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Miles rested his foot gently on the brake, and shifted the car into park. A cheesy slow song ended and a commercial started playing on the pop station he was definitely not listening to (If you or a loved one has been diagnosed with Mestho-). The radio was at a barely audible volume anyways, and could hardly be heard over the strengthening rain. The sound stopped and the windshield wipers froze in place as he took the key from ignition. No thanks, I’m not entitled to legal compensation, Miles thought jokingly, finishing off the rest of the overplayed ad in his head. He unbuckled his seatbelt, and let out a slight sigh as he reached over to collect his suitcase and umbrella. The car got dark fast, so hopefully no important items had escaped his bags, lost forever to the floormat. Or at least, lost forever until the following morning.
He cracked the door open, and it was as if all the heat instantly escaped the vehicle, replaced with a late wintery chill. Ugh. He poked the head of his red umbrella out the door, opening it before following it out. There was a bit of wind, so the rain bit into him instead of his shield. Great. ( Some umbrella, right?)
He shut and locked the car door, and then walked briskly over to the front door of his rented apartment. After arriving safely inside, he closed his umbrella, checked his watch, and headed for the stairs. 10:30 pm. The night is still young, right? he thought tiredly to himself. Phoenix would probably complain that he hadn’t been home in time for supper, and then Miles would reply I was just finishing things up! or something of the sort. It was the truth after all. He shook his head, a small smile coming to his face as he thought about Phoenix.
He peeked his head into the apartment. “Good evening Wright,” he said formally, fighting the smile that was growing on his lips.
“What’s that expression for?” Phoenix responded. He paused the music that was blaring from his phone speakers, “Didja meet someone?”
“I’m dating that someone, fool,” Miles replied, shutting the door, “And his initials happen to be PW… You might know him.” He set his bags down, and froze hearing Phoenix’s response:
“Winston Payne?”
Miles made a choking noise, “I-I explicitly said PW not WP . Please, please do not ever suggest that I would have relations with that man again.”
Phoenix laughed, “Alright, alright. Didja have a good day today?” Miles nodded, removing his coat,
“It was fine.” He placed it upon the hook. He could feel his smile fading and apparently Phoenix could too because he’d set his sketch book down and come over to see him.
“How about a kiss?” Phoenix asked.
“Okay,” Miles replied, smirking again. Phoenix gave him a quick peck on the lips, and hugged him.
“Your clothes are damp. Quite the storm outside, huh.”
“You’re telling me,” Miles responded, “The visibility was awful. I suppose I should’ve left while it was still light out, but you know how winter is...”
“I’m just glad you’re safe,” Phoenix replied.
Miles felt a pang in his stomach, he was thinking about things again. Specifically Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol. Not exactly the song that would regularly be wormed into his brain, but he couldn’t stop thinking about… It was silly. Was he blushing just thinking about asking about it? Phoenix was looking at him weird, so the answer was probably yes. “I’m going to go get some water,” Miles said, stepping away from Phoenix and into the kitchen. He took a glass from the cupboard. Why was his heart beating so fast? Why did the words slow dance , or specifically slow dance with Phoenix , send him into a fit of anxiety? God, his hands were even sweating like some sort of teenager- what was this, his first prom?
The glass slipped out of his hand, and clanged against the sides of the sink, making approximately As Much Noise as Possible. Fantastic. Now Phoenix was in the doorway. “Are yo-”
“I need you to help me with something,” Miles interrupted, speaking as calmly as he could manage.
“I’m not down for murder,” Phoenix replied, mimicking Miles’ “calm” voice.
Miles froze, dumbfounded by the fact that Phoenix had interjected like that because now the entire conversation he’d planned in his head moments ago while dropping his glass had gone down the drain. His plan, evidently, was water.
“You weren’t seriously planning murder, were you?” Phoenix asked, getting a little nervous. It was a rare occurrence, that Miles freeze up like this. “Hello? Miles?”
Miles’ face went red as he was reanimated by Phoenix’s voice. He attempted to express his thoughts but all that came out was, “I… Okay… Uh… Ngggggh...”
“What’s the deal with you?” Phoenix laughed, “You’re being weird.”
“Phoenix…” Miles started, clutching his arm nervously and staring hard at the ground, “I must admit something… I’ve... I've never slow danced before.”
Phoenix squinted at him, “Did I just hear you right?”
Miles bit his lip, “Y-Yes-”
“You want me to teach you to slow dance!?” Phoenix exclaimed, face lighting up.
“W-Well, Wright, I-”
“It’s really not that hard,” Phoenix interrupted, “Allow me a moment please.” He disappeared from the room. Miles tried to force himself to regain his composure. If only his heart could just chill .
Phoenix returned. He’d put his tie back on, and was holding his cell phone. “Prepare yourself for the true, American Public School Experience.” He set it down, and fucking Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol started playing. Suddenly Phoenix was putting his arms on him, and directing him where to put his arms and so they were close but there was still a bit of room for Jesus if He didn’t mind the middle seat.
