Work Text:
When the radio alarm on the bedside table clicked on that morning, a bright, clear voice quickly filling the bedroom, Phoenix Wright was already half-awake.
Usually a disturbance, the 8:30 alarm was a comfort today, and as wakefulness came to him fully, Phoenix lazily kicked the blanket down to the end of the bed. The radio voice forecasted the weather. Sunny, warm, clear.
He stretched, catlike, eyes still closed, soaking up the warmth of the sunlight streaming in through the window. Miles must already be up, he knew; the prosecutor was always careful about closing the curtains before they slept. Phoenix was vaguely aware of the sound of the faucet in the bathroom shutting off, and moments later, he felt the mattress dip next to him.
Sure enough, when Phoenix finally opened his eyes, Miles was there, opposite him on the bed, head propped up on one hand and gazing at Phoenix with a look that he thought would have made his knees give out under him had he been standing. He had clearly already gotten up, shaved, brushed his teeth, maybe even had a cup of tea, but he was still in his pajamas.
It was unusual, that Miles would wait to get dressed, and even more unusual that he would return to bed, but today was already going to be an unusual day, wasn’t it?
Phoenix smiled sleepily, an expression that Miles quickly returned, reaching out one of his pale, slender hands to brush lazily through the defense attorney’s hair.
“Good morning,” Miles said, and god was he beautiful. His smile, though small, stretched to his eyes, and Phoenix could see the way the back of his hair stuck up, still unstyled. His glasses rested delicately on his nose, just a bit crooked, and Phoenix couldn’t have helped the way his smile stretched into a wide grin if he had tried.
“Well, good morning, Mr. Prosecutor,” Phoenix returned, stretching an arm out to reach around Miles’ waist and pull him closer. Miles let out a small yelp, surprised, but allowed himself to be moved, pressing his body flush up against Phoenix’s, relaxing into his grip as he was pulled in for a kiss.
It was a short kiss, chaste, almost, only a greeting, but Phoenix felt his heart beat faster all the same.
“You know,” Phoenix said, raising his eyebrows in mock concern. Miles mimicked the expression, his playful grin shifting to something more serious, more focused, and Phoenix absolutely delighted in it. “I don’t think you’re supposed to see me today. It is my wedding day, y’know.”
Miles’ expression immediately transformed into a smirk and an eye-roll, and he placed his hands on Phoenix’s shoulders, pressing him flat against the mattress as he rolled himself on top of the defense attorney, Miles’ hips straddling his. “ Your wedding day?” he said, making no effort to suppress his laugh. God , Phoenix thought he could swim in that sound. “Interesting. I seem to remember having a rather important role in the proceedings, myself.”
“Only you could call our wedding a ‘proceeding’ and still make it hot.” Phoenix’s hands moved to Miles’ hips, ducking under his pajama shirt and pinching lightly at the soft flesh above his hipbones. Miles jumped, but made no effort to move off of him. Instead, he swatted playfully at Phoenix’s hands and leaned down, placing one broad hand on each side of Phoenix’s jaw and pulling him in for another kiss.
This time, the kiss was deeper, longer, and Phoenix savored in the way Miles’ soft lips moved against his own.
“Your hands are freezing,” Miles said, directly into Phoenix’s mouth, pulling away just enough to speak without interrupting the way his tongue was slowly prodding its way up against Phoenix’s. His breath smelled like toothpaste, but no tea yet. He must have not been up long, then.
Phoenix merely hummed in response, sliding his hands further up Miles’ torso from his hips to his chest. Miles shivered against him, sitting all the way up for just long enough to pull his t-shirt over his head before pressing his now-bare chest up against Phoenix once more.
When Miles’ phone began to ring on the bedside table, Phoenix thought he had never felt such disdain for an inanimate object before.
Miles must have thought the same, because when he sat up straight once more, he was glaring at the phone, his courtroom stare, as if it might be able to not only see him but fear him enough to stop ringing.
Unfortunately, the cellphone did not miraculously gain both sentience and the ability to feel fear, so Miles leaned over and grabbed it from the bedside table. He let it ring in his hand for just a moment, seemingly contemplating whether or not to actually answer, before picking up and holding the phone to his ear.
“Edgeworth speaking,” Miles said, professional as ever, as if he didn’t currently have his fiance ( almost-husband , Phoenix thought, giddy) pinned down under his hips. Miles was silent for a moment, listening to the voice on the other end of the line.
“Detective, will you get to the point?” he snapped, apparently interrupting whatever ramble Gumshoe had started on. “As I’m sure you know, I’m rather busy toda…”
Miles stopped speaking again. As common as it was for him to cut Gumshoe off, the reverse was rare, and Phoenix watched, nerves building in his stomach as Miles’ eyes widened just slightly.
