Archive of Our Own

-Los Angeles - February 13-22, 2019-

Technically, this wasn’t their first kiss, of course. But Phoenix Wright wasn’t sure that the original incident ten days ago, the one that had led to all… this… really counted, given that Edgeworth had single-handedly finished off half a bottle of bourbon in the bar beforehand. Not that he was one to judge. He hadn’t exactly been on speaking terms with sober himself - not after several too many beers, at least one scotch for the road and then being hit by the drizzly chill of a February night when he stepped outside.

In hindsight, maybe it had been a recipe for disaster all along, but at the time it had seemed like a good idea. After the trial - after everything that had happened at Hazakura Temple - Phoenix had figured they both deserved to get drunk, even if it was the middle of the week. Well, he knew he sure did, and Edgeworth hadn’t put up much of an argument when it was suggested to him over the phone. Larry had been invited too, but then called at the last moment to say he’d met the love of his life and was on his way to Martinique to paint her. Or maybe her name was Martinique and she was a painter. Or maybe both. To tell the truth, he’d only been half listening. Phoenix had long ago given up on trying to follow the various threads of Larry Butz’s sex life, or even to figure out how the heck he still had one.

But as it turned out, even without the Butz, it had been a fun evening. And Larry’s absence meant that he hadn’t been forced to listen to any more of the man crying over Iris like he had at Trés Bien - or worse, sympathising with him about her. Phoenix wasn’t sure he’d have been ready to deal with that, and in retrospect, he was even more sure that Edgeworth wouldn’t have appreciated it, although he hadn’t realised that at the time.

As it was, Edgeworth had been in an unusually good mood for some reason, or at least it had seemed that way. He’d even reminisced about one or two incidents at grade school, which was pretty rare for him - usually any part of his life before he became an attorney was pretty much a conversational dead zone. But Phoenix hadn’t questioned it - he’d needed the lift himself, and he wasn’t going to jeopardise the chance to just relax and enjoy Edgeworth being sociable by asking anything that made him retreat. So they’d talked about their schooldays, the trials they’d shared, and Edgeworth had recounted some of the gossip from the Prosecutor’s Office, embellished with typically acerbic observations on the intelligence level of some of his colleagues.

He’d still been laughing at some joke of Edgeworth’s about the Chief of Criminal Affairs when they’d left the bar. And it was just about then that things had all gone wrong. Between simultaneously trying to catch his breath and deal with wet pavement underfoot, he’d stumbled on the kerb and half into Edgeworth, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady himself and laughing at his own clumsiness. Their eyes had met for the briefest of moments, Edgeworth’s expression unreadable - and when he’d abruptly leaned in, Phoenix had expected some quietly sarcastic remark about the state of his sobriety, not... that.

Shit, the whole thing had been a mess. Even thinking about it now made him wince, inwardly, at his own response. He didn’t even remember the kiss itself as well as he remembered the shock, the embarrassment, the confusion, the stupid words he’d said as he’d stumbled back into the road, and the sinking feeling in his stomach when he watched Edgeworth turn and silently walk away. Most of all, he remembered the long wait at the bus stop - the slow, persistent rain saturating his coat and plastering his hair to his skin while he recalled the look on Edgeworth’s face, wondered what the hell had just happened and wished repeatedly that he could just hit the rewind button on the whole evening.

It had taken him a week to pick up the telephone. A week in which he’d barely slept, barely eaten, drunk far too much cheap scotch and spent every waking moment reliving those few seconds and the sensation of Edgeworth’s lips on his. He couldn’t concentrate on anything else - not work, not the pile of final demands on his desk demanding his attention, not the calls he hadn’t returned - though he had checked if any were from him (they weren’t). Instead, he’d shuttled between his apartment, the office and his favourite dive bar downtown, fretting about whether it had meant anything and if so what, if he’d done something to cause it, how long it had been going on, why he’d reacted so badly, why he hadn’t figured it out earlier, whether he’d always felt this way, whether Edgeworth felt the same way, and if he did… what would happen if it all went wrong like it did with her… He'd circled around and around it in his head from every possible angle while practically wearing a hole in the already shabby linoleum at the office. What the hell is wrong with me anyway?

When he’d eventually made the call, he knew by the response that he’d almost left it too late.

“About last week. We have to talk...” Phoenix kept saying.
“I made a mistake,” was the only reply, in that flat tone Edgeworth always used when he wanted to change the subject.
“But Edgeworth-”
“Forget it ever happened”. A soft click and a dull buzz had signalled the end of the conversation. And that was that.

But it had happened. And to Phoenix, after a week of worry and self-examination, the truth was obvious. There was no forgetting and going back to the time before. And the more he thought about it, the more he realised he didn’t want to forget and he didn’t want to go back. Forwards meant heading into the unknown, sure, but still... if that was where Edgeworth was, then that was the direction his heart told him to go, just like he always had. And he'd always followed his heart, and it had always worked out, right?
Well okay... maybe not always, but usually.
In the end.

He’d tried to call back; to counter the dismissal with his own point of view. But Edgeworth’s calls were being diverted to the secretarial office, who had politely but firmly informed him that Prosecutor Edgeworth could not be disturbed, and no, they did not know when he would next be available. Phoenix had filled in the unspoken '...to you' at the end of that sentence and sworn under his breath. He’d debated sending an email or a text, but then reminded himself with only the tiniest pinch of bitterness that Edgeworth had already gotten in fifteen years of practice at ignoring his prose.

Jerk.

More pacing around the office had followed, then with a sudden twinge of guilt, he'd finally remembered to pick up Maya's voicemail message from the day before, which he'd only half listened to the first time.

