"Me? We both know I'm not the ornery one here. You are, almighty King of the Shitheads." Which was always Harry's answer to deflect from the fact that he could be just as much of a shit when he wanted to be. Peter was still the king, though. No one could take that crown from him. "I meant, I'm pretty sure you're the only person who thinks being dumb doesn't suit me. Smartass." He snorted, tilting his head in to add to his own raised brow. "Exotic? Really? I could barely get regular people to like me." He pauses to laugh. "Or are you calling yourself exotic? What with the--" It struck Harry suddenly that he didn't know if - in whatever reality this was - whether or not Peter was still Spider-Man. Or if he ever was, for that matter. Maybe he'd better not say anything about it. He scrambled to quickly come up with a different direction to go in. "--uh. Wild, crazy hair you've got? It's almost like a jungle from another country."
That look isn't tempting him any less, either. They probably had plenty of sweaty palms and embarrassing (but cute) nose bonking going on. "Okay, but there's a challenge... and then there's impossible. I don't think there's ever been a time where you haven't run your mouth," Harry countered with a teasing smile. He even brought a fist to his chin in thought to complete the whole thing. "Huh. Have you ever even been stunned into silence before?"
"Oh, come on! Hey! You're twisting my words-- that's not fair! ...You've already got a whole filing cabinet of things to hold over my head. You don't need any more." Harry's trying to pout, but damn if he can't stop smiling. Peter's follow-up remark - paired with the none too subtle look-over - only makes it worse and more obvious, even for all that Harry ducked his head and partially hid his face behind a hand. His grin practically went from ear to ear and for the umpteenth time, he cycled back around to the thought: I've gotta be dreaming. "No wonder you never get any work done," he half-mumbled. Because for as embarrassing and awkward as he could be, Harry knew himself well enough to know that he'd probably try and monopolize on that whenever he could. In fact, he could just about bet that it was one of his many tactics when Peter got into workaholic mode and started staying up too late.
Harry could also bet with twice as much certainty that Peter's already dangerous levels of influence over him reached ridiculous levels once they became a couple, which inspires his next answer: "Well, that and... I've gotta level the playing field somehow or I'd just be puddle of melted goo around you all the time."
True to form, he started to roll his eyes, fully expecting that scientific tirade, only for his exasperation to quickly evaporate into nothing once Peter pecked his cheek. Whatever snark that was waiting on the edge of his tongue left with it as Peter continued, leaving Harry perfectly, completely, and blissfully in awe. He didn't think his heart could possibly swell any more, and a joyful little laugh escaped him. For a moment, all he could do was turn enough so that he can properly bump his forehead against Peter's and hold him for a minute. Relish in how good it feels to hear those words in Peter's voice. "I never thought I'd be able to hear you say that," he said, and every bit of marvel that sprang through his heart and eyes reached his voice too. He almost forgot himself again and quickly corrected the statement. "I mean--... I used to. Even though we're best friends. You're like... way out of my league."
He's trying awfully hard not to laugh, but Peter's happiness is contagious and Harry is entirely too taken with the way he buries his laughter against his shoulder. "Stop!" he insisted amid a laugh of his own, giving Peter's hair a gentle and playful tug. "You do not need another one. The million you probably already have is enough! I need a collection of you losing bets. That's what needs to happen."
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That look isn't tempting him any less, either. They probably had plenty of sweaty palms and embarrassing (but cute) nose bonking going on. "Okay, but there's a challenge... and then there's impossible. I don't think there's ever been a time where you haven't run your mouth," Harry countered with a teasing smile. He even brought a fist to his chin in thought to complete the whole thing. "Huh. Have you ever even been stunned into silence before?"
"Oh, come on! Hey! You're twisting my words-- that's not fair! ...You've already got a whole filing cabinet of things to hold over my head. You don't need any more." Harry's trying to pout, but damn if he can't stop smiling. Peter's follow-up remark - paired with the none too subtle look-over - only makes it worse and more obvious, even for all that Harry ducked his head and partially hid his face behind a hand. His grin practically went from ear to ear and for the umpteenth time, he cycled back around to the thought: I've gotta be dreaming. "No wonder you never get any work done," he half-mumbled. Because for as embarrassing and awkward as he could be, Harry knew himself well enough to know that he'd probably try and monopolize on that whenever he could. In fact, he could just about bet that it was one of his many tactics when Peter got into workaholic mode and started staying up too late.
Harry could also bet with twice as much certainty that Peter's already dangerous levels of influence over him reached ridiculous levels once they became a couple, which inspires his next answer: "Well, that and... I've gotta level the playing field somehow or I'd just be puddle of melted goo around you all the time."
True to form, he started to roll his eyes, fully expecting that scientific tirade, only for his exasperation to quickly evaporate into nothing once Peter pecked his cheek. Whatever snark that was waiting on the edge of his tongue left with it as Peter continued, leaving Harry perfectly, completely, and blissfully in awe. He didn't think his heart could possibly swell any more, and a joyful little laugh escaped him. For a moment, all he could do was turn enough so that he can properly bump his forehead against Peter's and hold him for a minute. Relish in how good it feels to hear those words in Peter's voice. "I never thought I'd be able to hear you say that," he said, and every bit of marvel that sprang through his heart and eyes reached his voice too. He almost forgot himself again and quickly corrected the statement. "I mean--... I used to. Even though we're best friends. You're like... way out of my league."
He's trying awfully hard not to laugh, but Peter's happiness is contagious and Harry is entirely too taken with the way he buries his laughter against his shoulder. "Stop!" he insisted amid a laugh of his own, giving Peter's hair a gentle and playful tug. "You do not need another one. The million you probably already have is enough! I need a collection of you losing bets. That's what needs to happen."