Could I request snapshots of Kyle working the bar floor and changing up his approach based on the customer? Like being extra bimbo over here, chill and sweet at the obvious first date table, chirping the random table of hockey players (because there is now always a random table of hockey players), and absolutely intellectually eviscerating someone who makes the mistake of talking down to him / disparaging his bar. And then he and Eric fuck nasty about it because damn is it hot how he is always in control lol
this is such a cute idea <3 but also this had me like hey siri how do social interactions work lmao
my prompts are closed but my inbox is still open for yapping and headcanons!
If someone had told him his dream job would be to manage a gay sports bar one day, he would have been horrified.
But now, he couldn't imagine doing anything else. And he was good at it, too. The money only mattered a little bit, on account of having a millionaire boyfriend, but most nights, the tips were decent.
On a Friday like today, they were great.
Kyle made his way through the bar, tugging the hem of his t-shirt up just slightly so it exposed a thin strip of his midriff. He was approaching a booth with a group of straight guys who pretended they had "accidentally" stumbled in here without knowing it was a gay bar. Usually, at least one of them (most of the time, most of them) weren't as straight as they wanted to believe.
Maybe several athletes coming out over the past few years had blurred the invisible lines a bit.
"Wow, is it spring break already?" Kyle asked when he reached them. These guys always liked it when he played a little dumb, in a fuckable way. "Which college are you from?" They were clearly long out of college.
Some laughter, one of them was brave enough to reply "The college of real life!" which was a lame joke, but Kyle laughed anyway and gave him a little wink, which made the guy blush.
After he was done with them, he moved on, tugging the hem of his shirt back down that last inch. The next table he wanted to check on in his area was the cutest date: two older men, both clearly deeply nervous. Kyle had offered them a table by the wall, far away from the loud noise of the pool table.
He managed to catch them right in a second of silence in their conversation to ask if they were ready to order food. When they looked up at him, they were both smiling, but clearly caught a little off-guard.
"Uhm," one of them reached for the menu, flustered.
"We haven't had a look yet," the other man told Kyle, sounding apologetic.
Kyle beamed at him. "That's no problem at all. Our newest seasonal item is basil and lemon fries with a marinara sauce for dipping, they're reeeeally good, and good for sharing, should we start with something like that, maybe? Or our truffle friest, garlic fries..."
The two man exchanged a smile. "Yeah, the first one you said sounds good."
"Okay, great! Thank you!" Kyle gave them another huge smile, then left them to it.
He returned back to the bar to pour the straight guys' drink, passing a table which was currently filled with a bunch of New York Sirens players. One of the women flagged him down, gesturing for another round.
"Wow!" Kyle grabbed the empties from their table, "You're outdrinking the boys."
"We're gonna have to hire a lesbian waitress just for you so you'll keep coming back." Kyle gave her a wink, making her laugh.
When he finally reached the bar, he briefly bumped his hip into Eric, who was sitting off to the side with his laptop open, placing orders. Eric gave him a smile, which Kyle returned before quickly putting away the empties.
"Pretty good tonight, huh?" Eric asked, and Kyle nodded. Before he could reply, though, another patron tapped on the bartop to catch Kyle's attention. Kyle tried not to roll his eyes at the rude gesture, but gave the man a blank stare.
He looked like a member of the after-work crowd, who were either pleasant and fun and just wanted to unwind, or tended to be annoying. Kyle immediately knew which group this specimen belonged to, especially when he saw the very young twink standing off to the side, looking uncomfortable.
"Excuse me, you gave me the wrong drink," the man said in a fake-nice 'I'll let it slide this time' voice.
Kyle glanced at the glass in the man's hand, then back up at him. "You asked for a negroni, yeah?"
The man nodded, holding up the drink. "And this isn't a negroni. It's supposed to be fizzy."
Kyle gave him an unimpressed look. "You got a negroni. What you mean is a negroni sbagliato. They're two different drinks."
Kyle could see in the guy's face that he was dumbfounded, but tried to recover quickly. "Well, this isn't what I meant."
"But it's what you ordered, love." Kyle gestured to the drink, "I can make you something a little more suited for a beginner's palate, if you want, like a rum and coke. Less margin for misunderstandings." He gave the man a wink and a cheeky smirk. The bar was too successful for him to seriously deal with patrons like this.
"I don't- I'm- It's fine!" the man spluttered, blushing, clearly annoyed for being shown up. His accompanying twink looked even more embarrassed now.
"Well, great," Kyle smiled, and turned back to his previous task, giving Eric a little eyeroll.
Eric grinned at him, and there was heat in it.
Kyle stuck out his tongue at him, raising one eyebrow as a mutual understanding passed between them.
