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Naturally, because life is full of needless complications, celebrating Trucy’s acquittal had to wait on tiny details like getting her officially released from police custody. The bailiff drove her over to the detention center while Athena and Apollo followed behind in Ema’s car.
“I think you’re next, Apollo,” Athena murmured out of the blue.
“What?”
“Well, you’re the only WAA member who hasn’t been on trial for murder at some point now. It just makes sense.”
Apollo stared out the window in horror. Athena was almost certainly right, given the way things generally seemed to go for the madcap crew of the Wright Anything Agency.
Ema snorted, “She’s not wrong.” Her demeanor had lightened significantly, now that she was free of having to provide testimony that could incriminate a friend. Athena wasn’t particularly inclined to credit Sahdmadhi, but his praise of the forensic investigator after the trial had taken a load off Ema’s shoulders.
Apollo nodded, “I know. It’s just a matter of time.”
Athena leaned forward to hook her chin on the back of Apollo’s seat. “It’s okay, Polly, I’ll defend you.”
“Nah, all three of us should do it. Imagine how mad we could drive the Prosecution.”
Athena sat back with a pout. “No fair, I didn’t get a chance to defend myself.”
Ema shook her head to herself as she pulled into the detention center’s parking lot.
“If you want to have a go at it, I’m sure we could talk someone from the prosecutor’s office into re-trying the case. The Paynes, probably. They never know when they’re going to lose a case, so they’d still give it their all.”
“Shots fired by the evil chili pepper,” Athena laughed.
Apollo rolled his eyes.
“C’mon, kiddos, let’s go rescue Trucy,” Ema chided them as she killed the engine.
**
Rescuing Trucy also proved to have more complications than they’d initially considered. It turned out that, because she was a minor, they couldn’t just release her into the wild, as it were, but needed the signature of a parent or guardian.
“Can’t you make an exception?” Athena pleaded. “We’re the attorneys who won her case. And her coworkers. And this is the forensic investigator in charge of the case. We’re totally responsible.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” the officer on duty said. “Has to be a parent or guardian.”
“Ma’am?!” Athena spluttered.
“Er, excuse me, officer,” Apollo cut in, “the thing is – her father’s in Khura’in. He won’t be back until tomorrow at the earliest. Surely you don’t wanna keep her in custody that long.”
The officer blinked. “We’ve called her father. He said he’s on his way.”
“Sure, but that’s still hours of transpacific flying.”
“He said he’d be here in ten minutes. Five minutes ago. Consider who the father is – of course we called him immediately.”
Apollo stared at Ema. Ema stared at Athena. Athena stared at Apollo. They shrugged.
“Er, okay then. Thank you. I guess?”
They took seats in the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the waiting area.
“Any idea what that was about?” Apollo asked.
“Nope,” Athena said, popping the P. “Give it ten minutes and if nothing happens, go ask again?”
Ema and Apollo shrugged back at her.
There wasn’t much to do but wait. The magazines were all months out of date and primarily aimed at uniquely niche markets. Athena wouldn’t have guessed that the intersection of accountants and line dancers was large enough to warrant its own magazine, but she would have been wrong.
“Sahdmadhi sure is a character, right?” she said at last, thinking over the events of the day’s trial.
Ema grunted and stared off to the side. Apollo fidgeted.
“Hey, how come you didn’t tell us you had an Edgeworth?” Ema asked him, elbowing his ribs.
“I have a what?”
“A prosecutor you have some connection to that you’re super cagey about,” Ema clarified, like that explained anything.
“That’s – I don’t –“ Apollo spluttered.
“Oh my god, you summoned him!” Athena whispered.
“Nahyuta?” Apollo asked, whipping his head around.
“No, the Chief Prosecutor. What is he doing here at this time of night?”
What Edgeworth was doing there was evidently striding confidently up to the desk and not sparing a glance for his surroundings or the colorful trio staring at him from the corner. The officer on duty snapped to attention and passed him a clipboard he’d had ready. After a few moments flicking through the attached paperwork and scratching at it occasionally with a pen Edgeworth passed it back to the officer, who nodded and moved to the back area.
