Work Text:
In the flaky artificial light of his apartment’s tiny bathroom Phoenix Wright sighed at his mirror image. Unshaven and with dark bags under his eyes he looked like a real mess, and the wrinkly, week old clothes didn’t exactly help. The worst part was knowing how very easy it would’ve been to change the image—pick up the razor from the cabinet, find a fresh shirt, sleep for a few hours—and never finding in himself the will to do so. He was going through life on autopilot, only taking care of the basic requirements: that Trucy was well, that there was at least some food in the fridge, that the bills were paid mostly on time.
Unemployed ex-attorney and a single father. This was his life now.
He bent down to splash some water on his face, hoping to shake himself out of the dreary thoughts. After all, it wasn’t all bad. As far as silver linings went, Trucy was undeniably one of the best things that had happened to him. Unexpected, without a doubt, but nevertheless indispensable. After only a few short months with the girl, Phoenix already couldn’t imagine his life without her.
He reached for the towel, rubbing off most of the water, and left the bathroom. He had put the girl to bed an hour ago with a story about a flying man in a circus—a colorful past did come in handy with kids. For him it was looking like another sleepless night, doing job-searches and whatnot. Wasn’t much of a Friday, but he couldn’t complain. Maybe he could open that wine in the cupboard he’d been saving to make it seem more like the weekend, even though it probably was a bad idea to drink alone. He still felt like he deserved it, with everything he was going through.
His musings were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Phoenix immediately felt alert, adrenaline rushing through him. He glanced at the clock, confirming that it was almost eleven and far too late for regular visitors. And besides, he wasn’t even expecting anyone.
Cautiously he padded to the door, grabbing a stray book from the shelf to arm himself against a possible robber. Not that a book, no matter how heavy, would do much damage, especially considering his physical condition. But at least it made him feel a bit more secure as he reached for the handle and pulled.
The door opened to reveal not a robber, but none other than a familiar ashy-haired man in a red suit, looking a bit reserved and definitely out of place in the cheap apartment complex hallway.
“Wright,” said Miles Edgeworth, nodding his head in greeting.
“What are you doing here?” Asked Phoenix, staring at the man in shock.
Edgeworth gave a mirthless chuckle. “Yes, it is nice to see you, too,” he muttered. “Although I do admit the time of my arrival is a bit unusual, for which I owe you an apology. Nevertheless, it would be better to hold this conversation inside, if I may?”
Mutely, Phoenix stepped out of the way letting the man and his bags—which Phoenix only noticed now—inside. As Edgeworth passed him, he caught the faintest scent of his cologne, both strange and familiar all at once. Suddenly he felt dizzy.
“Should I take a seat?” Edgeworth asked, gesturing towards the couch in the living area.
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Phoenix replied, hurrying to snatch the stray pieces of clothing away from the seats. “Do you need anything? A drink? I have some wine in the cupboard.”
Immediately after the words had left him he winced, realizing that the type of wine he and Edgeworth drank were probably pretty different.
“I wouldn’t be opposed to a glass,” Edgeworth said, to his surprise. “Plane rides are always so stressful, and some wine might be just the thing I need to relax.”
“Gotcha,” Phoenix said, retreating into the kitchen to retrieve the bottle of red and two glasses. He returned to the living area a minute later setting them all on the table. “You can open this,” he gestured at the bottle, “I just need to—uh, I’m gonna go check on my daughter, see that she didn’t wake up.”
Edgeworth’s eyebrows shot up. “Daughter?”
“Um, yeah.” Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Her name is Trucy. She’s eight.”
“I’m… I’m assuming she must be adopted, and not your biological child,” Edgeworth commented, doing pretty well to mask his shock.
