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1.
Miles, quite honestly, doesn't want to leave. He doesn’t want to do anything that he’s currently doing right now if he’s being honest, but it feels like some greater force is at work, picking him up and putting him through the motions of it all. And so he finds himself pressed against the wall in a crowded booth at an Italian place down the street from the courthouse to celebrate the conclusion of the Skye case.
Everyone around him is drinking and eating and laughing together and all that Miles can think about is the suitcase in the trunk of his car and he feels so guilty.
He can’t quite focus on much of anything that’s happening around him. Phoenix and Gumshoe have had way too much to drink and are roaring in laughter together as Phoenix recounts something that happened while he was in college. Ema is chattering excitedly away at Lana, recounting all of the forensic science that she was able to try out to prove her innocence. There is a family behind him celebrating a birthday and so the entire waitstaff is singing an Italian birthday song just feet from where the group is sitting. It’s a lot to process at once.
What Miles can focus on however is the way that Phoenix is holding onto his arm right now, how he has been for a while now, how he probably doesn’t realize how he’s started tracing a small circle onto Miles’ forearm.
Miles’ whole body hurts.
The end of the night comes simultaneously all too soon and yet not soon enough. The check is brought and paid for, final drinks downed and then Miles is left alone in the entryway to the restaurant. Lana has driven home with Ema, Gumshoe called a cab, and Phoenix is barely standing up straight.
And so Miles decides, no, he knows that he’d regret not doing it and doing it all the same, to take Phoenix back to his apartment.
This part is easy, driving to Phoenix’s apartment. Driving is easy; the layout of the city is so ingrained in his memory that he doesn’t even need to focus on where he’s going, just on the feeling of the car around him.
He would be able to focus on driving but he can’t. Phoenix is looking at him. “Wright,” Miles says, wincing at how his jaw clenches as he speaks, “can you stop looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” Phoenix says, and Miles sighs. Phoenix is completely oblivious and he probably doesn’t even notice, Miles thinks. He brings the car to a gentle stop at a red light and turns to look at Phoenix properly. He’s completely turned in his seat and has his chin resting in his hands, arms propped up on the center console. He looks utterly ridiculous. Miles tells him that.
“You look ridiculous, Wright,” he says. Phoenix smiles, he says nothing in response, just blinks up at Miles.
Miles is grateful when the light turns green, giving him an excuse to tear his gaze away and back onto the road ahead. They’re both quiet for the remainder of the short trip, but Miles is painfully aware that Phoenix doesn't move from his position the whole time.
When they arrive at Phoenix’s place, Miles parks on the street and gets out of the car. He crosses to the passenger side and opens the door for Phoenix who has conveniently forgotten how a car door handle works. He gets out of the car and looks dumbfounded. He turns to Miles.
“Edgeworth,” he says, “this is my house!”
Miles nods, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes Wright, this is your house.”
And then Phoenix is already gone. Inside the building and up the stairs and Miles has to chase after him before he locks his door.
He isn’t quite sure why he can’t just leave him at his apartment. He’s back, and safe. But something compels him to follow Phoenix up the stairs and into his apartment. He walks through the front door and Phoenix is standing in the middle of his small living room. “This is my apartment,” he says.
“This is your apartment,” Miles says. Phoenix looks at him.
“I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” And then he turns and walks back and down the hallway and into his bedroom. Miles follows him. He should be leaving now. He’s already seen that Phoenix is home and safe inside his apartment, but there’s a small part of him that’s telling him that he can’t just leave now, not like this. He can’t have Phoenix’s last memory of him be him standing awkwardly in his entryway.
When Miles steps into Phoenix’s bedroom, Phoenix is already lying on his bed, fully clothed.
“You can’t sleep like this,” Miles says. Phoenix pretends not to hear him and instead tries to nestle deeper into his pillows.
Miles thinks briefly about leaving now. Phoenix is in bed, in his apartment. He's fine. But he's already crossing the room and gently shaking Phoenix's shoulder. "Come on," he says, "I can't let you sleep like this." His voice is soft. Phoenix hums in response. “Here,” Miles says, he tugs gently on Phoenix’s arm until he’s sitting upright. Carefully, he pulls off Phoenix’s coat, unties his tie, and starts to unbutton his dress-shirt.
Phoenix is suddenly awake now, and he’s looking up at Miles again, with the same dumb expression that he had in the car.