“I know he’s the boss’ friend and all, but I always feel like he’s about to yell at me for not having ironed my tie or something,” Athena muttered.
Apollo muffled a laugh into his palm.
“Please, he’s just a weirdly formal teddy bear when you get to know him,” Ema scoffed.
“I dare you to say that to his face,” Athena shot back.
“Uncle Miles!” a joyful voice called. Trucy, led by the returning desk officer, launched herself at the Chief Prosecutor of LA County. Edgeworth, to Athena’s shock, did not spontaneously combust from this moment of affectionate human contact.
“Weirdly formal teddy bear,” Ema repeated as Edgeworth did the normal human action of hugging Trucy back.
“Mon dieu, I feel like I just saw the birth of a unicorn.”
Ema snorted out a laugh just as the pair at the other end of the room turned to start making their way to the exit.
“Polly! Thena! You came!” Trucy sprinted over. “You guys were awesome in court today!” she enthused as she choked them both in a simultaneous hug that was mostly elbows.
“Well, we had an awesome client,” said Apollo, patting her on the back. He’d almost stopped blushing from Mr. Wright’s earlier praise and could not handle more.
“Ema!” She, too, got a bear hug.
Ema patted her back with a nervous look on her face. “Er, no hard feelings, right?”
Trucy pulled back. “You testified about the facts. What’s there to be mad about?”
Ema smiled and looked lighter.
A politely cleared throat caught their attention. “Mr. Justice, Ms. Cykes, excellent work today,” Edgeworth said with a mild nod.
“Th – thank you, Prosecutor Edgeworth,” Apollo stuttered out.
“Nothing to say to me? Rude,” Ema teased.
“Excellent work running rampant with your fingerprinting powder, Ms. Skye,” Edgeworth said, the slightest hint of a smirk on his face.
“ Ms. Skye ? C’mon, Edgeworth, how long have we known each other?”
“I’m glad to see your new authority has absolutely gone to your head, Ema.”
“Too right it has,” she beamed and adjusted the sunglasses on her head.
“Uncle Miles, can I have a mountain of Thai food and that Steel Samurai versus Mothra movie you pretend to hate even though you own it on blu-ray?” Trucy attached herself to Edgeworth’s arm and smiled guilelessly up at him. “I am very traumatized. Only noodles and terrible special effects can soothe my soul.”
If Athena didn’t know better, she’d say the Chief Prosecutor of Los Angeles County was trying not to smile. “Yes, you may.” He turned toward the door then paused. With all the enthusiasm of a man climbing up to the gallows he turned around to face the group. “Er, would you all care to join us for dinner?”
They stared at him, as flummoxed as if he’d busted out a Khura’inese sutra.
He tilted his head toward Trucy, “That’s correct, right?”
“Yes, Uncle Miles, inviting friends to dinner is correct.”
He rolled his eyes and turned back to the trio, eyebrows raised.
“We’d love to!” Ema replied, having regained the powers of speech first.
Edgeworth nodded, a look of relief scurrying across his face. “I will text you the address.”
Athena was distracted from the various assenting comments by her phone buzzing aggressively in her hand. Hopefully it was Junie sending her a meme or something. She couldn’t handle much more than that at the moment.
It was not Junie.
She rolled her eyes, “Ugh, Apollo, Gavin wants me to tell you to check your phone and I want to tell both of you that I am not your – Oh, he just wants to know about Trucy.”
“Eight missed messages!” Apollo exclaimed, once he’d pulled his phone out of his pocket.
Athena glanced over at his screen. The message preview on the lockscreen was just “FOREHEAD!!”
“You guys are cute,” she teased.
“Privacy, Athena!” Apollo squawked back.
“Prosecutor McHeartthrob?” Ema asked, shamelessly reading Athena’s texts.
“I’m gay, but I still have eyes ,” Athena shot back, equally shameless.
Ema just smirked back.
“Prosecutor Gavin is of course welcome as well,” Edgeworth said, ignoring their antics with the ease of a man who’d had a lot of practice.
