Chapter Text
"We're neither pure, nor wise; nor good. We do the best we know."
- Voltaire
I’m not the nicest person on Earth, Pete, you were muttering, fingers tracing the back of his palm, Not sure why you bothered with me at all.
His fingers thread through your hair. Soft, gentle, slow. Neither am I, he replied, smiling his modest smile, the one he’d put on whenever girls complimented him (rarely) or Aunt May let it slip that he’d won something at school (also rarely).
You’re just saying that, you shook your head, (because how could he say that?) you’re about the nicest guy on campus.
But not on Earth, he shot back, teasing.
Then he’d paused, continued in a more solemn voice, I’ve made my mistakes, Har. I’m not all that nice.
You opened your mouth, started to argue, when he said, There’s no nicest person on Earth, really. He doesn’t exist. No one is. You shouldn’t think of yourself that way.
Then how should I? you asked, frowning. He was complicating this, too much than you’d like it to be. You’d only started the topic in passing, a discussion that you thought would be brief and sweet. And acted as an interlude to another topic.
His hand trailed down the back of your neck.
You are nice (you raised an eyebrow), when the situation calls for it (you shrugged). You are stubborn, almost always.
The point is, I like you, the good parts, the bad parts. I like them all. Sometimes it happens, and I can’t explain why.
It’s not a bother. You’re not a bother.
You’re someone I wanted to be with.
That’s hardly a bother.
You turned toward him a little, gave him a peck on the lips, You and me, you repeated his phrase from the night before.
You and me. We fit together, the way we are. We belong.
Yes, he smiled, blushing slightly, Yes we do.