“For god’s sake,” Miles removed his free hand from where it had been resting on Phoenix’s chest and dragged it through his hair, pushing his bangs from his face. “Alright, we’re on our way.”
Hanging up the phone, Miles finally, finally , looked back down at Phoenix, his previously warm expression replaced with the steely resignation of a man about to tell Phoenix he had to get dressed for work on his own wedding day. On their wedding day.
Unfortunately, it was a look Phoenix recognized all too well. This was the third time in as many weeks one or both of them had been pulled away the morning of, compelled by some criminal or crisis or otherwise disaster, forced to reschedule what Maya had repeatedly described as “the wedding of the century” for the following weekend.
On the original date, Apollo had woken him up with a frantic phone call at four in the morning, explaining that his apartment had been broken into and the evidence exonerating their client had been stolen, and on top of all that, the burglar had somehow let his cat escape. Phoenix and Apollo had spent all day tracking down the missing evidence and convincing the judge to delay the trial by a day while Trucy and Prosecutor Gavin had searched for the missing Mikeko.
Last weekend, both Trucy and Franziska had somehow come down with the stomach flu at the same time. Phoenix refused to get married without his daughter in attendance, and Miles without his sister, so the two spent their day off calling all their vendors and convincing (read: bribing) them to allow them to postpone another week.
And, of course, as luck would have it, Detective Gumshoe had clearly just called with a fresh new disaster, sure to postpone the festivities another week. Phoenix wondered what it would be this time. Maybe a hyper-local fire at the courthouse had burned up just their marriage license and nothing else. Maybe one of Miles’ prosecutors had spontaneously combusted. Maybe Apollo had fallen into a well.
“There’s a hostage situation at the detention center.”
Well. That wasn’t exactly what Phoenix had expected to hear. He certainly hadn’t expected to hear it coming from Miles’ mouth in the same tone he might have expected to hear him saying it was going to rain today. “And they’re handling it just fine and they don’t need our help at all?”
Miles huffed cynically and began to extricate himself from Phoenix, grabbing his discarded t-shirt from the mattress next to them and tossing it into the laundry basket before removing himself entirely from the bed. “Apparently it’s the witness we arrested yesterday. He’s locked himself in the evidence room with some poor clerk and is demanding to speak with you.”
Of course. Phoenix let his head flop back against the pillow as Miles crossed the bedroom to their closet and began digging for his work suit, formerly banished to the back of the closet in favor of a nicer, newer suit that he should have been wearing this weekend. Phoenix allowed himself just a moment to grieve the day he should have had today before resigning himself to his fate, pulling himself out of the bed and towards the shower.
By the time he had finished showering and dressed in his court suit, Miles had already left their bedroom and was in the kitchen, his deft hands quickly preparing one coffee and one tea in to-go mugs. Trucy followed closely behind him, locating Phoenix’s case files and various documents from where they had been buried throughout the kitchen and tucking them neatly into the backpack he had abandoned in the hallway this past Friday.
Trucy, perfect wonderful angel of a daughter that she was, had apparently already dressed in her clothes for the ceremony before Phoenix had woken up. Her dress was a beautiful deep blue, twirling gracefully around her ankles as she slid around the kitchen in her tights, her maroon-red shoes sitting discarded at the edge of the kitchen. The dress glittered in the sunlight as she looked up at Phoenix and shot him a brief grin.
“Morning, Daddy!” she said, sliding across the tile towards him. Phoenix caught her in his side with a muffled oof and leaned down to kiss her forehead. God, she was getting so tall he barely had to lean down anymore. She squeezed him in a sideways hug before handing him his backpack, already packed and zipped. “Papa told me what happened.”
Phoenix glanced back to Miles, now standing behind one of the kitchen chairs as he furiously tapped away at his phone, eyebrows furrowed. The table in front of him had been set for two, which was already unusual enough, but on the plates themselves, Phoenix saw what could only be a homemade breakfast. Artfully arranged on each plate was a stack of two waffles (blueberry for him, chocolate chip for Miles), an assortment of fruits, and two eggs for each of them. In front of each plate was a large glass of orange juice which, judging by the mountain of orange carcasses on the counter, was freshly squeezed.
Somehow, the thought of letting a homemade breakfast from his daughter go to waste was even more overwhelming than the thought of possibly having to cancel his own wedding ( again ), and Phoenix felt tears begin to prick at the corners of his eyes.
“Truce, honey, I’m so sorry you went through all this work and we won’t even be here to eat it.”
