin Tarantino's great imagination.
Translated from my french fic... many, many thanks again to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fitz_carraldo for the beta-reading and for helping me with this translation.
Someone's banging at the door. Freddy starts. He rises sharply from his chair and darts a look around the apartment, checking there’s nothing lying around that shouldn’t be. Particularly not the album full of mug shots.
But it’s where it belongs, at the bottom of a drawer.
Freddy wipes his hands on the seat of his jeans and goes to the door.
Mr Orange pulls it open.
White. Lawrence. Or maybe it's Larry? Better not to think about that, otherwise he could make a big fucking mistake.
White. For you, Orange, it's just White.
"Hey. What’re you doing here?"
"The suits. They're ready." White holds up a suit jacket and trousers, a white shirt and a tie, all hung on a wire hanger.
Of course. He’d forgotten them. The goddamn suits.
"Well then… come in."
White doesn't need much pressing. He goes to the table and drapes the suit over the back of a chair. Freddy shuts the door. White saunters around, turning his head and looking here and there. Looking for something? No, just… inspecting the place.
Maybe he is suspicious.
Freddy hopes he hasn’t been careless. Otherwise he's dead.
The older man suddenly fixes him with a look and says :
"You're a goddamn liar, aren’t you, Orange?"
Holy fucking shit. What is it? What has he forgotten?
And that's when White points at him.
The ring. He forgot to put the fucking ring back on his finger.
White bursts out laughing.
"So what, did you think wearing a ring would impress the guys or something ? Don’t get me wrong, they were impressed. So, what is it, your grandmother's ring or…?"
"Divorced."
"So that’s it. What was it she couldn't stand ?"
"Everything."
Now Freddy begins to relax a little. For a second there, he’d felt like someone had tipped a load of ice down his back.
"Women. What are you gonna do?" White says ruefully.
He’s silent for a beat, then adds : "So you gonna try this on, or what?"
Freddy’s confused for a moment before he realises that White’s talking about the suit.
Keep up, Freddy.
"Yeah. Just wait here. Make yourself at home. I won’t be a minute."
White nods and sits down at the table.
Freddy goes into the bathroom. Looks in the mirror.
"Shit…" he whispers to his reflection. "Keep it together… Orange."
A short while later, he comes out. White rises from his chair and glances him up and down appraisingly.
"Hey...looks good on you."
Mr Orange smiles. Larry… no, White fishes a pair of dark glasses from his pocket and hands them to him. Orange puts them on and goes to stand in front of the long mirror near the door to take look at the overall effect.
Yeah. He does look good.
"Hold on," White says. "Just one more thing…"
He gets out a comb, his fucking comb. Orange has seen it so many times… this guy's totally obsessed by his hair. He reaches out and Orange tenses.
What the fuck is he doing ?
He starts combing his hair. Mr White is really combing Mr Orange's hair.
And it’s not so unpleasant.
But Freddy’d better keep that to himself.
Larry pats his cheek. No, not Larry. White. White stares at him. Straight in the eyes. And he smiles.
"Better, isn't it ?"
Freddy turns and studies his reflection.
"Yeah, you're right. Much better."
There's like, this blank. White's hand is on his shoulder, now.
It's often there. Yeah, very often. As if the old bastard has decided to take him under his wing.
To tell the truth, Freddy’s gotten used to it. And it doesn't bother him. At all.
But he'd better keep that to himself.
"So… " White says. "I see you're a fan of comics?"
The posters on the walls. His T-shirt. Good guess, White.
"Yeah."
"I don't know shit about ’em… except Superman. And Batman."
"Can't miss those two."
They both laugh.
"You wanna stay a little while?"
Yeah, he asked him that.
He really asked him to stay, just now.
Freddy, Orange – are you fucking crazy or what ?
"Okay."
Well, maybe he is. But what the hell.
It’s his business. A little drink won't do any harm. At least he hopes not.
So what if White spends a little time in Orange's kitchen. Who cares if he does anyway?
That's it. End of the story.
Yeah. End of the story.
END.
Author : Mélie
Fandom : Reservoir Dogs
Pairing : White/Orange
Rating : PG-13 (words, words, words again…)
Note : I used one of the deleted scenes, where we learn that Orange actually discovered White's real name.