“Great!” Athena smiled wider at Apollo’s exasperated sigh. He wasn’t fooling anyone.
Edgeworth nodded curtly. “Excellent, we’ll see you all there.”
**
“This is so weird,” Athena mused for the tenth time, as Ema navigated deftly through LA traffic.
“We’ve had post-trial meals with him before,” Apollo countered.
“Not without Mr. Wright!” Athena rebutted. Not to say that Edgeworth didn’t talk to the rest of them at their post-trial celebratory (or conciliatory) meals. But Mr. Wright was still very much a buffer. And Edgeworth mostly ended up talking about obscure legal precedents with Apollo. The point being, sure, he was a frequent figure in her life, but he was also one of the preeminent legal figures in the city and a total cabrón in court.
“This doesn’t look like – “ Ema stopped, double checking the address in her inbox with the one on her phone’s navigation app and the one on the street. “Oh. We’re eating dinner at his house. Cool. Cool, cool, cool.” She drove forward a couple houses until she found an available spot along the curb and started to maneuver into it.
“His Windsor Square townhouse, sure.” Apollo added, sounding a bit shrill. He took a deep breath. “I’m Apollo Justice and I’m fine!”
Ema jerked in her seat and stared at him.
“I’m Athena Cykes and I’m fine!”
“I’m – I’m Ema Skye and I’m fine? Also, a little confused.”
“You have to say it with more conviction. Like you’re bluffing about a contradiction you don’t have evidence for yet,” Apollo coached.
“That is not scientific. I’m Ema Skye and I’m fine! … Oh, I do feel a bit better.”
“See? Alright, let’s do this!”
They got out of the car and moved up the neat flagstone steps. Athena punched the doorbell with more confidence than she felt. At once there was the sound of eager barks and footsteps.
Dog! exclaimed Widget as its owner bounced on the balls of her feet.
The door swung open to reveal a broadly smiling Trucy and a broadly barking dog that looked a bit like someone had stretched it vertically in photoshop. “Pess! Sei ruhig! Hey! You made it, find parking okay? Pess, nein. Calm down, you silly thing. Sorry, she hates the bell.”
“Oh hello, perfect angel!” Athena and Apollo knelt in near perfect unison and only narrowly avoided banging their heads together as they went to greet the dog. Pess took a couple steps back and whuff ed at them uncertainly.
“She’s friendly, just a bit shy,” Trucy explained, stroking Pess’ silky side.
“Same, girl,” Ema muttered from behind the other two.
Trucy shot her a crooked grin and stepped back to make space for them. “Come in, come in, shoes off please. We were waiting on you guys to order and I am starving . Being accused of murder really takes it out of you.” Her smile froze for a moment, but then she relaxed back into her usual cheerful demeanor.
Somehow shoes were removed and bodies were settled and noodles were ordered. Athena mostly tried not to stare around her too much. Except who she was kidding, she’d kill for an hour alone in Edgeworth’s study. Seeing how that brain worked… Which was the story of how Athena wound up in Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth’s kitchen, trying not to skate in her socked feet on the polished tile, and vaguely wondering when she’d so totally lost control of her life.
“Er, you have a lovely home,” she managed, floundering for what else to say.
Edgeworth glanced over at her like he’d forgotten she was there. “Ah, thank you.” He paused with his hand on the door of the wine fridge - because he was the kind of person who had a wine fridge tucked under his granite counters. “Should we have gone to a restaurant? Trucy said she wanted to watch a movie –“
Athena guessed he’d reached a point of emotionally drained whereat bits of his inner monologue slipped out of his mouth. Come to think of it, he’d done it a bit at the detention center as well. “I’m sure this will be fine.”
Edgeworth threw her another slightly surprised look and blushed faintly. “It’s been a long day. Hm, this should pair nicely,” he murmured to a bottle of wine he’d pulled out. “Hardly traditional, but needs must.”
He moved to a glass-fronted cabinet and started pulling out wine glasses. Right! That was why she was here. As the last person to claim a seat she’d been conscripted into helping to carry glasses.