“Yeah, it just sort of happened,” Phoenix confessed. “Her father disappeared, and I couldn’t just leave her— but I’ll tell you the details later.” He took a few sideways steps towards the bedrooms. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
He didn’t wait for Edgeworth’s reply, turning away and walking to the door. He took a deep breath, calming himself before carefully opening the door and poking his head in. Fortunately it seemed like Trucy was a deep sleeper, fast asleep in her bed with all the stuffed cartoon characters Maya had brought her during her last visit. Phoenix smiled at the sight, taking a few seconds to let it seep in, before quietly closing the door.
He then didn’t immediately return to the living room, but instead opened the door to his own room. He tossed off his shirt, rummaging the wardrobe for a clean one. It was the least he could do, since Edgeworth’s abrupt appearance had finally made him far too self-conscious about his own rugged looks.
Outfit change complete he left the room, walking back to the living area. Edgeworth had sat down on the couch and successfully poured the wine into the two glasses, cautiously sipping his own drink. It probably tasted like shit to him, Phoenix realized and let out a short, amused breath.
“So,” he said, dropping down on the couch next to Edgeworth and reaching for the other wine glass. Taking a sip of his own, even he had to admit it was far too bitter to be considered any good, but hey― it was bottom shelf, so he really couldn't have expected any more. “What brings you here?”
“Work, mostly,” Edgeworth replied. “But if you’re referring to my presence in your apartment at eleven in the evening, I simply… wished to see you.” He seemed strangely abashed.
“At eleven in the evening?” Phoenix asked, repeating his words.
Edgeworth flushed softly. “I had originally planned to visit you tomorrow, after a good night’s sleep, but as I left the airport I unexpectedly found myself giving your address to the taxi driver,” he explained. “It would suffice to say that I acted on an impulse, and if that has caused you any bother I must apologize.”
“No, it’s okay. Unexpected or not, you’re always welcome here.” Phoenix waved him off taking a long sip of wine. “Though, this is a bit strange, coming from you.”
“It seems we are all behaving rather untypically, as of late,” Edgeworth said meaningfully, catching his eye.
Phoenix turned away, unable to hold the gaze for too long. “I guess so,” he said, a burning uncomfortable feeling rising to his throat. He cleared it, trying to shake it off and cut through the heavy atmosphere in the room. “You’re back from Europe, then?”
Edgeworth blinked, apparently not expecting Phoenix’s avoidance and the change in topic. “For the time being, yes,” he replied. “They offered me an arrangement. I will be spending half a year here and half a year in Brussels.”
“That’s… great. Sounds great.” Phoenix said, fighting back the feelings of jealousy that had spiked seemingly out of nowhere as soon as Edgeworth had mentioned work. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Edgeworth gave him a knowing look. Phoenix inwardly cursed the fact that everyone around him was so damn perceptive. "So am I," said Edgeworth. "Coming here always feels like coming home, no matter the circumstances."
His smile was bittersweet, as he peered into his glass, as if searching for some kind of meaning in the red swirls. Phoenix really didn't know what to say, opting to drink his wine in silence. Edgeworth was being almost uncharacteristically open, and it was throwing him off his usual game. Half of him wanted to keep needling him for more, while the other half was terrified of pushing too hard. Going with his gut feeling had always worked for him before, but lately he had become riddled with doubt.
It seems we are all behaving rather untypically, as of late.
Edgeworth's words echoed in his head and he winced. He knew he had to talk about it, about his disbarment and all that. But he just couldn't bring himself to open his mouth.
Fortunately, Edgeworth was there to do it for him.
"I was… rather shocked to hear the news," he started carefully, not looking directly at Wright. "As anyone would be, I'd assume. I had just finished working with you, few months prior, and then I hear you've been accused of fabricating evidence and disbarred. It felt all very surreal."
Phoenix frowned. "Well what do you think now?" He asked. He needed to know. Needed to hear if Edgeworth still viewed him the way he used to.
Edgeworth sighed. "That there must be some kind of a plot behind all this," he said, finally turning to look at Wright. He looked concerned, serious, angry― but none of that anger seemed to be directed towards Phoenix. "That you were… robbed, and that there is something seriously wrong with the justice system. Because nothing else could ever explain how they made such a dreadful mistake, as taking you out of the courtroom."
