#this is more buildup than it is smooching but meh

[littleladymab]

I've put a bunch of old drabble requests into a giant doc and i'm slowly poking at them and I figured since it's nrmts week why not do a real old prompts from @bardicspiration that was a "hope we don't get caught" kiss post aa4.

Perfect little exercise to distract me for a few hours!

++++

Miles had a lot of time to think about how he felt about the entire situation. He had the time from the first text message from Phoenix, I think I broke the case, then seconds after, I mean in a positive way not in a way that needs to be fixed — just in case, you know, you thought I needed your help. 

That had stung, a little, but he had taken it in stride. He knew what it was supposed to mean (you don’t need to panic and fly halfway across the world to save the day, I have this handled), and it made him think about the situation. 

Then, the next text message a week later. Check your email. 

Article proofs and case files that Phoenix had access to before they would go public. Outlining one simple thing: The case, that had subsumed Phoenix for seven years, had finally come to an end. 

And Miles didn’t do a single thing. 

It seems a little unfair, he thinks during the 11 hour flight, that he couldn’t help. Both of them were people that had a hard time asking for help, but shouldn’t he be more prepared to give it? Something more than a silent shoulder for support when things got rough? 

All of this and more is what Miles thinks about as he makes his way through customs at LAX, as he remains in pensive silence as Gumshoe drives him to the hotel the Wrights are hosting the party in. 

Miles had so much time to think about the entire situation, but absolutely none of that mattered when Phoenix looked up at him and smiled in that wholly radiant way he hadn’t in seven years. 

“You made it right in time for the toast,” Phoenix says, laughter in his voice as he reaches to take Miles’ suitcase. He waylaid them in the lobby instead of letting Miles go check-in and leave his things with the bell desk. 

“I ran every red light to get here,” Gumshoe says proudly, because that’s the joke by this point, and Miles sighs and shakes his head.

“He didn’t. He drove responsibly.” 

Phoenix winks conspiratorially. “Right. I won’t tell the cops.” 

Gumshoe sputters as he follows behind them, successfully cutting off any chance of retreat Miles might have had to duck away long enough to stop by the bell desk. 

“This couldn’t wait at least a minute?” Miles grumbles, though he finds that he doesn’t really mean it as Phoenix’s hand brushes his as they walk. 

“I’ll help you with your luggage after this is done,” Phoenix promises. 

He doesn’t have to. Miles can easily leave it with a bellman. But there’s another brush of hands, the faintest pressure of a finger hooked around his to form a bare hand hold, a reminder that it’s been months since they’ve last seen each other, and Miles keeps his mouth shut. 

Trucy has her arms around him as soon as they are at the table, and then she flounces away before he can remember to respond — pressing a glass of sparkling apple juice into his hand as she goes to greet Gumshoe. 

At the place of honor at the table, hands clenched nervously around a mostly empty pint, is the young attorney Apollo that won the case. His eyes bug out of his head as he spots Miles, and he nods politely and gives what he hopes is a reassuring smile. There’s Kay and Ema and Maya, only Franziska missing from their quartet though she couldn’t avoid a court date to make it out here. Pearl gives him a little wave and an even littler smile. 

And those are just the people he recognizes, though there’s even more crammed around the cluster of tables. People that Phoenix has gathered to him over the years that Miles hasn’t been there. 

Trucy returns to sit at Apollo’s side, leaning companionably against his shoulder, and Miles remembers with a start that Phoenix mentioned they were half-siblings. 

Phoenix claps his hand a little roughly on Apollo’s shoulder, and the resulting yelp is loud enough to end the conversation from everyone around the table. He lifts his glass of sparkling juice and casts a smile around the gathered crowd. “Thank you all for coming. Each of you has been instrumental in helping me these past seven years, but of course none of this could have been done without Apollo. Your support for me has extended to him, and he’s more than earned a place at the Wright Anything Agency. This is to congratulate him on a run of successful trial and to welcome him on as an permanent member of my team. Cheers!” 

There’s a riotous applause from those gathered at the table, Trucy whooping in support as she shakes Apollo’s arm. 

The young man’s smile is watery as everyone descends on him to offer their own personal support and congratulations. 

It also serves as a perfect distraction for Phoenix to usher Miles back out of the hotel restaurant towards the front desk. He stands back, Miles’ suitcase still in his hand, as Miles checks in. 

And because he can read the situation without being told, Miles declines any luggage assistance, saying that they have it handled, and follows Phoenix to the elevator. 

“You still haven’t told everyone?” he asks as they wait. 

There’s a tinge of embarrassment to Phoenix’s posture as he navigates the suitcase into the elevator when the doors open. “I’ve been so caught up with handling the press surrounding Kristoph’s case that I don’t want to chance what would happen if our relationship went public.” 

“You think someone would leak it?” 

Phoenix shrugs, then looks down as Miles takes his hand. His smile softens, and he rubs a thumb across Miles’ knuckles in response. “There’s still a part of me that’s having a hard time letting myself trust people again. Trucy knows. It’s hard to keep anything from her. Maya, I’m pretty certain has figured it out.” 

“Franziska knows.” 

“Couldn’t keep it from her?” 

Miles shrugs as the elevator dings to signal their floor. “I tell her everything.” He double checks the room number on his key packet. “I understand. There’s press for cases, which is fine. That’s a part of the job. But when it starts to carve its way into your personal life…” 

He had his fair share of the press sticking their noses where it didn’t belong after the von Karma case. After the Gant case. After his return, despite how discreet he attempted to be. 

He shoulders open the door to his room and stands aside to let Phoenix bring in the suitcase, though that’s about as long as he allows himself to wait. 

Miles pulls Phoenix in for a kiss before the door has even finished swinging shut. 

“We can’t be gone long,” Phoenix tries to say, though he makes no effort to dissuade Miles — in fact, doing quite the opposite and draping his arms around Miles’ neck to keep him in place. 

“They’re all very intelligent people, I’m pretty sure they’ve already put two and two together,” Miles laughs as he backs Phoenix up against the door. “And if not, let them guess.” 

Phoenix’s laugh is muffled through the kiss.