“Getting the call that Trucy needed to be picked up must have been jarring,” she prompted because hey, getting people to talk about feelings was her thing and the silence was… very silent.
“I was notified of her arrest yesterday. It was - ” He set the bottle down and paused, gripping his elbow like an anchor. “Given that I’ve spent my stint as Chief Prosecutor trying to weed out corruption, I could hardly use my position to grant her any kind of legal favoritism. Watching the feed from the trial and trusting in Wright’s sense of people was about the best I could do.”
She flushed warmly at the sentiment. “Mr. Wright’s an odd one, but he does usually figure it out by the end.”
Edgeworth huffed out a quiet laugh. “And he chose his apprentices well. Not many attorneys could have pulled off what you and Mr. Justice did today.”
“I – it’s kind of you to say so.”
“I’ve made you uncomfortable.” He stared at the three wine glasses he’d pulled out and paused. “Do you drink wine? How old are you?” He studied her seriously, as if she were newly revealed evidence in court.
This man , she realized with a burst of perfect clarity, is really, really awkward. That helped, honestly. She shrugged, “Not old enough to drink legally in the States, but that usually doesn’t stop me.”
He pursed his lips at this flagrant flouting of the law, but took out a fourth glass nonetheless.
Score! Widget cheered. She really needed to run that ‘stfu’ update.
Edgeworth choked on what was probably a laugh and passed her two glasses, filled with what was surely an even five ounce (or 150mL, for his European sensibilities) pour. “Do try not to report me to the authorities.”
She nodded sharply. “I’ll do my best, sir.”
They paused in the doorway to the dining room. Apollo and Trucy had been setting the table, but now Apollo had his arms wrapped tight around Trucy’s shoulders. Her shoulders were shaking.
“-he hated my family that much that he tried to-“ she cut herself off.
Edgeworth and Athena slid back into the kitchen. He cleared his throat in the awkward silence then took a larger than polite sip of wine.
“Er, how are you doing with… things?”
She blinked at him. Oh right, the last proper conversation they’d had had been after the resolution of the Phantom case, finding Simon innocent, and digging up the whole gruesome truth of the UR-1 incident. She’d never gotten confirmation, but she would bet at least a month of her tiny, tiny salary that Mr. Wright had prodded Edgeworth into talking to her afterwards. The similarities between the DL-6 incident, infamous in the legal world, and her own situation had been… a lot.
“Oh, you know, keeping my therapist in sensible loafers. You?”
His mouth twisted, “Mm, much the same.”
She nodded and took a quick peak around the corner. Apollo and Trucy had moved on. “Shall we?” she asked, gesturing with an arm towards the doorway.
In the living room, Athena passed off her extra glass to Apollo, who was settled on the loveseat next to Trucy and Pess. Trucy was drinking tea out of a mug that looked like it was a souvenir from an old Max Galactica show in Vegas. Pess was not drinking anything and looked very put upon. She wriggled deeper into the couch and sighed, resting her chin across Trucy’s leg.
Athena blinked at Trucy. “When did you have time to go pick up extra clothes from your place?”
Trucy had traded out her signature dress and cape for a cozy looking set of blue flannel pajamas. She looked up from combing her fingers through Pess’ fur. “Hm? Oh, I have a room here.”
“Oh.” Athena blinked again. “Sure.”
She was saved from contemplating the rationale behind this by the arrival of Prosecutor Gavin who looked simultaneously dressed down & casual, and like he’d just stepped out of a magazine shoot. To be fair, his jeans and Henley were probably tailored. He and Beyoncé might be the only people who really do wake up like that , she mused to herself, even though she knew that shine on his cheekbones was not natural. She’d have to ask him what brand of highlighter he bought.
**
Edgeworth had to admit, this whole thing was going surprisingly well. The immediate regret he’d felt upon inviting the WAA to join Trucy and himself for dinner had been… a yawning chasm, into which he would have loved to throw himself. But this was… nice; people around whom he felt varying degrees of comfortable eating delicious food in his dining room and discussing Steel Samurai movies over the years. (Everyone agreed the ’97 was the worst, so he didn’t have to kick anyone out.) He could handle this.
