Chapter Text
Miles screeched when he stepped out of the bathroom, partially because he hadn't expected to see someone sitting on his couch, but mostly because he hadn't done his hair yet and now Phoenix knew his secret (as if it were a secret that he had to blow dry, straighten, and gel his hair every morning). Phoenix was the first to speak, wearing a stupid smirk on his face as he set his (Miles’) coffee cup on the table. “I’d give you a solid 8/10 on your performance of the Steel Samurai’s theme. Pink Princess gets a 6/10, try taking the chorus down an octave next time.”
“Why are you here?” Miles asked tiredly, “Shouldn't you be spending Easter Sunday with your kids or something?”
“You think I’m that irresponsible!? I left them an egg hunt, I got up early and everything, and I hid 20 eggs. 10 blue for Trucy, and 10 red for Apollo,” Phoenix responded. He pulled a red egg out of his pocket, “And they’ll be busy, trust me.”
“Why are you so mean to Apollo?” Miles sighed, sitting down on the couch.
“I’m preparing him for the real world!” Phoenix exclaimed, “As any good parent should do. Besides, I had to guarantee that Trucy would win.”
“That’s fair,” Miles surmised, “On a side note, how did you get into my apartment?” Phoenix pulled a key out of his hoodie pocket. “Phoenix!!” Miles exclaimed, “I told you that was for emergencies only!!”
“There was an emergency,” Phoenix said, taking another sip at his (Miles’) coffee.
“What happened?” Miles asked, eyes widening with concern.
“I ran out of the coffee that I stole from you and came to get more,” Phoenix responded, “And stop looking at me like that, because I know you don't actually mind.”
“Why not just ask?” Miles suggested, “Although I love it when you break into my apartment.”
“You’re mean without your coffee,” Phoenix whined.
“I’m always mean,” Miles said, rolling his eyes. He stood up, “Let me guess, you want a refill since I’m getting up to get my own.” He took Phoenix’s mug, and headed into the kitchen. How had he not heard Phoenix use the coffee grinder? Maybe he needed to switch back to his old one (it made a sound comparable to screaming, and would at least then give him some warning).
“Hurry up Miles, I’m dying!!” Phoenix called from the other room. Miles did not hurry, and instead took his time pouring, and then sweetening the coffee. Then, at long last, he headed back to the living room.
“What are you going to do if one of these days I break into your apartment and steal your coffee?” Miles asked, handing Phoenix his mug back.
“You wouldn't. My cheap coffee is not up to your standards,” Phoenix responded.
“Just maybe don't make this habit,” Miles warned.
“What, you don't like seeing me a 9 am on Sundays?” Phoenix smirked.
“No, I just don't like you breaking into my apartment and judging my singing, that’s all,” Miles complained.
“Are you embarrassssssed?” Phoenix asked, “Don't be, I gave you an honest score.”
“You’re the worst,” Miles replied, taking a sip from his coffee.
“Are you being honest?” Phoenix asked.
“Fine, you're not the worst,” Miles said.
“Was that a Compliment?” Phoenix asked.
“Stop!!!” Miles exclaimed, “If you want a real compliment maybe shower or something.”
“I bathe ,” Phoenix insisted, “Beside, aren't I more rugged and handsome this way.”
“I prefer cute and clean,” Miles soliloquized. Phoenix thought about this for a second, even though he wasn't exactly supposed to hear that last comment, and then dramatically stood up. “Phoenix, what are you doing?” Phoenix did not answer, and instead tossed Miles his phone.
“If Trucy calls, pick up. If Apollo calls, let it go to voicemail. Okay?”
“What are you doing?” Miles repeated.
“Stealing from you,” Phoenix responded, stepping into the bathroom. “Your shampoo smells nice so I'm going to steal it.” He could be cute and clean. Miles wouldn't know what hit him.
A few minutes later, Phoenix’s phone started to vibrate, leaving Miles no choice but to pick up, despite it being Apollo, and there being instructions to not pick up. “Phoenix!! I've been searching for hours, where’s the last egg? Please, I’m dying. Trucy keeps making fun of me. It’s not really in my hair is it? I'm afraid to look.”
“This isn't Phoenix,” Miles said.
“Oh,” Apollo said, “No egg then.”
“I can bring you the egg,” Miles said, “But you have to be prepared for a trade.”
…
Miles knocked on the bathroom door. “Phoenix, I had something delivered for you.”
“Is it food?” Phoenix asked.
“No,” Miles said.
