ph_logs | In Which The Boy Realizes He Has Aged

In Which The Boy Realizes He Has Aged

Who: Bart Torgal and whoever is interested in his BIRTHDAY!

What: Bart's 20th Birthday (and the immediately adjacent days

When: September 2-4

Where:The clinic, the Velvet Ambrosia and Silk, the beach, Bart's house, etc

Warning(s): n/a (will update as necessary)

The Day Before
On the second day of September, after he's figured out his budget for the month and realized how tight he's let things get, Bart makes a decision:

He's got to get out more, so that he can make more stable connections with other people again. This habitual self-isolation is doing him absolutely no favors. He'd promised First Aid that they would try harder to meet one another halfway, so...he should do that. He looks down at his sending stone, sitting neat and faintly glittering to one side of his desk, and debates on calling the protectobot to see what he might be up to when his work was finished. His fingers come to rest lightly against the outer edge of the stone and...

He hesitates. Dammit, why are relationships so hard?

Birthday, Morning
When Bart awakens on his birthday, he wants to have a quiet, simple day. Half a shift at the clinic, a bit of time spent outside working in the garden that he'd started that was coming along very well by now. It was a vegetable patch with newly planted, strong stakes in the midst of the climbing stalks, and even a space where he wants to eventually install a little fountain so that he could have the sound of water closer by. He's proud of it, especially considering he'd done the majority of it alone in the back lot of his property.

Settling into his seat at his desk, Bart whiles away his time writing little notes in his journal as he awaits incoming patients or perhaps other doctors in need of an extra pair of eyes or hands. But it's a quiet day, peculiarly so considering the semi-frequent upheavals in the regular goings-on of the town, but he's certainly not complaining. It means that what he's planning for the evening, after whatever else may happen to him in the intervening hours, may actually go down without a hitch.

He can hope, anyway.

Birthday, Evening (but possibly the next day, thread-dependent)
Later into the evening, when he's got time to do so, Bart can be found standing anxiously just outside of Velvet, Silk, and Ambrosia. He's dressed well in a fine button-down shirt and comfortable trousers that make his legs look even longer. His hair has been combed before being pulled back in a low ponytail. He looks every bit the very nervous first-timer to an establishment like this, and the reasoning is twofold:

1) The Madame of the establishment makes him very nervous. She has used him as a weapon before, might as well have been responsible for the death of his roommate, and took every opportunity to poke fun at him, which he considers to be very rude indeed!

and 2) It's a brothel. It's advertised as a "love hotel with breakfast options", but the general consensus is that it's a high-end brothel. Which is fine! He has nothing against that! He's just never, ever been this close to one in his life.

So now, here he is, hovering just outside the door with his hand out, as if to test the barrier that he knew had been put in place for the peace of mind of the staff and villagers alike. He can press through it and be permitted to enter.

And he will.

In a minute.

The Day After
The day had been long, and now he wants to take some time alone to decompress Being social takes so much out of him at times, and this was certainly no exception. Bart leaves a note on the front desk at the clinic to let the others know that he would be taking the full day off to get his head back in order, and that he could be found down by the waterfront in case of emergency. Then he simply leaves, heading down toward the beach to spend his day there with his pantlegs rolled up and his feet in the waves coming ashore in their rhythmic patterns. He looks, and feels, at home here, holding his shoes in one hand and just watching the ocean a while.

Wildcard
Belated birthday greetings and/or gifts? Just wishing to say hello in general or run into him early in the month? Prod here, DM me, hit me on the Discord, and I can set up a toplvl to make threads happen.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Very situational," Max answers with a sagely nod.

"This is definitely the right place to go to destress. I'm so excited to pamper you and make you feel special today." He's already wiggling happily in his chair, almost like this is a gift for him as much as for Bart.

"Don't worry, I've been stocking up on vanilla like crazy. If that's what your heart desires, then it's all yours. I even have some hot tea with vanilla blended in."

Bart hasn't stopped being pink since he walked into this place, but at least he's good at navigating around his own embarrassment. It's easy when he's talking with Max.

"Oh that sounds wonderful. Positively decadent, even!" He laughs a little, his hands clasped in his lap. "Perhaps...oh, I've got the loveliest idea for a treat, layered pastry with raspberry and a nice whipped vanilla cream..." Something that he would never really think of for himself, outside of asking Max.

"Decadent is what I do," Max says with a flourish of his hand. He stands, and offers said hand out for Bart, so he can lead his friend back to the private kitchen area Max has set up for this.

"That sounds perfect. I know just the recipe. Have you ever had a mille feuille? It will be like that but with raspberry instead of chocolate."

Bart had half expected for Max to simply take his request and immediately disappear into the kitchen, but there he is with his hand out, and how can Bart turn that down? He stands and takes that hand delicately, then follows along to come and watch the process. He greatly enjoys watching Max work in the kitchen. He likes even more that Max knows exactly the sort of thing that fits his description.