It was probably the first time his dining room had been used properly outside of, well, ever. It usually served as an office annex. Gavin only knew where he lived - and had a key - because he lived nearby and was an excellent volunteer dogsitter. Sometimes he came over to talk over bits of a case, but nothing explicitly social. Edgeworth’s only regular guests were the Wrights and Franziska, who still mostly lived in Europe. But still, this was… fine.
Apollo paused mid-diatribe, “Wait, Mr. Edgeworth, how were you able to sign out Trucy? The officer seemed pretty set on that ‘parent or guardian’ thing.”
“Ah,” Edgeworth paused, chopsticks poised over his noodles, “I am her guardian.”
“I thought Mr. Wright…” Athena trailed off.
“We’re co-guardians.”
“Technically Uncle Miles is Papa.”
“Ah,” Edgeworth glanced briefly at Apollo’s bracelet, took a sip of water. “Wright and I have been legally married for… quite sometime now.”
“Oh! I didn’t know you too were – although that does explain – “
“It’s a practical arrangement, noth-“ he glanced at the bracelet again and stopped. “It’s easier for couples to adopt. Also, Wright was recently disbarred and jobless, as he had not yet discovered… poker hustling.”
“Don’t forget the health insurance!” Trucy chipped in. “I needed braces. And Daddy is very accident prone.”
“And running-across-burning-bridges prone,” Edgeworth murmured, with the thousand-yard stare of a man legally bound to someone who should have died at least a dozen times over by now.
“He did just narrowly escape a beheading in Khura’in,” Athena nodded.
Edgeworth set his chopsticks down very deliberately. “I’m sorry, please repeat that.”
Athena and Apollo exchanged nervous glances. “Well, we don’t actually know if it was going to be a beheading. They’ve got that law about defense attorneys being executed with their clients if they lose the trial and well,” Apollo shrugged uncomfortably.
“And Nick managed to get himself involved in a life-or-death legal situation, because of course he did,” Gavin finished.
Edgeworth put his head in his hands and groaned. “I’m going to kill him.”
Gavin and Wright’s friendship might honestly be worse to think about than Wright’s many brushes with death. He’d asked Trucy about it once, discreetly, and the answer apparently boiled down to Gavin showing up with an apology bottle of wine one evening around the time of Wright retaking the bar. The WAA crew came in the next morning to find Gavin passed out on the couch with Wright’s tie around his forehead and Wright himself sprawled on the floor. “Trauma-bonded” Trucy had called it. Whatever had happened, Gavin was now one of the handful of people to call Wright Nick. He could include the story in his eulogy at Wright’s funeral when Edgeworth killed him.
“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?” Gavin asked, unfazed by neither his boss threatening to commit murder nor the level 10 spice pad prik pao he was eating.
“No, because I will have had the satisfaction of having done it myself.”
There wasn’t much that could be said to that.
“How much bullying did it take for him to accept your help?” Ema asked, shifting the topic.
“A fair bit.”
“I think you bullied each other,” Trucy tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I remember because that was before I realized that bickering is your love language.”
His dignity was done for.
He cleared the plates to the kitchen after dinner. Ema had tried, but he’d taken over. He could use a second to himself.
Gavin joined him in the kitchen, a stack of plates in hand. He passed them off to Edgeworth without a word then stayed, hip cocked against the counter.
“Something on your mind, Gavin?” Edgeworth asked. If he was going to be ambushed in his kitchen with another emotional conversation, he may as well face it head on.
“How did –“ he stopped, looking more grim than Edgeworth was used to seeing him outside of mortuaries. He started again in German, eyes on the hall to the living room where everyone else was laughing happily over something. “How did my brother not know?” That explained the German. Kristoph Gavin was a grim shadow in any conversation, better left unnamed and spoken of in guarded code. “About you and Nick, I mean.”
“He did, ” Edgeworth responded. “We – Wright told him it was a spur-of-the-moment result of a drunken fling.”