Phoenix released a shuddering breath, the corners of his lips turning just slightly upwards. It felt like a weight had been lifted off him.
"Thank you," Phoenix said earnestly, "for believing in me. Right now, it really means the world to me."
"Don't be foolish, you have nothing to thank me for," Edgeworth huffed, taking a sip of his wine to hide the redness of his cheeks. Bless his poor emotionally constipated soul, Phoenix thought fondly and finished his own glass, placing it on the table. "If anyone were to use half their brain and look at what happened, they would see just how utterly ridiculous it all is. It makes me appalled that any of this was even able to transpire, but at least―" he paused, looking at Phoenix with calculating eyes. "At least I know whom to blame."
Phoenix's stomach dropped. "Do you, now?" He asked.
"Yes," Edgeworth said. "Don't you?"
Phoenix closed his eyes, and leaned back against the couch, bringing up his hands to rub his face.
"I need more wine for this," he mumbled through his fingers. "But yes. I know. Don't ask me how, because for once I have absolutely no proof, no motive, no nothing to back me up."
During the last months Phoenix had obsessively gone over his last trial and the following disbarment in his mind, over and over again, meticulously examining every single little detail in hopes of finding something, anything, that could count as evidence. He had come up empty, of course, but the more he thought about the clearer it became whom all the arrows unnaturally refused to point towards. And even if following everything he'd gone through he had become more uncertain and less likely to trust his instinct, he couldn't shake this feeling and wouldn't give into to doubt in this particular case.
"And even so," he continued, "if I have to bluff my way through hard stone, I will do it just to prove that Kristoph Gavin is not the man everyone seems to think he is."
The man's pleasantly smiling face haunted him. Phoenix would have no rest until he could prove it to be a mask, hiding someone atrocious beneath.
Edgeworth hummed. "It's good to know some things haven't changed," he said, voice laced with dry amusement. "I agree, of course. I don't know what or why, but there is something decidedly wrong with that man, and we must see to it that he doesn't walk free."
"Sure," Phoenix offered, sitting up and reaching for the wine bottle on the table. "But you do realize, it really is easier said than done, right?" He poured a glass for himself and held the bottle out to refill Edgeworth's. "He's like a snake, trying to play my friend now that I've supposedly lost everything― and I have, in a sense. I really have."
He shook his head, and took a sip of his wine. Now after the first glass, it barely tasted bitter at all, prompting him to drink faster. Somewhere in the back of his mind a small voice was screaming at him that this was a dreadful idea, drinking and sharing stories with Edgeworth, but at the moment he couldn't have cared less.
"But apparently you've gained a daughter," Edgeworth said, surprising him with how accurately he could bring up the one thing to shake him out of his moody reverie.
"Yeah, well," Phoenix said. "Since you seem to have a pretty good idea on what happened, you should know that Gramarye disappeared from the trial before his verdict was handed, right?"
"Yes, I've heard as much," Edgeworth said, drinking his wine. "How is that connected?"
"Well, he kind of left with such a hurry that he forgot his daughter behind," Phoenix said, the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the wine. "I tried to look for any live relatives, anyone who could've taken her, but there really was no one. And then, when they said they were going to put her in foster care, and she would've probably ended up half-way across the nation, I just― I couldn't. I had to take her in. I had to adopt Trucy."
Edgeworth stared at him with wide eyes, unspeaking. Phoenix offered him a shaky grin.
"Maya told me I was out of my mind," he said. "And she was probably right. But then again, taking care of Truce has been the only thing keeping me together these past few months. I was― I was so alone, Miles," his voice broke down as he whispered the man's name. "And I still am. There is no one I can turn to. I mean, Maya, she's great, she's amazing, but she's so young and she already has so much on her own shoulders to carry. I couldn't ask any more of her than what she's already done."
