Work Text:
It is late in the afternoon. The setting sun streams through the large window, bathing the whole room in a warm glow. The low hum of the air conditioner is a comforting background noise.
Three knocks.
“Come in”
Edgeworth hears the turn of the knob, then the door’s slow swing of its open and close. Light footsteps trail in. Looking up, his eyes meet a pair familiar, accompanied by an equally familiar grin. Miles smiles then turns to look back at his computer.
“Wright, Good afternoon, do you need anything?” Edgeworth asks, starting to close the various work-related files that still remained open, clicking the little “x”s in each window corner.
Grinning, Phoenix leans against the desk “Dinner? We haven’t in a long time”
Miles thought for a little bit, mentally checking his calendar. “We ate together not too long ago”
“I just like being with you.” Phoenix’s lips turned down, vaguely forming into the shape little kids’ mouths would when they are denied the last cookie.
Miles smiled in return. “So do I, you know that.” A pause. “I was going to say yes either way.” Miles said with such ease and fluidity that only meant the statement was genuine. Though it may not look like it, ask him the same question a few years ago, and his response would have been almost the exact opposite. “Sorry, I can’t. I have plans”. It was a lie of course, but at that point long ago, it was the answer anyone would have expected of him.
The dark reds of late afternoon shift into the blues of early night. The stars twinkle and shine.
Phoenix and him, they’ve both grown. What was once bitter rivalry mellowed out into reassuring friendship. The piercing gazes that once shot out like deadly arrows from both sides of the courtroom, colliding into each other in battle, turned into a period of uncertainty wherein they did not act so much as friends nor enemies, but kind of like strangers. The adjustment period was the most confusing, as each case seemed almost too normal. Any onlookers seeing them for the first time, if they were not aware of who they used to be, would have noted them as both just average professionals in their field, following the flow of proceedings almost always perfectly. It seemed like their case proceedings could be put in a museum with the sign “Epitome of a perfect trial” and people would lightly shrug their shoulders and agree.
Friendship. That part came after the adjustment period. The nods when entering court, the “Well done on the last case”s said to each other in passing, the shaking of hands after every case worked together, and the Let’s-talk-about the-case-you’re-handling dinners that turned into dinners not so much focused on the cases.
This was one of those dinners.
Upon arriving, a waiter escorts them towards a table for two. They are seated, then given menus. They talk loosely. About what? Who knows. Maybe about Trucy’s newest sneaky magic trick that somehow always gets her dad (he doesn’t know how she does it), they each order a meal, then maybe they actually talk about a case or two, though not in a proper way, but more like the way best friends exchange theories about an ongoing show.
Their food arrives. The scene is comfortable. Around is the sound of utensils on plates, chatter on lips, maybe a spilled drink on a person or two. They are past the point of undisturbed silence, awkward until one of them manages to bring up a topic that probably isn’t even that interesting. Instead, their thoughts and conversations resemble a perfect pair skate in the winter Olympics. Perfect calls and responses, the occasional synchronization, and most importantly, a life’s worth of trust put into every movement.
Miles wouldn’t change their friendship for the world
.
(Maybe he would, if only for something more.)
The waiter comes back, notepad in one hand. “Dessert?” he asks, holding out a new menu. Phoenix takes it, thanking the waiter who promptly bows then states that they will return in a few minutes.
I’ll get a drink, I’m too full for cake or pastries... Miles thinks as he watches his friend flip through the pages. Phoenix’s hand stops, and his eyes light up, seemingly finding something suitable. He then passes the booklet filled with dessert choices to Miles. Though he’d already decided on coffee, it wouldn’t hurt to flip through. “What are you planning to get?” Miles asks while perusing the menu.
“Caramel apple cheesecake”.
He stops flipping through the pages and shoots a curious look “Oh? Cheesecake… and apples?” Phoenix cocks a brow “ Hey! Don't judge before you try it. Everyone loves cheesecake, and I love apples. They’re among my favorites.”
You’re among my favorites. Miles thinks. After he realizes he allowed that thought to pass through his head, he comes to the conclusion that hypothetically, if his brain were a person of its own, he would definitely try to strangle it.
“Among your favorites? What else do you like?” Miles smiled. He’d realized how that’d come off and was promptly mortified. Maybe Klavier was rubbing off on him after all
Their waiter arrived, and Miles was spared the answer to that question. Thank God, I’ll have to give him a nice tip when all of this is over.
“Are you ready with your dessert orders?” He asks with a smile and a notepad in one hand, pen in the other. Miles quickly orders something “regular coffee”, and after they list their orders, the waiter departs. Miles excuses himself and heads toward the bathroom.
