"Hey man, you busy?"
Daniel's head snapped up so quickly he felt his neck cracking. He winced, grabbing it to rub it and tried not blush out of embarrassment. Monacelli was hanging at his door, looking incredibly amused, his bag slung over his arm and falling near his hip, blocking most of the sunlight from entering the classroom.
Max recovered quickly, clearing his throat and looking back to the task at hand. He was putting away the dried dishes utilized during his chem experiment with the 14 year old kids, the bell having already rung signifying the end of school day, "No," he dried his hands on his bleach stained jeans and crouched down to put away the beakers, "just finishing up here, why?"
"You got any plans for tonight?"
Max thanked god his head was inside the cabinet and Vince couldn't see his surprised expression. Without looking at the man, he shrugged, "nope..." in truth, he had plans alright. Make himself dinner, get high and watch a movie in the tv, probably crash his own couch.
"Great, I'm taking you out!"
Now Max straightened up, hitting his head in the inside of the cabinet. He let out a whine, rubbing at the sore spot, "...What?" the words came out strangled and Vince let out a chuckle.
"So, turns out it's your birthday today?" Vince leaned against the door, "I'm guessing you're aware of that."
"No, first time hearing it," Max rolled his eyes, "I don't care about my birthday, man, you don't ha-"
"I'm not asking," Vince squinted at him and Max gulped down, cursing himself. He hadn't realized how much... How nice Vin was to look at, "get your shit, I'm waiting for you in the parking lot!"
Max felt ridiculous as he grabbed his bag in the teacher's lounge and went to meet with Monacelli in the parking lot. He hadn't had a crush in a lifetime, since his high school years and Max hated the clammy feeling in his hands or the fluttering in his stomach. Not only it felt childish, but it was completely out of place, Vince was very very taken. He needed to digest those butterflies.
"So what's the plan?" Max walked towards his own pick-up, noticing Vince had already put away his bag under his bike's seat.
"I wasn't sure what was your style, so I came up with a couple ideas," Vince scratched as his cheek in an embarrassed manner and Max raised his eyebrows. More than one option?
"Let's hear them," he leaned against his car, throwing his bag in the passenger seat.
"We hit the bar down your street, what's the name again? Stache's?"
"Uh-hu."
"So yeah, Stache's, then we go up La Dolce Vitta for cake," Vince raised his thumb in order to mark it as option 1, then uncurled his index finger to show it was a new option, "or we can go to the community soccer game and finish it up with beers at the Stache's," he uncurled his middle finger, "or we can go bowling and order the cake from La Dolce Vitta. I'm open for ideas, too."
Max's mouth was dry like a desert. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had remembered his birthday and here was Vince, just some dude he had met nearly six months ago and actively disliked for five of these, with three options of celebration.
"All of them suck?" Vince pouted, misunderstanding his silence, "I don't know, what do you do for fun? Go to a shooting club?"
"Sometimes I hike," Max answered unhelpfully, feeling completely thrown out, "soccer- Soccer's cool."
"Oh yeah?" Vince brightened up like a labrador puppy, opening a huge smile, "okay. Soccer it is -" he squinted then, "but don't expect me to go easy on you just because it's your birthday."
"Oh nooo, whatever will I do," Max rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his words and Vince brushed him off, sitting on top of his bike, so they could drive separately.
Doveport had a big community sport's center, but Max didn't frequent it. In fact, he was very antisocial. The opposite of Monacelli, who jumped from his bike and immediately was greeted by five other men, whom Max had never seen in his life, of various ages. Young kids just fresh out of high school, older retired men...
"Do you know everyone?" Max frowned, as he followed Vince to the locker room's that led to the small outdoor soccer field. It wasn't big, but made do, much like the other fields. One for tennis, one for volleyball, one for basketball and a pool that clearly had seen better days and no one was using.
"I talk with people," Vince shrugged, turning around and walking backwards, "you should try it, it's a wonder what being nice to other's can do."
"Yeah, sure Mary Poppins," the blonde rolled his eyes, then paused as they entered the locker rooms. He definitely couldn't play in jeans-
Vince stripped down his shirt, balling it up and throwing it in the bench in the middle of the room and Max's thoughts vanished. The brunette turned around, undoing the fly of his own jeans and frowned, pausing, "you're not gonna change?"
