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Peter had a long history of fumbling his way into situations, but this had to be one of the dumbest, at least if Gamora’s exasperated look was anything to go on. Not that he could blame her. To go from shaking a dude’s hand to challenging him to arm wrestle was pretty dumb, even by Quill’s standards.
But this wasn’t just any dude. This was Captain America himself. And this wasn’t the macho play for dominance Gamora clearly thought. No. Not that he’d ever admit the truth out loud. He just… wanted an excuse to touch him, to get a peek at what those impressive arms could do, whether he kept losing or not.
They did best out of three. Then five. Seven. By thirteen, Rocket cackled that Peter’d never fly again if he kept it up. At fifteen, they stopped.
When everyone else dispersed, Captain Rogers approached him. “You did good,” he said amiably, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Y-yeah, well.” Peter tried to maintain his cool as the touch lingered. “I took it easy on ya.”
The Captain chuckled, fixed him with a smirk that was at once good-natured and smug before sauntering away. “Whatever you say, Star-fox.”