Prompt 132: "We're not playing strip poker. I don't care what I said whan I was drunk."
Warnings: sort of dirty flirty... I mean it's Brendon and strip poker
Word count: 513
A/N: please don't ever make me write the words "strip" and "poker" in that order, directly following each other ever again xD
"What? You want what?"
You stared at Brendon wide eyed, trying to figure out if he was being serious. He sat on the sofa in your living room, eyes expectantly fixed on you.
"Strip poker," he repeated patiently.
"What makes you think I'd play strip poker with you," you asked, pressing your hands into your sides, staring at him accusingly.
"You said it yourself," he exclaimed and jumped up, his brown fluff of hair bouncing in and out of his forehead.
"When?"
"Yesterday!"
"Yesterday evening," you questioned, raising your eyebrows at Brendon who nodded, "yesterday evening when I was drunk?"
"You promised," Brendon whined.
Now he stood in front of you, his dark, chocolate brown eyes pleading staring at you. You hated when he did the puppy eyes; he had more than once guilt tripped you into stuff you usually would have never done. But not this time.
"We're not playing strip poker. I don't care what I said when I was drunk," you decided. "I love you Brendon, but there is a line, and strip poker is the line."
"But I wanna play," he whined, sounding like a little kid who wanted ice cream. Pleadingly he tucked at your shirt, making you shake your head.
"No, go and play strip poker with someone else," you told him, taking hold of this hands that had slipped towards the hem of your shirt.
"But I wanna play it with you," he begged, wrapping his arms around you, pulling your into his chest.
"But I don't wan- do you know you're like an annoying toddler?"
"Do you play when I say yes," he asked a hopeful grin on his face.
"No," you immediately replied, and he slumped forwards against you.
"Don't you love me," he whined, making you laugh.
"We already established that I do, at least a thousand times this week alone. I just don't want to play strip poker with you. What's so great about that anyway," you wondered, plugging Brendon off of you, and heading towards the hallway.
"It's the thrill of who's gonna lose their next piece of clothing first," he explained, "makes it way more fun than just undressing."
"You'd be rubbish at that game," you stated, grabbing your purse and shoving it into you pocket.
"What? No! I wouldn't! What makes you say that," he asked confused, watching as you pulled your shoes on.
"Because you're way too impatient," you suggested, making him halt.
"Oh... well, that might be true," he admitted. "Hey, were are you going?"
"So you remembered me saying I would play strip poker yesterday evening, but not me saying I'm gonna pick up dinner five minutes ago," you raised your eyebrows, knowing that dinner was one of the only things Brendon might enjoy more than whatever he had in mind with you.
"Only 'cause I was thinking about strip poker," he defended.
"Great. So I'm gonna pick up dinner, and you get set the table until I'm back, yeah," you suggested, leaning in to peck Brendon's lips sweetly.
"And then we play strip poker?"
"NO!"