Work Text:
Phoenix, Miles soon learned, always showered before having sex. This did not preclude him showering afterwards, but the first night they'd stumbled back to Miles's apartment after Phoenix agreed that he would, in fact, enjoy adding sex to their friendship (which they wouldn't want all over the tabloids), nothing could have confused Miles more than the moment Phoenix went from kissing him in a stumbling, stripping stupor to yelling, "Hold it!" at the top of his lungs. Well, at the time it felt like nothing could have confused him more, but honestly the feeling was very similar to some inevitable moment in every single trial where they faced each other down. There was always something to make him boggle -- to make his jaw drop and his eyes go wide as he wondered with every fiber of his being, "What goes through your head, Wright?!" Every single time.
And that was no doubt the face he'd been making as Phoenix stepped back, hand held up in the universal gesture for "Stop right there!", red faced and flushing, cheap blue suit jacket with cheaper black lining dangling off one shoulder. At which point Phoenix had said, "Can I use your shower?" in what seemed like a panic.
Worrisome. And Miles remembered a feeling of inexplicable dread, wondering what on earth made taking a shower so important right then. But humoring Phoenix's whims, even the most unusual and momentarily infuriating, had always turned out for the best, so what could he do? He'd pointed down the hall, said, "Last door on your right," and stared in yet more confusion as Phoenix raced down the hallway shedding polyester and a blessedly cotton shirt.
Then he'd made a pot of tea. Tea was always a good idea for those moments in life when one was at loose ends. It finished brewing just in time for him to pour a cup for himself (lemon, no sugar) and a cup for Phoenix (three sugars and a splash of milk) while his old friend meandered back down the hallway completely naked but for the small towel he was using to dry his head.
Awkward silence. On his own part, anyway.
Phoenix had been perfectly at ease, asking what kind of tea they were drinking and marveling over how he could see the shadow of his hand through the porcelain of the cup -- and of course he could! It was proper china!
After pondering the words for three sips, Miles had finally said it.
"Is it still all right if I kiss you?" And Phoenix had made that wide-eyed, blinking stare that had been giving Miles stomach aches since they'd run into each other again after so many years. "... which is not to say that I'm only interested in sexual interactions with you. I merely want to be sure you--"
And if Phoenix's kisses before had been ferocious, this one was inviting, like a warm blanket and a good book after a long, hard day at work. At least until Miles had a chance to put his tea cup down.
"Edgeworth, do you think I'd be standing naked in your kitchen if I wasn't still hoping to have sex with you tonight?"
"Well, I'd hate to assume I know what you think makes sense, Wright."
Grabbing his old friend by the waist, propping him against the cold granite top of the kitchen counter, Miles smiled his trademarked "I've got you now" smile (because, quite frankly, he had good reason) and ran his fingers--
... through Phoenix's hair.
Well. That explained the shower.
~//~
"No, Wright. I have rules I must insist on honoring."
"I'm not asking you to release classified information about a case! I'm asking you to go to the beach with me! For fun! When we're not working! I know you don't always work. Sometimes you have fun."
What counted as fun for his boyfriend didn't always make sense, but Phoenix wasn't about to let Edgeworth get away with working over Golden Week. He had rules, too, like it was okay to take a vacation sometimes, even though he was sensitive enough not to bring up where Edgeworth got his workaholic tendencies from. There was only one Von Karma's name who got mentioned in Edgeworth's presence without him looking like a weepy marshmallow stuffed into a suit of armor, and she always got called Franziska. Edgeworth had a right to think about the things in his life that didn't involve horrific trauma sometimes. Honestly, Phoenix didn't know if he himself would be able to survive at the Prosecutor's Office, seeing Manfred von Karma's name on old records every day, but Edgeworth... geez, he had enough gall to look that in the face every day and singlehandedly make their prosecutorial system worth a damn. He was brilliant that way. The kind of guy that...
"--ing to claim that's the only legitimate form of recreation, I must... Wright, are you even listening to me?"
He shook off the stupor he got sometimes when Edgeworth got so fired up, his eyes sparkled. "Huh, what?"
"Try to keep your jaw from hanging open in public. You're drooling." Pushing at his salad with his fork, Edgeworth looked over his shoulder, trying to pretend he wasn't biting his lip. "If you're not going to pay attention to anything I'm saying, I might as well go home."
"I'm listening, I'm listening! I just don't get the problem! What rule could you possibly be breaking by coming to the beach with me for Golden Week?" His lover's mouth went hard and scowly. Be still his throbbing... oh, well, he'd best not finish that sentence or he'd start grinning and Edgeworth would actually get pissed.
