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The Marv Levy Question

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"The Buffalo Bills?"

Monica's voice was laced with amusement as she stared at John from her seat on his couch. There was a beer in her hand and as she leaned back and crossed her legs, her short denim skirt rode up a little, slightly distracting John. When he pulled his gaze from her legs to her eyes, there was an arch to her brows clued him in to the fact that that may not have been an accident. "You making fun of me?" he asked and even he knew that it wasn't his finest comeback. She batted it back to him without so much as blinking.

"No, I'm making fun of the Buffalo Bills. Who are apparently your favourite team." There was an extra quirk of her eyebrow then as she raised her beer bottle to her lips. "The losingest team in Superbowl history." She took a sip of her beer then, her eyes dancing.

"Keep that up and I'm not gonna let you watch the game with me," he tried but she refuted that one too.

"Sure you will," she told him and the worst of it was that she was right. "But the Bills? Really?"

John shrugged one shoulder, settling himself down on the couch beside her. "I happen to have a soft spot for the Bills, is that so wrong?"

Monica chuckled. "Again... the losingest team in Superbowl history."

"Four games in a row," he agreed. "And that's all anyone ever talks about. You ever think about how hard it is to get to one Superbowl... yet alone four in a row? And no matter what was said about them, how bad they got beat? They never gave up, kept coming back year after year... you gotta admire that."

Monica tilted her head, stared at him for a long moment, her eyes serious. "I guess you're right... there's something to be said for picking yourself up... starting all over again..."

John reached out with his free hand, rested it on her knee, and if it slid a little bit up and under her skirt, well then, she didn't seem to have a problem with it. "You know, the Bills' coach, Marv Levy? He used to give a pre-game talk... always ended it the same way. Asked his players, 'Where else would you rather be than right here, right now." His fingers tightened on her knee, just for a second. "I know exactly how he feels."

With a smile so bright it could have powered the city for a month, Monica leaned forward and brushed her lips over his. "Me too."