"Are you jealous?"
Sam tears his eyes away from the dancing duo, meeting BB's green ones instead; the corners of her lips in a cruel upturn.
"No." He says. "Why would I be?" He tries for confusion, for amusement.
She smiles, her cheeks pushing up and narrowing her eyes. She's laughing at him.
"Because you're not his partner."
He looks back and feels his face burn.
Peter has lifted the other man, hand grasping his thigh securely (tightly), blue eyes staring up at green. The other has his hand in Peter's hair, ensuring that he faces him. They stay like that for a moment longer, the air around them charged, before the music changes notes and they are moving again, a new sort of hunger in their movements.
"He doesn't have a type, you know." BB continues, "Not really, but he has always prefered ones who have more fire in them." She laughs.
Sam doesn't pay her any mind, too busy trying to record their dance – the caresses that are at times unnecessary, the pulling that is a touch rougher on Peter's end but the other man enjoys, the darkening of blue eyes whenever the other 'slips away', and the final, when Peter dips him, hand spread wide on the lower back, the other holding the back of a thigh, pulling the body closer than would be decent, but the other has hooked his leg on Peter's and has bared his neck.
BB laughs and Sam feels his chest hollow out.