Work Text:
Borscht Bowl Club’s hideout - 01:23 AM
Miles had already discarded his suit jacket, but it wasn’t enough. His body was boiling and he could feel a droplet of sweat forming at his right temple. His hands were sweating. He slipped a finger under his jabot to let some air in.
It became a ritual between them; he and Phoenix would play poker once per month, at the Borscht Bowl Club’s basement. The rules were simple: each had a thousand dollars in poker chips, the blinds doubled every five minutes and the winner could ask a favor to the loser. Oh and, no magatama allowed, of course. Miles made sure of that before every match.
Phoenix was good, really good at poker. Miles learned it the hard way. During all those years, he never won, not even once. He got close to winning a few times but Phoenix always managed to turn the situation in his favor. Miles wasn’t the sore loser he once was when he was a young prosecutor, but still. Never winning? In years? Beating Phoenix at least once had become one of his personal goals. He asked Phoenix to not go easy on him; he wanted to win fair and square.
The spot he was in right now was comfortable. Phoenix had 841$ in hand while Miles had 1159$. A new round started. They placed the minimal bets: 20$ for Miles, 40$ for Phoenix.
Phoenix looked down at his cards, arms on the table. His facial expression was neutral and calm, at least what Miles could see of it. The beanie and the antiquated overhead light didn’t help to get a good look at his face. As if he could get any information out of it: Phoenix had mastered the poker face.
Miles looked at his cards too: five of hearts and ace of spades. It could turn into something good.
“I rise.” Miles added 60$ to the pot. Phoenix followed in silence.
Phoenix revealed the flop: ace of diamonds, five of clubs and five of diamonds.
Miles’ heartbeat rose. Full house. He had a full house. A pair of aces and three fives. After the flop. He lifted his glasses up his nose. The droplet fell down his face and nestled in his neck. He had to remain calm and decided to play innocent.
“Check.”
Phoenix meddled with his chips while looking at the three cards at the center. The sounds of the chips clacking against each other resonated in the room. Miles could feel his index trembling. Phoenix looked at his chips before adding 260$ to the pot.
What could he have? A pair of diamonds? Maybe an ace? Or a five, like me? But even if he hopes for a flush, I’d still have a better hand.
Miles followed.
Phoenix revealed another card: nine of clubs.
Miles crossed his legs and straightened his back. He was still in an extremely good spot. He looked at Phoenix, who was looking back at him. Miles felt his heart pinch; he always felt like he was being openly read by Phoenix when they were playing poker. He didn’t want to lose, not again. Phoenix had 501$ left, he needed to put some pressure on him.
Miles added 250$ to the pot. Half of what Phoenix had left. He could feel another droplet slowly falling down his back. Phoenix was playing with his chips again and Miles observed his fingers. His temperature rose again, his legs tightened. It became more difficult to breathe.
But Phoenix was… smiling? He leaned to the side to grab a bottle of grape juice before bringing it to his lips. Miles observed his Adam's apple bobbing under the skin. By the sheen of his neck, Miles deduced that Phoenix was feeling hot too.
Phoenix raised: 500$.
W-What? He… He has one dollar left!
Miles could raise further; he’d basically force Phoenix to go all-in, and probably win for the first time. But that would also mean going all-in himself. Miles wanted to keep the upper hand.
He called.
Phoenix revealed the last card: six of spades.
Miles had 319$ left. He only had to bet 40$ and Phoenix would be forced to go all-in. He added the chips.
“I fold.”
“E-Excuse me?”
“I said I fold.”
Miles’ hand tightened around his cards.
“Did you do that on purpose?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Did you lose on purpose?”
Silence.
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me, Wright.”
“It’s fine, I’m not the invincible man everyone believes me to be. I got only one dollar left, I surrender.”
“You’re giving up? Like back then?”
Phoenix didn’t say anything.
“Wright, show me your cards.”
Another silence.
“I don't want to.”
Miles slammed his hands against the table. Some chips fell on the ground.
“Do it.”
Phoenix carefully revealed his hand: nine of diamonds, nine of spades.
“Y-You! You would have won!”
Phoenix remained quiet for a moment.
“I… was curious to know what favor you’d ask.”
Miles got up on his feet and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, forcing him to stand up.
“What?”
Phoenix couldn't keep eye contact.
“I wanted to know what you’d ask me.”
“But…! I told you to not let me win!”
His grip around Phoenix’s collar tightened. It was too much. This was way too much, everything fell apart inside him. All the restraint he built was gone.
Miles grabbed Phoenix’s face and kissed him.
“Is that what you wanted? You wanted me to ask you to kiss me?”
They looked at each other for a moment. Phoenix’s eyes widened and Miles got him speechless, for once. Phoenix’s gaze lowered; he was looking at his lips. Miles could feel his heartbeat resonate through his entire body; his hands trembled, he was nervous.
Phoenix grabbed Miles’ face back and kissed him in return. Miles opened his mouth to let him in, and they both melted in each another. Phoenix’s fingers were burning against his skin, his lips were soft. He was gentle and slow. Miles wanted this to last forever, he wanted to burn for years.
After a moment, Phoenix pulled back and chuckled. “I guess now losing is the new winning…”