Java Lava (Closed RP, Max and Ford)

[homo_pacifist]

((Just noting in advance for anyone who's interested that with these boys, no idea what rating this will get up to XD You have been warned!))

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[homo_pacifist]

Hey, he couldn't help the slouch. This was enemy territory here, was what this was.

Okay, so 'enemy territory' was a little strong of a phrase. 'Unfamiliar terrain', perhaps. 'Weird grounds'. 'Middle of fucking nowhere and he wasn't entirely sure what was going on or how to go about this shit'. All of which applied to the situation right about now.

And it wasn't just stepping outside of the comfortable familiarity of Cafe Huh?, a place he found himself commonly frequenting, thank you Sadie and the Po Boys and your constant shows and entertainment. Java Lava was a place he'd heard of, hadn't really been to other than stopping in for a quick coffee on his way to... wherever. Max had been in New York for a while, it wasn't like he didn't know anything outside of his tiny little Lower East Side world.

It was this whole thing, though. Dating? Who did this shit anyway? Making plans for coffee and promising fond footsies under the table. Sure, Ford had mentioned a hell of a lot more than that - and Max could think of a few things himself that didn't exactly fall into the category of PG - but that was beside the point. It was a date nonetheless. And who did those? Lucy did those. Lucy with Daniel, anyway; Jude wasn't so much with the dates. And. Oh. Fuck. He was becoming his little sister.

...At least he hoped his little sister wasn't planning make-outs in the back of a cafe.

Oh, goddammit, bad mental images.

And this was Max getting his does of nicotine before he'd stepped in here.

He gave Ford a nod of greeting right back, that grin falling easily back onto his face as the other guy sat down. "'How are you'?" he repeated, maybe in a little bit of a teasing voice. "After all that earlier and all you can say now is 'how are you'?" He leaned forward a little on the table, hands folded. And, in that same chiding voice, wiggled his eyebrows. "Well, it was great, honey, how about yours? You pick up the kids?"

[and_twosyllable]

Ford realized it hadn't been the most suave opening line but he hadn't thought about what he might say. There was no preparation and with no preparation came the asking of how Max was doing -- which was obvious. Max was on a date with Ford and most likely horny as well. But, the end result of the date was inevitable. It was just important to get through the first part. The talking, the coffee, and maybe the food.

Ford smirked, giving Max a cheeky grin. "I thought you were going to pick up the kids!" He laughed slightly with mocked surprise, shrugging off his jacket, letting it fall on the chair. "But, seriously, how's this?" He stood up again, pulling out his chair. He cleared his throat and sat down again. "It's really nice to see you," he said, this time leaning in, giving him a light kiss. "Too much like we're already in some kind of a relationship?"

He stood up again, wrapped in this game of the proper way to greet someone for a date. Turning back he shot out his hand and winked, pointing at Max. "Hey, how you doin'?" He fell into the chair, once again laughing, realizing how ridiculous the past few minutes had been.

"I'm not drunk, really," Ford said, holding his right hand up. "I swear." He glanced around to see if there was a waitress near. There wasn't. And he was hear. Awkwardly starting out a date. Sometimes things just didn't go well for Ford.

And for whatever reason he wanted this to go well.

[homo_pacifist]

Max actually laughed a little at that, which... well, not to get all melodramatic and that, but it was hard to charm a genuine one of him these days, not unless you were a certain Jude Feeny. But... well. He was working back into the groove of things again. It was a work in progress, he'd get over himself. "Well, shit, we left little Timmy at the soccer fields again. Child services isn't gonna be so happy about that. I'm thinking of baking our social worker an apple pie."

Oh, hey. That was a bit less awkward of a greeting, right? Max could do kissing. He had nothing wrong with things that were kissing. He grinned a little, clasping his hands together on the table and cocking an eyebrow. "Nah, if we were in a relationship, I'd be more like," and he put on a bit of a naggy, housewife of a voice, wrinkling his nose, "'Why don't you call me anymore, Ford? I never see you! Did you forget my birthday!?'" End voice. "And so on." Pause. "Yeah, I'd have to kill myself."