"You decided on the last place," Edgeworth said, stuffing lettuce in his mouth and chewing with conviction.
Phoenix waited until Edgeworth finished and swallowed, his boyfriend building up a real storm cloud of an expression all the while. Then, and only then, he shook his head with a total lack of comprehension. So the museum date had been his idea. Edgeworth had loved it. Tons of helmets and things. What was there to complain about?
Another hard pout. "It's. My. Turn."
"... Oh. Uh... There are ... turns?"
The two badges for a 5-day Steel Samurai convention Edgeworth placed on the table very clearly said yes. Yes, there were turns.
"Umm, Edgeworth?"
"Is there a problem, Wright?"
These weren't just badges. They were All-Access VIP passes that must've cost some number of thousands of yen that he didn't even want to think about. This was the kind of badge that came with star meet and greets (although, granted, he was technically friends with the Steel Samurai himself, so that was nothing new), fancy dinners with the industry big wigs, priority seating and line jumps for every major event at the convention... All of which he knew because he'd spent the last two weeks listening to Maya raving about some kind of radio call-in scavenger hunt to win a pair of VIP badges just like this, plus an all-expenses-paid-even-room-service booking in the penthouse suite of the--
Edgeworth coughed, pulling the badges back to tuck them inside his jacket. "Well, if there isn't any problem, I've already secured lodging in the local branch of the Gatewater Hotel. I believe we have the Penthouse Suite for the entirety of Golden Week. It may not be a timeshare shack by the beach, but I assume that will measure up to your exacting standards for both 'fun' and accommodations?"
Ho. Ly. Crap. Edgeworth had done the radio call-in thing. Edgeworth had won the radio call in thing. That meant, sometime in the last week, Edgeworth had done that thing at the butterfly exhibit, with finding the DJ in the giant toe costume, and...
Wow. And wow, was he not going to out Edgeworth for all that in the middle of this restaurant. And wow, he was also not going to turn down badges Edgeworth had done all that shit to get, even if he wasn't exactly the world's biggest fan of the Steel Samurai...
It was possible he was dating the world's biggest fan, though.
"Wow," Phoenix murmured. He wasn't sure what else he could say. "I think I might just love you, Edgeworth."
Confusion twisted up his boyfriend's face. "What does that have to do with anything?"
Phoenix grinned back at him. "Well, it looks like I'm going to spend five days at a giant geek party for a stupid kid's show, just because you asked me to."
"Stup--?! The Steel Samurai offers a deep expression of the true meaning of justice! How many times do I have to explain that just because a show features wholesome, family-friendly writing and light-hearted humor in no way means that it deals any less honestly with the philosophical underpinnings of the larger issues of society? You are missing the point."
Yeah, that always set him off.
"Really? You know, I never quite got how the part with the mustard fit in with the--"
"We don't talk about the mustard."
"And then there's the acting, which is just--"
"An amazing display of dramatic timing and expression? How true, Wright. I agree entirely. I think we can consider the matter settled."
How was he supposed to avoid grinning like an idiot at the daggers in Edgeworth's eyes? "Uh-huh," he answered. "So, it matters that much to you that we have to take turns?"
Edgeworth pursed his lips, silently refusing to admit he'd just been looking for an excuse that meant he could unilaterally drag him along to this convention thingy, not that Phoenix would've said no. Not really. Say what he would about the Steel Samurai, it had a catchy theme song, and was a lot more fun to watch than any of the sequels.
Taking complete advantage, he leaned forward over the remains of his t-bone steak with a broad, toothy smile. "So next weekend we're both free, it's my turn."
With a gulp, Edgeworth nodded.
"So I can take you to the beach then?"
This time, it was a sigh with the nod.
"Bathing suit."
"No."
"Trousers rolled up, feet in the water. Sand in your toes."
"Are galoshes an option?"
"No."
"You drive a hard bargain, Wright."
"But the answer is yes."
His boyfriend's eyes narrowed for a fraction second, but when Edgeworth wasn't serious about being serious, he could never hold it. His face broke into a bemused, unpracticed smile just a moment later. "Of course it's yes. Do you take me for a completely pompous ass?"
"Always, Edgeworth."
"No dessert, Wright. We're done here."
He was totally going to wear a speedo, even if Phoenix had to pay the doorman to hide the garment bags with all the magenta suits. This was going to happen.
