“Look at it this way,” Sif wasn’t really sure why she was defending her point when she knew Fandral was right. Everyone loved Steve Rogers, he just had that sort of attraction around him, a personality people found it hard to hate, but she decided she was allowed to be biased for a while. Thor was really the only thing she had against him, but it was a pretty big issue, all puns aside. “Less people to share booze with at meetings. Hey, this can be our first meeting!”
She took the glass gratefully as he handed it back, taking a long sip as she rested her head against his, cheekbone in his hair and moving around until she was comfortable, sighing. “Talk to them, huh. That’d go really well. I know exactly what I’d say, and I don’t think anyone needs to hear it.”
“Yeah, our first meeting for the “We don’t hate Steve Rogers, but we sure as hell don’t praise his bitch ass twenty-four-seven” Club. We’re gonna take over the world, bitches.” His hand continued to rub Sif’s thigh as he spoke. He didn’t like to think about Rogers. It led to bad thoughts. He would get all worked up with thinking about how not perfect Rogers is. He got up a bit grabbed a bottle of Rasberry Vodka and then settled back down, cuddled up against Sif.
“Well, I for one, would LOVE, absolutely love to see that happen. Oh dear god, I’d love to hear you tell them off, yes please.” He all but moaned. He wiggled in his seat. He was a sucker for conflict. He finally opened the bottle and pressed his lips to it. He drank it fast until he couldn’t breath and then finally pulled away and let out a deep sigh. He felt warmer and he wanted to take off his tank top but refrained from it. He licked his lips and looked up at Sif. “Wanna play strip poker? Or strip something? I’m getting warm. The cake is getting warmed up. I need to cool down.”
“First meeting,” Sif repeated, nodding, and taking a long sip from the glass Fandral had refilled for her. “It’s a little quiet, but I have high hopes for the future, and our jackets are gonna be amazing, you see.” She gave a sigh, rolling her eyes. “Maybe I should tell them off. Maybe after a few drinks I’ll phone them, right now, tonight.”
She raised an eyebrow at him, having a little trouble turning her head to look at him what with how he was pressed up against her, and how her head would spin now if she moved it too quickly. She gave a quiet snort in case he didn’t see the eyebrow. “Maybe the cake wouldn’t be so warm if it wasn’t cuddled up against the— wait, what am I? Nevermind, point is, you’re sharing my body heat. How many strip-games do you even know?”