While Charley was a perennially good listener, he wasn't exactly able to offer feedback and by that point, Phoenix had found himself out of ideas. He knew that if Edgeworth really didn't want to speak to him, he was more than capable of being avoidant until he went back to Europe. He’d remarked drily to Phoenix once that whenever he was in town, even if just for two days, the Prosecutors’ Office always managed to find a new stack of complex cases in need of review which somehow went unnoticed in his absence. Between those and the old cases of his and Von Karma’s from before his trial, which he was still reviewing on his own time, Edgeworth could legitimately bury himself in paperwork until an hour before he was due at the airport. And somehow Phoenix had known that if he let that happen - if he let Edgeworth leave the country again without seeing him - he’d regret it. Even if Edgeworth just told him to go to hell after the things Phoenix had said that night, he needed to find a way to get the man alone for a few minutes at least.

Maybe talking to Maya would help, he’d reasoned. There was no way he was going to tell her exactly what had happened or why, especially since he still wasn’t sure himself what the hell was going on, but sometimes just speaking to her prompted new ways of thinking. And maybe that was what he needed right now. Well, apart from a stiff drink, but he’d pushed that desire out of his mind, having given into it too many times already in the past week and found it didn’t help at all.

She’d answered her cell almost immediately, which only amplified the guilt he’d felt at having waited a whole day to respond.

“Oh hey. Sorry Maya, I've been out of the office. Yeah. I uh... just got your message. Yeah. I guess so. Yeah no, everything's fine. Yes really. Wait… this weekend? Actually… that sounds great! Listen... um... can I talk to Pearls...”?

That had been on Wednesday. To Phoenix, every hour of the the forty-eight between then and now had dragged. By the time the old electronic clock on his desk had finally flipped around to Friday afternoon, it felt like a month had passed.

It was the first time that the Fey cousins had been in town since Iris' trial and the first time he and Edgeworth had seen each other since that night. Phoenix knew that Edgeworth had only been persuaded into a promise to join them for dinner because Pearl had called and asked him personally. Even the ex-Demon Prosecutor couldn’t say no to a nine-year-old child, especially after what she’d been through with her mother and at Hazakura Temple. Sure, Phoenix felt a little guilty for having suggested it to her, given her baseless but unassailable belief that he and Maya were a match made in heaven... but hey, it had worked, right? And he guessed from the enthusiasm with which she’d seized on the idea that Pearl did really want to see Edgeworth too, so he didn’t feel like a total heel.

Even so, Phoenix found himself having second thoughts on the bus home from the train station with the Feys, and when Maya set to teasing him later about how much time he was spending deciding what shirt to wear with his jeans, he wondered again what the hell was wrong with him. In the end, he’d gone for blue, though he wasn’t going to admit to himself that he’d chosen it for any other reason than it was the least creased in his closet, and certainly not because he remembered a conversation with a certain prosecutor in a bar two years ago on New Year’s Eve.

Maya had given him a wink and a smile of approval when he finally emerged from his bedroom, while Pearls had clapped her hands and looked between them as if she expected them to kiss on the spot. Okay, so now maybe I do feel like a heel. Still, it was good to see her happy. It hadn’t escaped his attention that she’d been quieter than usual on the bus, and he and Maya had exchanged looks while alternately trying to occupy her with questions about her schoolwork and the latest episode of 'Kid’s Masterpiece Theatre'.

Despite the situation with Edgeworth weighing on his mind, Phoenix was glad to see them - his apartment always felt way too quiet when there was only him and the 24-hour news channel to fill it - somehow having the Feys around made it feel more like a home. After the revelations during Iris’ trial and their return to Kurain Village, he’d been worried about them both, so it was a relief to see them back in L.A. again where he could check up on them himself. He was determined that while they were in town, he’d do his level best to make sure they had fun. It was the least he could do for them - and for Mia.

Giusto Pizza was a new Italian joint on the edge of Phoenix’s neighbourhood and when he’d spoken to her on Wednesday, Maya had been very keen to read him the positive reviews down the telephone from Kurain. He’d taken the hint and booked a table, even though he had the feeling the evening was likely to come with an extra topping of pain for his wallet. Still, at least it was only a twenty-minute walk along streets which were full of the kind of stores both girls loved to window shop at, so he could save a few dollars on cab fare. And it gave him some time to think about how he was going to make Edgeworth listen to what he had to say.

By the time they reached the restaurant, he was starting to feel better about the whole evening again, but the moment they stepped inside, he was sure he felt his credit cards flinch. Stripped pine, bare brickwork and an actual wine list were all red flags for 'out of this attorney’s budget'. Added to which, Edgeworth wasn’t waiting when they got there, even though he was habitually punctual and they were a few minutes late. Phoenix’s optimism flagged.

He fidgeted unnecessarily while they waited to be seated, glancing at his watch and apprehensively noting that some of the other diners were looking at him in that way which suggested they might just call the cops about the shifty looking guy out on his own with two young girls in fancy dress costumes. They probably think we’re from some weird Hollywood cult. Even after they settled at a table with two long benches and an expensive-looking single red flower in a vase right at the centre, he was aware of the occasional disapproving glances in their direction. Fortunately, neither Maya nor Pearl seemed to have noticed and were busy picking out drinks from the worryingly extensive menu.

When his cell buzzed and he checked it to see a message waiting there with Edgeworth’s name attached, he was already resigned to it being some bullshit, last minute excuse for a no-show which he’d have to explain to Pearl. He was genuinely surprised when it wasn’t.

101. Traffic. Delayed.

Edgeworth was never what he’d call chatty in his text messages but still, that seemed even more curt than usual. Phoenix sighed, scanning the menu in front of him and trying not to look at the prices. Maybe this whole thing had been a mistake. Maybe I already fucked things up with him too much.

He tried to take his mind off it by explaining the concept of a mocktail to Pearl, who seemed to have gotten it into her head that it must be some kind of bird and was looking around the restaurant as if expecting to see one perched on the back of a chair. Luckily, her disappointment on that score didn’t seem to dim her excitement about the evening, and she lapsed into giggles at his dramatic readings of some of the fancier drinks on the menu. But if he felt reassured about Pearl, he was still worried about Maya. She’d inherited Mia’s ability to keep smiling through even the worst situation for the sake of everyone else - exactly as Edgeworth had observed after the trial. But Phoenix had noticed that when she thought no-one was looking the smile would fade, and he was at a loss what to do or say to bring back the liveliness that was somehow missing.