~//~
There was something up with Nick and Mr. Edgeworth, Maya was sure of it. It wasn't just that the world's best prosecutor had shown up to go over case files as soon as Nick had phoned him to say, "The coast is clear," or that he'd brought a bag full of yummy, yummy food with him when he'd come. Bringing food when you were crashing someone else's office was just polite, right? And maybe Mr. Edgeworth didn't ever back down from a fight when he was in court -- always going for the throat like a true officer of prosecutorial justice, ready to take anything his rival could throw at him!! -- but in real life, he was totally the model of being polite.
To everyone but Nick, who was basically asking for talk-back 24/7, so whatever.
"Okay, so the one full of pink fish is for you, right, Edgeworth?" her so-called boss asked, smirking across the table while he peeked inside one of the bamboo steaming containers Mr. Edgeworth had pulled out of his bag.
The new Head Prosecutor (he so deserved the promotion, since he'd been the best for years) kept right on dishing the crunchiest, freshest-looking, most mouth-watering salad onto three plates, dousing one with vinegar before he dumped the fish on it. "It's called salmon, Wright, and yours is the chicken since you have no appreciation for the finer things in life."
"You mean the pink things in life."
"And it's made with a criminal level of salt, just the way you like it."
No, the reason Maya was sure there was something going on with them was the way Nick's eyes glowed and he kept staring at Mr. Edgeworth with a silly grin while he picked up the other two steaming trays, dumped the one with chicken on his own salad (and covered it with Caesar dressing), then handed off the third to her. He didn't even look away from Mr. Edgeworth when he said, "Here, Maya, this one's for you."
Oooh. Once the food came close, her mouth started watering for realsies. She knew that smell. And when she opened it up, sure enough, it was full of juicy little burger crumbles!
"Thanks, Mr. Edgeworth! You sure know how to treat a lady!"
"I trust you'll be needing this," he answered, handing her a little baggy of shredded cheese. And a roll! Because you couldn't have a burger salad without the bun part!
"Mr. Edgeworth sure thinks of everything," she shot at Nick, leaning over to tease him, "unlike some people I know."
At long last, Nick dropped the grin and the woobly eyes to look at her with his normal, sarcastic Nick face. "Okay, Maya, you've got your burger. Now why don't you go watch TV or something and let the grown ups do their work?"
As if! She had to monitor them super closely to find out what was going on! That was way more interesting than TV anyway. Right now, all the stations were playing re-runs. So she plunked herself down at the head of the table and ate her roll while the cheese got all melty on top of the burger crumbles in her salad.
"Nope! I am a perfectly competent Ace Paralegal in addition to being a Kurain Channeling Master, and I am going to help! So what are we doing, Mr. Edgeworth?"
"She's not helping..." Nick tried to say.
Which was ridiculous. She always helped.
"We're going over all transcripts from Public Record cases prosecuted by Max Payne over his career so I can establish a baseline for his annual review. I have always tried to stay current with my colleagues' cases, but I must admit to being less than fully familiar with his body of work. His style of argument gives me a headache. Unfortunately, now that I am his supervisor, I no longer have that luxury."
"Oooh," Maya giggled, reaching for the top case, "I think I've heard of this guy!" The summary on the cover said he was prosecuting some 12-year-old for willful negligence in this case because the kid's dog had run away, and there was actually a note that he made the defense attorney cry. He sure sounded like a jerk!
This time, Nick tried to whisper while he grabbed a transcript of his own, which he was really bad at because wow was he loud all the time. "Edgeworth, this was supposed to be just you and me..."
"We are working, Wright. This is not a date. And I should think you'd want to be done with this work as soon as possible, to which end your assistant will be of great value." Edgeworth went on talking, and she gobbled up the burger salad while it was still steaming and delicious, watching Nick's face go through varying levels of chagrin until he was all the way to sweatdropping like his face was about to melt off -- and skimming the transcript, too, because she was good at multi-tasking like that. Prosecutor Payne was just as much of a jerk as he sounded like. She hoped Mr. Edgeworth could cut his salary. "Don't even try to persuade me with that face, Wright. You are the one who called me to say your office was free of witnesses. The fact that I was right in my assumption that you would not have dismissed Maya--"
"But Maya already knows about us! You know, that we're... umm..."
He pointed back and forth frantically, then gave Maya the big puppy dog eyes of, "Come on, help me out here." See, this is why she never let him do anything on his own!
