Chapter Text
Sliding into the plush chair behind his desk, Miles let out a sigh. Another unnecessarily convoluted case had been solved, and he’d earned yet another defeat at the hands of Phoenix Wright. This was old hat for Miles by now, though each time he was surprised by his satisfaction with the outcome. Every time Wright managed to cleverly twist a witness’ own words against them, Miles couldn’t help but smile. Even before he had been ready to admit it to himself, he'd been so inspired by the man’s conviction that it had shaken the very foundations he’d stood upon for 15 years. In the past, he would’ve chalked it up to naivete, but now it was just another thing he found himself admiring about Phoenix Wright.
He felt himself deflate at that thought. The number of things he admired about Phoenix Wright had been steadily increasing since... well, grade school, truly. Perhaps it had plateaued for a time there in the middle, but once the two reunited the number had quickly resumed its upward climb. Both in and out of the courtroom, Wright was often on his mind, and Miles hurried to tamp that train of thought back down before it could grow into something… unruly. Unfortunately, it was already far too late for that, and the internal debate he’d hosted with himself a dozen times before began to rear its head once more.
Miles’ feelings toward Phoenix had always been unlike anything he’d ever felt for another, a fact which hadn’t changed despite all the years that had passed. A more recent development, however, was the realization that his feelings toward Phoenix... doubled as feelings for Phoenix. As loath as he was to admit it, those feelings were beginning to invade his mind more and more frequently. At this rate, he feared he’d soon be unable to even face the man at all without making a fool of himself. In rare moments where Miles allowed himself to ponder such things, he always ended up having to quash the childish hope that anything would come of his feelings should he ever find the nerve to acknowledge them.
How would one even go about confessing something such as that? He wasn’t even certain he had any idea how Phoenix might respond -- or what he would do should the man’s answer not be in his favor. Quickly pushing past the devastating weight of that thought, Miles chided himself for allowing this internal discussion to continue as far as it had. He always ended up in the same place -- unsure of what to say, worried what Phoenix would think. He would likely drive himself insane if he kept this up much longer. This was decidedly not an issue Miles could solve through his own logic -- he needed an outside opinion. He began to mull over his options and winced at the thought of the first person to come to mind. As well-meaning as he was, Detective Gumshoe was far too loose-lipped to be trusted with such a delicate matter. No, Miles thought grimly. There was only one person he could call.
Miles drummed his fingers atop his knee as his outgoing call began to ring, nervous energy rapidly coursing through him. A soft breeze from the cracked window rustled the few papers not yet nestled within a folder that sat atop his desk. Wedging his phone between his cheek and his shoulder, he gently tucked the loose files beneath a paperweight and returned his hand to the phone just as the call was picked up.
A sharp, German accent greeted him through the speaker. “Hello, Miles Edgeworth.”
Miles smiled softly. “Franziska.” His voice wavered ever so slightly, an unfortunate result of his discomfort with the conversation that lay ahead. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Something troubles you?” she asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.
Letting out a huff of breath, Miles reached over with his free hand to fiddle with the small red keychain dangling from the handle of the briefcase atop his desk. “I would like your opinion on a… personal matter. Perhaps it’s foolish to ask this of you, but I could think of no one I’d trust more with such a thing.”
“Anything,” Franziska offered, her voice having softened considerably.
“Thank you,” Miles replied. He hesitated to continue, though only for a moment. “I seem to find myself dwelling on… thoughts of someone. A lifetime ago, I felt cursed by such things, but as the years have passed, I’ve grown… accustomed to them. Now I’m ailed by these feelings so frequently I fear they’ll begin to interfere with my work. I am unsure how to move forward, I suppose. How to… nngh… act on them.”
“Hm. You speak of Phoenix Wright?” Franziska asked, the accusation cracking through the phone’s speaker as sharply as her whip.
Miles’ breath caught in his throat. “I… yes.”
Was it truly that obvious? Miles didn’t consider himself someone too outwardly expressive when it came to emotions. He’d been trying to keep his feelings on this particular matter locked away for some time now, even from himself, though it was clear that had been met with little success.
“You are not subtle, Miles Edgeworth. You are lucky this man of yours is a fool,” Franziska scoffed, though the smile leaking into her voice betrayed the attempted insult. “Though it appears you may be as much of a fool as he is.”
Miles chuckled softly. “I beg your pardon?”
“It is plainly obvious to anyone that Phoenix Wright adores you. Surely you’ve noticed?” Franziska questioned.
Miles’ eyes widened, his voice catching in his throat. “I-- what on earth makes you say that?”