He took a drink, swallowing the wine down painfully, before setting his glass on the table. It was either that or start crying, and he really wanted to avoid getting that emotional in front of the other man, even if he wasn't doing much better right now.
"Sometimes… sometimes it just feels like I can't do anything on my own, you know?" He chuckled humorlessly. "Like everything I've done, everything I've ever accomplished, somebody has been there to hold my hand… Mia, Maya," he raised his eyes, looking straight at Edgeworth, "you."
"Wright," Edgeworth said, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "I―"
"Sorry, sorry..." Phoenix shook his head again, grinning melancholically. "It’s got nothing to do with you, of course, it just— it’s hard, you being here and seeing how far out of control my life has spiraled, you know? Like, I always used to look up to you and try to reach you, and now? We’re both here, together in this moment, and I’m just a mess." He reached for his wine glass and downed the rest of it in one go. "And the wine really isn’t helping."
Edgeworth looked at him, all brooding brows and tight lips, kind of like he was debating on whether to yell at him or just up and leave. Maybe. Who knew what even went on in the man’s head, because Phoenix sure as hell didn’t. He lowered his eyes to the floor and waited for the eventual rejection.
It never came. Instead Edgeworth released a shuddering sigh, shifting slightly closer to him so their thighs were touching. Physical contact between them was so rare, that the feeling was electric, sending a jolt up his spine.
"Wright," Edgeworth said, voice very near reverent. "Phoenix, look at me."
That really got his attention, the use of his first name as unexpected as a bucketful of cold water on his head. His head snapped up and he came face to face with Edgeworth’s steady gaze. His eyes were shiny with unshed tears and so, so vulnerable. Phoenix’s breath hitched in his throat.
"I’m sorry," he said, voice surprisingly strong and even. "I’m really sorry for not being there for you."
Phoenix gave a disbelieving chuckle. "Being there for me? But I just—"
"I’m not finished yet, Wright," Edgeworth snapped, his tone momentarily returning to normal. He then closed his eyes, breathing out once, before continuing in a calmer voice.
"What you just said, was… complete nonsense. Yes, you've been helped in your life and career many times, but so has everyone. And when it comes to me…" he trailed off, searching for words with a sad look on his face. "There have been times, many times, when I wasn’t there when you needed me, and I can’t really change that. No matter how I wish, I can’t turn back time and change the events that have transpired."
He swallowed, clearly fighting back the emotions threatening to overtake him. There was such sorrow in Edgeworth’s life. In both their lives, but Edgeworth had always seemed so in control. Phoenix stared with wide eyes.
"But what I can do and what I am going to do is help you from now on. Not because you wouldn't be able do it on your own, because I have no doubt you could. But because I want to. It’s... human to stumble and fall down, that much I’ve learned. And it will be a long, hard road to get upright again after you’ve fallen. But... if you’ll let me, I will do everything in my power to help you get back on your feet―just like you have helped me."
"Miles, I—" Phoenix began, but didn’t know how to continue. The look in Edgeworth’s eyes was so different from his usual steely stare that it was almost baffling. Phoenix’s heart constricted painfully in his chest, years worth of unrequited longing bubbling to the surface like champagne out of a bottle. He almost couldn’t believe how much he cared for this man. How much he longed for him. How much—
"I love you."
The words were torn from his lips as if by force. His whole being felt shaken and raw.
Edgeworth blinked, drawing back in shock. "What?" He asked. He looked so perplexed it would have been funny, had the situation been any different.
"I love you," Phoenix repeated, sounding a lot calmer and more in control than he felt. "Always have. Probably always will."
He refused to cut eye contact. He needed Miles to understand this. Desperately so.
The earlier red flush returned to Miles’ cheeks with full force. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Phoenix grinned wryly.
"Does it really surprise you?" He asked. "I mean, I kept sending you letters for years even though I never received a reply. I literally chose my career based on the possibility that I could meet you again. I even used to keep a scrapbook about everything you were doing, and if that doesn’t sound like the kind of creepy, stalkerish behavior of someone crazily in love, then..."
