Something fun for a change…
# 4 – Poker
Rating: T
Spoilers: none
Genre: fluff
Timeline & setting: Sam's apartment / the bullpen.
"You don't happen to play poker, do you?"
An amused glance. "All Italians play poker."
"Well you're not Italian, not really."
"True."
"And I'm sure there are Italians who don't play poker…"
… but then again, she wouldn't really know.
"Sam, you're not a poker player."
She doesn't blink− it's not like he would know how good she is at this sort of game. "You think you'd win?"
A cautious frown tells her that he does know her better than she wants to admit. "I'll let you find out."
It's too late to back away: it won't stop until they end this.
"If I lose I'll ask my boss for a raise." Her lips quirk up in a smirk that he reciprocates. It's their evening, their game, their set of rules.
"Tokens?" he supposes.
"What, no cash? You backing out?"
He laughs. "No, seriously. Tokens?"
She rolls her eyes. Resourcefulness is a virtue, and she quickly comes up with a deck of cards and a box of matches.
"Haven't your parents taught you it's dangerous to play with fire?"
There are things in life than involve far more risks, she wants to reply, although a poker game with her married boss might rank high on the list of hazards. They both concentrate− flop, turn, river. Tonight, they don't play by normal rules.
"I'll raise you."
"You're bluffing."
He gazes back challengingly. "Wanna find out?"
Instead of replying, she piles some more matches.
"Now you're bluffing."
Her eyes don't leave his. She counters teasingly, "Wanna find out?"
"I can tell when you bluff. You look nervous."
"No I don't. Wanna bet?"
"Isn't it the point?"
A grin. Turn, river. A double pair. Aces. He smirks. She smirks back, shows him a straight. Not that matches are any good− you could bet millions without a care in the world. It doesn't feel like something real. Something worth it.
"Jack?"
He shifts in his seat. It's hot.
"Take off your jacket."
A pause. One look. Poker− dangerous game. "Only if you win."
The air's warm, too warm. He looses again and removes his tie along with the jacket. Doesn't even blink as he raises her once more and wins. The next hand is his. No more matches. She stands. Wants to remove her own jacket, but her muscles hurt. He slides behind her, his hands finding her shoulders.
"We should make poker a new institution in the office."
"Mmm." A quiet gasp, too close to a moan. "It'd be hard to account for the extra hours."
"Really?"
His hands are still on her when she turns around. "Really," she says before leaning forward. His body falls against her, warm and familiar. His lips are soft as he shifts position, deepening the kiss. His mouth finds her neck− eyes falling shut, lips teasing her ear. She tilts her head back, wanting to feel him more. On their own volition, her fingers find the buttons on his shirt− shirt on the floor, movements suddenly more purposeful.
"It was just supposed to be poker," he says in a breath. "No stripping."
She grins against his lips.
------------------------
"Jack, you know how to play poker, don't you?"
Poker.
Sam.
Danger.
"Yeah, Danny. All Italians play poker."
"But you're not really−"
"True."
A deck of card lands on the table, but tokens aren't exactly standard office supplies. "What do we play with?"
Samantha smirks, challenging Danny with, "What are you willing to lose?"
He looks over at her, then at Jack. "Think she's any good?"
Flop.
Turn.
River.
Hands.
Hair.
Lips.
He adjusts his jacket− it's hot.
"How would I know, Danny?"
/ End of Poker