“Edgeworth,” he says, he’s whisper-quiet, almost like he’s afraid that if he’s too loud he’ll ruin the moment. Like if he speaks too loudly, too suddenly, he’ll startle Miles and that’ll be the end of this. Miles shakes his head and finishes unbuttoning Phoenix’s shirt and pulls one sleeve off, and then the other, leaving him in just his dress pants and undershirt. He lays the shirt down neatly at the end of the bed with his suit-jacket and tie.
Finally, Miles looks up at Phoenix. “I’m not taking your shoes off,” he says, ever so quietly that he’s worried that maybe Phoenix won’t hear him but Phoenix laughs softly.
"I wouldn't expect you to."
Miles smiles. He glances at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It's nearly midnight, he's stayed too long. He turns and leave and--"Edgeworth," Phoenix reaches up and presses his palm to Miles' cheek. "Good night," he says.
Miles closes his eyes. He lets himself be held by Phoenix for just a moment more and then, he really needs to leave. He opens his eyes again, watches Phoenix watching him for just a moment more and then he takes a step back. "Good bye, Wright," he says and then he's gone.
2.
Usually, there isn’t anyone to accompany Miles to the airport. He doesn’t mind it, really. He doesn’t expect anyone to make a fuss about his comings and goings, which is why he really doesn’t know what to do, what to say to Phoenix in the taxi to the airport. Miles fidgets with the sleeves of his suit-jacket in place of conversation.
“Do you know when you’ll be back to the states next?”
Miles looks up at Phoenix next to him. He hadn’t looked up at the other man in the car with him since he made a face at him clambering in behind him, uninvited. Miles doesn’t know what to say. Mostly, because he doesn’t know when he’ll be back. He hadn’t planned on coming back to the states even for this trip. He hadn’t even entertained the thought of coming back since Gumshoe told him to come back last year. Miles looks at Phoenix’s face, and he looks so optimistic that he has to look away. Miles turns and looks out the window. “I’ll be back the next time somebody needs my assistance,” he says simply. He hears Phoenix laugh and he grimaces.
And then, there’s a gentle hand on his arm. Miles looks up at Phoenix again. He’s got this funny half-grin on his face, as if Miles had just said something amusing. “Well I don’t know about needing,” Phoenix says, “but all of us here certainly want you to visit more often.”
Miles shakes his head. He tries to say something, but Phoenix interrupts him. “You don’t have to say anything,” he says, and so Miles doesn’t. “But, it was nice to see you again.”
This time, it’s Phoenix who has to turn to look out the window. Miles watches him clench his jaw, as if he were trying to suppress whatever he were trying to say.
If remaining quiet was what Phoenix was trying to do, he fails miserably because he speaks up after a few, agonizingly long silent moments. “I don’t know,” he says and Miles can’t look away, no one is touching him anymore but it feels like Phoenix has his hand on his jaw, forcing him to look at him as he speaks, but Phoenix is still looking away, has his arms crossed defensively over his chest.
“I don’t know,” Phoenix says again, “about anyone else really,” he reaches up and drags a hand down his face. Miles manages to tear his gaze away for a moment, sees the airport in the distance. His heart starts racing and he’s not quite sure why. Phoenix keeps talking, and Miles feels forced to look at him again, “but I think I really missed you.” The airport seems impossibly closer now, there’s no way that this much time has passed, no way the car is going this fast. “I don’t want to go back to the way things were,” Phoenix says, “I don’t think I can handle the radio silence again, I--”
Miles finally finds his voice, he hears it without registering that it is his own. He didn’t know he had something to say, but he does anyway. “It doesn’t have to.”
Phoenix looks up at him. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. “What are you talking about?”
“I can, no,” Miles shakes his head, “I’ll be back.” It feels like he’s making a promise. If it is, it’s one he’ll happily keep. Phoenix smiles, and Miles wants to keep saying things forever that will produce this response from the other man. Doesn’t want to say anything anymore unless it’ll make Phoenix smile.
“I’d like that,” Phoenix says as the taxi pulls in front of the departures entrance to the airport. He reaches out between them and places his hand atop Miles’ own in his lap. He squeezes Miles’ hand when he tells him to have a safe flight, holds on as Miles rises to get out of the car.
“Phoenix,” Miles says as he steps out of the taxi, as he watches Phoenix’s hand slip from his own, “I’ll, I’ll call you to let you know I land.”
Phoenix grins. “I’ll miss you,”
“I’ll be back soon,” Miles says, and he means it.
“And I’ll be here waiting.”