Gavin stared at him, mercifully not mentioning how obvious it was that Edgeworth hated the lie they’d agreed on.
“He said we didn’t file for an annulment because we didn’t want to draw attention to our… indiscretion,” he continued placidly, drying his hands on the soft grey dishtowel. When he looked up at Gavin’s face he was relieved to not see something as awful as pity.
“My brother was an idiot .”
Edgeworth huffed a laugh. “Of all the many things I’ve heard people call him over the years, that is a new one.”
“He was never emotionally intelligent ,” Klavier toyed with his hair and kept his tone blasé, eyes on some unseen middle distance.
Edgeworth had read their dossiers, of course. He knew they were born in Vienna and their parents died young (some accident in the Alps). Kristoph, ten years older, had stayed with his brother until he was about twenty, at which point he’d fucked off permanently to the States, leaving Klavier to the care of a chain of nannies. None of them stayed long. Klavier Gavin as a child could be politely described as “mercurial.”
Sometimes Edgeworth wondered if he knew anyone with a normal, healthy relationship to their parents. Or at least anyone who’d known their parents into adulthood. Gumshoe, maybe. Hopefully. If not him, then Franziska had at least known one of her parents for far longer than the rest of them, and if she was the shining example…
Edgeworth shrugged. Any input of his about emotional intelligence would mostly be parroting one of his therapists from over the years.
“No offense to your acting skills,” Klavier continued, “but I doubt anyone could be in a room with the two of you for five minutes and not know you care about each other. Even my monster of a brother. ”
“No offense to your brother, but I tried not to get within fifty feet of him. ” It wasn’t that he couldn’t keep a neutral face – his preteen to early adult years had been in a masterclass in that – he just couldn’t stand the way Kristoph would watch Phoenix. Hungry. Waiting.
He had tried one case against him, just to know, to see for himself. As a general rule he tried to be above things like Schadenfreude – one of those beautiful, polysyllabic German words that just don’t translate - tried not to enjoy other people’s misery. But watching Kristoph realize that he was going to lose had felt good in a way that made him feel sick after.
Klavier laughed humorlessly. “I’d say he has a bit of a Backpfeifengesicht, but I wouldn’t want to insult my own Gesicht." Klavier gestured towards his face, so like his brother’s.
“You don’t look that much alike; you’re much less punchable.”
(He’d asked Trucy once how she could warm so quickly to the younger Gavin, when he looked so much like the elder. Trucy had stared at him like he’d grown a second head. Or worn tie-dye to work. “They don’t look at all alike.”
Edgeworth had started to counter that if they swapped wardrobes they could pull a Parent Trap (Trucy had been going through a Lindsey Lohan phase) when he realized it wasn’t true. Their body language and mannerisms were too different. Klavier was warm and exuberant, even when he maybe shouldn’t be. Klavier actually had a fucking soul.)
“You’re too kind,” Klavier laughed. “Er, if I may ask an unprofessional question…” He began, back in English.
Edgeworth topped off both their wine glasses. “We’re a bit past that, don’t you think?”
“Why do you think that you and Wright aren’t together?”
Edgeworth blinked at him. “Sorry, what?”
“You kept saying that your marriage was just for practicalities, but you’re probably the most married people I know.”
“Wir ficken nicht” burned on the tip of his tongue. He hated this whole line of questioning, wanted to snap a vulgarity to shock Klavier into dropping it.
Klavier must’ve read it on his face. “Is that what makes a relationship?”
Edgeworth’s cheeks colored. “No, obviously not.” Sex wasn’t what defined a relationship, after all. He knew that.
Klavier tipped his glass as if to highlight his point. “Just something to think about,” he murmured and with that he walked into the living room.
**
The idea stayed with him throughout the movie. It wasn’t that he wanted to be married to Wright, he didn’t want to get married at all, but he did want –
He glanced around the room. On screen, the Steel Samurai and Mothra were realizing that they had more in common than they’d first thought and bottomless corporate greed was the true enemy. On the couch, the WAA attorneys had closed ranks around Trucy, sitting close by her sides and leaning in like emotionally supportive bookends. Klavier was seated on the ground, long legs outstretched, back against Trucy’s knees, and one hand quietly and unobtrusively wrapped around Apollo’s ankle. Ema and Pess were stationed as side-guards over on the loveseat. Ema had Pess lulled near to sleep, stroking that spot behind her ear she liked.
