Work Text:
It wasn’t that Miles was shocked to see uninvited people at his office, really. It should have been, he was the Chief Prosecutor for goodness’ sake, but there were people who simply did not respect his time as they should have. At least Kay was the only one who had the audacity to actually let herself in as though locks were for other people. The others usually waited by his door, never mind whether they had scheduled a meeting or not. Trucy smiling at him as he approached the door was somewhat pleasant but made him dread whatever it was she had in mind. Blackquill brooding by the doorframe was generally a sign of something bad about to go down, and Sebastian’s teary eyes made him glad for the tea set he always had at the ready in his office. Franziska was a rather rare apparition, but she always signalled plenty of headaches of both the literal and metaphorical sort. Still, the fact that he already knew what to expect from each surprise guest did not in any way diminish the fact that they should not have, by any right, been there in the first place waiting for him to show up. Surely they were all perfectly capable of contacting him in order to arrange a meeting, or at least waiting for him to actually be at his office and then knock at the door.
The familiar form of a tall man in a leather jacket leaning against his door, apparently half dozing, was not something he knew how to read. Huh. Apparently there were still some surprises in store for him after all.
“Agent Lang?” The name rolled off his tongue far too easily, for all that it had been a while since he had last uttered it. Miles had intended to keep in touch even after his return to Los Angeles, really he had, but somehow the calls had grown less and less frequent as time went on. He was busy with the running and restructuring of the office, and Lang at his end was busy with his investigations, and somehow their points of contact tapered off to nothing over the, god, nearly two years since they had last met face to face.
And yet, even with two years to get his feelings under control, Miles couldn’t help the way his heart skipped a beat at the sight of the man. Clearly, he was just as foolish as Franziska liked to claim.
“Mr. Prosecutor.” Lang’s eyes opened, his head bowing in a tiny nod. He had to be rather tired if he couldn’t even be bothered to do one of his usual bows. “About time you showed up.”
“Yes, well, this happens to be the time I usually arrive at the office.” Miles sniffed, refusing to rise to the bait. “Which you would have known if you had bothered to actually inform me of your arrival.”
“Why? Clearly a workaholic like you would be easy enough to find.” Lang smirked, baring teeth that were very nearly fangs, and the familiarity of it all made something painfully comfortable flip at the bottom of Miles’s stomach. “I came directly from the plane. Didn’t see the point in waiting around somewhere else.”
It was now that Miles actually noticed the small suitcase by Lang’s feet, too surprised to pay any mind to it earlier. “You did not even stop by a hotel first?” That seemed unlikely. The only times he had known Lang to neglect setting up a den, as he called it, was when there was a case to get to right away. Considering all the times they had travelled together over the years, Miles certainly hoped he wasn’t incorrect in seeing this as unusual.
“Haven’t exactly decided what to do about accommodations yet.” Lang shrugged, a rolling motion that somehow managed to emphasize his broad shoulders even underneath that ridiculous jacket. At the same time he moved away from the door, allowing Miles to actually open it. “You busy?”
Miles had at least three cases on his desk that needed reviewing and assigning before lunch, plus plenty of other paperwork, yet he found himself shaking his head. “Nothing I can’t put off for the length of a conversation.”
“Great.” Lang followed him into the office, glancing around with wary eyes as though looking for an intruder. Honestly, Miles had half expected him to insist on going first to check the place for any threats. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time he’d done such a thing. “Nice place you’ve got for yourself here.”
“I suppose it is comfortable.” In fact, his office was decorated in a rather similar manner to his previous office as a high prosecutor, though it was somewhat more spacious. Miles saw no reason to do otherwise. “Tea?”
“Yes, please.” It was the one thing they agreed on, at least: tea was good. Not that Lang would refuse a cup of coffee either, but at least he didn’t prefer it over a proper cup of tea.
“Very well.” Miles set down his briefcase and busied himself with preparing tea. From the corner of his eye he could see Lang settling down on the couch with a sigh. He had to be very tired from the flight. Usually Lang wouldn’t show any such signs of weakness. “So. What brings you here? I should hope I would have heard about a case big enough to warrant you.”
“Not a case for once, no.” Lang shook his head. “I suppose you could say I’m on a vacation of sorts.”
“A vacation, you?” Miles lifted his eyebrows. “I find myself rather disbelieving.”
“You know me so well.” Lang flashed a grin, one that made Miles feel far too warm. “The truth is, I got kicked off the force.”
