Chapter Text
Miles stood up abruptly, tugging at his cravat. "I can't do this Wright. I'm not suited to it. I'm bad for you."
Phoenix raised an eyebrow and had the audacity to grin. "Well, you haven't tried to kill me yet. That's a plus."
Miles snorted. "Your history of awful romantic partners only proves my point further."
"Hey. Low blow."
With a glare, Miles jerked at his cravat again. He'd probably ruined the integrity of the folds, but the room was stifling. "I've already accused you of murder."
"So we've got that one out of the way already, see?"
"For God's sake, this is serious!" His cravat came undone entirely, fluttering limply against his chest.
"What makes you think I'm not?" The grin was gone, and in its place sat something grim, focused. Court Phoenix on the prowl. Miles looked away.
"Miles." Then again, softer. "Miles, c'mon. Come here."
He didn't move, but heard a sigh and then the creak of bedsprings. A hand touched his shoulder, first hesitantly and then, when he didn't move, firmly. A heavy warmth. Miles's stomach churned.
"You were doing your job." At the ugly sound Miles made in reply, Phoenix brought his other hand up to Miles's shoulders. "You were. Whatever you may think about it now, you were. I've screwed up too. Remember Engarde? I believed in him, and look what almost happened."
"That's what you do. You believe in people."
"And you believe in justice."
"'Justice' isn't hurting people to satisfy your own ego, Wright."
Phoenix's hands tightened, and then slowly, deliberately lifted away. Miles felt cold, briefly, before strong arms wrapped around his chest.
"Do you know when it was you hurt me the most?"
"...I'd imagine it must have been when I prosecuted you for—" He stopped when something that felt like Phoenix's forehead thunked against the back of his neck.
"It was after that stupid stunt you pulled with the note, when I spent a whole year refusing to hear your name because I thought you were dead and it hurt too much."
"...Phoenix..."
The arms tightened. "If you need to leave again, I get it. I won't be happy, but I get it. I've waited for you since I was nine. I can wait a little longer. But don't you dare do it because you're scared, and don't you dare blame it on me."
Something sick bubbled in his chest at the watery quality to Phoenix's voice, but there was a fluttery sort of sensation as well. He turned. Phoenix's shoulders were stooped enough that Miles could tuck the other man's face into the crook of his shoulder.
"...I'm sorry."
"You should be."
Miles rubbed hesitant circles into Phoenix's back. "If you dribble on my suit, you're paying for the dry cleaning." He smiled at the snort that earned him.
"There's my favorite jerk."
"Really, though, since we were nine? Should I be filing a restraining order?"
"Oh, shut up." Phoenix drew back and searched his gaze. Miles force himself to meet those clear eyes squarely. "So, you're not leaving?"
"I suppose not." He hesitated. "But I must warn you. This is who I am. We'll most likely have this conversation again. And again."
Phoenix nodded seriously. "And I'll talk you down each time. I know you're emotionally constipated. It's okay." He ignored Miles's sputtering. "And I'll dribble on your expensive suits, and drive you crazy with my sloppiness, and we'll fight over everything. That's part of loving people."
Miles's heart skipped a beat, then restarted at double time. He met Phoenix's knowing look and flushed. "Wright, I..."
"You might as well call me by my first name. You've already done it once today."
Miles inhaled. "Phoenix. I don't know if I can..." He clenched his fingers in Phoenix's jacket and absently noted the way it stretched. Polyester. Abominable. "I don't know if I can say that back."
"And that's okay. You don't have to. Not now, or ever, if you're not comfortable. I just wanted to." Phoenix smiled, tilting his head to the side. "Is that okay?"
Miles leaned forward again, throat tight. "Yes. Yes it is."