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“I would appreciate if you could try to avoid getting shot at in the future, Agent.”
Lang gave a bark of laughter. “Wasn’t something I was aiming for this time either, but I’ll keep your objection in mind.” He rolled his head to stretch his neck, and Miles could barely hold himself back from reaching out to stop him. “In any case, it barely grazed me.”
“Perhaps, but it could have done much worse with just a few inches of difference.” Miles frowned. “My sister was shot in the shoulder two years ago, and according to her it still aches at times.”
“Couldn’t tell by the way she handles her whip.” Lang shrugged, though at least he kept the gesture to his uninjured side. “I’m fine, really, Mister Prosecutor. You’ve seen me handle worse.”
“You are not exactly making me worry less.” Miles sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “As I seem to recall, you mentioned you were lucky at the time that the bullet didn’t hit any major arteries.”
“It didn’t, though, so there was nothing to concern yourself over.” Lang smirked, though. “You worry about me, Mister Prosecutor?”
“Of course.” He refused to get ruffled by such childish teasing. “You are my partner. I am hardly going to wish painful death upon you.”
“I don’t know, I’ve had worse partners than that.” Lang sped up his steps just to reach the door of their hotel room before Miles, because apparently he hadn’t been childish enough yet. “Also, we’ve already established I’m not dying tonight.”
“Well.” He sniffed. “Perhaps I just don’t want to see you in pain.”
“If that’s what concerns you, I can promise you I’ll be fine.” Lang snorted as he opened the door and marched in ahead of Miles. “I’ll be back on the field tomorrow, don’t you worry.”
Miles blinked. “Do you really think that is why I am concerned? Because I’m worried that you won’t be able to do your job?”
“What else?” Lang looked genuinely confused, frowning at him. “I’m hardly going to bother you by complaining about my aches.”
“Oh, for the — I just told you I don’t want to see you in pain.” Miles sighed. He was definitely going to get a headache soon. “We have been working together for the better part of a year now. Is it really that impossible to think that I might actually care about you as a person?”
“I wouldn’t want to assume.” Lang lifted his eyebrows, though the effect was somewhat lessened by his slightly pained expression as he took off his ridiculous jacket with more care than usual. Miles would have called him out for trying to hide his pain, but he figured this was a more important subject to pursue right now. “I figured you tolerate my presence, that’s it.”
“I am… not exactly the most expressive person.” Miles sighed. “You have seen me around my sister. Not only is she the only person alive I would actually call my family, but I like to think we get along relatively well. Even so, people who are unfamiliar with us tend to assume we despise each other.”
“Heh. I suppose you are somewhat hopeless in that regard.” Lang smirked. “Perhaps I should be glad it’s not just me.”
“That does make me wonder about something, though.” Miles frowned. “Why would you continue to work with me if you actually thought I barely tolerate you? Especially given your general distaste for prosecutors, I can’t possibly be the worst option.”
“I didn’t think you like me.” Lang turned away from Miles to put his jacket away. Considering he usually simply tossed it aside wherever, it was rather clear he was trying to avoid Miles’s gaze. “Never said anything about my side of things.”
“Why don’t you tell me, then?” Miles crossed his arms over his chest. “I like to think I’m not entirely hopeless when it comes to human interaction, but it is definitely not my strongest point. As such, I would prefer things to be made clear, to save us both from any potential embarrassment.”
“That’s what you think.” Lang snorted. “Me, I’m not that convinced it’s going to end well.”
“I don’t follow.” Was Lang trying to be obtuse on purpose?
Lang turned back to him, now, a frustrated look on his face. Miles wasn’t sure what concerned him more, the expression or the bandaged shoulder. “I swear, if we hadn’t already established that you are clueless, I would think you are willfully cruel.” He sighed, running a hand over his spiky hair. “Lang Zi says: a wolf howls for what he yearns for.”
“Ah.” Miles blinked, somewhat surprised. “You mean… you, ah, yearn for me?”
“I honestly thought I had made it obvious.” Lang shook his head. “How many times have I called you pretty?”
Miles fought down the flush trying to creep onto his cheeks. “Well, I never thought you were the type of person to be swayed by appearances.”
“It’s only a part of it, though.” Lang still wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. “You are… a good man. More so than I ever thought possible for a prosecutor to be.”
“You never said anything.” Miles paused, considering his words. “Well. Anything direct enough for me to understand.”
“What would have been the point? Lang Zi says: a foolish wolf chases the prey he cannot catch.” Lang stuck his hands in his pockets, looking oddly defensive. “I have been… happy, I suppose, chasing criminals alongside you. I wasn’t about to jeopardize that like a foolish pup.”
“You thought I would not agree to work with you if I knew of your attraction?”
“I’ve seen the way you act when someone’s obvious about their desire for you.” Lang gave the thought a derisive snort.
“You are not exactly Mrs. Oldbag.”
“No, I only work with you literally every day. Things would get very awkward very fast.”
“I like to think we can act like adults about such things.” Miles cleared his throat. “Especially since there is a certain element at play that does not apply to any of the other scenarios you may have witnessed.”
“Oh?” Lang finally looked at him, his expression wavering between curious and wary. “And what element would that be?”
“A certain degree of, ah, reciprocation.” Miles allowed himself a small smirk as Lang’s eyes widened. It wasn’t often that he managed to surprise the Agent. “Now, since you are supposed to rest tomorrow, and I know how you get without being allowed in the field, would you allow me to distract you with a dinner invitation?”
“Why, Mister Prosecutor.” Lang grinned, bright and wide, and Miles might have felt like a rabbit in front of a hungry wolf except he trusted there was no danger here. “Are you asking me for a date?”
“Yes, I think I am.” Miles lifted his eyebrows. “Are you accepting?”
“Oh, Pretty Boy.” And, yes, perhaps he should have caught on much sooner. “If I’d known getting shot at would be what got me a date, I would have gotten that over with much sooner.”
“…Please do not make me reconsider.”