Did he seriously? Oh God. What was he on a date with? Still, regardless, Max was cracking up into another laugh. "You sure? Do I need to check? No more drinkies for you in the afternoon. Maybe it's not drinkies. No more smokies either."

[and_twosyllable]

Ford cringed at Max' desperate housewife of a voice before nodding in agreemant about possible suicide. Ford wondered if they were doing this date-thing right. He had gone on like, dates in high school...mostly with his girlfriend and they involved a movie and making out - and then when sex became a factor, mediocre sex. How had he graduated to God and now a 60's cat who talked about free love.

Yeah, Ford's track record was definitely...colorful.

"I don't drink and I don't smoke," he said, a little more seriously then he had meant to. "But I don't - like, discriminate against it," Ford assured Max. "And I'm glad you weren't taken aback by the kiss because I like kissing you."

Who was he to lie about something like that? They were both on this date! And somehow one of them was going to be charming and irresistible -- he had no idea who that would be yet.

Ford laughed again, the overall air less uncomfortable and more flirtatious. More date-like? Ford didn't know.

"I figure we'll have to change the subject soon, the greetings probably shouldn't have lasted this long..." Ford made a face, smirking. "I mean, I'm guessing..."

[homo_pacifist]

...Well, that was no fun.

No, okay, that came out wrong. It was just... well, shit, he'd grown up in the era he did. It was the 60's. There was Pink Floyd and Dr. Roberts and pink punch and drugs were just everywhere you goddamn turned. Free love, and people sharing joints. It was something he didn't even think twice about anymore, just something everybody around him did, and it was such a normal part of his routine... It was weird meeting someone who didn't at least smoke, or drink. "Huh," was all he offered in response to that, eyebrows raised in the slightest. Well, as long as he wasn't preaching. Because then Max couldn't be here right now, exactly, could he?

"Nah," he added about the second part of Ford's statement, as an afterthought, stretching his limbs over his head and cracking his knuckles. "I like kissing. I'm good at kissing." He... wasn't useless, when it came to things like kissing. "Nothing wrong with it at all."

If he was expecting some kind of norm out of Max, though. "Hell, I have no idea. For all I know, greetings go on for ten freaking minutes in these things. Never really been on one, so far as my own experience goes." He tilted his head, debating. "Well. I mean, sort of. But hanging out with a group of friends with someone who could be considered a 'date' hanging close by isn't exactly the same thing as the one on one over the coffee. This is about as standard as this shit gets, so far as I'm taking it. Unless you're doing some candlelit dinner and then it just gets nine million times more awkward. With nine more forks than you could humanly need."

[and_twosyllable]

And Ford didn't want a candlelit dinner with nine forks - or, ten - eleven? He was never great at Math. Either way, he liked that there was coffee and that there was flirtation but he needed to kick their date into motion or it was going to stall out before it went any farther. One thing that helped with a date for coffee, was coffee. Ford flagged down a waitress who checked out him and then his date. He felt slightly jealous - if only because he was on a date with this guy. But Max wasn't his property and he sure didn't show his jealousy.

"Yeah, regular coffee, large?" He wasn't going to be fancy tonight. Why make the effort in the flavor of the coffee when what mattered was the date that went with the coffee. Coffee was an afterthought. Hell, Max hadn't even meant coffee the first time he said it.

Would there be sex? Ford didn't know. Sure, he was psychic, but he didn't get visions when he chose to - and definitely not regarding himself. So all he had to go on was blind faith and hope. And effort. And good looks. Ok, he had more to go on then he thought.

Ford realized he didn't really talk about himself much and a date meant there'd be talking -- and so far there was a sort of banter established. But nothing set in stone and nothing night-sustaining.

"OK, so, I obviously suck at this. Do you, uh, have any siblings," he asked, leaning back in his chair. He hoped this would somehow break the ice. But if he was an only child like Ford - the answer would be no and the subject would end there. He hoped Max had a sister or brother or sister(s) or brother(s).

"I think that's what people ask on dates - you know, questions about each other."

Just in case he needed to clarify...