"That you're friends?" she very helpfully supplied, rolling her eyes. "Geez, Nick, I think everybody knows you've known each other for freaking ever and you work on all your legal mumbo jumbo behind the scenes even though prosecutors and 'lawyers' aren't supposed to cooperate. Apollo and Athena are pretty smart, you know, and Trucy's definitely figured it out."
Both of them slowed their chewing to stare at her (Edgeworth without speaking, because as previously mentioned, he was polite), their eyes slowly getting wider and wider.
"Wait, Maya..." Nick coughed on some of his lettuce, which is the other reason you don't talk with your mouth full. "Are you telling me you, umm... you know... don't know?"
"Don't know what?"
Nick turned full-on crimson. She hoped he wasn't choking, but he probably wasn't because he wasn't grabbing for his throat. Meanwhile, Mr. Edgeworth got his composure back with only a hint of reflexive blushing on his beautifully chiseled cheekbones and pulled a transcript from the pile, all business as usual.
"Let's focus on our work. I have to be back at the office by the end of my break."
See, this was why she never bothered asking them direct questions. They could and would both be real weenies about answering anything. Or more precisely, not answering.
The oppressive silence continued for, like, five whole minutes while she figured out how to rate Prosecutor Payne's "use of evidentiary support" on a scale of one to ten, since stacking the transcripts in a "win" pile versus a "loss" pile was pretty easy, and Mr. Edgeworth was already organized enough to have them color-coded by year. She was pretty sure when Payne claimed the dog didn't have a collar, and the kid said the dog had just lost it when he ran and--
Well anyway, she didn't like this guy.
And Mr. Edgeworth and Nick were reaching for their second transcripts already?
Right in sync, too, with Nick reaching for the next file in the stack as soon as he saw Mr. Edgeworth reaching for it, but as soon as Mr. Edgeworth gave him the arched-eyebrow glare, Nick knew he was beat. He went right back to studying the transcript he already had.
Oh. Apparently he hadn't actually been done then.
"Nick, why did you--"
"Wright. Can you explain why your name is on this transcript?"
The tinny laughter Nick was making was never a good sign. "Oh, well. You know there was that one time, with Larry and--"
"Don't try to pretend I was unaware of your own debut case. The indignity of being hit in the face with a toupee is the first thing you always talk about when you get drunk in the presence of a man with a bad wig."
Mr. Edgeworth sure knew a lot about how Nick got drunk! But then again, the nicer ties you wore, the more drunk you could get at business parties. She was pretty sure that was a rule. Lawyers probably went to all the same business parties in real life, just like they did on TV. That was always where all the real drama happened!
While Nick smiled (grimaced, really), Mr. Edgeworth held the transcript in front of Mr. Big, Bad, Former Ace Attorney Man's nose. "I had always wondered how a legal neophyte like you managed to get himself attached to a high quality defense attorney like Mia Fey, who was without a doubt more talented than famous. And why she ever would have hired you was perhaps the most confusing part of all. But this explains so much that was previously unclear. You'd met before."
Well, what did you know?! Her big sis was listed as the lawyer right there on the front page! She'd beaten Prosecutor Payne, obviously, because her sis was just that awesome. And the case was...
Maya's eyes went wide, and her fork clattered on the table. "The State versus Phoenix Wright, in the matter of the Murder of Doug Swallow?! Nick, you murdered somebody?!"
"No, Maya, I didn't murder anybody. That was the whole point. I was framed!" But he didn't start sweating any less when Edgeworth flipped open the transcript.
"Wright, why is Dahlia Hawthorne listed in the appearances as the Defendant's girlfriend? Please don't tell me this is the case I think it is."
"I can explain."
"Dahlia Hawthorne? I don't think you can!"
"Look, I admit it, I got fooled good, but come on! Everybody thought--"
Trying to peek over Mr. Edgeworth's shoulder didn't get her a view of much except a page full of people speaking about two words before the court reporter inserted a bunch of notes that said, "Whereupon the Defendant sneezed continuously before continuing testimony." There were a lot of those, but nothing about why Mr. Edgeworth was so upset.
"Who's Dahlia Hawthorne?" she asked.
"N-nobody!" Nick stammered, almost as fast as Mr. Edgeworth spat, "A dangerous, psychopathic murderer who treats her lovers about as well as a praying mantis does. In general, I am opposed to the death penalty as an inhumane and wasteful form of punishment, but the world is a better place now that she's gone. Unless I'm entirely mistaken, you are sitting in the presence of the only man who ever kept company with her, however briefly, and lived to tell the tale. Although I'm sure the fact that you're breathing right now, Wright, has more to do with Mia Fey's competence than your own."