3.
“Phoenix,” Miles says carefully, quietly, “I really need to get up. I need to pack.” Phoenix doesn’t respond, but Miles can feel him shake his head against his chest.
“I’ll be right back,” he tries again, even though he doesn’t make any effort to actually get up off the bed, “my flight’s tomorrow afternoon, I won’t be able to leave.”
Phoenix is the one to move first. He picks his head up off of Miles’ chest so that he can look at him. “Uh yeah,” he says, “that’s kind of the whole point.”
Miles chuckles quietly, “You’re ridiculous.”
Phoenix smiles at him and lies back down on Miles’ chest. “Come on,” he complains, voice muffled by the sweater that Miles is wearing, “lets just let me have this, you can pack in the morning.”
Miles brings a protective hand up to Phoenix’s shoulder and begins to rub comforting circles into it with his thumb, smiling when he hears Phoenix sigh and nestle further into his chest. “You know,” Miles says into the other man’s hair, “I have a conference here next month, in a couple weeks actually. I’ll be back before you even realize I’m gone.”
Phoenix sits up and turns around so that he can look Miles in the face. He’s sitting cross legged next to Miles, and his left leg is forced nearly vertical from how close he’s sitting to him. “If you’re going to be back so soon, why don’t you just stay here?” Phoenix reasons. “We haven’t had a proper long visit in awhile,”
“I was home for nearly three weeks in March, Phoenix,”
“We were working though! I hardly saw you!”
“Phoenix,” Miles says, “I have a trial on Thursday.”
Phoenix groans in response, falling forward face down on the pillow next to Miles’ head. Miles laughs at his ridiculousness. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of moments like this. He doesn’t want to. Phoenix lifts his head up, props himself up on his elbow so that he can look at Miles again. He looks so fondly down at him that Miles just wants to weep. “I’ll help you pack tomorrow morning, I don’t want to move from here tonight.”
Miles reaches out and pulls Phoenix back onto his chest, “Alright,” he says, holding him tight, “alright.”
4.
Phoenix has really come to hate airports. He thought that after the dozens of flights he’s taken over the past several years he’d finally become one of those “airport people.” The sort of person who could breeze through TSA without bouts of crippling anxiety over imaginary contraband in his carry-on and who could maybe possibly enjoy the 20 minutes of downtime at the gate to relax and not check his pockets repeatedly for his boarding pass that he knows for sure is still in his hoodie pouch.
In this moment, Phoenix is immediately reminded of why he hates airports.
He and Edgeworth have already said their goodbyes, they’ve already gone through all they have to say at this point. They’ve said goodbye, they’ve already reminded each other of when they’ll see each other again and Edgeworth has teased Phoenix at least twice about how next time, he shouldn’t try and order his lunch in French again. Now, they’re just staring at each other and waiting for the other to make the first move.
Phoenix finally decides to break the silence by hiking his bag up a little further onto his shoulder, and opens his mouth to say something when he’s interrupted.
“Next time,” Edgeworth says, “Don’t leave.” He’s not even looking up at Phoenix anymore. Instead, he’s pointedly looking off at the bagel shop across on the other side of security.
Phoenix though, is looking right at him. He can’t look away. “Miles,” he says, slowly, carefully, “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know why we keep having to do this, neither of us particularly enjoys it.” He sighs, “It’s not coming out right. Forget it.”
“No wait, Miles,” Phoenix reaches out and puts his hand to Edgeworth’s arm, “What are you saying?”
Miles is quiet for a beat, still glaring over at the bagel shop. “You should just stay here. Bring Trucy and stay with me in Europe for a while, at least until we can figure everything out.”
Phoenix doesn’t know what to say and yet he says “Oh, Miles, you know I can’t do that. You know, you know that my home his back in the States.” As soon as the words leave his mouth he knows that he’s said the wrong thing. He knows it from the way that Edgeworth’s mouth twists at his words and his face at the bagel shop becomes quietly murderous. He lifts his hand from Edgeworth’s arm and takes a step back, shouldering his bag once more.
When Phoenix gives his last goodbye, it’s met with silence.
5.
Edgeworth cannot believe that this isn’t even the first time that he’s had to grab a last minute flight to see Phoenix in the hospital after a near death experience. As he sits in the uncomfortable hospital chair next to Phoenix’s bed, one of his hands in both of Miles’s own, Miles’s heart aches at the familiarity of it all.