"I don't-" Max looked away, grimacing at his own fumbling, "I've never been here, I don't know-"
"Ah, you can't go in the field wearing jeans," Vince gestured to a big locker open in the opposite side of the room, "see? They have gym shorts and vests for you to grab. They're smelly, but whatever, I don't mind. Do you?"
"Oh, no- We just grab them?"
"Yeah," Vin nodded, "but we need to return them when we're done, of course -" he pointed at a wall with smaller lockers, "here you put your clothes and take the key, there's a board near the field to hang them up and write your name under... I can't believe you've never been here, you lived in this town your whole life, dude."
Max shrugged, glaring at his feet, "team sports are not very my speed."
"Uhm," Vince let out a judgmental huff, "c'mon, hurry up, they're about to leave the field."
-------------
Max was going to throw up.
Not just because of the fucking-ridiculous-damned butterflies, but because he had forgotten Vince was a football star. How had he forgotten that?
Sure, this was soccer, not football, but that meant absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things. He had erroneously assumed he'd be more fit than Vince, given the man was chubby, while Max fairly slim. Wrong.
"My nonna runs faster than you, Daniels," Vince teased him, not breathless in the least, slamming that huge hand of his against Max's back. The blonde groaned, bracing against his knees, sweat running down... Well, everywhere. He was drenched in sweat, couldn't catch his breath and his lunch was threatening to come back up.
Max let out a groan, raising his middle finger and causing Vin to let out a cackle, "c'mooooon, you can still win!"
No, he couldn't! The game was mano a mano, meaning there was no goalie or other player, and yet the points were 8 goals for Vin, versus Max's measly 2 points.
"Fuck. You," Max groaned, walking out of the field and collapsing down on a bench. The older men who had been watching them snickered, other people entering the field and patting Vince's arm as they passed him by.
Max spread out his legs, clutching his chest and struggling to breathe, "fuck. Why did I pick this?"
"I don't know," Vince's voice was full of glee, "should've gone bowling, I suck at that."
The blonde raised his head, it was already past sunset and there were crickets chirping and people shouting and laughing in the background, although mostly he only heard the blood drumming in his ears.
"You fooled me."
"Nope," Vince grinned, passing him a paper cup filled with water, "you just didn't think it through."
"You're such an asshole," Max groaned, greedily chugging the water and the letting out a small burp, "I feel like I'm gonna barf."
The other man only laughed, thumping his back once more and sitting down next to him, "we'll go bowling some other night so you can stop being a sore loser."
"Shut the fuck up," Max scoffed, straightening up once he managed to let out another small burp and his lunch seemed content staying put. Sorta, the queasy feeling was still there.
"Beers now?"
He should've said no. Come up with any excuse and bailed.
However Max was having fun, even if he was dead on his feet and his head pounding from running that much, and Vince's face was all blushed, his curls sticking to his forehead and... Well. Yeah.
Stache's was a seedy bar next to Max's place, the name wasn't even actually Stache's, but everyone called it that given the sheer amount of men wearing ugly mustaches that frequented it.
Max was still dizzy from overexertion when they sat down in a little table near the door, in order to enjoy the cold night air, and Vince went to the counter to get them beers, insisting he'd buy since it was Daniel's birthday.
"Here you go," Vince planted a cold bottle in front of his eyes, then messed his hair and Max ducked his face, trying to move away from the touch.
Vince sat down in front of him, clinking their beers together, "cheers man, happy birthday."
"Thanks," Max's cheeks hurt with a blush and he busied himself chugging his beer, "how'd you find out anyway?"
"Shelley, from the front desk," Vince raised his eyebrows, "she's suuuch a gossip and happens to adore my cookie recipe."
"She is such a gossip, uh?" Max snorted, "pot calling the kettle black here," he took another big gulp, "when is yours?"
"In a month," Vin rolled his eyes, "4th of July."
Max opened a smirk, "America's most patriotic immigrant," he teased lightly, causing Vin's brows to meet and him to hesitate, "you are an immigrant, right? I'm not remembering it wrong...?"
Vince's frown cleared up, "No, I am, just didn't think- Didn't think you remembered."
"Hard to forget, I have your kid sister swearing at me in Italian every exam season," he leaned back, starting to relax. This didn't have to be weird, he could small talk.
Eight beers, each, later and Max's cheek was resting on his hand as he heard Vince prattle on about his family.
"No-" Max shook his head, then grimaced as the movement made his stomach roll. A burp sneaked up and he curled his hand in front of his lips to let it out, "we still talk, just not-" another thick burp rolled up and he made a face, hating the sensation, "not much."
