Number One, Live Grenades and Fertility Bombs

"Your always my number one." I says as he grins and shakes his head.
"Thats what you tell all the men as they light your cigarettes and hope you make their beds." He says to me.
Never skip a beat...
"Do I not always end up back at one?" Tis my response.
Familiar dialect, we knows it word for word.
"Thats what you tell all the men as you leave them alone in bed."
"What are you saying?" I ask all ready awaiting reply I know.
"Live grenades, locked and loaded AK need I say more?"
I smirk...
"Awww are you jealous?" I tease
He pulls me to him....
"Wench remind me to tell you the game we played, me and Julie back on base when things were slow."
"I think you wrote it once, game of numbers, you were one?"
I grin, knowing where this is leading again.
He whispers in me ear this time...
"Involved a cigarette, a rubberband and a live grenade."
"Sounds like danger." I continue the tease.
"Like you?" He says as his eyes beam grins.
Punch him
He fakes pain...
Makes a big production of it
"How am I dangerous?" I say puzzled, not the usual guidelines...
"Fertility Bomb, whiskey soaked wench, a live grenade that I just may be willing to throw." He laughs maniacally at the way my mouth laid ajar at a loss for words.
I laugh...
"Only if you explode with me!" I tease.
"Love I'll assure you never forget who's number one."
Pulls me in his arms, to talk without words in familiar dialect.