brainfreeze from a cherry slushy max/gp pretty please?
Btw the two you have done already are absolutely bloody amazing, I love the way you write
-bloop
hello! sorry this took so long and doesn't have the same vibes as the others at all, i hope you still enjoy it! and thank you so much you're too kind <3 prompts from here
The pagoda is already starting to get crowded when Max steps on the smooth wooden floor, music pouring from the speakers and golden late afternoon rays bathing everyone in warmth. Behind him the beach is still filled with sunbathing people and children screaming in the waves, echoed by the seagulls flying above.
He finds Stan at a table, two beers already dripping condensation on their coasters, chatting with Martin and two girls he's never seen before.
"Hey," he says, sliding into the free seat. "Sorry, Mel needed help with Jimmy."
"Oh!" one of the girls exclaims, lighting up, "your kids?"
Max feels himself blush and he elbows Stan who's already laughing. Before he can answer though, Martin cuts him off, smiling cheerfully.
"More or less," he tells her, very unhelpfully. Stan only laughs harder.
Max refuses to be embarrassed though, rolling his eyes and elbowing Stan again.
"Jimmy is my cat, Mel is the cat sitter. I don't have kids."
Whatever reaction Martin was hoping for, it clearly wasn't what he gets, as both the girls squeal and lean closer, asking to see pictures, complimenting how pretty Jimmy and Sassy are. It takes them ten whole minutes to move on from the topic of cats, and Max makes sure to smile smugly for the whole of it.
Not because he's particularly interested in flirting with the girls (he still doesn't know their names, it's probably very rude to ask at this point), but just because he enjoys the expressions on Martin and Stan's faces.
He probably shouldn't have gloated so soon though, because when his beer is almost over and he's starting to think about suggesting dinner, Stan pokes him in the side, lifting his chin to point towards the bar.
"Your hot bartender has arrived," he says, loud enough for the whole table to hear and therefore inevitably prompting everyone to turn around.
Max feels his ears get warm again as he splutters, ineffectually poking Stan back.
"He's not my bartender!" he argues, even as his eyes stray towards the man, hand flying to fix his hair before he can consciously think about stopping himself.
"Not denying he's hot," Martin points out smugly.
"Of course, I have eyes," Max protests, making Stan laugh. One of the girls is nodding though, so he feels vindicated enough.
Then he immediately makes it worse again by pushing his chair back and announcing, "I am going to get another drink."
Their laughter follows him to the bar.
The bartender, GP as it says on his nametag, is hot, and his glass had been empty, so there. Whatever.
All the seats circling the bar are full, more and more people showing up as the sky starts to slowly turn orange, but Max finds a free spot in a corner, leaning up against the corner and waiting patiently for GP to get to him. He's pretty sure his friends can't see him from where they're sitting, which is a bonus, and therefore there's nobody to judge him if he pretends to still be looking at the menu when the other bartender on shift looks his way.
The thing is, he's not a heathen, he is not going to try and make GP uncomfortable as he works by asking for his number or making any stupid advance he probably gets from everyone a million times a day. He's just going to get his drink, appreciate the way the warm light curl around his biceps, then go back to the table. Nothing more.
"Hello, what can I get you?" GP's voice is nice, calm and sure, matching his confident and comfortable attitude. Max is not going to think about how that would match in the bedroom. He's not a heathen.
"Not sure, any advice?"
GP's lips quirk up, a spark in his eyes.
"I thought after ten minutes of trying to memorize the menu you'd have made more progress than this," he jokes, and wow thanks, now Max wants to die, because GP clearly noticed him standing around just waiting for him. He's glad Stan and Martin can't see him, and even more glad Victoria isn't here, or he'd never hear the end of it.
He opens his mouth, trying to recover, but GP waves him off, leaning against the counter to avoid having to scream over the sudden increase of the music volume. He smells like a nice cologne and salt water, and Max's mouth should really not be watering right now.
"What do you like?" GP asks, still smiling.
"Anything," Max finds himself saying, brain obviously lost in the sudden closeness, "I'm open to suggestions."
GP stares at him for one second longer, eyebrows slightly quirked, then nods and turns around.
God, Max really needs to stop thinking about his dick. And how it's probably big and GP looks like he knows how to use it and...
Nope. He's not going to be a creepy guy during the poor man's shift, and he's really trying not to be the pathetically flirting one either, so he's going to get a grip. Hopefully soon, before GP comes back with his drink. Whatever that will be.
He pulls out his phone to distract himself, finding a thumbs up from Stan, followed by three laughing emojis and a heart eyes one, that he fully ignores. He replies to Mel's message, then sends Victoria a picture of the sea he had taken earlier.
When he looks back up, in front of him there's what looks like a very red slushy, with a candied cherry on top, and GP is looking at him, expectantly.
"What's this?" Max asks hesitantly. Is this a way for GP to tell him he's too young? Bringing him a children's drink so he doesn't have to tell him to fuck off and find someone his age? That would be even more embarrassing than this whole thing already is.
"Cherry vodka slushy, not on the normal menu. Sweet and refreshing, but with a bit of a punch."
Max blinks. That's...not what he was expecting.
He hesitantly grabs the straw, then, in a sudden bound of boldness, he locks eyes with GP and takes a big sip.
For a moment, the whole world is just the way GP's eyes darken, landing on his lips and following the movement of his throat as he swallows, the muscles on his bicep shifting as he leans a little closer over the counter.
Then Max winces, sudden pain shooting through his head. Okay, so the big sip might have been a mistake.
"Too strong?" GP asks, something like disappointment in his voice. And oh god, he must thinks that Max is some kind of idiot who can't even take a sip of syrup and vodka without making faces, even if he said he was down for anything.
"No, no it's...it's really good actually. Just..." luckily, Max is instead only an idiot who drank too fast. "Brain freeze," he admits, cheeks on fire.
GP stares for a second longer, then starts laughing.
Max is going to throw himself into the sea.
"I'm glad you like it," GP finally says, amusement still dancing on his face. "Do you need anything else?"
Max shakes his head, wondering how high are the chances of the floor opening right under his feet. Technically, sudden cave ins can happen right? He just needs a super localized one.
"Let me know if you change your mind," GP tells him, then turns around and goes back to his job. Because he's still working, and just doing his bartender thing. Not flirting with Max, who is a hopeless disaster. Right.
The drink suddenly tastes a little less sweet.
He considers taking it back to the table, but he doesn't want to third wheel (fifth wheel?) Martin and Stan, and he doesn't really feel like being asked about his horrendous flirting, so he stays leaning against the bar, distractedly sipping his too-strong-for-a-before-dinner drink, and stupidly staring at GP's hands moving as he works.
He doesn't think GP looks towards him one single time, but his glass is more than two thirds empty when a bowl of peanuts appear in front of him, accompanied by a wink.
"Shouldn't drink all that on an empty stomach," GP tells him. "Unless you're allergic, then please, don't eat them."
Despite his misery, Max snorts, toying with his straw and the cherry, now resting on the last layer of crushed ice.
"I'm not, thank you. I will go get dinner soon, anyway."
GP hums, looks to the side, then back at him. "We do offer some food items here too, you know? Sandwiches and salads. Unless you have plans?"
Whatever plans Max might have had they're gone now. He's sure Martin and Stan can find their way to dinner.
"you don't know what you have until you lose it" works for things that suck too btw. sometimes you need to experience life without something for a while to realise oh damn that was some bullshit
