Chapter Text
Phoenix Wright ended his work day somewhat prematurely. The papers left on his desk were mostly redundant, and he really didn’t feel like staying late to finish them. And if he didn’t plan to finish it, why start at all? So at 4:30, Wright locked up the office and grabbed his bike and headed towards home.
Halfway through the ride, Wright stopped at the turn to the Prosecutor's Office. It was far too early to convince Edgeworth to leave, but perhaps he could stay in the office and distract him a bit. It had worked in the past, being just slightly obnoxious enough that Edgeworth eventually declared he couldn’t do any more work ‘in these conditions’, and was then able to be taken out to dinner. With a grin spreading on his face, Wright turned away from home.
Wright ended up at the Prosecutor’s Office very quickly. He jumped off his bike and left it without locking it up, rushing inside to the elevator. As he pushed the button for the highest floor, he caught a glimpse of his reflection. His blue suit was incredibly wrinkled, his face was sweaty, and his spiky black hair was windswept in the worst way possible.
Wright took off his coat and folded it carefully over his arm to hide the majority of the wrinkles and hurriedly ran his hand through his spikes. It didn’t help much, aside from moving some hair back from his face. ‘Oh well, Edgeworth has seen me in worse condition’ Wright’s thoughts drifted to the times he’d had to go to the hospital.
The elevator dinged, pulling Wright out of his head. By the time he reached Edgeworth’s door, he was grinning like an idiot. Wright fussed with his hair before finally knocking.
“Come in.”
Inside, Wright was surprised to see piles of file boxes all over the usually pristine room. Miles Edgeworth was standing among them. He looked almost as put together as usual, maroon suit clean and sharp, cravat neatly tied. His face, however, showed some exhaustion. His bangs were slightly messy and he had slight circles under his eyes.
“Wright? What are you doing here? If you need input on a case, I’m afraid I’m too busy to help at the moment.” Edgeworth motioned to one of the boxes in front of him, several files laying on top.
“Not at all,” Wright wove through the mess towards Edgeworth. He paused before he spoke, watching Edgeworth’s profile. His unnaturally silvery hair was usually so sleek, Wright fought himself not to reach out and smooth it. “I actually just finished work early and wanted to see if you needed any help. Or company.”
Wright laid his suit jacket on the desk and looked around. There had to be at least sixty boxes on the floor. “What’s all this?”
Edgeworth sighed heavily and set down the folder he was holding. The words on the front were in German.
“It’s an absolute mess. Some of them are my files from my last year in America, but most of them are Von Karma’s case files. He kept all of the cases where he used forged evidence and such, so that no one could look at the files,” Edgeworth leaned heavily on the stack of boxes and held his head in his hands. “Ever since his incarceration, much of his property fell to my sister and I. Somewhere along the line, someone sent his files to me instead of Franziska, and they just so happened to get here at the same time as my files, so they’re all mixed up with no rhyme or reason.”
“So, you’re sorting through them to send all of his back to Germany?” Wright shuddered as he pulled a file out of a box. Von Karma sent hundreds of innocent people to jail over his career as a prosecutor. Even without being able to understand German, Wright could see where forged evidence had been slipped in. “Do you need any help?”
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” Edgeworth closed the box in front of him and moved to stack it in the corner. “Any of Von Karma’s files go over here, my files from America should go over there, and make sure to go through each file in the box, just in case any of my German files are mixed in with Von Karma’s.”
“Sure thing! We’ll get through these in no time.”
After nearly two hours, Wright was at the bottom of a stack. The last box was blanketed in dust. When he opened the box, he gasped and dropped the lid. “You kept my letters?”
“Pardon? What are you talking about?” Edgeworth set down his file and walked over, only to have Wright shove the box into his hands.
Wright was beaming, “The letters I wrote you when we were kids, right after you went to live with Von Karma. Look!”
The box was filled to the brim with sealed envelopes, all addressed to Miles Edgeworth. Edgeworth brought the box to his desk and set it down. “Wright, I never received any of these letters.” He pulled several out and inspected them. “These are unopened. Gracious, how many are there?”