[homo_pacifist]

Max was resisting the urge to follow the waitress right suit, but, goddamn, it was hard to help himself sometimes. He was a ho at heart, and she had substantial caboose. What could he say? Of course, once he realized what he was doing - where he was right now - he automatically ducked his eyes away, with a bit of a sheepish smile towards Ford. Er. Totally meant to do that. "Yeah, think I'm gonna copy Mr. Man over here, thanks, babe," he offered in return, watching her go and glancing back to Ford. "I don't think there's any other way to drink it, really."

It was kind of cute, in a way, at least so far as Max was concerned right now. Maybe it was just that word - 'date' - that drove people kind of crazy. Crazy in the nervous, stumbling, babbling way, at least. Which was the cute way, right? Max thought so, anyway. But, right, this was the guy he'd just been talking to before, that was all nine degrees of suave and cool, and here he was fumbling for questions and trying to spike conversation. Maybe it was just how Max grew up but, well. The conversation would flow if it wanted to, right? No need to force it.

He actually ran a slightly teasing foot up Ford's leg, then, grinning and propping up his chin on a fist. "Cool your jets, man, I'm not hard to impress."

But. Right. Siblings. Okay. Down to this date business thing. "Okay, so, yeah, actually. I do have siblings. Two younger sisters, unfortunately. Lucy and Julia." Not that Max minded Lucy, or Julia, at all. "Lucy's your typical younger sibling, but she's a real sweet kid." A lot of his sanity back home, with his parents ragging on him about every little thing - his clothes, his grades, blah blah, blah blah. They were only a year apart, it wasn't like it was so hard for them to connect. "And Julia's just, well. ...Julia." Kind of the notorious braided little girl, designated to be called 'kiddo', but. He got on with her well enough, right?

"How about you, then? Any siblings at all, while we're on the subject of questions?"

[and_twosyllable]

Ford felt Mac's foot travel up his leg and he found himself moving a little forward, otherwise not acknowledging at all. He smiled because Max was not only a carefree guy but he was laid-back. He was the anti-Ford. And of course they hadn't gotten to the part about Ford's abilities, but why did they have to? Somehow if this date graduated to others then he would and if it didn't, then he'd have one great night with a child of the sixties. Child being a relative but unpedophilic term of course -- and Ford's brain was off track.

Good. He had siblings. And this conversation was flowing. Ford liked that. But he realized he was trying to hard, and with Max' foot on his thigh he found himself trying less, thinking less in general, really. He had even forgot if he had any siblings. Oh, right.

"Yeah, no. Only child." He shrugged. "I'm actually an orphan, my parents are dead." Talk about a date-killer, conversation-killer, and a buzz kill all in one. "But I'm over it," Ford said sliding more forward.

The waitress brought their coffees before stalking off, resigning to the fact that Ford was here with Max. She got it then, was it Max' foot halfway up Ford's leg? He hadn't known.

"I actually don't usually come here, it was just the first thing that came to mind," he said as he sipped. "How does this compare to Cafe Huh?" He wanted to question the fact of this cafe ever existing but he was sure that Max was sure it existed and in this moment that was enough for him.

[homo_pacifist]

And maybe that was a little of what Max was attempting to accomplish here. You know, the whole 'not thinking' thing. Things went easier when people weren't thinking. Didn't sit there and second-guess themselves on every little think, over-think and get nervous and stumble over their words. It was easier when it was just two guys hanging out, some nice black coffee between them, maybe a little something more going on later. Rather than that stupid 'date' word, that made you want to try to make every little detail perfect, which, let's face it, would never happen in actuality.

And plus, well. Maybe it wasn't only the one 'date' thing that had Max skirting away from the other 'not thinking' thing. Thoughts and memories and all things Vietnam tended to drift in that way and, well, it ended more than a little ugly.

Conversation-killer, Max wouldn't go so far to call that, but then there were only so many things that would have him clamming up right quick. "That's too bad, man," he replied after a few seconds' pause, sounding genuinely sorry for him as he ran a thumb along his lip. He gave a bit of a fleeting smile, looking down a little thoughtfully. "I mean, families are a bitch, but. Know a friend whose situation's kinda close. ...That sucks." He peered up, eye a little squinted, almost cautiously. "Mind me askin' how?"

