sekkritaus | Poker

Poker

Alex hummed under his breath, leaning all the way back in his chair as he looked over his cards. He was making a show of being unsure, but he had a great hand. Only problem was, after a beer and a lot of Poker, he had nothing left to bet with, and Amos had just raised. He was pretty sure, however, that he could win this hand. So he needed something.

"Alrigh'," he said finally after a minute, "But I ain't got any scrip left, so I might have to literally bet the shirt off my back." He looked up at both of them - an amused smirk twitching at his lips. "If ya'll think you have the guts to match."

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Amos raised an eyebrow at the challenge, surprised Alex would even make it first. Of the three of them, Amos was the one to care the least about this kind of stuff, but maybe the alcohol had got to Alex enough that he had lowered inhibitions.

“Of all the things I own, this shirt on my back is probably the one I’m least attached to, so I’ll definitely play along.”

It’s easy for him to say that, to play along. It didn’t really mean anything to him.

“Not much of a challenge, really.”

Bobbie is now officially both broke and in ownership of a terrible hand, despite her best efforts. Alex's suggestion makes her smirk, eyebrows raised.

"You're that desperate, huh? Wow. I'm in."

Bobbie the farthest thing from shy possible, so she doesn't really care. She has a feeling Alex will, though, so at least she can take him down with her.

Alex grinned, happily, a little giddy from the drinks but also the company, as he leaned forward and lay out his cards on the table.

"Read 'em and weep. Straight, Ace's high."

Amos grins, before putting his cards down on the table.

“Full house,” he says as he does, leaning back with a satisfied smile on his face, before turning to Bobbie expectantly.

“What you got, Babs?”

Bobbie lets out a long-suffering sigh and lays her cards down.

"Garbage. You really want my shirt? I don't think it'll look as good on you."

"God damn it," Alex cursed, but even as Bobbie was asking the question, he was zipping down his jumpsuit. It was just a shirt, and he could close up his jumpsuit afterward anyway.

“Alex is the one who set the rules,” Amos replies with a shrug, but the smirk on his face is still firmly present. It’s not smug, just satisfied with the turn of events. “If it was up to me, it wouldn’t be your shirt I’m getting.”

He throws a glance at Alex, eyes moving down along with the zipper of his jumpsuit.

Bobbie just laughs at that, too distracted by yanking her shirt over her head to watch Alex. She tosses it at Amos' head, which doesn't really count as revenge, but she's trying. She still has her sports bra on underneath, so the damage could have been far worse.

Alex manages to struggle out of his in time to see Bobbie fling hers across the room, and he couldn't quite help the way his eyes lingered before he remembered where he was. He tossed his shirt at Amos, then quickly zipped his jumpsuit back up over his bare chest.

"Alright, alright, but you gotta give me a chance to win it back."

“Pretty sure thats cheatin’,” Amos mentions at Alex’s zipped up jumpsuit, reaching out to unzip it himself, doing it slowly, the teeth of the zipper clicking softly. “You’re not winning anything back if you’re not playing fair, Alex.”

Once Alex zipper was satisfyingly down, Amos goes back to the cards, distributing them again before wrapping Bobbie’s shirt around his neck.

“Are we keeping this up? Strip poker?”

She snorts derisively, then scoots closer to Alex and tugs the jumpsuit down over his shoulders.

"Unzipped is still cheating. And if you don't have anything else to bet, I guess we are."

He suffered the manhandling fairly well, though he could feel a slight heat rise under his collar - or, well, he had no collar, now, as he shifted in his seat to tie his jumpsuit around his waist.

"I just said shirt," he complained, "I didn't say anythin' about skin." But he was now sitting with his bare chest anyway. He glanced at Bobbie again, then to Amos and his smirk, and not for the first time Alex's mind wandered into what ifs and maybes and half recognized desires. He cleared his throat and grabbed the deck of cards.

"Well, I mean, if it means I can get my pride back..."

“What pride have you lost? She’s made you work out, you’re looking good.”

The look Amos throws Bobbie is appreciative, and it’s not just because she is sitting there in a bra herself, although it definitely helps.

“You got pecs now.”

Bobbie grins when Alex blushes, and it only widens at Amos' compliment.

"He's right, you know. You should be thanking us for the chance to show off."

Alex was thankful that he had a deck of cards to focus on, as he started shuffling.

"Uh huh, well, flattery will get you anywhere," he said, trying not to let his skin darken any further.

"What's the opening bid, then? Suits?" As he started to deal out the cars.

“Don’t care. The stakes aren’t high enough right now that I feel the need to win.”

It’s not a lie. Stripping, being naked, it means a lot less to him than it does to someone like Alex. So he shrugs, leaning with his elbows on the table, hands under his chin.

“It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before anyway.”

"So I'm the unlucky one, huh?"

She's joking. Sort of. Mostly. Okay, she really wouldn't mind seeing him ditch that shirt.

"You pick, Alex. I don't care either."

Alex gave Amos a look that clearly read 'that really didn't count', but got distracted by Bobbie as she continued. Unlucky, huh...

He sighed, finishing the deal and putting the deck down in front of him.

"Suits, then. Since all I got otherwise is my shorts and my socks and if I say socks, ya'll'll call me a coward, and if I say shorts, you'll make me lose my suit anyway."

“It’s not like any of us are wearing much. Once the jumpsuit goes it’s down to the skivvies for all of us.”

Which sends him to throw another look towards Bobbie, eyes moving down to her stomach, flat and muscular. And then he smacks his lips together.

“And I’m not wearing any of those.”

Bobbie can feel Amos watching her, and it sends an instinctive little rush of anticipation through her. She tries to shove it aside, tell herself it's ridiculous and respond with something teasing, but what comes out instead is: "Yeah? Then I guess I'd better hope you lose."

He's not imagining it.

That weird little undercurrent of energy that he keeps wondering whether it's real or not, whether he's making it up or if it's wishful thinking - it isn't. He sees that little spark between Bobbie and Amos and can't quite bring himself to deny that he doesn't feel something too. Because even though he has seen Amos naked, sure, he's pretty sure it would be different, now.

He swallows, focusing on his cards.

"Talkin' like that makes it sound like you want to lose, brother," he says, looking through his hand. "An' I think I can oblige you."

Amos smirks at Bobbie’s words, raising an eyebrow. They often do this, what he considers to be aimless, harmless flirting, but he’s got to wonder how much truth her words do hold, because he knows he would not turn her down if she did come onto him. It’s just teasing, though, a bit of a challenge, just like Alex’s words are. Amos turns back to him, holding his cards without looking at them.

“Yeah, like the last hand? Bring it on, Kamal.”

Bobbie smiles back, despite herself. There's the usual back and forth flirting they do as a joke, and then there's this, which from her end is something unintentionally more serious.

"I don't think he has it in him."

"Don't go underestimatin' me, Gunny."

He rearranged the cards in his hands, then flashed them both a grin. "Alright, I'll raise ya'll my shorts. Since you don't got any, Amos, you can give us a dance, instead."

"A dance? Really?"

He hadn't danced in a long time, and he'd never danced for them, his crew. His frame and stature made him look like he couldn't, and most people were too scared of him to even contemplate the possibility, even less ask.

"Like a lap dance?"

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Poker

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