“You… you never got my letters? I wrote to you for years!” Wright rushed over to check the letters as well. Then he grabbed the lid from the floor. It was labeled in German. “That’s Von Karma’s handwriting. I’ve been staring at it in all those files long enough.”
“He hid your letters from me.” Edgeworth went stiff. His voice sounded a moment away from cracking. “And he kept them with all of his other incriminating evidence.”
“Why would he do that?”
“He wanted to cut me off from anything that I knew so he could completely mold me into the ‘perfect prosecutor’.”
Wright put his hand on Edgeworth’s shoulder, “I’m really sorry. I never thought that would happen.”
There was a moment of silence while Edgeworth took deep breaths and blinked back tears. He opened one of the top letters and chuckled. Wright’s handwriting hadn’t changed since middle school. He put it back to keep from crying again. “Why did you write to me? And so… often?”
Wright leaned back against the wall to give Edgeworth some space, “I had to. I couldn’t abandon you.”
“You didn’t want to abandon me? From your perspective, I’m the one who abandoned you!”
“Of course not! You had just lost your dad, and been taken in by a random stranger! It wasn’t your fault, any of it. I wanted you to know I was still there for you.”
Edgeworth turned suddenly and grasped Wright’s shoulders. “But why? Why, Wright? You never received a reply. I never got the letters! And you had no indication that I did! Why didn’t you stop after a handful of unanswered letters?”
Edgeworth’s face was very close. Wright stared off to the side to avoid his intense gaze. Edgeworth released Wright and placed his right hand on the wall beside him. He never stopped staring at Wright.
“I kept writing because you were my friend. And more than that, you saved me.” Wright turned back to look at Edgeworth. His face was calmer, but suddenly held an air of incredulity.
“That’s a bit dramatic.”
Wright laughed, “Sure, we were kids and it’s not like I was on death row… but you stood up for me when no one else was on my side. And that meant a lot. So I wanted to be on your side no matter what.”
Edgeworth looked down and grabbed his own arm. His voice was softer when he said, “But you did stop writing... Eventually. Did you finally give up on me?” Edgeworth closed his eyes and turned away. He began concentrating really hard on controlling his breathing.
Wright moved to sit down on the sofa. He leaned on his knees as he spoke, “Come on Edgeworth, I could never. The truth is that I finally got a reply. It was my letter, still in the sealed envelope, in another envelope with a little note explaining that you didn’t live there anymore.”
“You really never gave up…” Edgeworth’s mind was spinning through all his childhood, every time he wondered why no one tried to get in contact with him. Every time he felt alone. In barely a whisper, “I always thought you forgot about me.”
“Never. I even tried for a few weeks to find your new address. All I could find was a headline that mentioned Von Karma moved back to Germany, so I knew you went with him.” Wright looked back at Edgeworth. Anyone who didn’t know him wouldn’t think anything was wrong. He stood tall, but there was something about his eyes that showed he was deep in thought.
There were few moments of silence until Wright continued, “I never stopped scouring newspapers and magazines for information on you. And when I figured out the internet, I looked for you there too.”
“I can’t believe you still cared after so long.” Edgeworth was avoiding looking at Wright, eyes still dewy. He was embarrassed to let anyone see him like this.
Phoenix’s tone was earnest, “Of course I did. Because you… you’ve always meant the world to me.”
“Phoenix,” Miles rushed to Phoenix and gently took him by the jaw. Phoenix froze at the contact. His breathing quickened but he just stared up at Miles.
Miles’ voice was suddenly firm, “Say that to me.”
Phoenix’s pupils dilated. He opened his mouth, but it was suddenly dry.
Miles lifted Phoenix’s face slightly, “Please.”
“You still mean the world to me… Miles.”
Miles closed his eyes and bent down so close their lips brushed slightly. They moved back across each other as they spoke, barest contact. “Say it again.” Mike’s voice was still controlled, surprisingly steady. His left hand moved to the back of Phoenix’s neck and gently tilted his head further back.
Phoenix was breathless, staring at Miles’ lips, “You mean—you mean the world to me, Mi—Miles!”
Miles closed the distance between their mouths, kissing fiercely. The hand that wasn’t on Phoenix’s neck moved to his shoulder for balance as he climbed onto Phoenix’s lap. Straddling him as closely as possible, Miles reached to loosen his tie.