“I’m not interested,” Phoenix responded.
“Go Trucy,” Miles murmured. Trucy banged aggressively on the door,
“dADDY PLEASE!!”
“Wait, Trucy??” Phoenix said, “Does that mean you brought Apollo too?”
“Yes,” Apollo said.
“Is this an intervention?” Phoenix asked, “Because if it is I’m not coming out.”
“It’s not an intervention,” Miles replied, “Apollo brought you some of your old clothes. We want to see you wear them.”
“I can't believe you’d all gang up on me like this,” Phoenix said.
“I’m going to leave these by the door, we’ll go wait in the kitchen,” Miles said.
“There’s no way he’ll do it,” Apollo murmured.
“Believe in him like he believes in you,” Miles responded.
They waited.
“You know, I was kinda hoping to find my paycheck in that last egg,” Apollo joked. Was he joking? He looked a little serious.
They waited some more.
“My hair’s going to dry like this,” Miles complained, glaring at the curled ends.
After a little bit more waiting, Fresh Phoenix revealed himself.
“Holy shit he did his hair,” Apollo murmured.
“Watch your language Apollo!!” Phoenix said, “I’m sorry Miles, I didn't raise him this way.”
“You didn't raise me,” Apollo sighed.
Phoenix was wearing a pale pink button up. It was probably the same one that he wore to his second date with Miles eight years ago. He still looked cute in it, fuck. “Oo, Miles, you're staring,” Phoenix grinned, “You remember it?”
“No,” Miles lied, and both Apollo and Trucy stared at him. Their lawyer powers were probably going off, but they sensed the dangerous territory and kept quiet. “S-So, would you guys like to stay for breakfast? Gumshoe is coming over, but I’m sure he wouldn't mind if you guys were here.”
“Free food? How could I say no!” Phoenix laughed.
“You have to help cook,” Miles said.
“I’ll help instead,” Apollo interrupted, “N-Not that Mr. Wright isn't a good cook.”
“Is this about the noodles?” Phoenix asked, “I don't always burn noodles, I just happened to that time.”
“Let’s go, Apollo,” Miles decided, “Phoenix, you can clean up.”
“I can cook!!” Phoenix exclaimed.
“Don't go getting jealous,” Miles smirked, “If you want to be really helpful, take a 20 out of my wallet and go buy some more bread.”
“A 20 for bread?” Phoenix said, “You trust me with a 20?”
“Buy yourself some fancy coffee or something,” Miles responded, “Get on it.” Phoenix rolled his eyes,
“Where’s your wallet?”
“Stop pretending you don't know,” Miles replied, still wearing that All Knowing smirk. Phoenix went to the bed stand, where the wallet would be sitting on top of the latest case file.
After he left, it was just Apollo alone in the kitchen with Miles. Apollo was slightly intimidated, but then again, he was slightly intimidated by everything. Of course, being slightly uncomfortable had never stopped him from asking questions before, so he asked, “Why’d you lie about remembering the shirt?”
“For a Phoenix Wright fan boy, you seem to know nothing about him,” Miles commented, cracking an egg against the side of a bowl.
“I’m not a fan-boy, trust me,” Apollo insisted.
“Do you really want to know?” Miles asked, “I suppose it’s not really that big of a deal.”
Apollo leaned against the counter, a determinedly curious look on his face.
“He wore that shirt on our second date,” Miles said, “We dated for a little over a year, before his life became a mess and he ran away.”
“So that’s it?” Apollo asked, “He just walked out?”
“On me at least,” Miles responded, “I suppose I deserved it though, doing the same thing to him before.”
“Never meet your idol,” Apollo soliloquized, “Phoenix is kind of an ass.”
“No, he’s just...” Miles interrupted. Apollo realized that, uh oh, he’d struck a nerve. Now he had a reason to be intimidated. “He just got a little lost.”
“What does that mean?” Apollo asked, “And why does everyone in their thirties speak in metaphor?”
“I’m just saying, he’s a good person, he just forgot that,” Miles replied, “Enough about Phoenix. Stir this bowl. I think Gumshoe is knocking at the door.”
Thank god, an exit.
Just talking about all those years was bringing back uncomfortable feelings that he didn’t want think about, let alone feel.
“You look troubled,” Gumshoe commented, “More troubled than usual. What’s going on?”
Miles rolled his eyes, “Nothing. Now, do you mind that I invited some...other people over?”