He was still trying to come up with something when Edgeworth arrived, though from the look on his face when he pushed open the door, he was also wondering if he’d made a serious error of judgement. Despite a tersely delivered greeting of “Wright,” he didn’t make eye contact. Instead he offered a warm smile to Maya while removing his coat, then directed an apology accompanied by a formal half-bow to Pearl, who blushed and peeked at him from between her fingers. Phoenix rolled his eyes, surprised to find that he felt slightly resentful at being overlooked. Great. Now I’m jealous of a nine-year-old.

Under his overcoat, Edgeworth was wearing what Phoenix had come to recognise as his habitual casualwear of faded, vintage jeans with an open-necked formal shirt - white this time - and Phoenix wondered again if the man even possessed any which were not either plain white or plain black. It had taken Phoenix a while to get used to ‘casual Edgeworth’, or to the idea that he even owned a pair of jeans, let alone what appeared to be several. This evening, he’d also added a smart, dark grey waistcoat, presumably in honour of the Feys. He took a seat on the bench opposite Maya and next to Pearl without further acknowledging Phoenix, though if either of the girls noticed, they didn’t comment. Lucky me, at least I don’t have to explain that one.

Silence fell across the table as everyone scrutinised their menus, though to Phoenix, it didn’t feel the least bit like a comfortable one. The sense of having to hold back a hundred things that he needed to say didn’t sit well with him at the best of times, and right now, this felt like just about the opposite of that. Edgeworth had arched a sardonic eyebrow at the name of the restaurant on the cover before flipping open his own menu - straight to the wine list, Phoenix noted. Meanwhile, Maya was staring at hers with a faraway look on her face. Uh oh. He knew from painful experience that Maya, that look, and food were a bad combination.

“Nick! The Special Spicy Sausage Super Crust Deluxe or the Limited BBQ Bacon Burger Double Double? Hmm… I can’t choose”.

Edgeworth didn’t look up fully from his own menu, but he glanced across at Maya with an amused smile. And before Phoenix could gently suggest that maybe something that didn’t come with the prefix of ‘special’ or ‘limited’ might be more within their budget, Edgeworth beat him to the punch.

“Then why not order both, Miss Fey”?

Maya tilted her head and gave him a conspiratorial grin in return, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of anticipation and happiness.

“I like how you think, Mr Edgeworth”!

Wait, what? Phoenix could already feel his bank balance shrinking, he didn’t need Edgeworth enabling Maya’s determination to eat her way through every fast food joint in L.A. at his expense. On the other hand, only ten minutes ago, he’d been trying to think of a way to make her smile like that himself, and after what she’d been through at Hazakura… Phoenix sighed inwardly, and wondered which of his credit cards was least likely to be rejected.

Despite his own misgivings, and the distinct sense from Edgeworth every time Phoenix caught his eye that the man wished he was spending his Friday night anywhere else but where he currently was, Maya and Pearl took under an hour to weave that mysterious Fey magic that Phoenix thought should be available to buy in bottles from the drugstore. Somehow the awkward silences - the avoidant glances and the stilted attempts at polite conversation between he and Edgeworth - faded away over pizza, ice cream and among chatter about Kurain, absent friends and, of course, the Steel Samurai.

For once, he managed not to tease Edgeworth too much for a poorly-concealed interest in that particular topic, though more than once he was forced to bite back an especially witty put-down that he could feel forming on his tongue. He was pretty sure that after recent events, any such barbs had a good chance of missing their target completely. Not tonight, Phoenix.

His restraint was rewarded when Maya cornered Edgeworth into agreeing to accompany them back to Phoenix’s apartment after dinner, with the promise of watching some 'Steel Samurai DVD Special Extra Feature' she’d been sent by Will Powers. Phoenix was pretty sure it was the last thing Edgeworth wanted to do under current circumstances, but he could only have refused if he was willing to risk a Fey cross-examination. Thankfully it seemed that was something he was just as keen to avoid as Phoenix, for whatever reason. And it gave Phoenix longer to work his way around to what he needed to say, which was proving even more difficult than he thought it would be both due to the circumstances and his own cluelessness on where to even start.

The only dip in the mood was around 8:30, shortly before they left the restaurant, when Pearl slipped off her bench and stepped over to tug at Phoenix’s hand with a voice and face equally downcast.

“I wish Mr Scruffy Detective could have eaten pizza with us too”.

He squeezed her fingers in return and gave her a sympathetic look. He’d been half expecting this all evening and was surprised she hadn’t brought up the subject sooner. She’d asked him to invite Larry, too, but the news that he was in love and out of the country had appealed to Pearl’s romantic side, and so that particular absence was forgiven. Gumshoe’s, however, was a different matter.

“I know, Pearls. I called him, but he’s on duty tonight. Maybe next time, huh”?

She nodded, but didn’t seem consoled at the thought. He really had called, more than once, but a mere defence attorney had no sway at the Police Department, and Gumshoe didn’t have enough seniority in Criminal Affairs to skip out on late shift at short notice, not even on the promise of pizza and beer. But still, Phoenix felt guilty anyway, in that way only Pearl ever managed to make him feel. Even when he looked up and caught Edgeworth’s eyes on him for a fleeting moment, he was too busy trying and failing to come up with something to make her feel better to take advantage of any lapse in the other man’s apparent determination to ignore him at all costs.

Among the flurry of everyone donning coats and retrieving phones and bags, Phoenix bit the bullet and went to settle the bill. He’d been dreading this moment all night as he’d numbered off in his head the slices of pizza he’d seen Maya alone consume, as well as the assortment of sides, drinks and the inevitable ice cream that seemed to follow every other meal the Feys ate. But to his surprise, when he pulled out his wallet, the cashier informed him that “the other gentleman” had already put down fifty dollars against their tab, even though the only things Phoenix remembered seeing Edgeworth eat or drink were a green salad he’d shared with Pearl and a couple of glasses of red wine. I guess Maya has him well-trained by now too. Still, he was grateful for the intervention - it only took three credit cards before he found one that wasn’t refused to cover the rest. And when he went back to their table to grab his bag and leave a tip, there was already a twenty lying there, one corner tucked neatly under the flower vase.