Miles covered his face in his hands. "Please, Wright, just... shut up," he muttered. He sounded embarrassed far more than anything. Not mad. Not disgusted. Just embarrassed.
All of a sudden, Phoenix felt light as a feather. He chuckled, leaning closer, wanting to see Edgeworth’s expression.
"Sorry," he said, totally unapologetic. "But can you blame me? I mean... have you seen yourself? You’re gorgeous. On a whole another level than plain old me. And you only grow more handsome as you age. You’re like,” he looked around, eyes landing on the half empty bottle on the table, “like a fine wine!”
“And you’re drunk,” said Edgeworth, rubbing his forehead. “Not to mention selling yourself short.”
Phoenix paused. “Wait, what?”
Edgeworth fixed him an unimpressed look, perhaps less convincing because of the hot blush still covering his cheeks. “You’re not as plain and regular as you seem to think,” he said, voice wavering slightly. “Neither in appearance nor character.”
Phoenix stared at him. “Are you… are you flirting with me?”
Edgeworth huffed out a breath, lips turning slightly upwards.
”As always, you have a tendency for oversimplification,” he said. ”But yes, essentially. Have been for the past three or so years. You’ve always been a bit slow on the uptake.”
Phoenix let his mouth drop open as his mind reeled, trying to process the fact that not only did Edgeworth seem to have no problem with Phoenix’s romantic feelings, they also might have been reciprocated. For three years.
”Since when?” he asked. He felt like he needed the specifics on this one.
”Since you took up my defense,” Edgeworth said averting his eyes. ”Possibly before.”
"But―" Phoenix gaped. "But you left!"
Edgeworth winced, reaching for his forgotten glass and taking a long draught of wine. "Yes," he said. "I did. It was all too much, back then, and I simply… couldn't handle it. I'm not proud, but there was nothing I could do."
"Why?" Phoenix asked, his voice but a breath. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Edgeworth looked affronted. "Well, why didn't you tell me?" He countered. "Not that it probably would've changed anything, I was… in a pretty bad state," he muttered grudgingly.
"I thought you hated me!" Phoenix cried out. "Or just barely tolerated me! Of course I couldn't tell you!"
Edgeworth stared. "I― well." He paused, looking sheepish. It was actually rather endearing. "I guess I might have given off that impression, yes."
"You guess?" Phoenix asked, a smile returning to his lips. "It was only after you went and took an actual private jet from Europe to LA just to see me that I realized you actually cared about me a whole lot."
Edgeworth bristled. "I thought you were dying!" He snapped. "From what that absolute nitwit Larry Butz told me, I thought your absurdity had finally taken you too far. That was the worst flight of my life!"
Phoenix couldn't help it― he burst out laughing, actually laughing, hysterically, completely unable to stop it. Edgeworth's insulted expression only made it worse, and he had to stifle his mouth with his hand, leaning against the other man for support as he shook with laughter.
"I cannot believe you," Edgeworth said, only further worsening his fit. "You are absolutely unbelievable."
"Sorry," Phoenix wheezed, in between giggles. "I'm really― really sorry."
He let his head roll onto Edgeworth's shoulder, breathing heavily. The man tensed momentarily, but then relaxed, shifting closer so that the position was more comfortable.
"Are you quite done?" Edgeworth asked.
"Yeah, yeah…" Phoenix grinned. "I just can't believe you love me."
Edgeworth made a soft sound in his throat. "Does it really surprise you?" He asked, echoing Phoenix's own question from before. As he spoke, his voice mellowed to a soothing murmur. "I read every last letter you ever sent, sometimes so many times that the ink became unreadable. I left my life and my fate in your hands, and without you I wouldn't even be alive. I have risked my career for you and, if you were to ask me to do it again, I would do so in a heartbeat."
