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“This is so old school,” Adam laughs as they pull open the door to the most retro, old fashioned ice cream parlour in all of Oklahoma, probably. The floors are checkered, the walls are light pink, the counters and tables alternating shades of pastel blues and greens. The place is fairly empty, luckily, their thinking that not too many people would want ice cream at 4 in the afternoon seemingly right on.
“I knew you’d like it,” Blake says, beaming as they look up at the specials on the board. “They have all the classic stuff, like egg creams or whatever. The guy who opened it moved here from Brooklyn in the 70’s, I think.”
“Blake Shelton, you brought me on a date to heaven,” Adam grins, still staring up at the board, trying to decide what to get. They’ve got your standard ice cream sundaes, your banana splits, your floats, your malts, your freezes, something called ‘the empire state’, which is described as a tall mess of ice cream chocolate, cookies, and coffee that would probably put Adam on the ceiling for three hours, and there’s also…
“What’s ‘The Hitman’?” Adam asks, the parlour attendant looking up from cleaning glasses.
“That’s our specialty,” he says. “It’s eight scoops of ice cream and eight toppings of your choice, served with whipped cream, sprinkles, cherries, and wafers.” He laughs. “If you finish it in an hour, it’s free.”
“Oh my god,” Adam is almost drooling at the thought. He doesn’t care if it sounds like a monstrosity; he’s having it.
“No,” Blake says, laughing.
“You’re not my Dad!” Adam mocks.
“That’s not what you said last night.” Blake murmurs and Adam gives him a shot in the arm.
“You don’t have to eat it, I will.” Adam says, determined; now trying to decide what ice cream to get in his Hitman.
“Yeah, and who’s going to have to drag your ass outta here and watch you bounce off the walls all night?”
“You exaggerate.”
It turns out that the place rivals Baskin Robbins for the number of flavours. It takes Adam 15 minutes to choose 8 of them, opting for butterscotch bourbon, chocolate cake batter, honey sweet apple, kiwi strawberry sorbet, pina colada, red velvet, salted caramel, and vanilla bean. His eight toppings are hot fudge, caramel, fresh strawberries and bananas, chopped peanuts, chocolate chips, gummy bears, and sprinkles. He watches it being made, eyes huge as his realizes the “scoops” are the size of softballs, the toppings amounting to at least half a cup each.
The attendant, who’s realized who they are by now, brings their ice cream to their table for them, Blake’s sundae swimming in hot fudge, and Adam’s Hitman filling a large, glass mixing bowl. Blake just stares as Adam dives in unabashedly, tackling the heap of ice cream and candy like he’s at a pie eating contest.
“I swear to god if you throw up in my truck,” Blake says, shaking his head, dipping his spoon in his own ice cream.
“Oh my god,” Adam looks at him, pointing enthusiastically with his spoon. “The pina colada is killer. And the salted caramel, Blake seriously you have to try this.”
Adam holds out the spoon and Blake wraps his lips around it, not caring how coupley or cheesy it is that Adam’s feeding him. The ice cream hits his tongue and it’s more salty than sweet at first, melting on his tongue with the creamy caramel taste. He locks eyes with Adam and it really shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
“You’ve got a bit.” Adam leans in and kisses the corner of Blake’s mouth, licking away the residual ice cream, and Blake agrees that it is delicious.
The ice cream is damn good too.
It goes on like that for almost an hour, Blake finishing his sundae and resigning himself to watching Adam attempt to finish his. Adam lets him try all eight flavors, and he has to admit they’re all absolutely delicious, but he’s not sure they warrant Adam moaning sinfully over each bite. Nor is it entirely necessary for him to eat the whipped cream with his finger. Don’t even get him started on the fucking cherries.
“Seriously, this is the best fucking thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”
“I’m startin to get jealous over here!” Blake says, pouting.
“Awww!” Adam laughs and reaches over, offering Blake the last of the cherries. His next comment should have been obvious, but it doesn’t stop Blake from groaning and covering his face with his hands.
The attendant has been politely keeping his distance all along, serving the one or two people who’ve come in (and keeping them from really seeing who Blake and Adam are. He’s a good dude, Blake thinks). He comes over now, and grins at Adam. “How we doin’?”
“So freakin good,” Adam says enthusiastically. “How much time do I have left?”
“About 10 minutes.”
Adam looks down at the bowl and realizes he still has half of it left to eat. “Sir, I accept your challenge.” Is all he says before shoveling ice cream and assorted toppings into his mouth.
“Whoa whoa, this isn’t a challenge!” Blake stares at him, alarmed. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Ten minutes Blake, if I finish it it’s free!”
“Yeah cause you’re really hurtin for cash,” Blake says sarcastically. For the next few minutes he watches Adam devour at least another quarter of the ice cream in disbelief and dread. “Seriously, stop eating so damn fast you’re gonna get – “
“AARGH,” Adam suddenly drops the spoon with a clatter on the table and clutches his head. “BRAIN FREEZE”
“I’m not even sorry for you, you’re such an idiot,” Blake rolls his eyes while Adam breathes through his teeth. “It can’t be that bad, the ice cream’s half melted now anyway!”
“Shut up and kill me already,” Adam mumbles through his hands and Blake just laughs while the attendant watches the clock.
“3…2…1…times up, pay up!” The attendant says good-naturedly while Adam looks at Blake.
“No way am I paying for that, you got yourself in that mess!” Adam just huffs, disappointed.
“You’re so cheap,” he says, fishing in his wallet for the cash. The attendant leaves with the money and a selfie of the three of them (it was the least they could do). “Besides,” Adam says while they get ready to leave. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy at least some of that.”
Blake smirks. “I liked your cherry, that’s true.”
Adam blushes and Blake doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of that sight, Adam bright red and yet inexplicably, visibly turned on. It’s definitely time to go home. Then Blake gets an idea.
“Hey,” he calls out to the attendant. “Can I get another salted caramel ice cream in a bowl to go?
“Sure thing,” he says, scooping it out and exchanging it for Blake’s cash. “Careful, that one melts kind of fast in this heat.
“Don’t worry,” Blake tells him, and pulls Adam behind him towards the door. “I drive fast.”