When he stepped outside into the neon-lit darkness, only Maya was waiting on the sidewalk, playing some game or other on her phone and bobbing up and down in time to the jaunty theme music. It briefly occurred to him to come clean to her about the situation with Edgeworth, but something told him this wasn’t the right time, especially now that she seemed to have recovered some of her spark. Phoenix waved a hand between her phone screen and her face to get her attention.

“Hey, where did everyone go”?

“Mmm… I think Pearly went to the restroom”?

“Oh”. He shrugged. “I guess Edgeworth did too”. Or maybe he just decided to escape through a window out back to avoid me.

He didn’t have time to depress himself about that theory for long before both Edgeworth and Pearl emerged from the restaurant at the same time, though to his amazement, she was dragging him by the hand and practically bursting with glee. Phoenix took one look at the expression on Edgeworth's face and decided that if there had ever been a moment in his life when he wished for Lotta Hart and her camera, this was it.

"Mr Nick! Because Mr Scruffy Detective is protecting the city, Mr Eh-ji-worth said we should send pizza to him instead"!

She released Edgeworth's hand in order to clap hers together, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. Edgeworth, for his part, cleared his throat and then immediately removed both hands from further danger of capture by occupying them with his coat buttons.

Phoenix raised an eyebrow, glancing over to Edgeworth and wondering exactly whose choice of words that had been. ‘Protecting the city’. Right. The Trenchcoat Samurai. Maybe Will Powers is going to play him in the movie.

"I picked one with lots of vegetables! He needs to eat more vy-to-mins".

If she’d been down about Gumshoe’s absence earlier, the sudden revelation that she could have pizza delivered to him at the Police Department had obviously made up for it. Phoenix was sorry he hadn’t thought of it himself, although even if he had, he was pretty sure his credit card would have cracked under the additional strain.

"That's good, Pearls. I'm sure Detective Gumshoe will appreciate the thought".

Phoenix wasn’t sure that pizza in any form constituted healthy food, but at least it had to be better than Gumshoe’s usual diet of instant noodles, off-brand chicken soup and coffee.

“Oh! And Mr Eh-ji-worth helped me write a note, so he’ll know who sent it"!

"Did he".

It wasn't so much a question as an observation and Phoenix looked directly at Edgeworth, raising another amused eyebrow in his direction. To his disappointment, even the deliberately pointed tone of his voice didn’t tempt Edgeworth into looking back at him. Instead, his attention remained resolutely fixed on his coat and on straightening his scarf. Pearl, meanwhile, was still bouncing happily, while occasionally shooting adoring glances in Edgeworth’s direction. Wow. You’re a cheap date, Pearls.

Phoenix was debating whether to say anything more about it when Maya nudged him sharply in the ribs and he winced, the half-healed cuts and bruises he'd sustained after his fall from Dusky Bridge reminding him painfully of their existence.

“OW! What the hell, Maya”?

He rubbed at his side, giving her a reproachful look which she completely ignored. Her attention was entirely fixed on Edgeworth and for once, she managed a conspiratorial whisper that wasn't quite audible to everyone within a three-yard radius.

"Wow. Mr Edgeworth has really changed since last year".

Phoenix looked at Edgeworth again, then back at Maya, suddenly feeling just as self-conscious as the other man still looked after the unexpected assault on his hand and his dignity by Pearl.

"Yeah… he really has". If only you knew, Maya.

For a long moment, he was afraid she was going to pursue the subject, either with himself or directly with Edgeworth, and had a sinking feeling that if she did, it wouldn’t lead anywhere that would bode well for the conversation he still wanted to have with the man. But for once, the tendency for Maya’s thought processes to take sudden tangents on the subject of food worked in his favour. A thoughtful expression settled on her face.

"Hm, I wonder if I could make a pizza with instant noodle topping..."

Phoenix put up his hands in a gesture that was half defensive and half appalled.

"Whoa...no, Maya. Not in my kitchen. Not even for science".

“Oh Nick, you’re no fun tonight. You should try expanding your horizons before you get too old, you know”.

She huffed a bit at him, then winked, before hurrying to fall into step next to Edgeworth, who had already started slowly walking back in the direction of Phoenix’s apartment. He couldn’t hear what they were discussing but within the space of a couple of minutes, Maya was laughing, and as far as Phoenix was concerned, he was grateful to Edgeworth for anything that made Maya smile after what she’d been through in the past month.

If pressed, Phoenix wouldn’t have listed empathy as one of Edgeworth’s defining characteristics, and he had certainly made his feelings clear about the subject of Misty Fey. So it had surprised him after Iris’ trial when it had been Edgeworth, of all people, who had accurately explained Maya’s unexpected cheerfulness. But later, when he and Maya had gone to look for Pearl, it had occurred to him that of all of them, Edgeworth was the only other person who knew what it was like to lose a parent to murder. And on the heels of that memory, as he watched Maya smile and reach up to pat Edgeworth on the arm, was an abrupt surge of affection for the man. It took Phoenix completely by surprise and made him grateful for the gathering darkness which hid the blush of embarrassment he could feel warming his face and neck, and for the fact that Pearl had already run on ahead to catch up with the others.

Even after Maya had been dragged away by Pearl to play some arcane variation on I Spy, the rest of the walk was companionable, if mostly silent. Phoenix naturally ended up walking at Edgeworth’s side, just as he would have done a couple of weeks ago. Edgeworth still seemed disinclined to engage with him, but at least he’d stopped looking as if he wished he was in another state.

Maya called back to Phoenix from a few steps ahead and asked him to pick a letter. He shrugged and chose one without any thought at all.

“E”.

His answer caused Pearl to squeak with excitement and point over to her left, but he had no idea why, since he’d been unable to figure out the rules when she’d tried to explain them ten minutes before. Not that he’d been trying too hard - he had other things on his mind.