"Woooooow, Nick. You sure know how to pick 'em!"
She couldn't quite hear what Nick was mumbling since he'd buried his face in his hands, but it sounded kind of like, "That wasn't what happened! I mean it kind of was, but not really... oh for crying out loud, I was duped!"
"He has better taste now," Mr. Edgeworth confided in her. He'd put on his reading glasses and was whipping through the transcript at lightning speed, grimacing at every one of the many notes that said, "Whereupon the ethereal sweetness of the Witness filled the courtroom with butterflies and the scent of sunshine."
Wow, gag-worthy!
But more importantly... Nick? Had taste? In girlfriends? Now?!
"I didn't know Nick had started seeing someone!"
"Yes, I'm aware that you were apparently unaware. He should have been more clear."
"I know, right?! So who is it, Mr. Edgeworth? You know her, right? Is she nice?"
"If Phoenix hasn't enlightened you about the status of his personal life, I'm sure it's not my place to do it for him."
"Guys! Can you stop talking about me like I'm not sitting right here?!"
"It's hard to say, Wright." The famous Edgeworth Scowl was in top form today. "Can you explain to me why you ate the evidence in a murder trial?"
No kidding. It was right there on the page. "Whereupon the Defendant had a violent outburst and ran from the courtroom." Inaudible speech. Simultaneous talking, blah blah blah (must've been a big scene), and then finally -- "Whereupon the bailiffs escorted the Defendant back into the courtroom," and the next clear dialogue was that apparently he'd chewed up a necklace so he could swallow it? What a doof!
"He's right, Nick. That's pretty stupid. I don't care how strong your teeth are. That is a downright crappy thing to do to your dentist."
"Not to mention that the necklace had been used to administer poison," Mr. Edgeworth added, taking off his glasses so he could rub his eyes like he was getting a headache.
To be fair to Mr. Edgeworth's headaches, eating poison was pretty dumb, even for Nick.
"I told you! I was duped! I was sure she hadn't done it, so yeah, I ate the necklace, but only so they couldn't take it back to their labs and--"
Mr. Edgeworth's voice came out in a pained, but piercing, murmur. "If you thought she was innocent, why didn't you hand over the necklace so the labs could prove it?"
"Oh. Umm. Well, you see..."
Standing with a jolt, like sitting any longer would just make him scream, Mr. Edgeworth walked around the table to where Nick had stood up in response (and was now slowly backing away). Their eyes locked, the Head Prosecutor grappled her boss in a tight, dramatic hug, crushing Nick's face against his shoulder. It was the perfect Emotional Hug Between Rivals! They happened on TV all the time, but this was her first chance seeing a real one in real life!
"Thank you for not being dead, Wright. I don't know where I'd be if you weren't here." He took a long, deep breath, then stepped back. Nick looked like he was frozen in mid-hug, and his eyes would never stop bulging, and his lips would never stop shaking. At least he was blinking so his eyes wouldn't dry out, but he definitely was in no position to stop Mr. Edgeworth from packing his transcripts back into his briefcase. "Now if you'll excuse me, I don't think I can stand looking at your face right now."
She managed to get his salad to him before he got out the door, but it didn't seem like he could speak any more words than the, "Thank you, Maya," that shuddered out of his throat.
And Nick was just, like, broken. Even after he managed to plop back down in the chair with his chicken getting cold, his eyes looked like he was staring into nothingness. Honestly, what was she supposed to do with him? So she threw a glass of water over his head. That woke him up fast, and sent him running for the towels to pat his precious spikes dry before they could melt, or get gel in his eyes.
"Maya, what was that for?!"
Well, clearly, it'd been for her realizing why it was so obvious there was something in the air between Mr. Edgeworth and Nick. Duh. "Nick. Does your girlfriend know that Mr. Edgeworth is totally in love with you?"
"What?! I don't have a--"
"Uh-huh. Try again."
"Yes, I'm dating someone, but Edgeworth knows-- I mean, the guy I'm dating is--"
Oh, had Nick decided not to tell her because he thought she'd care about that?
Puh-lease. It was like he didn't know Kurain Village was 95% girls or something. Like, half the people she knew were gay or bi, and nobody gave a crap.
"So you have a boyfriend, fine. Does he know Mr. Edgeworth is totally in love with you? Because I feel like if you're going to lead one or the other of them on, you should be upfront about it, you know? Be a man, Nick!"