“I had my own suspicions, but all was made clear during our investigation of Hazakura Temple,” Franziska stated matter-of-factly. “The day of the earthquake.”
Miles struggled to suppress an involuntary shudder at the word alone. He remembered that investigation well -- if his hair wasn’t already gray, it surely would’ve been after the amount of stress he’d been caused. From finding out that Phoenix had thrown himself from a burning bridge, to standing in court as a defense attorney, to that damned earthquake… it had been a trying few days.
“As soon as the tremors had stopped, it was clear that the same thought had occurred to both of us. You, Miles Edgeworth,” Franziska stated. “He would not say as much, but he was worried for you. Immensely.”
Miles could feel his cheeks heating, though he elected to write it off as embarrassment. The shame of his failure that day -- falling unconscious and allowing a suspect to escape due to his own weakness -- still burned at the forefront of his mind. “He was worried for Ms. Fey, trapped in the inner temple. Her life was in danger.”
“I have no doubt that he was. But Phoenix Wright cannot hide his feelings -- one can read every thought that crosses his mind with a single glance at his foolish face. When I looked at him that day, I saw many things. We shared the same concern for your wellbeing, but more than that, I could see his worry. His fear. Before then, I had my suspicions, but it was then that I knew.”
“Knew what?” Miles asked, almost breathlessly. He’d leaned forward in his seat without realizing.
“If you do not already know the answer to that question, then perhaps that is something you should discuss with him yourself.”
Miles sighed, carefully sliding his phone back into his jacket pocket once he’d finished speaking with Franziska. “Discuss it with him yourself,” she’d said, as if that were the simplest of tasks. He checked the time and noted that Phoenix would likely still be at his office a while longer. Brows furrowed, he reached for his car keys. Perhaps this would prove to be a mistake, but he already had leagues of those to atone for as it was. What was one more?
Miles would talk to Phoenix Wright about these feelings, and he would do it today.
Phoenix pressed through the door of his office, holding it open for Maya behind him. She shuffled in, not bothering to pull it closed before throwing herself dramatically over the side of the far couch.
“That was a long one, huh, Nick?” Maya sighed. “If I was stuck in there any longer I don’t know what I would’ve done. I’m starving.”
Phoenix rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his face. He let his bag fall from his shoulders and dropped it gently on the opposite couch. “It didn’t feel that long to me.”
“Well, we both know why that is,” Maya replied, sitting up just to flash him her signature mischievous smirk.
“Oh we do, huh?” Phoenix asked, an eyebrow raised. He unlatched his bag, pulling out a sheaf of papers to sort through as he dropped down onto the couch cushions. “Enlighten me.”
Maya’s smirk grew into a wide grin, her eyes passing over the worn blue keychain swinging from one of his bag’s straps. “Maybe something to do with the fact Mr. Edgeworth was prosecuting?”
Phoenix couldn’t hold back his smile at the very mention of Miles. It was true -- when he faced off against Edgeworth in court, he barely noticed the time passing at all. It hardly even felt like work.
“See! You can’t even hide it,” Maya cheered triumphantly.
Were their trials together as much fun for Miles as they were for Phoenix? Now that Miles was well beyond worrying about wins or losses, Phoenix was fairly confident the answer was yes -- especially if the man’s cocky smirks when introducing new evidence or graceful bows after obliterating Phoenix’s arguments were anything to go by. Miles’ mannerisms were nothing Phoenix hadn’t seen before, of course, but in the years past he’d grown to appreciate how they’d become playfully competitive rather than vicious and spiteful.
His new favorite, however, was the approving nod Miles would send his way any time Phoenix managed to turn things back around to his favor. It was no grand gesture, just a polite congratulations -- a single nod accompanied by a soft smile, and lately Phoenix found himself eagerly awaiting it during trials. It was their own private conversation amidst all the happenings of the courtroom -- a quiet little moment he and Miles could share.
Phoenix grinned, the thought reminding him of grade school when he, Miles, and Larry would pass notes during class. Or, rather, he and Larry would pass notes, and poor Miles stuck in the desk between the two played an unwilling messenger.
Larry tapped Miles on the shoulder. “Psst. Edgey.”
“Yes?” Miles whispered in response, flashing a glance to the teacher at the head of the room, her back turned to the class.
“Pass this to Phoenix, will ya?” Larry replied, shoving a folded up wad of notepaper onto Miles’ desk.
Miles eyed the paper warily. “If we get caught passing notes, we’re going to get in trouble.”
“Then don’t get caught,” Larry smirked, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head.
Miles sighed, rolling his eyes as he quietly passed the paper up to Phoenix.
