She pulled away, and at the sound of her voice his eyes fluttered open, looking back at her slightly dazed. It took a moment for his head to clear and the meaning of the words to sink in, but then he smiled at her, fond, a little sad, and grateful all at once. This woman was such an aggravating, lovely mystery to him. He’d have thought for sure, once upon a time, that if they weren’t fucking and relieving all their frustrations with each other that way, they’d have killed each other within a month. This past year had more than proven it wasn’t just sex, though.
He couldn’t really say they made each other happy, but at least things were never ever dull. Romance for them was insults slung back and forth with as much venom as affection. It was Ginger calling him out on his bullshit, and him trying to get a rise out of her because goddamn, she was gorgeous when she was furious. It was Peter mockingly giving her flowers, and Ginger making a vase for them out of a fresh bottle of Midori just to piss him off. They fucked and fought and took care of each other and destroyed each other. But they stayed, and they cared. It wasn’t love, or being in love, or in lust, or any of that. He wasn't sure there was a word in the English language for what they were to each other.
He realized he still hadn’t answered her, eyes stuck on that little smirk. Fuck, she had a beautiful mouth on her. “Yeah,” he agreed softly, feeling more assured. They didn’t need a definition. He reached a hand up, cradling her head to pull her back into another brief kiss. “We’re a right mess, aren’t we? But it’s worth it.” He kissed her again, deeper this time. Wanting more, he traced her lower lip with his tongue, gently questioning.