The chicken-eating chicken lawyer with the chicken-tail spiked hair sighed the unmistakable sigh of someone who was about to fail to explain something to her when it should have been super simple to just say what was going on. She heard that sigh a lot. Nick was really super bad at explaining super simple things, what with how he just didn't say stuff.
Sure enough, he started saying, "Look, Maya," and she could just feel her teeth grinding and her cheeks puffing out, and he started panicking. Right up until he heard the footsteps in the hallway. "Hey! That sounds like Apollo! Guess we'll have to talk later, huh, Maya?"
"Ugggggggggggh!! Nick! You're avoiding the question again!"
"Ahahahahaha!"
Ahahahaha her butt. Well, she'd figure it all out eventually, with or without Nick telling her what in the world was going on.
Jerk.
~//~
"I mean, it's a civil case! Don't they know I'm a criminal lawyer? I don't know anything about arguing a civil suit!" Phoenix was beside himself, and Edgeworth wasn't helping.
There was something infuriating about the way Edgeworth was standing by his shoulder, so calm when he himself, Phoenix Wright, risen from the ashes of infamy and oh so newly repossessed of his defense attorney badge, had no freaking clue whatsoever why this was bothering him so much. His boyfriend smirked that smirk and chuckled that chuckle, both things Phoenix had been faced with enough in court that they caused a Pavlovian fear reaction. Narrowed eyes over now-omnipresent glasses frames just about made Phoenix's heart stop.
Well, there may have been multiple reasons for that.
"Wright, you want to take that case," Edgeworth murmured, soft enough to avoid echoing despite the room seeming to be built to catch every single sound. He tried to walk away then, but the two of them were certainly not leaving things there! They still had a minute, and he still had a problem that was still going to be waiting when he got back to the office. Grabbing his arm, Phoenix kept the asshole from moving even one more step.
"Maybe you missed the part about how I have no idea what to do in a civil case. For crying out loud, I've barely worked anything that isn't a murder! I specialize in whodunits! Nobody dun anything here, which is kind of the point!"
The plaintiffs who'd set up the appointment this afternoon wanted the right to marry legally, which, hey, Phoenix was all in favor of. They seemed like a sweet couple, they wanted to adopt a kid, they wanted reasonable tax rights for forming a family unit, just like so many other people. But he couldn't exactly prove their opponent (the legal status quo) was wrong in this one by telling them who the real murderer was, because there was no murder! Or theft or whatever. He had to prove his clients -- potential clients, he reminded himself -- were right about something just because they were right, and who the hell knew how to do that?!
When he looked back from pouting over his shoulder, Edgeworth still had that smirk on. "I didn't say you knew how to win, Wright. I'd barely say you know how to defend a client in a criminal investigation, which you so proudly call your specialty."
"Hey. I passed the Bar. Twice."
"Hardly a sign in favor of the Bar Exam," his boyfriend answered with an eyeroll. "But the fact is, you didn't turn these clients down outright, which means you want to take the case, no matter how much you doth protest."
Phoenix shook his head, smirking right back. "Do protest. Second person formal."
"It was a Hamlet reference."
"Your verb still didn't agree with your subject. It was wrong. Don't argue with Art Man."
"This is neither the time nor the place for this discussion. Now, let's get on with today's docket, and if you agree to never call yourself 'Art Man' again, I will agree to never again present you with a reason to criticize my subject-verb agreement while I make pointed references to how you're being an idiot and a whining fool."
"Now you sound like Franziska."
"Take the case, Wright. We're done here."
Following Edgeworth far enough to lean over his railing, Phoenix squinted right in his face. His boyfriend's nose flared like he was thinking of pulling back, but he wouldn't do it. That would mean admitting defeat. "I think I get what you're after here," he chuckled.
"What on earth are you talking about?"
"Edgeworth. Do you want to marry me?" Phoenix could almost feel a hum of excitement running through the air, grinning at the slight widening of Edgeworth's eyes and the hint of color in his cheeks as he glanced away only to look back a second later with a ferocious glare. Dead giveaway. Man, he'd always thought about getting married when he'd been a kid (not necessarily to Edgeworth, but just having a family in general), but somewhere between heartbreak and lawyership and then Edgeworth and adopting Trucy and basically having a life and a family without marrying, the idea hadn't crossed his mind in ages.
Who knew Edgeworth could be romantic?! But there he was glaring, like he always did when he got found out or pushed into a corner...