He’d been aware of Edgeworth walking next to him the entire time; aware in a way that he didn’t remember from before of every sound, every movement, and every breath. And it struck Phoenix for the first time that he was never more at ease, never more comfortable, never more alive than when the other man was by his side, whether in court or out of it. It was a strange feeling, but vivid enough that Phoenix couldn’t believe he’d never noticed it until now.

For the most part, Edgeworth kept his gaze fixed elsewhere. The one time their eyes met, Edgeworth caught him smiling to himself and gave him a cautiously questioning look. If the Feys had not been within earshot of anything above a whisper, Phoenix might have been tempted to say what he wanted to say right there, but instead he just shrugged and laughed a little. Even if they’d been alone, he suddenly felt unable to put it into words; still not sure of how exactly you had these conversations with a man, let alone with Miles Edgeworth.

The shrug elicited a slight frown in return, before Edgeworth redirected his attention to studying the darkened storefronts across the street leading to Phoenix's apartment building. Phoenix sighed. Unless he’s developed a sudden riveting interest in Los Angeles brutalism, I’m going to guess he’s still pissed at me for the way I reacted. I can’t say I blame him.

He half expected Edgeworth to change his mind; to make an excuse and keep on walking to the nearest cab stand once they reached Phoenix’s door. But he didn’t, and instead seemed stoically determined to stick to his word about letting Maya show off her prized Steel Samurai DVD. And Phoenix wasn’t going to lie to himself this time about the little flip of happiness in his gut at the further opportunity to say his piece. He still had no idea what the hell he was going to say, but at least now he had a chance to say it somewhere that didn’t afford Edgeworth an opportunity to refuse to listen and stalk off into the night, or risk attracting the attention of passers-by.

Phoenix made coffee in the kitchen while Edgeworth and the girls occupied themselves with the DVD, smiling to himself at the sudden comfort that having other people in his apartment always brought with it. Whatever was so special about the Special Extra Feature, it meant very little to him, although from what he could understand thanks to Maya’s excited voice, it involved some scenes which had never made it into the TV shows. I’m... not sure how that makes them so great?

When he returned to the living room, Edgeworth was seated near the window at the far end of his small sofa. Maya was cross-legged in the armchair and Pearl was sprawled on the beanbag, tapping her toes together and drinking juice. He handed Edgeworth and Maya their mugs of coffee, then perched awkwardly at the other end of the sofa to sip his own, suddenly regretting the fact that he’d never gotten around to buying that second chair. Fortunately, he didn’t have the time to dwell on whether their relative positions were causing any discomfort, because Maya was in the middle of explaining the intricate and complicated duties of a Master of Kurain, apparently in response to a question of Edgeworth’s that he’d missed. It occurred to Phoenix that even talking about that subject must be difficult for him because of DL-6 - even knowing what he knew now, after the trial. But if there was any trace of reluctance there, Phoenix couldn’t see it, and that odd mix of pride and affection from earlier returned.

Phoenix had always found it interesting to watch Edgeworth dealing with the Feys at any length, and this evening was no exception. He was like a different man when he was around them. His mannerisms were softer, and he was less prone to those abrupt withdrawals into the dark places in his own mind that could be prompted by the wrong question or a misplaced remark. To Phoenix, even now, Edgeworth was often like a minefield that he had to tiptoe through without the benefit of a map. But nothing that Maya or Pearl said seemed to affect him that way and Phoenix was surprised how happy it made him to observe the apparent upswing in the other man’s mood, even despite the awkwardness between them. ...Because I care about him. I guess I always have.

It wasn't an entirely new thought. Miles Edgeworth had been a constant presence in Phoenix's mind for what felt like the whole of his life, ever since that day in school when the aloof, studious boy he'd barely even spoken to had been the only one who believed he wasn’t a thief. But now, all those years of unanswered letters, of chasing him and building a career in the law around that same boy as they both grew into men - of wanting to save him - had taken on a new dimension in his mind. As much of a shock as it had been to feel Edgeworth's lips on his a week ago, in the wake of it, Phoenix's feelings had crystallised into a certainty about what it all meant that he felt like a fool for not realising a long time ago.

Now, he found himself viewing everything from a different perspective. Details he had never noticed before suddenly leapt out to him in sharp focus. The way the recurring pulse of the blue neon sign across the street caught Edgeworth's grey hair through the window and illuminated it in silver. The pristine white shirt unbuttoned at the collar which revealed a glimpse of pale, freckled skin and the outline of his collarbone. The way he absently traced his index finger around the rim of the coffee mug in his lap while he listened to, then laughed at a sly remark of Maya's. Even the way he laughed, with that slight dip of the head and sideways downturn of the eyes which never failed to make any joke feel like something intimately shared.

How many times had he told people over the past seventeen years that only he knew the real Miles Edgeworth? And yet today it almost felt as if they were meeting for the first time - that there were a thousand things about Miles Edgeworth that Phoenix had never seen. I don’t know how I could have missed it.

After more coffee and an hour or so more of chatter and a lot of yawning, the girls disappeared off to bed. They were both worn out by the journey from Kurain and - in Maya’s case at least - too much pizza. As usual, both of them were sharing Phoenix’s small spare room, which he’d outfitted with a camp bed for Pearl in addition to the small single he’d bought when he moved here in the expectation - or maybe it was more a vague hope - of visitors.

Finally, he and Edgeworth were alone. The sound of running water and then faint giggling from the spare room subsided. Silence descended once more, along with the awkwardness, both only broken by the faint murmur of the 'Steel Samurai' DVD that was still running on the TV and which Edgeworth was still pretending to be engaged in while he tried to finish the last of his coffee as quickly as possible.

It wasn't the first time they'd sat here, in almost the same positions. The first time had been a cold day in December over two years ago - the day that Edgeworth had been released from the Detention Center after his acquittal. And there had been two or three evenings since, after the Engarde trial, and when Edgeworth was back in town for a couple of days between research trips. After Gumshoe had let slip that Edgeworth was single-handedly re-examining all the cases he and Von Karma had tried over the years, Phoenix had volunteered to help. To his surprise, Edgeworth had accepted.