Trucy just silently handed him a napkin, squeezing him tightly once more, smiling back up at him in reassurance as he dabbed roughly at his face.
“We might still have time,” Miles said, barely glancing up from his phone. “If we can get all this sorted by the afternoon, we should still have time to get to the venue before our reservation is forfeit.”
“Alright then,” He took the coffee from Miles’ hands and swung the backpack over his shoulder in one motion. Phoenix grinned at the way Miles frowned at his phone, leaning in to kiss his fiance ( almost-husband , he assured himself) on the cheek. It was still his wedding day, after all.
When the two men arrived at the detention center, the hostage negotiation team quickly pulled Phoenix aside into some small room near the evidence lockup. Miles had been similarly whisked away by several detectives and the junior prosecutor on the case, and by the time they even saw each other again it was nearly 11 am. Even then, Phoenix only had time to squeeze Miles’ hand once, brief and unsatisfying, a silent apology, before he was packed into some bulky protective suit and sent into the evidence lockup. When he emerged from the first round of negotiations, the time on his watch read 12:03 pm, and Phoenix sighed deeply as he slumped against the nearest vertical surface.
Miles found him quickly, that time, pulling him aside before the Sargent in charge of the whole situation could find him first.
“Wait, Phoenix,” Miles caught his wrist and tugged, dragging him into an unoccupied conference space lining one the many indistinguishable hallways in the precinct, and Phoenix turned to face him.
He had removed his suit coat since Phoenix saw him last, and Phoenix couldn’t help but stare at the way his waistcoat, usually mostly covered, accentuated his form. His glasses had slid down his noses, just slightly crooked, and Phoenix couldn’t help but be endeared by the way Miles squinted to focus on his face.
“Hmm?” Phoenix hummed in response, sliding his wrist out of Miles’ grasp to grab at his hand instead. Miles stared at him for a moment longer before dropping his eyes to the ground.
“I, well…” Miles stopped and inhaled deeply, once. “I’m sorry. For all this.”
Phoenix’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“You deserve better than this. And I wish I could give that to you.” Miles loosened his hold on Phoenix, moving to pull his hand away, but Phoenix grabbed tighter, tugging him closer.
“Hey. C’mon, you know I don’t feel that way,” Phoenix reached up to tuck a stray piece of silver hair behind Miles’ ear, and he felt a warmth spread through his chest when Miles leaned into the touch. “You’re all I want, Miles. As long as you’re there with me I don’t care when it happens; it’ll be perfect, yeah?”
Miles looked back at him, and Phoenix watched as a deep pink blush spread across the other man’s face.
“Sap,” he muttered, eyes once more cast down towards the floor.
“Only for you,” Phoenix beamed. Miles chuckled and placed a hand on his chest, shoving him lightly back into the hallway.
By 1 pm, Apollo had arrived with Prosecutor Gavin in tow, hoping that the witness would be willing to speak with a different defense attorney instead, but to no avail. And, while Phoenix appreciated Apollo’s help, his arrival was only a fresh reminder of the day he was missing; he and Prosecutor Gavin had come to the precinct as soon as Trucy had informed them why the ceremony being delayed again, and they were both already dressed in suits more tailored and formal than their day-to-day wear.
Phoenix looked for Miles across the room, surrounded by a huddle of officers. Miles’ eyes found his, and he flashed him a small, sad smile before putting his head back down into the huddle. God, was everyone going to be able to get dressed for his own wedding except for him?
At 4:28 pm, the clerk taken hostage had been successfully and safely removed from the evidence lockup, but it wasn’t until just past 6 that the witness himself was detained again, and Phoenix was finally told he was free to leave. By 6:45, Miles had been able to pass off the responsibilities he had accumulated over the day to other prosecutors, and by 7, the two men were finally back in the parking garage, making their way to Miles’ car. As they he climbed into the passenger seat, Phoenix pulled his phone from his pocket for the first time since that morning.
11:33 am
kurain’s favorite wizard: I Am In Your Walls
kurain’s favorite wizard: ok your daughter let me in ignore that
kurain’s favorite wizard: trucy just updated me, sorry nick :(
1:14 pm
trucy <3: any updates??
trucy <3: polly said hes on his way to help!!
2:37 pm
Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth, Esq.: I’m not sure when you’ll be released again, but I have saved you a bagel if you would like it. I may get dragged into another meeting, but it’s on the desk in Gumshoe’s office.
That, for some reason, was the final straw that actually made Phoenix cry. “I didn’t know you saved me a bagel.”
Miles turned to Phoenix from the driver’s seat, suddenly alarmed at the sight of tears. “Oh, Phoenix, I left it upstairs. I’m so sorry, do you…?”