Phoenix rose up slightly, turning to face Edgeworth properly. He found the man looking at him, completely red in the face and nothing but honesty in his eyes. Phoenix's lips started to stretch into a disbelieving smile, as if on their own. This was definitely not how he'd expected the night to go, when he'd found Edgeworth on his door step, but he wasn’t about to complain.
"Hey," he whispered.
Edgeworth burrowed his brows. "What on Earth are you whispering for?" He asked, clearly perplexed.
Phoenix grinned some more, taking a hold of the backrest to bring himself higher, closer to Edgeworth's face.
"I'm going to―" He leaned forward still. Edgeworth's eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen. "Just―" Their breaths mingled, warm puffs of air on both their faces. Edgeworth released a tiny sigh and closed his eyes.
And then their lips met.
Phoenix followed Miles' example and let his eyelids fall shut, leaving him with only the physical sensation of the kiss. Their first kiss.
Suddenly, Phoenix felt like he was going to burst. He groaned, pushing forward more forcefully, bringing the hand he wasn't using to support himself to grab a hold of the back of Miles' head, fingers tangling in the hair and tilting his face where he wanted it. Miles, for his part, answered in kind, twisting his hands into the front of Phoenix's shirt, pulling him in even closer.
It was incredibly intoxicating, the warmth of Miles' body against him, the desperation of the moment, the taste of his mouth. Phoenix licked into him, kissing his lips again and again and again until his jaw started to ache, and he felt almost dizzy from the lack of oxygen. At some point he rose from his seat, climbing onto Miles' lap so they were pressed front to front, kissing like there was no tomorrow.
God, Phoenix thought, why did we never do this before?
Miles moaned into his mouth, shifting his position ever so slightly. The movement send a jolt of pleasure up Phoenix's spine and he gasped, unthinkingly grinding his hips down to seek that same friction once more. Miles threw his head back and groaned, the sound so unlike anything he'd ever heard from the man's mouth.
Phoenix wanted more. He needed more. He continued moving his hips, feeling even through the layers of clothing the unmistakable hardness of Miles' growing erection against his own. He leaned forward, mouthing at Miles' neck, biting into his delicate white skin until he was gasping.
Glorious.
"W-wright," Miles stuttered then, weakly placing his hands on Phoenix's chest. "Stop."
Phoenix lifted his brows, gently stilling his movements. "Why?" He asked, placing one last kiss on Miles' jaw line.
"Because," Miles replied, trying to catch his breath, "we are on your living room couch and your eight-year-old daughter is sleeping just a door away."
His face was red, his hair in disarray, and his breathing hard―and he still managed to look utterly displeased in Phoenix's behavior, like he hadn't just been making out with him like there was no tomorrow. Phoenix's heart felt full and warm, and he really hoped he wouldn't start freaking crying now, because that would be awkward.
"Alright," he replied, voice so raspy and breathy that anyone would've been able to tell what he had been doing even without seeing him. "You make a solid argument."
Regretfully, he started climbing out of Miles' lap. The man underneath seemed to sag even further against the couch, a twinge of regret in his expression. Phoenix clambered onto his feet, feeling rather weak at the knees.
"So," he asked, brushing down the wrinkles in his shirt while mentally willing away his hard-on. Unsuccessfully. "What now?"
A short glance at the clock told him it was way past midnight. If he wanted to pretend that he was going to sleep, he should be getting to bed around now, just so that he would be able to wake up around the same time as Trucy did.
Miles cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose it would be a good idea for me to stay the night.”
Phoenix snorted. It wasn’t a question, but he still felt inclined to answer. “Not if you want to leave here a virtuous man.”
Miles responded to his smirk with an unimpressed look, though it was slightly tampered with how utterly ravished he looked; face flushed, lips swollen, pupils still dilated. Want churned low in Phoenix’ stomach and he had to make a conscious decision to look away, lest it get the better of him.
“You are hardly a threat to my chastity any more than the things I’ve already done,” Miles muttered, rising to his feet and patting down his clothes equally as unsuccessfully as Phoenix had.