He didn’t know what he wanted.
There were a few obvious absences from the room. He’d need a second couch to fit them all. If he and Wright ever moved in together as they occasionally threatened to (‘ I sing in the shower. Off-key.’ ‘I will organize your closet whether you like it or not, so help me god.’) they should get a place with a bigger living room. Nothing so gauche as an in-home theatre, but… a bit more seating couldn’t hurt.
**
The movie came to its inevitable and emotionally saccharine conclusion. Edgeworth’s eyes did not sting because he had seen it a dozen times before and it was overwrought anyway.
Trucy yawned, face buried in Athena’s hair.
“You should go to bed.”
“It’s barely eleven,” she protested, rubbing at an eye.
“It’s a school night,” he rebutted easily.
That made her sit upright. “You’re making me go to school tomorrow?!”
“No, I’m not making you. But putting it off won’t make it easier.”
She sighed theatrically. “Fun Dad had to go on vacation and leave me alone with Logic Dad.” She got to her feet. “Night, guys.” She could barely get the words out around another massive yawn.
There was a lot of hugging and Trucy went up to bed and Edgeworth started subtly herding his guests towards the door.
“Er, we talked about in the car,” he began as Ema reached for the doorknob, “and Trucy is going to stay here until Wright gets back. My home is Trucy’s home and therefore open to you all. Anytime.”
There was a moment of stunned silence.
“Thanks, Mr. Edgeworth,” Justice said at last.
Gavin squeezed his shoulder on his way out – he must look a fright. Ah well, it was done. The last few dishes could wait until morning, so Edgeworth headed upstairs, shaking his head to himself. His younger self would not recognize this man he’d become. That was fine by him.
In the bathroom he stared at the three toothbrushes – royal blue, sky blue, fuchsia - in their brushed steel holder as he applied serum to his face. Egads. Gavin had been right. He shoved that thought to the side and hurried through the rest of his nighttime routine. His phone buzzed as he was changing into his pajamas.
Wright, finally.
“Edgeworth speaking.”
Wright’s chuckle low in his ear was shockingly intimate every time. It sounded like he was in the room, laughing into Edgeworth’s ear and close enough to touch. “Can’t you answer the phone like a normal person? It’s after eleven where you are.”
“I don’t need to explain myself to you, Wright.” He put his phone on speaker and resumed buttoning his pajama top.
“I hear you narrowly dodged hosting a WAA sleepover.”
“It’s no Khura’inese DC Act execution, but I guess we’ve both had near misses recently.”
He could hear the sharp inhale over the phone and picture the wince that went with it. “You heard about that, then?”
“I heard about that,” he confirmed dryly.
“On a scale of one to burning bridge, where’s this?”
Edgeworth sighed and laid back on the bed. (With his eyes closed, he could almost pretend Phoenix was here with him.) “For the last time, I’m not ranking your near-death experiences. I know you, and you will only try to beat your own record.” (Stupid, obviously, because if he had Phoenix in his bed his eyes would be open.)
Wright laughed, “Yeah, you do know me.” He sounded unbearably fond.
“Mr. Justice said you’re keeping to your original trip schedule,” Miles prompted, wanting the confirmation for himself.
“Yeah, I checked in with Trucy earlier; she said she’s doing okay.”
Edgeworth felt a dull pulse of anger. “Can you imagine a situation in which she would not say that?”
“Well, no,” Wright admitted reluctantly.
“She could use her family with her right now.”
“Are you saying you’re not her family?” Edgeworth knew that tone. It was the tone Wright used when he managed to flip things around and pin Edgeworth in the corner. “You know she thinks you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread.”
“Nngak,” Edgeworth replied articulately.
“And Apollo, Athena, Klavier, and Ema, besides.”