Disclaimer : Both belong to Quentin Tarantino's great imagination.
Translated from my french fic... many, many thanks again to
fitz_carraldo for the beta-reading and for helping me with this translation.Someone's banging at the door. Freddy starts. He rises sharply from his chair and darts a look around the apartment, checking there’s nothing lying around that shouldn’t be. Particularly not the album full of mug shots.
But it’s where it belongs, at the bottom of a drawer.
Freddy wipes his hands on the seat of his jeans and goes to the door.
Mr Orange pulls it open.
White. Lawrence. Or maybe it's Larry? Better not to think about that, otherwise he could make a big fucking mistake.
White. For you, Orange, it's just White.
"Hey. What’re you doing here?"
"The suits. They're ready." White holds up a suit jacket and trousers, a white shirt and a tie, all hung on a wire hanger.
Of course. He’d forgotten them. The goddamn suits.
"Well then… come in."
White doesn't need much pressing. He goes to the table and drapes the suit over the back of a chair. Freddy shuts the door. White saunters around, turning his head and looking here and there. Looking for something? No, just… inspecting the place.
Maybe he is suspicious.
Freddy hopes he hasn’t been careless. Otherwise he's dead.
The older man suddenly fixes him with a look and says :
"You're a goddamn liar, aren’t you, Orange?"
Holy fucking shit. What is it? What has he forgotten?
And that's when White points at him.
The ring. He forgot to put the fucking ring back on his finger.
White bursts out laughing.
"So what, did you think wearing a ring would impress the guys or something ? Don’t get me wrong, they were impressed. So, what is it, your grandmother's ring or…?"
"Divorced."
"So that’s it. What was it she couldn't stand ?"
"Everything."
Now Freddy begins to relax a little. For a second there, he’d felt like someone had tipped a load of ice down his back.
"Women. What are you gonna do?" White says ruefully.
He’s silent for a beat, then adds : "So you gonna try this on, or what?"
Freddy’s confused for a moment before he realises that White’s talking about the suit.
Keep up, Freddy.
"Yeah. Just wait here. Make yourself at home. I won’t be a minute."
White nods and sits down at the table.
Freddy goes into the bathroom. Looks in the mirror.
"Shit…" he whispers to his reflection. "Keep it together… Orange."
A short while later, he comes out. White rises from his chair and glances him up and down appraisingly.
"Hey...looks good on you."
Mr Orange smiles. Larry… no, White fishes a pair of dark glasses from his pocket and hands them to him. Orange puts them on and goes to stand in front of the long mirror near the door to take look at the overall effect.
Yeah. He does look good.
"Hold on," White says. "Just one more thing…"
He gets out a comb, his fucking comb. Orange has seen it so many times… this guy's totally obsessed by his hair. He reaches out and Orange tenses.
What the fuck is he doing ?
He starts combing his hair. Mr White is really combing Mr Orange's hair.
And it’s not so unpleasant.
But Freddy’d better keep that to himself.
Larry pats his cheek. No, not Larry. White. White stares at him. Straight in the eyes. And he smiles.
"Better, isn't it ?"
Freddy turns and studies his reflection.
"Yeah, you're right. Much better."
There's like, this blank. White's hand is on his shoulder, now.
It's often there. Yeah, very often. As if the old bastard has decided to take him under his wing.
To tell the truth, Freddy’s gotten used to it. And it doesn't bother him. At all.
But he'd better keep that to himself.
"So… " White says. "I see you're a fan of comics?"
The posters on the walls. His T-shirt. Good guess, White.
"Yeah."
"I don't know shit about ’em… except Superman. And Batman."
"Can't miss those two."
They both laugh.
"You wanna stay a little while?"
Yeah, he asked him that.
He really asked him to stay, just now.
Freddy, Orange – are you fucking crazy or what ?
"Okay."
Well, maybe he is. But what the hell.
It’s his business. A little drink won't do any harm. At least he hopes not.
So what if White spends a little time in Orange's kitchen. Who cares if he does anyway?
That's it. End of the story.
Yeah. End of the story.
END.
