A/N: Hello everyone! Expect an update on the Complexity of Memories in the next couple of days, but I had to bang out this quick fic to appease the MitsuMei beast within.

Miles let the amber liquid swirl around with the ice cubes in his glass, before taking a sip. He enjoyed the familiar burn as the liquid slid down the back of his throat.

Placing his glass down on the table with a faint clink, he surveyed the silent woman sitting across from him.

She seemed uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

He watched quietly as she scanned the room, looking for something to occupy her attention. Anything but him. She cleared her throat gently, and smoothed her skirt.

Her discomfort surprised him. She was usually utterly impenetrable. Perhaps she was trying to hide the same inner turmoil that he was currently experiencing.

"Franziska..."

He almost thought he saw her shiver as her name rolled off his tongue. Her blue eyes snapped to meet his.

"Why am I here, Miles?" she asked, softer than usual. Her tone was uncharacteristic. Her odd behaviour contrasted the existence of her question. She already knew the answer.

Miles turned his attention back to his glass, the condensation on the sides cold and wet against his fingertips.

"We need to talk about last night," he sighed, daring to look up at the woman across from him once more.

She huffed, the noise conveying equal parts relief and annoyance. To anyone else, she would have appeared unaffected. But he could see things that others couldn't. He could read her, and he knew she hated that. She looked away from him, trying to stop him from reading her thoughts but it was too late. He knew what was going through her mind.

Miles sat back in his chair, his mind clouding with thoughts of the night prior at his apartment. He could tell she was thinking about it too.

They'd argued. He couldn't even remember what it was about. Normally, she would yell at him, he wouldn't respond and she'd lose interest in goading him further. But last night, for reasons he couldn't pinpoint no matter how much he over analysed it, something had snapped. He'd been angry. Overly emotional. He was just so tired of being her punching bag. So for the first time in their lives, he'd yelled back. The argument escalated as horrible truths and untruths were flying back and forth like bullets. She had almost seemed like she was enjoying it, which in turn just made him angrier.

He remembered feeling the rush of adrenaline as he'd glared at her, her blue eyes flashing with anger in return when suddenly, he'd pushed her against the wall and kissed her, hard. She had responded keenly without hesitation, biting, scratching and clawing at him as items of clothing were swiftly and roughly discarded. Gasping and growling, they'd made it to his bedroom.

Sex between them was fierce, charged, primal and in all honesty, emotionally unhealthy. Unlike anything he had ever experienced.

When he woke up the next morning, she had been gone with nothing left to remind him of the bizarre turn the evening prior had taken but scattered scratch marks on his back that stung under the hot water of his shower.

In retrospect, it felt wrong. But in the moment, he knew it had felt overwhelmingly right. Miles prided himself on being a man of rationality and levelheadedness. This lapse in carefully controlled behavior felt like a brick in his gut and he didn't like that one bit.

He'd never really considered himself a sexual person. Relationships were considered a distraction for someone with his career aspirations. He even struggled to maintain friendships, let alone a romance. There had been women in his life - apparently he was what women considered attractive and often found himself being pursued in some way or another. On occasion, he would give in to their advances, but he had always failed to see what the fuss was about. The physical tension release of sexual relations was nice, sure. But he'd never been with anyone that he'd wanted to see more than once. He'd never spent any time fantasizing about a woman. For a long time he'd considered that he might even be asexual. Sex was just simply something he had very little interest in.

But as last night continued to play over and over in his mind with all its sweat, heated skin, and passion he just couldn't ignore, he wondered why that had to change now. And why did it have to be her?

A polar opposite to his own lack of sexuality, was Franziska's overabundance of it. It was in the way she moved. The way she spoke. The fire in her convictions and the passion she proudly displayed and carried everywhere, professionally and personally.

He'd noticed. He'd be lying if he said he never had.

The first time they crossed paths as adults stuck out in his mind. He had recognised the change in her. Her new found maturity was almost tantalizingly intertwined with vulnerability and the childish traits of youth. It was intriguing, but also off limits. He'd dismissed it. He'd dismissed her. There were other things to concentrate on at the time.

"There's nothing to talk about." Franziska said flatly, interrupting his thoughts.

She picked absently at one of her nails with her thumbnail, but the feigned disinterest was obvious. She didn't want to look him in the eye.

"Can I go now?"

Miles sighed. She was like a trapped cat and she didn't like this situation any more than he did. She'd always struggled to get him to notice her, to acknowledge her. Now he had, she didn't know what to do.

"Franziska, look at me." Miles implored gently.

She acquiesced, her eyes meeting his.

"What we did..." he began awkwardly. His command on the English language failed him as he struggled for the appropriate way to convey his thoughts. "We can't take it back. We need to be okay with it. I need..."

He paused, wondering just how much he should reveal.