“No, no!” Phoenix laughed wetly. “Just, thank you. I missed you today.”
Miles smiled, placing a hand on Phoenix’s cheek. “I missed you, too.”
Phoenix closed his eyes for just a moment as he leaned into Miles’s touch, letting the other man swipe a thumb under his eye to brush away the moisture that had accumulated there. He turned his head to plant a kiss on Miles’ palm before grasping Miles’ hand between his own, planting a kiss on each knuckle and watching as the blush on his fiance’s face deepened with each fresh contact. “There’s always next weekend, right?”
“Of course,” Miles nodded. “There is no limit on the amount of time I would wait to marry you, Phoenix Wright.”
Now, it was Phoenix’s turn to blush, and as he leaned to kiss Miles over the center console, the only thing he could think of was how incredibly, miraculously lucky he had gotten.
“Well,” Miles said, pulling away so that his breath still ghosted over Phoenix’s lips. “Shall we go home, then?” Phoenix sighed dramatically, slumping back against the passenger seat, eliciting a light chuckle from the prosecutor beside him.
“God, yes please.”
The ride home was quiet, save for the light drizzle of rain tip-tapping against the windows as Miles drove, and when they arrived home, Trucy was there to greet them at the front door. She pulled them together in a hug, warm and bright and solid. She was still in her dress from this morning, and Phoenix was filled with a confusing mix of equal parts guilt and adoration at the thought of his daughter waiting around all day on the chance that they would be home in time.
In fact, she strangely looked even more dressed up now than she had this morning. Her shoes were on and her hair had been styled, pulled back in some sort of intricate braid under what Phoenix could only think to describe as a more formal version of her usual top hat.
“Hey kiddo,” Phoenix said, swiping the hat off, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “I’m sorry we kept you waiting, should we order some pizza or something?”
“Not sure pizza is really fitting today,” Trucy grinned, somehow just as enthusiastic as she had been this morning. “Plus, you both still need to get dressed!”
Before either of them could even ask what for, Trucy was ushering them out of the foyer and down the hallway. He watched as Miles was nudged into the bedroom before being promptly pushed into the guest room himself, and the door was shut behind him.
Phoenix dropped his backpack unceremoniously on the floor, kicking off his shoes and moving towards the guest bathroom to rinse his face, or perhaps gulp down a good few cold sips of water. Whatever Trucy was up to, he was sure he’d figure out eventually, but for now, all he could think of was getting to finally sit down.
He stopped, however, when he saw a suit hanging on the bathroom door. Phoenix recognized it immediately as his wedding suit: a darker, richer color than the one he has wearing now, paired with a tie that was closer to a deep maroon than the bright pink he usually wore. The waistcoat was a dark navy, almost black, and the shoes Miles had picked out for him to wear with it were sitting on the floor, right underneath the hanging suit.
Maybe Miles had hung it up in here to protect it from wrinkling in the closet? But, no, that wasn’t right. He had seen it just this morning, hanging in the closet in the bedroom, as he dug past it to get at his court suit. Someone must have moved it after he and Miles left for the detention center, but there was no good reason for Trucy to have moved the suit unless…
Oh.
Oh.
Well. It was his wedding day. It only felt appropriate that this was the third time he would cry.
Several minutes later, after putting on the suit and ensuring that the red, puffy state of his face had calmed down a bit, Phoenix emerged from the guest room. Trucy was waiting for him in the hallway, her left arm hooked with Miles’. She offered Phoenix her right arm, and he took it, beaming down at her before looking up over her head at Miles.
God , Miles. The love of his life. The love of his life was standing in their shared hallway, linking arms with his daughter, smiling at him with a bright, genuine, visceral joy he would not have imagined was possible a decade ago. He was here, and he was beautiful, and he loved Phoenix, and he was about to be his husband.
Trucy began to lead them down the hallway towards the dining room. Phoenix could tell the lights had been dimmed, and the flicker of candles became evident before they even entered the room. As they got closer, Phoenix could see that the dining room furniture had been cleared, and an amount of greenery intended for a much larger venue had been packed in instead, lining each wall and surface with bright, colorful flowers.
Maya stood at the far side of the room, centered, standing underneath what looked like a makeshift archway. On either side of her was their loved ones; Franziska, and Pearl, and Kay, and, of course, Trucy, taking her place next to Maya as she left the two grooms under the archway.
Maya began to speak, something sappy and teasing and perfect, Phoenix was sure, but the words didn’t really stick in his brain. He didn’t mind, he thought.
The group began to cheer, and as Miles, his husband , eyes wet, a soft, tender smile on his face, leaned in to kiss him, all Phoenix could see was the rest of their lives together.