Phoenix reciprocated eagerly. His hands roamed over Miles’ hips and torso until they landed on his jacket lapels. He pulled them backwards, and Miles cooperated to toss his jacket aside. As soon as it was gone, Phoenix’s hands went to his cravat. He struggled with it for a moment until Miles pulled back and pushed his hands aside.
Phoenix rested his hands on Miles’ hips, breathing heavily, as Miles undid his cravat. Miles’ fingers were quick and efficient at shedding the cloth, and then moved to Phoenix’s tie. He pulled it over Phoenix’s head in one swift motion and then dove back into kissing him. As he licked into Phoenix’s mouth, both their hands went to each other’s shirt buttons. Phoenix was fumbling quite a bit while Miles was expertly undoing his shirt.
The buttons on Miles’ shirt were only half undone by the time he was pulling open Phoenix’s shirt. The bare skin was smooth under his fingers, and warm. Miles moaned into Phoenix’s mouth as he traced his defined abs. He had always thought Phoenix was stupid for refusing to get a car, but now he wanted to make sure Phoenix never got rid of his bike.
Finally, Miles took pity on Phoenix and pulled back from his mouth. He nuzzled into Phoenix’s neck as he undid his own shirt and brought one of Phoenix’s hands up to his chest. Phoenix squeezed gently, causing Miles to groan and start assaulting his neck with kisses. With his other hand, Phoenix brushed through Miles’ hair, pulling gently every so often.
After thoroughly sucking a hickey into Phoenix’s collarbone, Miles went back to nuzzling his neck, “Say it again.” Despite everything, Miles' breathing was steady and his voice was unwavering. He kissed Phoenix’s neck, “Phoenix?”
Miles looked up at Phoenix. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was panting, on the verge of hyperventilating. Miles backed off of Phoenix’s neck and cradled his face.
“Breathe Phoenix, breathe. We don’t want you passing out.”
After receiving a nod, Miles brought their foreheads together. As Phoenix calmed down, he kissed his nose, and his cheekbones. Miles moved to kiss his forehead, listening to Phoenix the whole time. When his breathing was normal again, Miles kissed the corner of his mouth.
“Phoenix, can you look at me?”
Phoenix opened his eyes and looked up at Miles. His pupils were still blown wide. Miles smiled, “Are you okay? Do you want to stop?”
Phoenix took a deep breath and shook his head, “Miles, if you stop kissing me now, I’ll never forgive you.”
Miles chuckled. If Phoenix still had his sense of humor, then nothing was wrong. “Okay then, just remember to breathe.”
Miles kissed down Phoenix’s chin and moved to the other side of his neck. First he kissed gently, then nipped at the skin. Phoenix gasped and grabbed Miles' hair. He held Miles’ head there and turned his head to grant access to even more of his skin. Miles proceeded to bite more firmly, only stopping to occasionally lick at the faint bruises he left behind.
Between bites, Miles asked, “Phoenix, what do I mean to you?”
Phoenix gasped as he answered. Even with fairly normal breathing, his voice was shaky. “Miles—ah, Miles, you mean ev— mmm— everything to me. Ahh, ah.”
Miles moved up to nip at Phoenix’s earlobe and whispered, “Good Phoenix, keep talking. I love your voice.” He began brushing his fingers through Phoenix’s hair as he waited for him to say something.
After a deep breath, Phoenix guided Miles back to his mouth. He stopped just short of the kiss. “Miles, I couldn’t live without you.”
Suddenly Miles had tears running down his face. He tried wiping them away, but quickly gave up and buried his face in Phoenix’s shoulder. Phoenix began shushing and gently petting his hair.
“Miles? What’s wrong?”
“It took me years to find out Von Karma killed my father.”
Phoenix startled and froze, “What’s he got to do with—?”
Miles sat up and shoved Phoenix to the side so he was laying on the couch. He crawled up his body and bracketed his head with his arms.
“Now that I know he also took you from me for so long, I’ll never forgive him.” Miles sat back up and shucked his shirt off to the side. He gazed down at Phoenix, wiped away the last of his tears, and smiled, “We have a lot of time to make up for.”