Phoenix unfolded the note, taking care to do so only after their teacher had turned away again. The words “I’m bored” were scrawled crookedly at the top, followed by a poorly drawn stick man imitation of Larry falling asleep at his desk. Phoenix’s soft chuckle was drawn into a fake cough as he drew the attention of the teacher, but she soon returned to writing on the board.
After scribbling for a few moments, Phoenix had successfully reworked Larry’s self portrait into a much more accurate looking sketch of the boy falling out of his desk, the words “Larry Klutz” written above him. Refolding the note, he snuck it back to Miles and waited. Surely enough, a huff of laughter came from behind him, and soon Miles was passing him another note.
Upon opening it this time, Phoenix was greeted by a spiky-haired stick man with one eye open and one closed, his tongue stuck out defiantly. Above the drawing were the words “Phoenix Wrong.” He shook his head, smiling, and turned around to show Miles.
“Wow,” Miles said in awe, leaning forward to inspect the sketch of Larry more closely. “You drew this one? It really looks just like him.”
“Hold on,” Phoenix replied, turning back around. He sat there sketching for another few minutes before handing the folded paper back to Miles.
Miles made to hand it back to Larry, but Phoenix stopped him.
“No,” he said softly. “That one’s for you.”
Phoenix couldn’t hold back his grin as Miles unfolded the note and his cheeks dusted pink, a shy smile appearing on his face. Phoenix had drawn him this time; however, with the addition of a massive and toothy grin. Above him sat the name, “Smiles Edgeworth.”
“Hey, I wanna see!” Larry whispered loudly, peeking over Miles’ shoulders to try to get a look at the note.
Of course, their teacher noticed their snickering, the note was confiscated, and the three boys had to sit in separated desks for the rest of the month. Those weeks would have been utterly dismal if not for the silly faces they’d secretly flash each other during class, replicating the caricatures from their drawings.
“Hello?” Maya called loudly, waving a hand in front of Phoenix’s face. “Earth to Nick! Anyone home?”
“Huh?” Phoenix said, shaking himself out of his memories.
“Were you just daydreaming about Mr. Edgeworth?” Maya asked incredulously, her grin growing wider every second at his lack of response. “You were! I knew it!”
“I was just thinking about when we were in school together. We used to make faces at each other during class when we weren’t allowed to talk, and it kinda reminds me of what we do now in court.”
“You mean when Mr. Edgeworth smolders at you and you start to swoon?”
Phoenix balked. “I don’t swoon. Watching him smile in the face of defeat like that just makes me feel really proud of him, I guess. Seeing him in his element, using everything he’s got to seek out the truth... I always knew he could. That he was so much more than what von Karma made him think he was. I’m just glad he’s starting to see it too.”
“Nick?” Maya asked with a grin, her eyes twinkling.
“Yeah?”
“You’re swooning.”
Phoenix mock-pouted, grabbing the pillow beside him with his free hand to toss at Maya’s head.
Maya dodged with a shriek of laughter. “You’re just mad because I’m right! Swooning.”
“Maybe I am. Seems like it’s a harder habit to break than I’d like to admit,” Phoenix replied thoughtfully. His eyes flashed down to the worn, blue keychain dangling from his briefcase. “I had a crush on him in grade school, after all.”
All traces of teasing disappeared from Maya’s face, her expression completely overtaken by a mixture of wonder and glee. “You did?! Did you ever tell him?”
“No. I thought about it. A lot. But I was worried it’d ruin our friendship,” he said, his voice soft. “Before I knew it, it was too late. He moved away so suddenly… I never got to tell him the truth.”
“What?!” Maya exclaimed. “Nick, you have to!”
“Tell him I had a crush on him when we were kids? It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” Phoenix asked with a chuckle.
“That’s not the one I’m talking about,” Maya said, giving him a pointed look.
Phoenix held steady against her glare for all of a few seconds before breaking. “Ugh, I don’t know,” he groaned, his gaze dropping to the floor. “How am I supposed to look at Miles Edgeworth and go, ‘Hey, I had a huge crush on you when we were kids, and it turns out it never went away?’” he asked, waving his papers in the air for emphasis.
A small squeak of surprise came from Maya, and Phoenix looked up to see her eyes as wide as saucers -- and trained on something behind him.
Phoenix's head snapped around at breakneck speed, his heart stopping in his chest at what met his gaze. The papers he’d been holding slipped from his grasp and skated across the floor in a flurry of white.
Standing in the still-open doorway of his office was the man himself, Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth -- and judging by his wide eyes and the tint of his cheeks, he’d definitely heard everything Phoenix had just said.