Max Evans (longingfromafar) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2019-05-03 07:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, max evans, michael guerin |
WHO: Max and Michael
WHAT: Dinner
WHEN: An evening
WHERE: Max’s place
STATUS: Complete
RATING: Low
Max swiveled in his small kitchen, sweeping a cutting board full of vegetables into a waiting bowl before placing both board and knife into the sink. He’d invited Michael to a dinner that wasn’t some sort of greasy take-out. Spaghetti and salad may not be first class cuisine but it was a sight better than McDonald’s or the like. Rolls were waiting on the counter; he’d put them in the oven when Michael arrived.
“Speak of the devil,” he muttered as a knock on the door coincided with that thought. Leaving the pasta simmering, Max wiped his hands, heading to open the door and step back with a smile. “Nice to see you.” He hadn’t been entirely sure that Michael would humor him in the request to eat something of substance.
Michael never put too much thought into what he ate. Usually just grabbing whatever fast food or takeout he wanted on his way home from work. Or skipping the food part completely and just counting beers as his dinner. But Max had insisted and Michael knew if he refused the guy would just keep on asking until Michael came for dinner. Plus he could use the company.
Michael showed up and Max’s with a six pack of beer, knocking on the door. It was only a matter of seconds before Max answered. “Hey,” Michael greeted holding up the sixer. “I brought more sustenance.”
“Yeah, I figured you’d probably have that covered,” he teased, stepping back to let Michael in, leading the way to the kitchen and handing him a bottle opener.
“You know the drill, make yourself at home. Just gonna be a few minutes for the garlic bread. Hope you like spaghetti.”
Michael made his way inside, setting the six pack down on the counter. He got out two beers one for him and one for Max. Accepting the opener from Max he popped off the top of one of the bottles handing it over to his friend before opening the other for himself.
“I’d prefer a burger,” Michael joked. Although it wasn’t a total lie. He did like burgers. But having a home cooked meal once in awhile was probably a good idea. “But I could eat some spaghetti.”
“You eat enough burgers as it is,” Max returned, taking a long sip from the beer Michael had pressed into his hand. “So I’m glad the spaghetti is okay. Because otherwise next time you might get a grilled chicken salad.” And he was only half kidding. Half because he was pretty sure Michael wouldn’t actually show if grilled chicken was on the menu.
“How’ve you been?”
“You should never put me and salad in the same sentence,” Michael replied a grin on his face taking a swig from his bottle. Because Max was right. If he tried to get MIchael to eat a grilled chicken salad, Michael just wouldn’t show.
“I’ve been alright,” Michael replied leaning against the counter, his left hand - the bad hand- wrapped around his beer bottle. “Just working.” And spending time with Alex Manes. But he wasn’t ready to tell Max about that. “You?” though he had a feeling Max’s answer was the same. The guy was pretty dedicated to his job.
“Yeah, working about covers it.” Sometimes it seemed like all Max did was work. “And I’m volunteering at Pimpernel Outreach when I have a spare minute.” Not that he had a lot of spare time to give but he did want to help wherever he could.
“Do you remember Kyle Valenti? I ran into him one morning. Literally knocked him on his ass. He’s a doctor now. We might wind up going for drinks sometime and catching up.”
“The Pimpernel Outreach?” Michael asked taking another swig from his bottle. He really had no idea what that was. But then Michael didn’t pay attention to all that much outside of work and his small circle of friends.
Kyle Valenti. Of course Michael remembered him. Not because they were close or anything. But he was important to Alex. Therefor he was important to Michael in a way. Even if it was just knowing who he was. “Yeah,” Michael said with a small nod. “I actually had a few beers with him the other night.”
“It’s a non-profit.” Shrugging, Max moved to strain the pasta and pull out the garlic bread. “I thought maybe I could help with some legal advice before people wind up in such a bad place they need a public defender.” He was aware how much extra work he was signing himself up for.
“Small world then. You’re welcome to come out whenever we actually get something set up. I just need to take a look at my calendar and see what will work.”
“You sure you got time for that?” Michael questioned. He knew how busy Max kept his schedule. And how much each case consumed him. But he also knew Max would always do whatever he could to help others.
“Yeah?” Michael questioned taking another sip of his beer. “I might have to take you up on that.”
A shrug. “I told them I’m not going to quit my day job or anything but if I can do something a few hours a week and keep even one thing from getting to court I think it’ll be worth it.” He hated seeing some people in court who could have avoided the whole ordeal if they’d gotten some good advice earlier.
“I’ll make sure to include you on the invite.” Like it was going to be something formally sent out instead of just a text.
“So what will you be doing exactly?” Michael questioned. “Giving them legal advice before they get into trouble?” That was what he was getting form what Max was saying at least.
“Sounds good,” Michael said with a small nod before taking another swig from his bottle. “So when do I get this home cooked meal you’re so insistent on me having?”
“That’s exactly what I’ll be doing, yes.” There were a lot of things that could be accomplished vi legal paths and outside of courtrooms.
The next question brought a grin to Max’s face, the man setting his beer down to put the rolls in the oven and start pulling things together. Noodles drained, sauce added, and plates and cutlery brought out before the rolls were also removed, now warm and light brown.
“Plate,” he advised, handing one to Michael. “Fill it up. And don’t skip the salad, either.”
Michael piled his plate full of spaghetti. But he did put a little salad on it, because he knew Max wouldn’t let it drop if he didn’t.
Plate in one hand beer in the other Michael made his way over to the table, sitting down and digging in. “You know,” Michael said between bites. “This isn’t bad.”
And he would be right. It wasn’t a lot of green but just enough that Max couldn’t really object. His own plate was more half and half, with a roll balanced on the side.
“Thanks.” Twirling the pasta around his fork, Max took a bite, chewing and swallowing before continuing. “Glad it lives up to your standards. Even if it isn’t a burger.” He had to tease about that.
“Once in awhile I can change it up,” Michael joked. “As long as you don’t try to make me eat one of those green smoothies.” He made a face at the thought. He was sure max already knew not to push it too far, but still he couldn’t help but joke about it.
“I know better than that, man.” He was grinning as he said it, though. “Just like I knew I was pushing things even giving you salad. You don’t have to worry. No tofu, no kale, no quinoa...just something with more nutritional value than a fast food joint.”
“Hey,” Michael protested between bites of spaghetti. “Sometimes I get take out.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry. Something with more nutritional value than fast food or take-out….should I add delivery to that list, too?” PIzza was a staple, he had a feeling.
Michael already knew where Max was going with that thought. “You can put vegetables on pizza,” he argued. And meat. It was a full meal right there.
“Do you?” He was laughing as he said it, Max taking a bite of salad in defiance of Michael’s eating habits.
“Put vegetables on my pizza?” Michael replied taking a swallow of beer. “I like the peppers.” That counted.
“Mmmhmm. Glad to see you’ve got something green on your plate today. You need it.”
“Don’t push it,” Michael replied with a smirk taking another bite of his spaghetti. Yeah it wasn’t take out but it wasn’t so bad. And the company was even better. Michael could get used to this.
Grinning, Max took another bite of his spaghetti. He’d let it go. For now.