It was a monumental task. Headache-inducing work which inevitably started late, after Edgeworth could get away from his office and make the drive over to Phoenix’s place. They’d keep at it over takeout food and into the early hours, until all the words in all the files started to run together and even Edgeworth had to admit to fatigue. And afterwards, they’d both stretch out cramped necks and hands in the living room - Edgeworth half laying on the small sofa, Phoenix on the bright pink beanbag which he’d originally bought for Maya. Phoenix would talk about school and college and Larry, while Edgeworth would complain about his host’s choice of beer or scotch despite drinking it anyway, and they’d honestly laugh.

Phoenix had wondered, both then and now, how many evenings Edgeworth did exactly the same work, but in a hotel room somewhere in Europe or in his own apartment with only Pess for company. More, he suspected, than the man would readily confess to. He wasn’t even sure if anyone else besides himself and Gumshoe knew he was doing it, or quite how much those old, closed cases seemed to eat at him.

They’d started to email; to exchange the occasional text, or call each other with questions about work which had spun into short conversations. At the time, Phoenix had hoped that the gradual increase in trust and camaraderie was a sign that maybe, they could be friends again. Real friends. The way they had been as children for that one year in fourth grade when it felt like they’d shared everything. That even if Edgeworth was reluctant to talk about his own life to other people, except for the parts where it intersected with their own, maybe one day he would talk to Phoenix. That maybe one day there would be an end to the constant worry that if he pushed too hard or asked the wrong question, Edgeworth would vanish again without a word.

But now, in the space of a week, it almost felt as if they had returned to square one; to the way they had been before Edgeworth's trial; to the avoidance of eye contact and an interminably stifling silence punctuated only by the insistent pulse of blue neon. Phoenix fidgeted, shifted uncomfortably, couldn’t decide what to say, and it seemed that neither could Edgeworth.

He didn't even know why, exactly. It wasn't a subject they'd ever openly discussed, but Phoenix wasn't completely blind to the odd tell in conversation - and nor was Larry, based on his jokes about it - so he'd had a good idea of Edgeworth's likely sexuality for at least as long as they'd been reacquainted. It wasn’t even as if Edgeworth seemed to make any real effort to hide it, as far as he could see. Phoenix had been mildly surprised and then amused at first, considering how many women he’d seen swoon in Edgeworth’s mere presence. But he’d just shrugged it off as none of his business... until ten days ago.

And as for himself, well... It had been a long time since college, but before her... no, not her - before Iris, he corrected himself, almost automatically... It was Iris he had been in love with, not her. All she’d done was fuck up his life and put him off getting involved with anyone at all for years beyond the occasional casual date. But before that, when he’d still believed in people… well, this sure wasn't the first time he'd been kissed by a man, or kissed one. But none of those men had been Miles Edgeworth, and somehow that single detail changed everything.

He groaned inwardly. Get it together, Phoenix! You’re just going around in circles. Thinking about it is only making it harder. He took a breath; counted up to five.

“Listen, Edgeworth...”
“Wright, I...”

Both of them spoke at exactly the same time; hurried words overlapping each other into the void where, on previous occasions, there had been companionable silence or friendly banter. Right on cue, the DVD ended and the TV screen went dark, and out of the corner of his eye, Phoenix saw Edgeworth grimace and glance at his watch.

Fuck.

Sure enough, the glance at the watch was followed by Edgeworth pushing himself to his feet, carefully placing his mug down on the coffee table between Maya’s stack of DVDs and Pearl’s bewildering jumble of barrettes, which seemed to leak out of her pockets wherever she sat down. He cleared his throat, then half glanced at Phoenix before turning his attention to adjusting his cufflinks and straightening his waistcoat.

“It’s late. Please give my regards to the Ms. Feys. Tell them… I had fun”.

Fun. Uh-huh. Phoenix forced a smile that was several degrees brighter than he felt, and a jaunty tone that even to him sounded out of place in the stiff atmosphere that had suddenly rushed in to fill the vacuum left by Maya and Pearl.

“Sure. Or, you know, you could tell them yourself. They’re in town for two more days…”

Edgeworth shook his head before the sentence was even completed, retrieving his phone from the table and checking the screen by habit before sliding it into the back pocket of his jeans, even though it had been unusually silent all night. Phoenix wondered, somewhat irreverently, if he’d finally embraced the Do Not Disturb function, or if the Prosecutors’ Office had finally run out of things to fill his every waking hour with.

“I found out today that I have to try a case on Monday. It appears there is an epidemic of late winter colds, and I’m the only prosecutor available at short notice”.

...I guess that’s a no on the Prosecutors’ Office, then. Phoenix sighed, then tried another angle.

“Hey… thanks for tonight. With Pearl and Maya. You were… great. Really”.

It was an honest compliment; one that he was pretty sure he would have made regardless of the events of the past week or so. Phoenix was under no illusions that without Edgeworth’s presence, the evening would not have been as enjoyable for either Maya or Pearl, and his own bank account would be in the red by at least seventy more dollars than it already was. And Edgeworth had no obligation to do any of it, especially given how obvious he had made it that he would prefer not to be in Phoenix’s company at all right now.

Edgeworth didn’t look up, and there was a pause before he replied. When he did, his voice was both quiet and flat. Phoenix sensed, rather than saw, the tension gather across his shoulders and in his jaw.

“My weakness at Hazakura enabled that w-” he cut himself off there, pausing for a moment before he continued. “It enabled the suspect to escape my custody. I endangered both their lives. Pizza and an evening of my time is poor reparation for that”.

It seemed as though he had more to say on the subject, but after another long pause, he shook his head, looking to his left and out of the window instead. Edgeworth’s mouth was set in a thin line, and from the blank expression on his face, Phoenix was sure he wasn’t seeing anything that existed outside of his own head. He knew that look, and he also knew that pursuing an argument right now, especially one that would inevitably lead back to references about the circumstances of his father’s murder, would only make it less likely that Edgeworth would hear out anything else he had to say. He just sighed and shook his head, the response born out of quiet frustration.