The foot could have definitely tipped things off, considering the fact that Max's was still casually running along Ford's leg, almost to the point of absentminded. Probably more than a little distracting on some parties here. And, yeah, guilty, there might have been something a little predatory that Max looked Ford over with then, when she returned, in light of the conversation. And if that wasn't any hint towards what situation was going on here... well.

"What, to, uh, Java Lava?" he asked with a bit of a grin, and a voice that might have been with just that little edge of patronization. "I dunno, it's a... fine enough, upstanding sort of establishment. Not my normal gig though." He leaned forward a little, taking a sip of his coffee and raising his eyebrows to Ford. "You ever heard'a Sadie and the Po' Boys? They're a band. Fuckin' good one, if you ask me. They play at Cafe Huh? all the time, sometime bigger venues or some shit, but, that's kinda their home front, you know?" He scratched at his head, in consideration. "Better, I dunno about, but. It's different. This is... quiet. And." He was running out of adjectives, and he gave a little bit of a nervous laugh. "Not smoky." No, really, cigarettes lit around every corner back at the Cafe. "Little more reckless there, you could say."

[and_twosyllable]

Ford grimaced, lightly enough, that he hoped Max wouldn't notice. "You could ask," he let out. The truth was, if Max really wanted to know Ford would tell him but Ford knew it would only cause Max to think he smoked up before the date. Of course, he could censor some of it. He could censor the how's and why's and just give the what's. But Ford found that to be dishonest. Plus, Max seemed to be a cool guy and Ford was not supposed to be thinking. So, in the interest of not thinking.

"My mother got into a car accident when I was ten. I dreamt it would happen a week before ... it happened. When I was eighteen I dreamt that my father would die in a fire -- I couldn't prevent that either." He took a moment, before looking at Max. "I'm psychic. If that freaks you out, I understand. But I have to say I'm really feeling this - coffee," he said, his hand finding Max' leg and running up it enough to give him an idea of just how much fun he was having, just how into this he was.

Ford thought about the next question, narrowing his eyes. He pushed the first idea that came into his mind back because -- that just wasn't possible.

"Well, I haven't heard of it, exactly," he said. Or her, he thought. "But it sounds like a cool enough place. I could see myself hanging out there. Who doesn't like good music?" He took another sip of his coffee, realizing just how horny he was getting. Glancing down quickly to make sure his mouth formed a small smile. Yep, he was hard. He was hard and Max' foot was just there on his leg and he was on a date that they weren't calling a date because that seemed to make things a lot easier. What could he say, really? He certainly couldn't complain.

Ford got reckless. Hell, he was taking a gamble at being a P.I. Not to mention starting an affair with a God that started a way too serious relationship and his thoughts were not on tonight when they should have been and so -- they were.

Right. Not thinking. No...thinking.

Yeah, he was hard. And Ford was horny. And he was drinking coffee. And he wasn't thinking a lick a' sense.

[homo_pacifist]

The look had been subtle, yeah, Max would give him that much. But for someone whose best friend lived off the subtlety like that - seriously, it took freaking witchcraft to catch when that boy was upset, not unless something was really bothering him - and, well. You learned to recognize the signs after a while, caught the little asides and the brief moments of lack of focus. It was the little shit he felt obligated to check, resident keeper of most of all of his friends.

"You don't have to tell it, you know," he added, a little reassuringly, chewing a bit nervously at his thumbnail and raising his eyebrows. Something about Ford's response had him wondering if it was a story that should really be told right now. Judging by what the guy was telling him... Jesus. Rough. It was shit like that he wasn't entirely sure how to respond to, other than a sympathetic look and a 'gee, that sucks, man'.

Luckily, not exactly much time to dwell on it.