"I need to know that you are okay," he admitted.

He could almost pinpoint the moment that Franziska panicked and raised her defences.

Her eyes narrowed, her expression taking on a mask of bemusement.

"You've never concerned yourself with me before, little brother..."

The words hung heavy in the air between them, highlighting Miles' primary dilemma about their relationship shift. She had chosen them carefully, to topple him. To gain some control. Unnerving him gave her power that she needed to escape his command on the situation.

"Why start now?" she finished, challenging him. It was almost like she wanted another fight.

Miles swallowed heavily. She was right. Not about him not caring, that was false. She knew he had always cared to some degree. But he wondered silently what it said about his damaged psyche that the only woman he had ever been distractedly attracted to was raised as his sister. He was emotionally flawed from the events of his youth, he knew that. From his father's passing, to the strict Von Karma rule that he and Franziska had bonded through in the first place. As children, he had protected her, but then he had left her behind and returned to America, something he knew she still resented him for. But in the volatile world he now lived in, she was an anchor point. A constant. She overflowed with emotions he craved and he had spent years fighting the truth that he was drawn to her like a magnet. He was tired of resisting the pull.

They were both broken by past trauma. But maybe their broken pieces could form a whole?

The feelings he found himself exploring, he knew he should feel that they were wrong. But his life so far had been an ever growing accumulation of wrong things that had turned out right. Should he feel shame? Should they never mention this again? Maybe this was just a lapse of judgement in a tense atmosphere. Maybe it all meant nothing and he was dissecting it too much.

Should he just get up and walk away right now? He'd left her once before and that didn't go well. He had to look past the wall she had erected to the fragile woman underneath.

"I'm not taking the bait, Franziska," he confirmed. "You are trying to hurt me because it's all you know how to do to protect yourself. And it has to stop. I'm not going to hurt you."

Franziska looked shocked as she registered that Miles was actually appealing to her as an equal, rather than dismissing her or invalidating her. He knew her better than anyone and could see through her practiced defences. It was as scary as it was exhilarating.

"We are not siblings." Miles continued. "I am not your brother. We are two people who were thrown together in an abusive situation that children should never have to face. It damaged us both and we sought support from each other."

Franziska lowered her eyes to her lap as she considered his words.

Reaching across the table, he took one of her hands in his.

The jolt was electric. Her eyes snapped up to meet his.

They both immediately knew whatever simmered between them was not over.

"We are adults." Miles swallowed his words, trying to ignore the heat travelling up his arm from where their hands joined. "Our relationship just seems to have…"

He paused, trying to find the right word to label the monumental shift.

"…Evolved." He finished.

She said nothing, simply opting to maintain his gaze instead.

"But…" he started again carefully. "You are free to walk away now if you wish. We can never mention it again and pretend this never happened. If that's what you desire."

The silence stretched out between them.

"What do you want?"

Franziska's voice was small. Unusual to his ears.

"I… I don't know." Miles answered honestly.

Franziska exhaled loudly, not knowing what she had expected or wanted him to say. A wild declaration of undying love was something more like that dolt Phoenix Wright would do. Not that she had wanted that from Miles anyway. Maybe she just wanted him to make a decision, so she could blame him for however it made her feel.

"I think…" Miles spoke again.

She watched him as he carefully crafted the words that followed.

"I think that if we go back to ignoring this, it will just happen again. Maybe we should be honest with ourselves." He stated.

Franziska considered his words. He was right. She had started their fight out of boredom last night. Frustration that he just didn't seem to feel anything. She wanted to push him into feeling something, to crack that impassive exterior, and it had worked. Oh boy, had it worked.

"What are you saying?" she asked, needing clarification.

Did he want a relationship? Did he want casual sex? Did he just want to talk more?

"I think…" he started again, placing his other hand atop hers, effectively trapping it between his two larger ones. "…that I would like to explore the potential of a relationship with you."

Her eyes widened as she sucked in her breath. That was not the answer she had expected. So used to being in his shadow, she had expected he would simply want a plaything, not a partner.

She stood abruptly, snatching her hand from his and pulled her gloves from her pocket, slipping them on. There would be no more hand touching right now, thank you. She needed time to process this.

Without another word, she turned to leave, leaving Miles to wonder what was going through her head. Nothing with Franziska ever was or ever would be easy.

Taking a step towards the door of the establishment, she turned back to look at him over her shoulder.

"Be at my place at 8pm. If you're late, I'm not letting you in the building," she snapped before turning to leave without waiting for a response.

Miles picked up his drink as he watched her walk away, downing the rest of the contents in one swig.

He pondered whether this was a mistake. Maybe? Probably? Who knew? They were utterly incompatible. But he couldn't deny the effect she had on him any longer.

It was time to see where this went.

end