“Come on, Edgeworth. It wasn’t your fault...”.

Edgeworth frowned, keeping his eyes averted from Phoenix but snapping his attention back to the present with a visible shudder which seemed to displace whatever had been present in his mind’s eye.

“It was entirely my fault, Wright. We both know that”.

All of a sudden, Phoenix had the sense that it wasn’t just what had happened at Hazakura Temple they were talking about, and that instead, they had strayed into an entirely new tidal pool of dangerous water. The silence stretched out for a few moments and he scratched at the back of his neck, trying to think of a way to bring things back to the relative safety of the here and now. When he did speak, he knew the change of subject sounded awkward and inadequate, but it was the best he could manage.

“...Look, it’s only just after eleven. It’s not that late. You sure you don’t want another coffee before you go? It’s a long way to downtown if there’s another holdup on the 101”.

“At this time of night? I doubt it. Besides, I have to be at the Detention Center at nine thirty. And I need to examine the case file thoroughly before that”.

Seemingly tired of waiting for Phoenix to move first, Edgeworth deftly stepped past him and out of the living room area, into the hallway. Phoenix turned to follow, hovering a couple of steps behind but making no move to retrieve Edgeworth’s coat, hoping his own sluggishness would stall things a little longer until he could figure out how to say what he wanted to say.

“At least let me call you a cab, Edgeworth”.

There was a sceptical raised eyebrow in response, though at least he’d succeeded in interrupting Edgeworth’s feigned interest in the apartment’s carpeting for long enough to get him to look up. Not that it helped.

“Didn’t you tell me it's faster to walk a block to the stand at the bus station, Wright”?

Phoenix sighed again. There was no arguing with that, though he silently wished for about the thousandth time in his life that Edgeworth’s memory wasn’t either so precise or so encyclopedic.

“Yeah, that’s true. I did”. Shit.

He racked his brains for any other way to delay the inevitable while he went to fetch Edgeworth’s overcoat from the closet, but came up empty. Christ, this is worse than being in court. Except I don’t even have any evidence.

When he returned, Edgeworth took the coat without meeting his eyes, slipping it on and then turning to face the mirror over the hall table. Phoenix watched, absently scratching the back of his neck again while Edgeworth adjusted the collar and pulled his scarf out of a pocket.

“Look, I’m sorry Edgeworth, but... about last week…”

He tried to catch Edgeworth’s attention in the mirror, but other than the briefest glance and a moment’s hesitation at Phoenix’s words when he draped the scarf around his neck, Edgeworth’s eyes remained resolutely fixed on his own reflection.

“I already told you, Wright. It was a mistake. My mistake. For which I apologise, if that’s what you want to hear”.

Apparently satisfied with his scarf, Edgeworth moved away from the hall table, reaching for the door handle with his right hand as he half turned back, gesturing with his left in a vague farewell.

“You, of all people, have nothing to be sorry for. Goodbye, Wright”.

This time, Edgeworth did look directly at him when he spoke, but his face had taken on that closed, impenetrable expression which Phoenix remembered all too well from two years ago, in the defence lobby after Will Powers’ trial, then again after Lana Skye’s.

No no no no. He had the abrupt, acute sense that things were going in exactly the wrong direction. That if he let Edgeworth walk out of his door and get on another plane to Europe then this time, for sure, he'd never see the man again.

That thought galvanised him into action as sure as if he’d been cornered on a blatant ruse in court. Before Edgeworth could turn to leave, Phoenix stepped forward and did what Mia had always taught him to do in those circumstances - he stopped overthinking it and trusted in his instincts.

It wasn't a sexy kiss, or even a romantic one. It barely lasted more than a second and wasn't even that accurate, landing as it did half on Edgeworth's lips and half not. Afterwards, Phoenix would roll his eyes and cringe at himself when he remembered it. Way to go, Phoenix. Last of the red hot lovers.

But it did the trick. Edgeworth jerked away from him - a half-step backwards until his back was against the door - then froze. Disbelief flickered like static in grey eyes which only a minute before had been schooled into cool detachment and directed somewhere into the middle distance. Instead of the farewell wave it had been meant to become, the raised hand went to his face - fingertips resting exactly where Phoenix's lips had been for a fraction of a second - before he caught himself in the gesture and pulled it away as if he’d touched hot metal.

“Wright-”

“Shut up, Edgeworth”.

It's now or never.

This time his aim was better, helped by the fact that he suddenly remembered he had hands of his own, and used one of them to cover Edgeworth’s where it still gripped the door handle. The other he planted firmly on Edgeworth’s left shoulder to steady himself as he took another short step forwards, closing the distance between them completely.

He did feel Edgeworth tense sharply; flinch and pull away again at the physical contact and abrupt invasion of his personal space. But with the closed apartment door at his back, he had nowhere to go, so Phoenix pressed home his advantage, closing his eyes and parting his lips slightly into the kiss. Just enough that he could taste black coffee laced with the overpriced wine they'd drunk over dinner; just enough that when he breathed in, he caught the faint but lingering scent of expensive cologne and freshly laundered linen.

For a few accelerated heartbeats which stretched out like the passing of a lifetime, he waited for Edgeworth to respond. To do something, anything - even if it was just to curse or push him away. Time ground to an agonizing halt, and Phoenix was suddenly afraid that he'd waited too long, that the moment had passed, and all that he was doing right now was making a fool of himself by assaulting a senior Los Angeles prosecutor against the door of his apartment.

Another beat, and then… tightened muscles finally relaxed under his hand where it rested on Edgeworth’s shoulder. A long, soft exhale which Phoenix felt but did not hear, and the pressure of his lips was suddenly matched by Edgeworth's own.

And when Edgeworth moved his free hand, it wasn’t to push him away, but to place it against Phoenix's neck. He could feel it there, warm against his skin; thumb resting lightly on his jaw and strong but hesitant fingers curling slightly behind his ear and into his hair. If there’d been any doubt left in Phoenix’s mind about what he was doing, or why, it vanished in that moment. He paused and took a quick breath, then tightened his grip on Edgeworth’s shoulder and smiled into the kiss, resuming it with renewed enthusiasm.

