When it came to planning out actions, Phoenix wasn't exactly a role model. When he'd first left his room, he couldn't think of anything but telling Edgeworth that whatever had been wrong with him had worn off, somehow or another, if only to vent the unbelievable relief that had come with the realization. When he'd realized, two halls back, that this meant that there were certain avenues that were open to him again, he guessed he'd intended to still talk - flirt, maybe, or at least be to the point, or - heck, he didn't know, he'd never been a romantic genius. But when Edgeworth opened the door, taking in the situation at a glance and immediately assuming the worst, he knew that explaining would take time he didn't want to spend - not when letting his mind stray still sometimes brought him back to the place where his shirt was soaked with blood and there were stress-fractures running through the foundation of the world.
Stepping inside, and taking in the fact that the room was empty, gave him enough time to breathe a distracted, hurried "fine." Then his self-control gave out and he grabbed the shoulder of Edgeworth's coat, pulling him closer to kiss him. Almost as an afterthought, he pushed the door shut, half-hearing it slam louder than he'd intended it to.
The question 'Well, what happened, then?' never got past the first station before that train of thought was derailed by the unexpected, but definitely not unwelcome, kiss. Edgeworth made a surprised noise, then once that door slammed shut, took both of Phoenix's lapels in his hands, pulling him close and returning it. There was a fleeting thought about how that door slam had probably alerted the entire hallway to what was going on, but he couldn't really bring himself to care terribly much about it. That, and it wasn't as if he hadn't considered the exact same thing the night before.
He pulled away for a breath a moment later, smirking a little. "I don't know what it says about us that our mutual response to overwhelming stress is to find each other and - " he stopped just long enough for a quick, hard kiss, then pulled back again - "almost immediately engage in certain activities, but I'm open to trying to find out."
"Nothing happened, I just-" Phoenix didn't want to put the space between them that his arms took up, but the stupid cravat was right there, taunting him with how many buttons it got in the way of. He navigated the knot sightlessly, eyes sliding back up to meet Miles' as he tugged it loose. "It's just, I'm fine - it's gone - and-" He swallowed, still a little out of breath, though the running was less and less to blame for that. It was a truth that never seemed as real as when he spoke it. What this meant, what it left him capable of, what it left him vulnerable to: those were things that were too immense, and he always ended up putting them off until they were staring him in the face.
The ruffle of starched fabric finally slipped free, before he could freefall any deeper into the territory that left him dry-mouthed and stammering, and he pulled Edgeworth close again by the collar. Buttons, unlike antiquated neckwear, were familiar enough to undo despite the close press of bodies. "I didn't want to wait -- for anything else to go wrong-" he breathed between kisses, in indistinct and interrupted fits, leaving barely enough room between their mouths for the words to escape.
Really, the fact that the cravat was the first thing to go was all Miles needed, but...the statement made him smile in a way that was completely unlike him - something sweet and sappy and altogether wrong for his face but yet so right. Then he was being kissed until the sappy grin faded, and all that remained was the faint smell of starch and the heat building between them. "In that case -- " his hands ran up, working the tie's knot loose "-- we shouldn't waste any time."
With that, he stepped backwards, pulling Phoenix with him even as he shrugged out of his jacket, leaving it crumpled on the floor rather than breaking away and hanging it. He had a sneaking suspicion it wouldn't be going back on that night, anyway.
Even if Phoenix had never had a head for dancing, he followed easily enough now, steps seesawing them back toward the bed. Though with his tie being pulled on, maybe it was more like being leashed and led, walked along a trail of discarded clothing. First the heavy rustle of Miles' coat, then the clatter and thud of a heavily-laden shoulder bag, then another coat. Phoenix was determined that it was going to be a vest next; he finished with the buttons and pushed it back over broad shoulders, grinning in a way that matched the low, anticipitory hum that response yielded.
The back of Miles' calf hit the bed frame just as he managed to work that tie loose and let it fall, returning that hum with a similar anticipatory, approving sound. It was all too easy, then, to move down, letting gravity do what it would as he settled back against the pillow. The bedsprings creaked loudly, but he ignored that in favor of sliding his right arm around Phoenix, curling his fingers into his hair as he pulled him down with him.
Phoenix made a valiant effort at continuing to kiss, but that was the kind of activity that left a narrow margin for error. There was no way he was going to be able to easily lower himself onto a bed that barely fit the person already on it, let alone while being pulled headfirst.
Stepping inside, and taking in the fact that the room was empty, gave him enough time to breathe a distracted, hurried "fine." Then his self-control gave out and he grabbed the shoulder of Edgeworth's coat, pulling him closer to kiss him. Almost as an afterthought, he pushed the door shut, half-hearing it slam louder than he'd intended it to.
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He pulled away for a breath a moment later, smirking a little. "I don't know what it says about us that our mutual response to overwhelming stress is to find each other and - " he stopped just long enough for a quick, hard kiss, then pulled back again - "almost immediately engage in certain activities, but I'm open to trying to find out."
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The ruffle of starched fabric finally slipped free, before he could freefall any deeper into the territory that left him dry-mouthed and stammering, and he pulled Edgeworth close again by the collar. Buttons, unlike antiquated neckwear, were familiar enough to undo despite the close press of bodies. "I didn't want to wait -- for anything else to go wrong-" he breathed between kisses, in indistinct and interrupted fits, leaving barely enough room between their mouths for the words to escape.
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With that, he stepped backwards, pulling Phoenix with him even as he shrugged out of his jacket, leaving it crumpled on the floor rather than breaking away and hanging it. He had a sneaking suspicion it wouldn't be going back on that night, anyway.
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[To damned_bedrooms.]
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