"Ah, that sucks, I'm sorry," Vince sounded so sympathetic and Max rolled his eyes, knowing the guy couldn't relate in the least to Max and his distant relationship with his parents.
"Eh, it's fine," he shrugged, finishing off his beer, "we're very different people anyway."
"Do you still keep contact with those guys you used to hang out with-" Vince's squinted, trying to remember, "the big ginger kid and the asian one-"
"Tyler and Lee," Max cleared up, shaking his head, "hell no, nobody from high school. Lee's kid is in your class, though. Little girl, super cute."
Vince looked like he was trying to figure out whom out of his students, before he shook his head, dropping the subject, "met with my high school sweetheart in the grocery store the other day, that was an experience."
Max chuckled at the sarcasm, then regretted it when his stomach churned uneasily and caused him to jump with a painful hiccup, "sorry- HIC! So-Hic!- how was..." he trailed off, moving a hand under the table in order to press on his belly and Vince leaned back on his seat, finishing off his own beer.
"She seemed happy, but tried to pretend she didn't see me, so-" he raised his eyebrows as Max jumped with yet another hiccup, this one ending with a frothy burp, "you alright there, bud?"
Max groaned at the condescending nickname, before lowering his head in shame, "drank too-HIC!-fuck-" the hiccup brought with it a splash of alcohol and it burned his throat to swallow it back down.
"Aww, shit, I forgot you got the world's most sensitive gut," Vince cringed and despite his teasing words, he looked genuinely concerned, as Max's alcohol flushed cheeks started to pale, "I'm gonna get the bill."
"Here-" Max reached for his wallet, agreeing wordlessly it was time to call it night, but Vince shooed him off.
"I invited you," he circled the table, "my treat."
"Nons-" before he could complain, Vince had already left and Max was feeling too queasy to insist on the matter. Instead he collected his keys and walked outside, to the familiar bush he had already thrown up more than once in. He was a regular at Stache's.
Max braced against the brick wall of the side of the seedy bar and took a deep breath, staring at his sneakers. He wasn't drunk, far from it, but quickly decided he was gonna leave his pickup there and walk to get it in the morning. His house was just around the corner anyway.
His stomach was burning and it felt tight to the touch, letting out an upset growl when Max pressed on it. He spat in the curb, cringing at the taste, then belched deeply.
"Oh, there you are, I thought you left!" Monacelli's voice was loud, in every setting. Like he had a microphone inside his chest. Max groaned, his throat bobbing dangerously.
"Gonna hurl."
"Really? Couldn't tell," Vince teased him lightly and Max flinched when he felt the other man's hand coming to rest between his shoulder blades, the pressure causing another belch to come up, this one with a mouthful of stale beer with it, "there you go."
"Uuuurgh-" Max squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fist to his stomach, trying to hurry the process along. Faintly he heard Vince saying in a distant voice "hey, don't do that", but finally his belly threw in the towel and the next wert burp brought up a rush of liquid.
Max curled up, jumping back when the pressure caused the vomit to splatter and he whined as he felt his hair tickling his cheeks, falling from the knot he had loosely made a couple hours prior.
"I got you," Vince planted a hand on his shoulder, then the strands of hair vanished, just as Max coughed up another powerful stream and hiccupped once more.
"Fucking- Embarrassing," Max thumped his chest, until a burp came up and then stumbled back, until he was resting on the opposite wall of the alleyway, "sorry."
"Why are you apologizing, you're the one getting sick in your birthday," Vince frowned, then raised up a bottle of cold water, "got you this."
Max's eyes stung at the gesture and he cleared his throat, snatching the bottle and mumbling a little "thanks," as he started drinking it, "gross."
Monacelli shrugged, "your stomach's better?"
"Eh," Max sighed, wiping at his face and cringing when he felt his beard was humid. He wiped it with the hem of his shirt, "it's gonna be a bitch for the rest of the night, but it's not as bad as before."
"How do you live like this?" Vince wrinkled his nose and Max let out a chuckle, moving so he was standing next to the man and realizing Vin was walking him home.
"Don't ask me," Max huffed, continuing to sip the water, "make it a sport. Last month I only hurled seven times," he grinned as Vince gave him a horrified look.
"You're a champ," the guy said, shoving his hands in his pocket, "I mean, in everything but soccer."
"Oh fuck you," Max cried out, but he was smiling from ear to ear. This was the best birthday he had had probably ever. He was so fucked.