Phoenix grinned even wider. "I knew it. It's okay, you can say yes. I knew there had to be a reason you were so interested in this case!"
"Because it's a matter of rights under the law!" Edgeworth roared.
Now he didn't seem to care about the echoes in the room, and every word came out at full volume. The fury (and probably embarrassment at getting caught!) in Edgeworth's demeanor burned red in the tips of his ears. Unlike some people Phoenix knew, his glasses didn't slip, but they did seem to shine with cutting fire.
A sound came out that Phoenix couldn't identify as a sigh or a snarl. "I can't take a case like that," his lover (fiancé?) clarified, "because as the Head Prosecutor it's a conflict of interest for me to represent a party who are effectively suing the State, but at least if you take the case, with your ridiculous luck you'll have the law changed by next week, making the world a that much fairer place! And why would you ask me to marry you before you take the case? If you're considered to be a concerned party in the litigation, you'll forfeit your right to serve as counsel to the plaintiffs! Please, I know it's hard for you, but try to think before you speak."
Wait. Something wasn't right here. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was definitely some kind of inconsistency in something Edgeworth had just said.
As he opened his mouth, Edgeworth growled, "If you even think about yelling, 'Objection,' so help me, Wright, I will throw you out and bar the doors."
"But I wasn't the one proposing to you! You were the one proposing to me!"
"I never had any intention of proposing to you! You're a terrible housekeeper and an insurance liability! Where did this marriage idea even come from?!"
"Why are you asking me that?" Phoenix tried to answer Edgeworth's stony expression with a cool shrug of disdain, but it sort of came out as a wild flailing of arms, so the best he could do was pretend that was what he'd meant the whole time and try not to froth at the mouth. "This was all your idea, Edgeworth!"
For a blink of an eye, it looked like Edgeworth might vault over the table to throttle him. That particularly scary vein by his right temple had even started sticking out. But, as Phoenix felt his mouth dropping in fear and his brow stitching in confusion, his boyfriend took notice and swallowed back whatever he'd been about to yell. With a sigh, he dropped his face into his hand. "Wright. You are the one who asked me moments ago, and I quote, 'Edgeworth. Do you want to marry me?' You said this unprovoked by any actual statement I made, apparently based on nothing but your own feverish imagination. This was not all my idea."
"But..." Confusion deepened. Phoenix scratched the back of his neck trying to figure it all out. "But I never actually proposed to you. I was just asking if you were saying that you..."
A tiny cough that sounded like it might be hiding a chuckle, and a tinier smirk that Edgeworth was clearly hiding with his hand until he could get his face straight made everything crystal clear.
Phoenix smiled back. "Oh. I get it. Oops."
"Go do your job, counselor, and let me do mine."
"So... but... I mean, later... you wouldn't want to..."
"No, Wright. I never want to file joint tax returns with you."
So they'd probably never get married. And yet, for some reason, Phoenix couldn't wipe the grin off his face. It seemed to be getting bigger every second. Any minute, his smile might eat the planet and then go after the sun for good measure. "All right, Edgeworth. I'll take the case."
"I told you that you would."
Behind him, a cough rang out with yet another echo, not even trying to be quiet. Of course, it looked like the Judge was trying to get his attention. "If you're quite finished with your... ah... domestic dispute, Attorney Wright, Prosecutor Edgeworth, I would like to call the court to order. Defense, are you ready?"
He scrambled back to his bench, where Pearls was gaping at him like she'd never seen a grown man almost accidentally propose marriage to his boyfriend. "The Defense is ready, sir!"
"The Prosecution has been ready for some time, Your Honor," Edgeworth answered, with just a pinch more sarcasm than Phoenix thought was entirely called for.
Just a pinch.
~//~
"Fifteen to one, the blonde gets a conviction before the kid in the cheap suit even figures out how to open the Court Record," Phoenix whispered in his ear. His inexplicable paramour had gotten more bald and gray with age, turning the spikes he prized so much into a half-crown that resembled nothing so much as a bony plate covering the sides and back of his head, but nothing about Phoenix Wright had become more mature. Edgeworth wasn't sure he'd survive the shock if that ever happened, so perhaps it was for the best.
He stole the carton of popcorn out of his partner's hand. "You are no one to criticize others on the cheapness of their suits, Wright, and if I may remind you, we do not bet on the Practicum when we are the ones administering the Bar Exam. It makes us look partial."