“Follow my lead,” Phoenix instructed. The steps were, in fact, relatively simple. Sway. Sway in a circle. Miles thought he was maybe being too stiff, but Phoenix seemed comfortable. “So do they just… not have prom in Germany?” he asked.
“If there was one, I didn’t have my head out of my books long enough to hear about it,” Miles replied softly, “Besides, I had no one to go with.”
“Yeah?” Phoenix said. He got red suddenly, and a look of pain on his face, “I went junior year with some random girl. It went poorly, cuz she said she was gonna kiss me and I panicked and, I uh, well, accidently spilled some red punch, like, on her, in an unfortunate area… And then Larry tried to set me up with some guy senior year. ‘He’s gay, you’re gay, perfect match’ he said, except like this guy was like, not a perfect match at all, like he was a total prep-”
“Prep?” Miles asked jokingly.
“That’s what I would’ve called him at the time . I don’t still use words like ‘ prep ’, I’m a grown man Miles, I’m not emo,” Phoenix exclaimed.
“A defense worthy of the courtroom,” Miles replied sarcastically, smiling.
“What do you think of your first slow dance anyways?” Phoenix asked, “Is it all you could’ve asked for and more?”
“It’s fine,” Miles responded, childish grin suggesting otherwise.
“Some of the edgy kids would kiss when the song ends,” Phoenix said, as if he almost prompting , “You’d get detention if the principal saw you, but I guess they thought it was worth… it…” Miles had stopped swaying, and leaned in, causing Phoenix to trail off. The space between them… was warm. The song faded out, and Miles met Phoenix’s lips.
The kitchen was dark, lit only by the living room lamps who were graciously sharing their light with the other room and the soft white glow of Phoenix’s cellphone. The device waited for another song that wouldn’t come for awhile. One’s enough , Miles thought, One’s all I’ll ever need.
Him.
Miles moved slowly away, face still right up near Phoenix’s. They were quiet. Rain fell between them. Phoenix was breathing slow soft. His breath was warm. He was warm. He’d chased all the winter cold from Miles’ bones, leaving nothing but a sweet, sweet warmth. Miles kinda felt like he might be melting and if he didn’t move soon there’d be nothing left. But he was not snow, he was made of much more solid stuff, so he did what he shouldn’t do and took another kiss from Phoenix. Phoenix’s cheeks were red too now, he hadn’t been expecting it. You’re bold tonight , he was probably thinking. Miles could hear the clock ticking. When it was this quiet, he could hear all the clocks in the house. He was running out of time, this moment would end. He was okay with that. They’d have more.
“I wish that that was my first kiss,” Phoenix said softly after they separated. He sat up on the kitchen counter. He removed his tie. “For your first slow dance, that was pretty fricking good.”
“I try,” Miles replied, doing a mini bow. His heart hadn’t slowed down yet. Its panicky beat synchronized with the clocks and the rain and with Phoenix’s heart too. The silence in the dimly lit kitchen left their hearts’ ticks and tocks exposed.
“Would you care for a warm beverage? Perhaps some soothing Camomile?” Phoenix asked with a smirk.
“Are you mocking me, Phoenix Wright?” Miles responded, wearing a matching smirk.
“Is your cravat frilly?” Phoenix retorted.
“ You ,” Miles threatened. It was an empty threat, in fact, he had something else in mind. “One thing first,” he said.
“And what would that be?” Phoenix asked, a curious expression coming onto his face.
“May I have this dance?” Miles held out his hand.
Phoenix laughed, taking his boyfriend's outstretched hand eagerly, “Hungry for more, eh? Alright: one thing first.” He started first the kettle and then another song playing, sending the silence cowering back. Phoenix eagerly took the lead. This time they circled the whole kitchen, smiling the whole time and Miles wasn’t as worried about the placement of his steps this time- he just went with it like he was born to do it. That was a feeling he loved, a feeling that Phoenix often gave him. This is the way things are supposed to be , he thought, One dance was enough, but two? Two’s better.
He looked at Phoenix’s face, the face of a man he loved and thought, Maybe, in fact, with him I could dance forever.
Their night concluded snuggled up on the couch. They didn’t need another song, for real this time. The camomile tea took advantage of Miles’ fatigue, and had him much drowsier than his partner. He rested his head on Phoenix’s shoulder, muted T.V. flashing lights over them as he let his eyes close. He could hear Phoenix’s soft breathing, and his heart beating too, less like a clock and more like a lullaby. It was putting him to sleep, and he didn’t mind. Let me hear this wonderful sound every night for the rest of my life , he wished to himself.
Was it mere coincidence that it was 11:11 pm, and Phoenix Wright had his eyes squeezed shut, wishing the same thing? Sure, it made him feel like a kid, staying up late on important nights to get an "important" wish in but… He wanted to hear the soft sleepy sounds coming from the man drifting off on his shoulder, every night, every night for the rest of his life. How could he deny himself a little wish? He’d stayed up late enough to earn it, right?
11:12 pm. He glanced down at Miles, who’d fallen asleep. He got the strong feeling he didn’t need any magic to make his wish come true, and let his own lids close slowly. “Good-night,” he breathed, a sleepy smile forming on his lips,
“Sweet dreams, love.”