“Oh?” Phoenix inquired, his curiosity perking at the words. “I may have to ask you about those experiences later, then. Perhaps you’ll even grant me a demonstration.”
His tone was teasing, a grin plastered on his face, but in all honesty, he was only half joking.
“Perhaps I shall,” Miles said. For all that it was stated sardonically, a faint sense of promise lingered on the words. “But for now, I must bid you good night.”
“Right then, I’ll show you off to the door.” Phoenix lead him the short distance around the couch, picking up and handing Miles his suitcase from where he’d left it leaning against the wall. Their fingers brushed against each other and for half a second, he caught the man’s eyes. They were scorching. His throat suddenly felt dry.
Words tumbled out of his mouth, his thoughts muddled by that look. “Will you come by tomorrow?”
Edgeworth frowned. “Although it is weekend, I’m afraid my work will most likely keep me occupied late into the evening,” he said, shifting the suitcase in his hands as he reached for the handle of the wheeled one, parked likewise by the wall.
“Oh,” said Phoenix, unable to help the way his face fell. “Well, I don’t want you to—”
“However,” Miles rushed to cut him off, “the day after that I have no pressing matters to attend to.”
He let the silence hang as he seemed to search for the words to continue. A smile, that felt far too gleeful, far too young for Phoenix’s lips, began tugging at the corners.
“So…?” He goaded.
“So, I was wondering if… if you and your daughter would, ah, like to join me for dinner,” Miles stammered, his pale complexion once again betraying him with a hearty flush. Phoenix silently thanked whatever gods may be for the gift of witnessing the man in such a state. “And perhaps, if you’d like, after that we could go to my place and… review some details.”
Phoenix raised his eyebrows. “That’s what you’re calling it?” He asked, smirking. Then, as Miles glowered, he replied more seriously. “I’d love to. We’d love to. I’ve been telling Trucy all kinds of stories and I should probably be embarrassed with the number of times you’ve come up in our conversations, but… well, the point is, she’s dying to meet you.”
Miles’ answering smile was small but warm, a hint of timid eagerness in his expression. “I would love to meet her too, of course.”
Phoenix beamed, a gentle silence enfolding them as they stared at each other a while longer. It was inevitably broken by Miles averting his eyes, the wheels of his suitcase rattling as he pulled towards the door. “I… I really should go, or we’ll end up standing here the whole night.”
“Now would that be so bad?” Phoenix joked, even as he gave way for Miles to open the door. “Wait, Miles—” On a whim, he reached to drag the man down by his lapels, into a kiss that was more akin to a faint caress, especially compared to their previous passion. As they separated, he grinned. “Good night, Mr. Edgeworth.”
Miles smiled. “Good night, Wright.”
And with that he departed, closing the door silently not to disturb the slumbering apartment building around him. Phoenix stood still in the hallway, listening to the faint ping of the elevator and finally the muffled clang of the front door. Then he closed his eyes and sighed.
What a night, he thought, as he couldn’t help his grin from spreading further. Eyes half closed he made his way back to the living area, collecting the glasses and the bottle that still had some wine in it, dumping them by the kitchen sink. He would deal with them tomorrow. He sauntered into the bathroom, brushing his teeth as if on autopilot, now for a vastly different reason than at the beginning of his evening. As he entered his bedroom and tossed his shirt off, he couldn’t help but feel content, perhaps for the first time in months.
He climbed into his bed, his heart full and head blissfully empty of worries. They would return, come morning, when he would have to face his realities and pick up the job-search he had forgone for the night. But then again, he would likely also go to the park with Trucy, watch her play and mingle with the other children while chatting with the neighborhood moms. Perhaps they would get a snack from the park café on their way home. His life irreversibly changed, there was no denying that. But perhaps different would not be so bad, after all. Not with someone on his side.
He smiled. And with a smile on his lips and thoughts of an easily flustered prosecutor on his mind, he drifted to sleep.