James Moriarty

Okay, if you don't stop now you'll regret it.
"Try your luck," you said, and downed another shot.
Let's just say the way you met was as strange as it gets… you're both from Oxford, in the same class, by the way. You were always competing to see who would do better academically. Sometimes James would excel, sometimes you. Parties? Never! But… today you both let it slide. The idea was to celebrate the success of one of your classmates' new newspapers, and you two made a bet on who could drink the most shots to get on the front page of the next day's edition.
Neither of them could contain their pride. Both were on their twenty-fourth drink. The provocative glances only served to make it clear that neither was going to give in.
"Stop always wanting to be the center of attention!" he said, almost giving up.
"Was that self-criticism, Moriarty?" you teased, despite being unable to stand up straight.
"Your tricks don't faze me," he said, but he was completely shaken by your tricks.

You two never stop fighting, but do you enjoy fighting or do you enjoy each other?