“You have other friends!?!?” Gumshoe exclaimed, “Of course I don’t mind. Is that who’s peeking out of the kitchen?”
Apollo bolted back into the room.
“Like a rabbit,” Gumshoe decided, “Tall brown ears, skittish.”
“Those aren’t ears,” Miles whispered, “It’s really just his hair.” Gumshoe snorted,
“So how do you know him anyways?”
“He’s Phoenix’s pupil,” Miles responded.
“Phoenix?” Gumshoe echoed, “What about the ‘no talking about Phoenix’ rule?”
“He and his daughter will also be joining us,” Miles continued. Gumshoe gasped,
“Are you feeling alright?”
“I suppose I should’ve told you that we started speaking again,” Miles said sheepishly.
“Yeah!! That might’ve been something worth mentioning! How is he!?” Gumshoe asked.
“If he comes back, you can ask him yourself,” Miles replied, “I sent him to get bread.”
“I could’ve picked some up,” Gumshoe commented.
“It’s fine, he probably needed a break from me anyways,” Miles responded, “French toast is fine?”
“It’s more than fine!!” Gumshoe exclaimed, “Now, how can I be of your assistance?”
“Would you like to set the table?” Miles asked, “I don’t have a centerpiece at the moment, but I think I have a table cloth somewhere around here.”
“Alright, where at?” Gumshoe responded, following Miles into the kitchen.
“On top of the cabinet,” Miles said, pointing.
“Gotcha,” Gumshoe said, reaching up and easily grabbing the cloth (it made Apollo jealous- reaching the top of a cabinet with ease? What??)
“MILES!” Phoenix shouted, opening the door, “I’M BACK!!!!” Miles headed towards the door, where Phoenix was standing with a loaf of bread and some flowers (odd combo). “These were by the checkout and I thought they’d look nice in your apartment,” Phoenix explained.
“Well, I’m sure I have a vase around here somewhere,” Miles said, “Apollo, can you start the french toast?”
“Yessir,” Apollo said, still feeling slightly bad about breaking the ‘no talking about Phoenix’ rule that he didn’t know about.
Miles opened the cabinet that rested below the sink, and grabbed the first dust covered vase he saw. It was glass, and sorta pretty, and best of all, not broken. Perfect.
He ignored the fact that it was a gift from Phoenix.
He rinsed the dust off in the sink, and filled the vase to the invisible ¾ line with fresh water. He took the tulips from Phoenix, and gingerly placed them in the vase. Finally, he placed it in the center of the dining room table. He’d found his centerpiece!
“You like them?” Phoenix asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Miles replied, “Good eye.” Phoenix smirked,
“Now, how’s that french toast coming?”
“Apollo is making it. I should probably help him-”
“He’s got it,” Phoenix said seriously, grabbing Miles’ hand so that he wouldn’t leave. “I wanted to talk to you, actually.” Miles felt his heart stop.
Did he even know the person in front of him?
“I want to apologize,” Phoenix said, “For leaving things...unfinished.”
Did he mean it? Did he understand the weight of those words? Did he have any idea how long Miles waited around for an apology- or an explanation in the least?
“You look upset,” Phoenix said, “I shouldn’t have brought this up, shit.”
Miles did the most reasonable thing he could think of, and that was to walk out of his own apartment. His cheeks were red, his eyes were hot, everything was blurring. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to deal with this.
When he heard the door to his apartment open, he started to run for the stairs.
He felt childish. Getting upset like this. He hadn't cried in a really long time, and now he was crying over something had happened years ago.
He didn't feel childish. He felt exposed. It was like Phoenix ripped a bandaid off of him. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. He wiped his eyes as best as he could. Was Phoenix still behind him, or had he gotten scared and backed off?
After what felt like hours, he felt Phoenix sit beside him on the steps. “I’m really sorry about this,” Phoenix said.
“No, I’m the one who overreacted,” Miles responded tiredly, nervously playing his hair. “I just wasn't expecting you to come out and say that, that's all.”
“I know, I’m an idiot,” Phoenix said, “I just, feel so guilty about all of that and seeing you again, I just…….I haven't felt like this in awhile. I just, really like being around you.” Miles stayed silent. At least he wasn't crying anymore, right? “Would you give me a second chance?” Phoenix asked, “I know you're mad at me but…”
“Give me some time,” Miles suggested quietly.
“Okay,” Phoenix responded.
“And maybe wear that button up more often,” Miles said, cracking a tiny smile.
“Yeah?” Phoenix echoed, “I can make that happen.”
...