“Gnrk.”
And finally the coup de grâce. “They’re your family, too, you know.”
Edgeworth shut his eyes and let out a contemptuous ‘hmph’. It was the best he could do at the moment. “Oh,” he opened his eyes, remembering something important, and an excellent way to change the subject. “Your subordinates know that we’re – about our espousal. They figured something was up when I signed Trucy out of detention.” Better that he tell him than he get some all-caps text from Justice.
There was a moment of silence. “How’d they take it? Any hilarious reactions?”
“Disappointingly, no.”
“Ah well, suppose I didn’t miss much, then.”
The main reason for keeping the marriage secret had been Kristoph. With him out of the picture they could –
The main reason for getting married in the first place was Trucy’s adoption, and that wasn’t a current issue either.
“Did you want to get divorced?” Edgeworth asked, proud of himself for sounding as calm as if he were asking how Phoenix took his tea. (Two sugars, the heathen.)
“What?”
“It occurred to me the main reason for the marriage is long passed. There’s not much reason to keep up the sham.”
“The sham. Right.” Phoenix sounded… upset. Edgeworth shouldn’t push it, he really shouldn’t.
“I’m happy to pay child support, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Wright made a noise like an angry teakettle.
Edgeworth didn’t want to be married, but he wanted – He wanted so much. “You’re right, my health insurance is still miles better. No divorce.”
“Did you just – make a double name pun after trying to divorce me?”
“Maybe,” he smirked.
“You are such an asshole. I love you so much.”
This, too, shocked him every time, how easily Wright was able to say those words. “How’s Khura’in?”
“Exciting,” Phoenix laughed, “You could have come with me, you know. I meant it when I invited you.”
“Some of us can’t leave our jobs for that long.” Edgeworth opened his eyes; his room was so empty.
Phoenix hummed, “It’s true. The entire Los Angeles legal system would fall apart without you there to supervise for two whole weeks.”
“Very funny.” Edgeworth tracked the slow movement of the ceiling fan.
“Who said I was joking? At least half your prosecutors are convinced you aren’t even human.”
“I’m very human.” It was sort of the problem.
“Sound more enthusiastic, I dare you.”
“Phoenix…”
“Miles.”
Not fake-married in the open or real-married, but -
“Get dinner with me.”
Wright inhaled sharply, “I think it might be a bit difficult with the distance.”
“When you get back , Wright. Would you like to get dinner with me?” He rolled over to stare at his phone, tapping the screen so Wright’s contact picture appeared.
“Ok.” The Wright that stared back at him from his phone had that look on his face right before he broke into a smile brighter than the sun.
“As a date,” Edgeworth added, just to be clear. He wasn’t sure what the difference would be between a date and their normal dinners. Even more yearning stares? Probably some touching. (God, Miles wanted to touch.) He hadn’t dated much (ever), preferring the reduced commitment of Lebensabschnittpartner and their pre-agreed upon expiration dates. He was pretty sure hand-holding was involved in real dating.
“Yes, I got that.” Wright was definitely trying not to laugh at him.
“Oh.”
“Miles ,” Phoenix said, in the same tone with which Edgeworth so often said ‘ Wright. ’
“I love you, too.” It came out in a bit of a rush, but the words were out there in the world, said. Out loud. By him. It felt like a huge accomplishment. It felt easy as breathing.
“I know.”
Edgeworth cleared his throat, blinked his eyes clear. “You should know that I don’t accept death as an excuse for standing me up, so do try to make it back alive.”
Wright laughed, “I’ll do my best. It’s getting late there, I really should let you go.”
“Hm. I do miss you, you know. The – the whole family does.”
“Mi- I’ll be home before you know it.”
Liar. “Good.”
“Meet me at the airport?”
“Obviously. I mean, if you want me to.” Edgeworth coughed, trying to play it cool.
“I want you to.”
“Then I’ll see you there.”
“Good. Good night, Miles.”
“Good night, Phoenix.”
**
Reuniting and going out for dinner also had unforeseen complications, but they managed eventually.