The only thing that’s different this time is that there’s no badge being pressed into the palm of his hand. Phoenix’s tired smile up at him is exactly the same.
Phoenix groans as he attempts to push himself more upright with his free hand. Miles lurches forward to try and help but Phoenix just laughs and lightly pushes him away. “I’m fine,” he says and reaches out to cup Miles’s jaw. He pushes his thumb up into the corner of Miles’s frown and pushes upwards, laughing as Miles turns his head away to hide his grin. He’s supposed to be worried.
“I’m serious, Miles,” Phoenix says, “but we do have to stop meeting each other like this.” Phoenix grins as Miles breathes out hard through his nose in a feeble attempt to hold back a laugh.
“No,” Miles says, “ you , need to stop doing things that land you in the hospital.”
“Hey! This time it wasn’t my fault,” Phoenix protests, “I didn’t step out into the street looking to get hit by a car tonight, and don’t make that face at me! I’m telling the truth.”
Miles shrugs his shoulders at that, “I’m not so sure that I believe that,”
Phoenix sighs and throws his head back against the pillows, “I cannot believe that my own boyfriend thinks that I would throw myself in front of a moving car on purpose! I have a daughter, do you think I’m insane?”
Miles can’t help himself, he starts laughing and can’t stop himself. “Only partially,” he says through gasping breaths between bursts of laughter. He has to let go of Phoenix’s hand with one of his own to clutch at his chest. Phoenix tries to protest, but soon he too can’t resist and joins in along with Miles.
After what feels like hours, or perhaps just a few minutes of laughter, Phoenix takes Miles’ hand once more. “C’mere,” he says softly, tugging on his arm.
Miles laughs again, but puts up no fight to Phoenix’s incessant tugging. “What if someone were to come in?”
“Oh, come on Miles, come here, I’m sick. I need comfort.”
“You’re sick in the head,” Miles protests, but makes to pull himself into Phoenix’s hospital bed nonetheless. As soon as his knee touches the mattress, Phoenix reaches out and pulls the other man down onto his chest, his arms secure around Miles’ waist.
“I know you are but what am I?” Phoenix laughs again, only further egged on by the glare he's shot by Miles.
“You’re ridiculous,” Miles teases. Phoenix smiles.
“I know.”
+1
“What did that suitcase ever do to you Phoenix to deserve a sour look such as that?” Miles teases as he walks into the bedroom and drops his laundry basket on the bed behind where Phoenix is sitting.
“Hmm? Oh,” Phoenix says, “It’s nothing, just wondering when you’ll be needing to take off again.”
Miles hums, thinking. “Oh,” he says quietly, “Did I not tell you?”
Phoenix leans back, looking up at Miles, “Did you not tell me what?”
“I was thinking about staying here. I was offered a rather attractive position as chief prosecutor at the precinct and well, it is my home after all.” He smiles at Phoenix. It’s unlike his usual smirk. It lacks all the reservation that Miles usually holds with himself, even in private like this. He doesn’t just smile, he grins like he can’t even hold it back anymore. He grins with his teeth and it stretches so wide it makes it look like he's squinting.
Phoenix decides that he never wants to stop seeing Miles like this and then promptly falls over in his surprise. He falls into the laundry basket, sending it toppling over the side of the bed and the clothes inside all over the floor. Miles laughs at him. “I guess I forgot to tell you.”
Phoenix stares up at Miles for a moment, then two, then he laughs with Miles as well. Finally shaken from his shock, he scrambles up and off of the bed so he can stand level with Miles. “You’re really staying,” he breathes.
“I’m really staying.” Miles confirms.
Phoenix laughs again as he grabs Miles’s face and kisses him, but he can’t stop laughing and instead opts to just lean his forehead against Miles. He keeps his palms on Miles’ cheeks as if he’s trying to make certain that Miles won’t be able to leave. “But what about your stuff?”
Miles flushes at that, suddenly embarrassed. “Oh, I actually packed before I came here this week, I’ve shipped it all to a storage facility nearby. I thought it would be rude if you woke up one day with all my belongings in your living room.”
“You’re moving in here?”
“Well, I was thinking that eventually we could buy a house.”
“You want to buy a house with me?”
“Well obviously, after we’re married.”
“You want to get married?!”
Miles presses a hand to Phoenix’s chest, pushing him away slightly. “Phoenix,” he scolds “You’re yelling.”
“I’m yelling!” Phoenix yells. He crashes his head against Miles’s once more, “You’re staying!”