This time the response was immediate - Edgeworth made a soft sound at the back of his throat which Phoenix barely had time to register before Edgeworth’s mouth moved against his and the fingers in his hair pressed into his scalp, nails scratching lightly against the skin.

Afterwards, he would have time to think about the differences between this and what he was used to. It may have been a while since he’d been with anyone at all, but that didn’t mean he’d forgotten. He’d have time to think about how Edgeworth’s body had felt under his hands - taut muscles, broad shoulders, evident even through the wool of his coat - and about the strong hand on his neck that held him still in a kiss that wasn’t in the least bit yielding. How that was different to the women he’d been with - their soft contours, small hands and gentler mouths; even to the guys he’d fooled around with at college - chaste and hesitant encounters which had been more about curiosity and affection than real intent on either side.

There had been no hesitation in Edgeworth’s response once it came. Not that he’d ever given it much thought except when joking around with Larry, but if he’d ever assumed that Edgeworth was inexperienced at any kind of physical intimacy, he was pretty sure now that the opposite was true. But that too was something that would cross his mind later - for now he was too involved in the moment and in the exhilarating feel of those lips against his, matching them exactly in pressure and desire.

It was Edgeworth who pulled back first - as far as he was able - with an audible intake of breath. Though his hand did not leave Phoenix's neck, instead shifting position until his thumb pressed right up into the soft flesh underneath Phoenix’s chin; exerting just enough pressure to stop him moving forward, keeping their faces and bodies a couple of inches apart. And when Phoenix opened his eyes, he found himself looking directly into Edgeworth's, the familiar steel grey augmented now by darkened pupils and an intensity which he didn't recall seeing there for a long time. Not since the last day of that trial, when he'd run Damon Gant to ground with a single-minded ruthlessness which Phoenix had found alternately thrilling and alarming. Not since… he cut off that train of thought before it started, because he knew exactly how it would end – with the indelible memory of a single line of controlled handwriting on burgundy-edged paper.

His eyes did not leave Edgeworth's face. As the moment dragged on, he became aware of the other man's quickened breathing in the rise and fall of his chest; of the fading tinge of pink at the open collar of his shirt that was still visible beneath the scarf and in the dim light of the hallway.

Oh.

Suddenly self-conscious about their proximity, Phoenix drew a long breath of his own, removing the hand that still rested over Edgeworth’s on the door handle, and relaxing the grip on his shoulder.

“I told you we have to talk”.

Edgeworth's gaze finally softened; slid to the closed and silent door of Phoenix's spare room, then back to his face. He was never an easy read usually, unless he wanted to be, but this time, the conflict lurking there under the still-darkened grey was evident even to Phoenix.

“...Yeah, maybe not right now”.

Phoenix shrugged, with a deliberate, lopsided half-grin to accompany the words. In response, Edgeworth's hand fell back from Phoenix’s jaw to his side and he looked away, the remaining tension visibly ebbing out of his body. A long moment of silence and then he frowned, with an almost imperceptible shake of the head, which Phoenix would have missed had he not been standing so close.

“Wright, I’m... you don't have to... ”

Phoenix cut him off with his own more obvious headshake, accompanied by a finger to his lips and a sideways but pointed glance towards the door of the spare room, just to emphasise the point.

“But soon, okay? I'll call you”.

Edgeworth hesitated. Another long, searching glance at Phoenix. Then he nodded, apparently out of words. For a few seconds, neither of them moved. Finally, Phoenix took a step back and Edgeworth blinked, then seemed to remember why he was standing where he was. His fingers tightened on the door handle as he turned it, cooler air from outside seeping in when the door swung open.

“...Goodnight, then”.

“Yeah… hey, don’t forget your gloves”.

They were leather, of course - black - and expensive too, Phoenix was sure, judging by how soft they felt against his palm as he scooped them up from the hall table and held them out. When Edgeworth reached out to take them, their fingers brushed against each other, just in passing. He was pretty sure that a week ago he would barely have noticed, but right now, with the taste of him and the feel of him still on his lips, even the lightest of renewed skin contact sent a jolt through him that was both familiar but entirely alien all at once.

And he was certain Edgeworth felt it too. From the way he pulled his hand back - an even sharper recoil than Phoenix was used to from the times over the past two years when he’d accidentally strayed into Edgeworth’s personal space for any reason. From the way those grey eyes locked on his just for a fraction of second, unguarded and with a flash of emotion that if it had been anyone else, he might have interpreted as fear. But Phoenix had never seen Edgeworth look afraid of anything, least of all him, and it was there and gone so quickly before Edgeworth’s gaze returned to the floor that Phoenix was half-sure he’d imagined it.

“...Thank you”.

For a moment, it seemed as if Edgeworth was going to say something else, but decided against it. Instead he pocketed the gloves without meeting Phoenix’s eyes again, pulled the door fully open and stepped out of the apartment.

“Goodnight, Edgeworth”.

A silent nod and then he was gone, footsteps echoing down the concrete walkway towards the stairwell. Phoenix watched until he’d turned the corner out of view, then pushed the door closed and turned the latch. Leaning back against it, he closed his eyes for a few seconds and smiled, letting out a long and shaky breath. If the Feys had not been asleep in the next room, he might have whooped, but instead he settled for glancing across at his own reflection in the mirror and giving himself a silent but jaunty thumbs up that Larry would have been proud of.

Okay so technically, it wasn't their first kiss. But it wasn't going to be their last, either. He was sure of that now; as sure as he’d ever been of anything since that day in college when he’d first seen a photograph of ‘The Demon Prosecutor’ on the front page of a tabloid newspaper and decided to change his major from arts to law.

Miles Edgeworth had always been the future he’d been running towards. He just hadn’t realised why - until now. 

This story was inspired in part by this fanart. It's by a Japanese circle called Wan-Con. I can't link to their website or work,  because sadly it disappeared from the Internet some years ago. But for a long time they were my absolute favourites and inspired many scenes and characterisations in my fics.