"Oh, is that what it's called? I remember having one at one of the functions that I'd had to attend with father, it was really very lovely but I never did think to ask what it was. It seemed very fancy indeed at the time!"

Max doesn't bring everyone back with him into the kitchen, but he trusts Bart not to be in his way after they've spent so much time tinkering together already. Besides, it's a perfect way to start off a nice birthday hang-out session. Max chats happily as he works, describing every step to Bart as he goes.

"That sounds right. They're really impressive to look at because of the layers. Actually, mille feuille is French for 'a thousand sheets' because of those layers. I really love puff pastry. You have excellent taste."

Bart is adept at not being underfoot, moving easily in time with Max circling about the kitchen as he immediately starts to pull together exactly what he needs to make a mille feuille. He nods along as he listens to Max very enthusiastically explaining every step of the process and half wishes that he'd brought his notebook along so that he could write it all down- no, no he's here for fun and pleasure and he likes listening to Max talk.

"Oh I see, that makes sense!" He's getting more into the precise science that is baking, especially the more he talks with Max. He is very much not letting himself get distracted thinking that this might actually be his idea of a sexy cooking lesson. He may in fact be a bit sapiosexual... Or he just has a thing for someone being nice and informative. It's a problem.

Especially when he's momentarily blindsided by a mental image of Max showing him how to do it all himself by being wrapped around his back, big, strong body comfortable around Bart's smaller frame. His ears flare pink as the imagined scene progresses several steps in a few seconds and he has to force himself back to focusing on the way that Max measures and starts to roll out pastry. He's just going to privately blame the fact that they're at the Velvet. Is it hot in here?

Max looks up from his work just in time to catch that blush rising anew in Bart. Here's the thing: Max is very familiar with feelings like these. Takes one to know one, sometimes. He didn't decide to offer sexy cooking lessons for no reason. Indulging is what he's all about.

He doesn't pause in his work, but he does grace Bart with a very 'come hither' kind of smile while jerking his head in a matching 'come here' gesture.

"You like being hands-on, right? Want to come try this part for yourself?"

That smile isn't lost on him, and Bart's blush immediately intensifies. He fights the urge to get defensive about it and simply moves to take up a position at Max's side to try and copy what he's doing. It is a learning experience, after all.

He's just desperately ignoring the fact that he has no poker face and that Max is pretty damn good at reading people regardless.

"So how long have you been working as a baker professionally?" He asks as a distraction.

Max continues on with his demonstrations at a slightly slower pace, so Bart can watch his moves and mimic them. If their hands get a little close together working side by side on the counter, Max won't do anything to pull away. Slow and steady. Wouldn't want Bart to get a sunburn from the inside with all that blushing.

"Not as long as you'd think. I took the job on, officially, a few months after I arrived here. Before that, it was mostly a hobby for me. It feels good, actually, to finally say I'm a bonafide professional now." Emphasis on 'bone.' ;)

Max moves slowly, and Bart's eyes follow them in every push as they knead and fold the pastry. Long, pale fingers manipulate it precisely and stretch it to pull back and tuck around a soft spread of butter. He is very, very aware of the warmth of Max's arm nearly leaned up against his.

"You've got such a natural talent for it all," he marvels quietly. The innuendo slides right by him, dark eyes full of sincerity turned back up to Max as he pauses briefly in their work. "You're a wonderful entertainer, and your food is always excellent even if I'm not able to have much of it at once. You're so patient and so kind and I...I find myself rather overwhelmed, admittedly. Likely a result of everyone's rather hands-off approach to being with me," he muses, not quite realizing that he'd said that out loud.

Max has to admit, for a minute there he gets a little lost in watching Bart work, imagining what his delicate fingers might feel like manipulating other soft and malleable objects. Barts words shake him out of it, yet leave him with a red tinged face of his own.

"You say such sweet things to me, thank you," he answers as the flush rises higher. He's helpless against Bart's sincerity. It's as comforting as it is sexy. "You know... if you want me or others to be a little more hands-on with you, you can say so. I'm kind of feeling like I couldn't get enough of touching you right now, myself, if you wanted. But I don't want to overwhelm you with that, either."

"It's the truth," he asserts quietly, looking up at Max and standing up a little straighter, though his fingers still rest against the dough they're working. His lips part at the admission, and he swallows, then carefully he lets himself lean his arm up against Max's where they stand. He's trying to bridge the last gap and let himself indulge in someone's touch without getting nervous or self-conscious about it.

"It's probably strange to say, but this place has been the most I've ever had physical contact with literally anybody in my life. Touch-starved is...probably a vast understatement. How can you be starved of something that you never knew before that you would want? But, the longer I'm here, the more it's offered, I feel like I crave it that much more. I haven't spoken with anyone about it, didn't want to sound stranger than I already do, but it feels much the same as your body crying out for a missing nutrient." He hopes he's making sense.