"Fine, have it your way! Oooh, the other students are about to find out who's on the jury, who's a witness, and who's the judge!"
Today's two examinees had taken their positions at their respective posts, and the bag of character packets was going around the rest of the applicant pool. Edgeworth still couldn't believe Phoenix had managed to take his passing post-coital comment about how lawyers should understand the courtroom from every position before getting their badges, and turn it into this overblown production. It was even less clear how Phoenix had managed to persuade the Bar Association to institute it eleven years ago, but here they were. About to shepherd another flock of fledgling legal minds through a series of mock trials designed to turn them into lawyers and prosecutors for the next generation. And may whatever force protected these courts preserve them all -- Phoenix Wright had brought popcorn.
Which, Edgeworth had to admit as he ate a piece, was extremely good, and for once neither too buttery nor too salty.
The legal student who'd taken the Judge's chair shifted nervously, reading off his card, "We will now call these proceedings to or--"
"Put on the beard!" Phoenix yelled through the megaphone he'd made out of his copy of Weekly Law Review Digest (if Phoenix had ever read a proper legal journal, he would eat his cravat). The idiot nudged him in the shoulder as the student froze in horror mid-sentence. "What do you say, Edgeworth? You can't be Judgey without the beard."
This was hardly the first time an entire classroom full of impressionable youths had looked to him to save them from the ridiculousness that was Phoenix Wright, but unfortunately no one could save them from the unpredictability of the courtroom. He pitched his voice loud, falling into their usual heckling routine. "Well, Wright, I'd say anyone whose fear of looking ridiculous overwhelms his commitment to his goal isn't cut out to be a lawyer, but who am I to say? Unlike you, I've never been ridiculous."
The boy had the beard settled on his face before you could snap. Everyone in the witness pool pulled on their costumes as well: a trenchcoat and bandage (slapped in the wrong place), a gray wig with red baubles tacked in, a couple baseball caps, a glamorous shawl, and a wild brown wig that would never in a thousand years make the scrawny child who'd donned it look like Will Powers. Never. And all the students -- wigs or not -- started sweating. Good. They were nearly ready to try to be lawyers.
"Ahem," the 'Judge' said in a faux-deep voice. "We will now call these proceedings to order. We are here today for the trial of Will Powers in the matter of the murder of Jack Hammer. Defense, are you--"
Through the makeshift megaphone, Phoenix started tooting the Steel Samurai theme song, which none of these deprived children had any hope of recognizing. He kicked his lover's heel to get him to stop, but he should have known better. The scamp whispered, "Just setting the mood... for great justice!" before going right back to providing a soundtrack.
"Oh, shut up," Edgeworth hissed back, taking another handful of popcorn.
The student in the trenchcoat stammered out the case details on the stand, somehow seeming even less reliable than a certain detective who might never make Captain but couldn't be forced to retire. The next boy's brazen commitment to playing Oldbag, right down to the run-on sentences and the fluttering eyelids when he looked at the 'Prosecutor' was exactly what this crowd needed, however. He could see it in all their eyes.
"Is this what courtrooms are like?" they were wondering.
"Is this what witnesses are like?"
Every one of them trying to keep their professional faces on straight to cover the horrific realization that soon, if they passed their exams this week, whenever they took a case either to prove guilt or innocence, whatever they found in their hearts to believe that would let them soldier through that hell... they would be forced to grapple every day for the rest of their lives with the worst foes an attorney at law could have:
A parade of unreliable, unpredictable, uncooperative, and utterly illogical witnesses.
Some of them were in despair. They might drop out of the Bar Exam by tomorrow. But Phoenix was smiling at the look on their 'Attorney's' face. The poor boy had fixed vacant eyes on the Court Record as if staring hard enough could make the particles of the air separate and clear his vision for what he truly needed to see. His knuckles were white where he gripped his desk, and he was shaking with the effort of drowning out Phoenix's noisemaking and the palpable fear amongst the other examinees so that he could hear the meandering nonsense coming out of their witness's mouth.
Edgeworth smiled himself when the kid snapped up straight, like a string pulling taut.
Phoenix chuckled. "Okay. Five to one."
"No betting."
"--Powers! That man right there!" the Oldbag impersonator prattled, pointing at the Defendant's stand. "And he was heading toward the studio!"
There was a beautiful ring to the boy yelling incoherently as he pointed with all his might, then realizing under all the other students' expectant eyes that if he wanted to say something, he'd have to say it with words. He almost looked like a lawyer taking his next deep breath.
"Objection!"