Psychic? Seriously? "You..." He'd heard weirder claims. Hell, there was that one chick he'd met at some party, said something about knowing people's auras. Pulled some pretty impressive shit out of her ass too, Max had been damn convinced. Maybe he just didn't want to start chalking up Ford to a bad drug side effect some more. ...Although, granted, where that had landed him last time? "Seriously? A psychic? Like... future shit, and...?" He gave a kind of forced laugh, looking embarrassed for a minute. "Sorry, I've just got... no freaking clue what that even means, not the whole." He waved his hands vaguely for a minute, grabbing at words. "Picture."

Psychics forgotten, though, it didn't change the fact that there was a hand sliding easily up his leg, and Max had a minute moment of cursing the table between them. "Good music is fuckin' right, I'm telling you. They have this sound that just oozes under your skin, man. And Sadie's sex on nine mile legs, no word of a lie." He paused, in a moment of consideration. "Taken. And my landlord. So, awkward. But, hey, a guy can dream." His eyes flickered towards Ford for a moment, something a little devil-may-care sneaking into his grin as his foot trailed up a little further, maybe teasing a little carefully on the inside of Ford's thigh. "It's probably bad form to talk about how hot your landlord is on a 'date', right?"

[and_twosyllable]

Ford was nodding, a lot. He was nodding a lot because it was true. Ford was psychic and he couldn't spell it out in any other way. He just couldn't. Ford shrugged again. He hadn't been offended - or surprised by Max' reaction and had he any questions he was open to whatever Max wanted to know -- especially if that got him close to the end result and why were tables made again?

He found himself cursing the maker of the table as Max' foot moved towards his inner thigh causing Ford to burn his tongue. Eyes wide, he smirked, shaking his head, looking down.

He listened to Max talk about the Cafe Huh? and his landlord Sadie and he marveled at how enthusiastic Max seemed to be towards...like, everything. He agreed, though. A guy could dream. And right now Ford was dreaming about how good it was to be kissing Max and even more then that. He found himself drifting off from the table he was at, the feeling of Max foot on his inner thigh the only thing that registered until Max asked about talking about his own landlord and how it was in bad form.

"Probably, but I think all that matters is later tonight we're with each other and we don't have a table between us." He knew Max was thinking it too.

[homo_pacifist]

That just... huh. It wasn't like he'd met many psychics before or anything, he was just kind of in some kind of awe, sitting back in his seat for a minute and staring at Ford with a weird kind of quirk of a smile turning up the corner of his mouth. A psychic. He was totally having a coffee with a psychic. "But a real psychic, right? Not one of those weirdo, rip-off psychics that just wants to steal everybody's money via hourly phone fees, right? Because then you would get no action tonight." He paused, and shrugged a little. "Well. No, I lied, you probably would. But there'd be less chance. Note it."

No, yeah, he... probably would have been jumping the guy right now, regardless. Max had no discrimination when it came to sex.

It wasn't Ford and... well, it was actually a lot of Ford, yeah, because it wasn't the coffee that was having Max shift a little antsily in his seat right now, twiddling his thumbs on the table and wanting so bad to launch himself at something across the table. Coffee didn't have those sort of effects on his pants, at least so he liked to think. But, yeah, so Max was starting to zone out a little. Shamelessly letting his eyes roam the other boy as well. What? He was with someone really pretty. Eyes were allowed to roam.

"Yeah, well," he started to reply to Ford's comment, and that same sort of wicked grin started to coil up his features. One of those grins, the kind he was all too good that, that promised worlds of naughty things and enough lewd thoughts to make a nun go to confession. What could he say? Patience wasn't his best quality. "Just sayin', that could be remedied. The whole table situation, at least." Not that it had to right now, but there was something about Max's foot still idly running along the inside of Ford's thigh that was probably as naughty as his grin.

[and_twosyllable]

Ford figured that Max was taking the psychic thing pretty well what with his upturned grin that hadn't left his face in the last few minutes. That and the predatory look Ford was sharing with his table mate. He knew it was clear to both of them that the table was now running interference and they had to bypass it at al costs.

Eventually.

Because, Ford liked this part of their night. It was foreplay to the Max and Ford definitely laughed out loud at his own little in-joke he thought of, even going so far as to lean back more, slightly guiding Max's foot. Words had ceased and all that was left was silent sipping of their coffee and Max' foot and their eyes and mouths and -- why the hell had tables been invented anyway?