"I know. You mean every word and that's why it's so wonderful."

He presses in a little to meet Bart's touch on his arm, so Bart knows he's moving toward and not away.

"Bart," he starts gently but seriously, "touch is a human need. It always has been. You've been deprived of something so fundamental to existence for so long, it's no wonder you crave it. That's not strange at all."

Bart's lips press together to keep them from trembling, his head ducking as he nods.

"I don't want to put all of my problems in your hands, but out of anyone, I really feel like I can trust that you can help with that, at least a little bit. I like you very much. It's why I came here to see you today after all. Well, aside from knowing that out of anyone I could get a dessert from that you've got experience with my intolerances."

"It makes me feel really good to know you trust me so much. I like you too, and seeing you happy makes me happy."

Max rests his dough to the side and moves to envelop Bart from behind, wrapping his arms around the other with soft affection.

"You deserve only the best on your birthday, and you're going to get it."

Bart's hands come up, his body briefly stiffening in the arms wrapped around him. The last person that hugged him ended up disappearing, and before that, it was just...not something that he was given. A distressing thought, for sure.

He glances over at the dough, thinking that it wouldn't be so bad to let it rest and rise a little bit, if Max is comfortable leaving it be for the moment. Then he leans his head back against Max's shoulder, letting his eyes fall closed.

"Your thoughtfulness is all I could ask for. Thank you..."

Max nuzzles his stubbled chin against Bart's face, falling just short of planting a kiss. "I couldn't imagine being any other way with you. You're a really good friend and I care about you so much. Making you happy makes me happy too."

He gives Bart another nuzzle while he considers if saying this next part is a good idea. But, well, he's always been open with his heart and his feelings. Bart deserves to know.

"Honestly, you know I'm the kind of person that enjoys being more intimate with my friends. I can't ever be exclusive with just one person, but you can ask for more...you know? I'd say yes if you wanted to."

Bart can't help the embarrassed laugh that escapes him at the ticklish feeling of stubble against his cheek. Any rougher he imagines it would itch but for now, it's wonderful.

Bart's ear reddens and warms where it rests against Max's cheek as he considers the fairly blatant implication of that offer. He swallows hard and lowers his voice, hoping that it won't crack.

"I think you might legitimately be the only person I could imagine trusting with my...first..." First what? First everything besides kiss.

Max's arms hug a little tighter as Bart speaks those vulnerable words. The baker's chest swells with warmth that spreads out to his arms, hands, fingers, and further down too.

"That kind of trust is so special. I'd love to make your firsts as wonderful as you deserve. I'd never make you feel less for not having experience. Never ever."

One hand moves up to rest at Max's cheek, leaving a trace of flour there, while the other one nervously wraps around the back of one of the man's arms.

"You're such a wonderful, gentle person. I don't feel as if I should fear anything that you might have in mind, or...or that you'd think I'm strange just for wanting something." He still feels extremely awkward for having any kind of physical feelings for someone that he is physically incompatible with, and that seems to have no interest in him of that nature.

Max gently presses against his hand, leaning into the touch, opening himself to more of it.

"That's the highest compliment anyone can ever give me. That's all I'd want for you or anyone, really. Lately I've been thinking..." he laughs a little at himself in mild embarrassment. "I actually like teaching people. It makes me feel good too and... like I'm doing something meaningful."

He doesn't mean just about teaching cooking. He's started to discover that he sincerely enjoys leading people into sexual experiences they aren't familiar with. He doesn't know for sure if that can be considered a kink but... if it is, it might be one he has. It might be something he could develop.

Bart's head leans against Max's, his smile returning as he nuzzles up against that stubbled cheek.

"I think you'd be a fantastic teacher. You've already taught me quite a bit just today when it comes to our little pastry venture. I'm certain that you could apply it to whatever you thought you might be capable of, and I would gladly sit in to see how you get on."

"I might just come ask you for feedback on a different project I've been considering," Max answers warmly. Ever since he made those models for Grace he's been thinking about trying again, maybe in a more formal setting.

"It helps when the people I'm teaching are so good at listening like you are."

"Anything you've got in mind, please don't hesitate to let me know. For now though...may I make a request?" He swallows around his nerves and lifts his head enough to glance up at Max, then at his lips and the easy smile he always finds on them. "I've been, I mean, I've thought a lot about it, and I think I would like to learn how to kiss properly. There was no chance for me to learn before I made it here," he explains nervously.

"Of course, I'd love to show you," he says, nuzzling against Bart again. His tone turns mischievously teasing. "We'll have to practice a bunch to make sure you're getting it."

Max sets the dough aside and coaxes Bart to turn around in his arms and face him, all while keeping them as close together as possible, pushed up against the counter. "What do think of starting now?"

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