“What?” Miles froze. “That’s — why would that happen?”
“Differences of opinion.” Lang gave another shrug, though he looked somewhat tense now that Miles was watching him closely. “Apparently I wasn’t fit for field duty anymore. I disagreed.”
“Why would they think that?” Miles frowned, trying to focus on the tea preparations. He needed a distraction. “You’re certainly not that old yet.”
“Beats me.” Lang leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. However, he froze momentarily, then leaned back with exaggerated ease.
“Agent.” Miles set down the tea pot with all the care he could muster. “Did you, by any chance, get injured?”
“Ah.” This time the grin was almost nervous, quite unlike Lang’s usual expressions. “Define injured.”
“Did you receive physical damage, most likely in the line of your duties, that would make you unfit for field duty?”
“Not in my opinion.” And now he wasn’t even looking at Miles. Right.
“Except Interpol disagreed.” Miles leaned against the edge of his desk, feeling strangely weak. “Explain.”
“I got hit by a car while chasing a perp.” Miles’s shock must have shown, as Lang quickly shook his head. “Don’t look so upset, now. I’m up and walking, aren’t I?”
“You’re not going to convince me that Interpol would take one of their best agents off the field for some scrapes and bruises.” Lang knew Miles wasn’t going to give up easily. Why couldn’t he just tell the truth to begin with?
“It wasn’t quite that simple, no.” Lang sighed, apparently finally tired of circling the truth. “…There was some nerve damage. Cauda equina syndrome, to be precise. Things work for the most part, but I can’t walk for long and I’m in pain most of the time.”
“Which is why you decided to stand outside my door for who knows how long, obviously.” Miles would have felt disbelief, except this was perfectly in line with what he knew with Lang. “…Why are you here?”
“I just told you.” Lang tilted his head to the side. “I’m too hurt to keep chasing prey.”
“Yes, I got that. What you haven’t told me is why you are here. Not that I’m complaining,” as though he would, “by why here, of all places?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Lang looked genuinely baffled for once. “You are here.”
Again, Miles’s heart was doing strange things. “…And that is your reason?”
“Evidently.” Lang was staring at him now as though trying to study his reactions for some deeper meaning. “If I can’t chase prey anymore, clearly it’s time for me to build a den. And with that, a pack should follow.”
“And you would make me part of that pack, then?” Miles swallowed. “As… your mate?”
“Of course.” Lang stood up, and Miles very nearly told him to sit back down, to be mindful of his injury, but he couldn’t get any words out. “If you are amenable, of course. For my part, that was the plan.” Lang walked up to Miles, and now that he was looking Miles could see the steps were slightly slower than usual. “It has been the plan for years already.”
“You never thought to inform me.”
“Honestly? I thought you were clear on it. I wasn’t exactly subtle in my approaches, after all.” There was a hint of hurt to Lang’s gaze, though it was quickly hidden. “I figured that you never commenting on it was your way of letting me down easy.”
“Let me assure you I never knew.” Miles reached out a hand, brushing against the soft fur collar of Lang’s jacket and up to cup the side of his face. “I… would be amenable, yes. Though I can’t say how good of a mate I would be. Clearly this isn’t my area of expertise.”
“Oh, Pretty Prosecutor.” And, well, maybe Lang had been dropping some hints after all, since that was by no means a novel nickname. “I’ve got no expectations, save that I’d like to be close to you.”
“That, I can promise.” Miles managed a faint smile. “Perhaps we can go over the details while we enjoy our tea?”
“That would be very agreeable.” Lang grinned, a true grin with sparking eyes, and Miles found his smile widening in response. “…I suppose I’m getting old, since I have to admit it’s about time I sit down again.”
“Well, I can promise my couch will always welcome you.” Perhaps they’d even find a suitable job to explain Lang’s presence in his office in the long run. Goodness knew his stubborn wolf would still need some form of prey to chase. “And so will my home.”
“Careful.” Lang turned his head to the side, his lips brushing against Miles’s palm. “I’ll soon settle in and then you’ll never be rid of me.”
“Good.” Miles nodded. “I’ve been apart from you for long enough. I find I rather prefer your presence, even if you insist on constantly terrifying me with your lack of self-preservation instincts.”
“That’s what I have you for, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Miles should have called him out for being so ridiculous, but instead, he found himself agreeing instead. “Yes, you do have me.”
He probably wouldn’t get much work done today, but as far as surprises went, he figured this was one he could handle.