People used to eat on the ground. And now they had the means to clean up the ground and make it inhabitable. If people wanted to, Ford was sure they could eat on the ground. But they were also in public in the middle of New York - in the 60's? - and Ford was having so many indecent thoughts he might have well adopted some random religion just to confess his sins. If he was into that sort of thing, anyway.

Ford had never been one for patience either but the foreplay was hot. He couldn't deny that fact. It only made what was going to happen later that much hotter in his eyes. Anticipation welled up inside him and he quite honestly thought his jeans were going to tear. Because of the angle, the ball was in Max' court, or rather, Max' foot was now grazing Ford's erection if only because of his shift earlier. And because of this Ford had no way of returning the favor.

Of course, he had a slew of other things in mind to pay Max back with, not including Yen.

[homo_pacifist]

Yeah, what had ever happened to those days? The whole lack of table thing. Not that Max was going to be all for the eating off the floor thing, yeah, because, well, it was New York. Regardless of street sweepers, the feet alone were going to kind of have him pass on the whole eating off the floor thing, thank you very much. That wasn't counting hobos strewn across the street - and don't say there weren't, because there were; Max knew a few of them, even - and... car exhaust and. There wouldn't have been tables in between them right now, leaving room to jump each other in the middle of some random coffee shop, sure, but... wasn't really worth the kuru. Or whatever weirdo disease would come with that.

But of course foreplay was important. You couldn't have sex without foreplay, no matter what kind of foreplay you were talking about here. This was foreplay right now, the whole coffee, talking, banter thing, as much as some people might have argued that point. But talking could totally be foreplay, without even trying. Eye contact was foreplay. Hands on shoulders and crooked grins were foreplay. It wasn't just the typical, what with kissing and first, second, third bases, although those kinds were hopeless amounts of fun and exciting, and Max would be the first to tell you that.

He loved foreplay, man. Like he said, sex wasn't sex without it. It was a lot of fumbling and the release wasn't as good. Still fun! But not as fun.

Which was why Max hadn't gotten up yet, probably. Hadn't dragged Ford out of that chair and cursed him for being so damn effortlessly hot, shoved him into the nearest bathroom and pushed him up against a wall. It would have been awesome, sure, but Max wasn't doing that. He was slouching that little bit, foot still trailing around all teasing and relentless. He was careful, but as a guy, who wouldn't be? Nothing would ruin a moment more than an accidental kick to the nads, duh. But for the time being, he was totally okay with what he was doing. And judging by the unmentionables Max's foot was running easily up against inside of Ford's jeans, Converse sneaker moving right up between his thighs in the sneakiest of ways? He wasn't the only one okay with it.

[and_twosyllable]

There was no doubt in Ford's mind that he was not enjoying this. As frustrating as the table between them was, Max' foot now right in between his jeans made up for it in spades - or toes. Ford hadn't even noticed how much speaking wasn't happening because he had dropped into a delirious state of slight ecstasy, his erection now pushing against not only his jeans but now Max' foot.

Ford knew that this wouldn't last forever. Hell, he hoped it wouldn't. He kept thinking about how Max could just stand and just, walk into the back in the restroom and Ford could wipe his mouth and nonchalantly get up before walking towards the restroom. He'd knock once before being pulled inside the the room would be occupado, people. Occupado.

But for now there was Max' foot and Ford's not really thinking or being actually where he was because what was he doing again? Some kind of a date? A foot - a date? His hand found Max' leg again as well as foot as he pushed Max' foot harder into him. Yeah, this was cool. This was hot. This was foreplay alright.

But Ford needed more.

His hand left Max' foot, eyes opening, mouth halfway open, a predatory glare in Max' direction. He needed to just --

Bathroom - or my place. Either way, we're going somewhere, Ford had sent him. Yeah, Ford could not only read minds? But he could send thoughts. It wasn't often and he hadn't tried but - hey, what could he do? Oh, he could invade Max' mind without calling attention to them. Hopefully he hadn't violated Max too much...he was fucking horny.