He enters the bathroom and locks the door. The air is stuffy, was it always this cramped in here?. He does his business, then washes his hands and throws away the tissue he used to dry them. Is the air suddenly sweltering or freezing? Miles can’t tell. How would Phoenix have responded had their waiter not saved him? He couldn’t tell how Phoenix took the question because he deliberately avoided looking at his face after he asked that stupid mistake.
They’re best friends, right? He washes his hands again, this time scrubbing in between fingers, in the gaps between skin and cuticle. They’ve made it past the “casual friends” threshold, he’s sure. Best friends feel safer when they are around each other, right? They steady each other, and like the sound of each other’s voice, and fix each other’s hair when its out of place, and (He steps on the pedal of the trash bin, opening it) tease each other constantly, and steal glances at each other when there’s nothing else to do, and constantly wish they spent more time with their best friend right?, Best friends don’t stop thinking about each other, Right? Whenever they look at them they get the sudden urge to be in contact with them? Whether it be through arms wound tightly around each other or the sling of an arm around a shoulder or even...
Best friends constantly look for each other, right? Best friends fight to make their way back to each other, no matter what they’re going through…
Right?
He drops the tissue used to dry his hands into the trash bin
Yes, that must be it.
…
I’m not fooling anyone. He thinks
He unlocks the door and leaves the bathroom.
If he took too long in there, Phoenix doesn’t mention it.
Their conversation continues
“Oh, Edgeworth! You have to visit this new library I found, it has a cafe inside!.. Hey, Did you hear about the nonsense the press has been spewing out about Gourdy recently? Apparently because of that, there are crowds of people there every day, Larry told me how good sales were for his hotdog stand... Also apparently Maya seriously did not realize that the vase broke until after a few months, I sometimes wonder if she’ll be fine...”
At all these conversations, Miles’ mind stays unexpectedly calm, he enjoys listening to the stories this man before him told. He finds comfort in the way Phoenix creates these stories, and paints vivid images, seemingly with life itself. The beauty of these exposes the thinly veiled lessons of life, of laughter, of hopes and dreams. Miles sees this and in something that mirrors receiving a present, Miles, without meaning to, holds these stories and allows them to take residence close to his heart.
Miles listens to Phoenix.
Phoenix Wright. Not to exaggerate, but he owes that man his life. Maybe it’s because he’s known him for years, but Miles understands that somehow, this man cared for him, still cares for him. All the kind actions hadn’t been out of pity, or shame, or some way to make sure that the man he followed into law hadn’t turned out to become some kind of monster. This is just how Phoenix Wright is.
Dessert, unlike their main dish, was quiet. More customers seemed to go out than come in. The street outside was now fully dark, and the small lights along the streets lit up. While sipping his coffee, Miles eyed Phoenix’s dessert. Upon noticing this, Phoenix grinned. “It’s not too late to order a slice, otherwise I might let you try if you want”. Miles shakes his head, “I’m quite full”, he gestures towards the cup he’s holding, “ and I’ve not yet finished even half of my drink”.
They finish dinner in comfortable silence. They’ve decided beforehand that the bill would be split 50/50, regardless of how much their meals differ in price. They get up from their seats and head out.
They take a walk in the park, and everything is calm. After they watched a group of kids play hide-and-seek for a few minutes, Phoenix suddenly stops Edgeworth.
“To answer your question earlier, you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You asked me what else was among my favorites, you are”
Miles immediately halts, he can tell his own face is turning red, He darts his head to face Phoenix. Maybe this is some kind of stupid joke. He finds no such indication that that is the case.
Oh.
“Oh.”
Miles’ eyes light up a little “I just remembered, I never got to try your caramel apple cheesecake, can I have a taste?”
“I don’t know, can you?” Phoenix grins
Miles slaps him on the shoulder
Unbeknownst to each other, both of their hearts feel like they’re about to beat out of their chests.
“I was joking, yes, go have a taste”
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
Maybe the world stops, maybe it doesn't, Miles doesn't care.
It’s weird, Miles thinks. This doesn’t feel like exploding fireworks, or crashing waves, or any exaggerated string of words people use to describe it. It feels almost normal, like sipping a warm cup of hot chocolate or reading the part of a book that fills the reader with so many emotions. Happy ones. It is like waking up in the morning to the rays of the sun. It’s like tasting a slice of cake, cheesecake to be exact.
I can get used to this, Miles thinks. I can get used to the taste of caramel apple cheesecake.