Of course. Any bet worth its salt needed a price; winners had to win something. Otherwise, why bother? They might as well pass out bright certificates declaring its holder absolutely swell, if there were no penalty. As they got off the gravel and onto the asphalt, Amber stared at the ground, thinking.
In any other situation, she could use a bet to pry out of someone else what they wouldn’t give unless forced—money, information, objects. But with Eric, she didn’t want anything he wouldn’t part with willingly. There was nothing she wanted to make him do that he didn’t feel comfortable with. And anything that she’d be okay with offering as a sacrifice, he could ask of her at any moment and she’d deliver. She couldn’t even ask for anything work-related, since there going to be cries of favoritism as it was, and no need to make the complicated subject even more nuanced. Though, for a single exciting heartbeat, Amber imagined gathering up all her competition and House and anyone else who might ever have an opinion about their relationship and, in front of them all, have Eric kiss her. That’d show them.
And what could she give him? The last time she’d bestowed an award, she’d guessed what would please him and fucked up completely. He’d ended up liking the rim job anyway, but if she suggested it tonight, he’d probably turn her down and mope over his tarnished image of his manliness.
Amber had reached for her wallet to pay for her own set of tickets, wondering if Eric either expected her to go on a ridiculous number of rides or if he actually wanted to hit that many, but then he offered a ‘fair trade.’ Snorting, Amber let her hand drop. “And soda.” Just to be sure he didn’t end up paying for more than half of the rides.
She tugged him towards the row of booths where some of the food stands were together with the games. The setup wouldn’t clear the Ritz standards of quality, with the tables covered in orange-and-black cloth and the vendors protected from the blowing cold by sheets of plastic. “This’ll probably be gone with the wind before long,” Amber teased as she stepped into the line for one of the shooting games. She still didn’t know what to suggest as the stakes in their bet, but she would like to know what Eric would consider an appropriate reward. “Whoever wins decides what we do when we go home.” Amber raised her eyebrows to make the subtext of her meaning perfectly clear.
no subject
In any other situation, she could use a bet to pry out of someone else what they wouldn’t give unless forced—money, information, objects. But with Eric, she didn’t want anything he wouldn’t part with willingly. There was nothing she wanted to make him do that he didn’t feel comfortable with. And anything that she’d be okay with offering as a sacrifice, he could ask of her at any moment and she’d deliver. She couldn’t even ask for anything work-related, since there going to be cries of favoritism as it was, and no need to make the complicated subject even more nuanced. Though, for a single exciting heartbeat, Amber imagined gathering up all her competition and House and anyone else who might ever have an opinion about their relationship and, in front of them all, have Eric kiss her. That’d show them.
And what could she give him? The last time she’d bestowed an award, she’d guessed what would please him and fucked up completely. He’d ended up liking the rim job anyway, but if she suggested it tonight, he’d probably turn her down and mope over his tarnished image of his manliness.
Amber had reached for her wallet to pay for her own set of tickets, wondering if Eric either expected her to go on a ridiculous number of rides or if he actually wanted to hit that many, but then he offered a ‘fair trade.’ Snorting, Amber let her hand drop. “And soda.” Just to be sure he didn’t end up paying for more than half of the rides.
She tugged him towards the row of booths where some of the food stands were together with the games. The setup wouldn’t clear the Ritz standards of quality, with the tables covered in orange-and-black cloth and the vendors protected from the blowing cold by sheets of plastic. “This’ll probably be gone with the wind before long,” Amber teased as she stepped into the line for one of the shooting games. She still didn’t know what to suggest as the stakes in their bet, but she would like to know what Eric would consider an appropriate reward. “Whoever wins decides what we do when we go home.” Amber raised her eyebrows to make the subtext of her meaning perfectly clear.