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Three times running, Phoenix Wright gives Miles Edgeworth socks for Christmas.
The first time probably doesn’t really count. Phoenix is leaving Global Studios after the Powers case wraps up, returning all the evidence he’d picked up along the way to a Not Guilty verdict. At Will Powers’ trailer, Phoenix swaps all the various keys and unwashed crockery in his pockets for two bulging bags of complimentary Steel Samurai merch and a copy of the promissory note for legal fees sent off to studio billing. He and Maya are gonna be living the double patty burger life for a couple of months at least; Phoenix is even whistling a little tunelessly as he walks back down the path toward the front entrance.
When he rounds the corner and sees Edgeworth, Phoenix’s first instinct is to turn right back around. He can hide out in Will’s dressing room for a bit; Maya isn’t going to get back for a few hours. Then he straightens his shoulders and stays put. He isn’t the one with the problem, after all. So what if Edgeworth doesn’t want to see his face anymore? He could just… not look.
And Edgeworth doesn’t look. He’s busy directing techs to remove the section of fencing where Jack Hammer’s body had been impaled. He lectures the forensics technicians on how much of the surrounding plantlife needed to be removed. He grabs a wayward beatcop by the back of his collar, yanking him aside before he could leave an errant footprint in newly upturned soil. Edgeworth is in a dozen different places all at once and Phoenix has that same old feeling well up as he watches, a fountain spray of affection and admiration. Overhead, the ominous gray clouds make good on their threat. Idly, Phoenix takes out the Steel Samurai umbrella from one of his bags and watches the tents popping up hastily, white lettered LAPD umbrellas opening like somber black flowers.
Edgeworth takes the umbrella Gumshoe offers him impatiently, then looks up to see Phoenix. Gaze locked, Edgeworth takes an unthinking step to the left- right into the newly dug hole where the geraniums used to be. He looks down at his pant leg, now up to the ankle in nearly black mud.
Phoenix can see the whole thing playing out - the why are you here to the begone at the end, so he decides to cut to the chase. He starts walking again, but he pauses just long enough to toss Edgeworth something from the bag. Edgeworth catches it, almost automatically. The scene carries on behind him, chaotic and full of splashing.
“What is this supposed to be?” Edgeworth asks coldly, cradling the pair of thick dry Steel Samurai print socks.
Phoenix shrugs. “Early Christmas present.”
~~
Edgeworth leaves the post acquittal burger bonanza after quietly paying the bill when nobody’s looking. He also turns off his phone and takes a leave of absence from work. He probably needs space, time to decompress. Phoenix holds out for all of two days, then wheedles the address out of Gumshoe in exchange for a bag of Kurainese rice that Maya’s relatives sent down for New Years.
Phoenix figures he needs some kind of excuse to turn up uninvited, especially since the wire transfer went through already and a number with way too many zeroes at the end is still processing down at the bank branch. Probably Edgeworth thinks of them as a completed transaction, like getting his brain attic cleared of childhood trauma clutter was just a thing Phoenix had on his to-do list before year’s end. Phoenix needs to know he’s okay, needs Edgeworth to know that Phoenix still gives a fuck outside of the courthouse and the detention center. Gifts are as good a reason as any to turn up unannounced. He’d bring more rice, but it’s 20 kilos a sack and too icy for him to bike. Phoenix needs something he can take on the bus.
Phoenix is broke till that money hits, and anyway most of the decent stores will be closed till after the holidays. Surely he’s got something laying around the office that will do in a pinch. He digs through the expired packs of rice crackers and dusty loose tea bags until he finds a two-pack of trouser socks stuck in the back of his desk for emergencies. They’re not great socks, he must have got them on sale somewhere and forgotten about them, but they are still new in the pack. He scratches through the price tag till the number is unrecognizable and then puts it in the purple gift bag he’d used for Maya’s birthday and reclaimed right after she opened it. Maybe Edgeworth will be a pal and give it back again too.
It takes a while for Edgeworth to open the door.
“I’m not leaving till I give you your present,” Phoenix says, enunciating each word clearly so that Edgeworth can read his lips from the other side of the peephole. “So you might as well let me in.”
The door does open then.
“What present?” Edgeworth asks suspiciously. He has a steaming mug in one hand and is dressed in clothes that are only called casual wear in catalog photoshoots. He looks warm and cozy and good, and Phoenix wants in.
“Christmas present,” Phoenix says brightly, holding up the bag for emphasis. “Can I come in?”
“Will you go away afterward?”
“Sure thing,” Phoenix agrees. Eventually.
The first thing Edgeworth does is pour Phoenix a cup of something steaming and sweet from a heavy bottomed copper pot sitting on the stove.
“Thanks, you didn’t have to share,” Phoenix said, a little flummoxed. A warm chocolatey smell wafts up from the mug.
“It is only polite.”
“Since when are you polite?”
“I am always polite,” Edgeworth responds icily.
“Not to me - since when are you polite to me?” Phoenix asks, sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar. Edgeworth doesn’t sit, but he does lean ever so slightly against the countertop, which is as relaxed as the guy is likely to get.
“Since I avoided prison.”
Phoenix frowns. “I didn’t do it for that.” He tries the drink and nearly gags. “What is this?” The taste is sweet but the texture is thick and cloying; it clings to his tongue even after he swallows.
“Drinking chocolate. Don’t care for it?”
“It’s like licking a melted chocolate bar off the wrapper when you left it in your pocket too long.” Phoenix sets his mug down with disgust.
“I wouldn’t worry overmuch,” Edgeworth says dryly, picking up Phoenix’s mug and putting it into the sink. “I imagine my cordiality will wear as thin as your welcome, given some time. Do I get my present now?”
Edgeworth doesn’t do much besides raise an eyebrow at the socks and when Phoenix tries to maybe sorta kinda hint that he’d like the bag back, Edgeworth tells him it’s part and parcel, Wright, before folding it up and tucking it into a drawer. Then he makes Phoenix leave anyway. Stingy.
~~
The third time, the choice of socks is deliberate.
After Maya and Pearls are safely back in Khurain, definitely-not-dead Edgeworth texts Phoenix.
I understand that you are still angry with me, but I have something I want to give you. Please stop by my office at your earliest convenience.
Phoenix glares at the screen a while before firing back no u
When Edgeworth finally turns up at the Wright Office, Phoenix is ready for him. The paperwork is filed, the bathroom scrubbed, and an innocuous little present is on the desk between them. Edgeworth isn’t shifty eyed and scowling like he had been the last time they did this little song and dance. His back is straight and he looks right at Phoenix for as long as Phoenix looks back. Phoenix chucks the gift bag at him to make him stop.
“You have something for me, right? Me too. Merry Christmas.”
Edgeworth looks down at the thing in his hands. The wrapping is shoddy, half-on purpose. Edgeworth opens it carefully along the edges, not tearing the brown paper wrapping even a little. He even folds it into a square. It ought to piss Phoenix off worse, that mocking exaggerated care, but instead it stings. The fact that it’s spring seems really besides the point.
The socks this time are shoddy in quality, rough in texture, and the exact perfect length to fall down into your shoe with every step. They are the worst socks money could buy, socks of spite and disappointment. Edgeworth runs a thumb across them like they’re silk brocade, his expression far away.
“Well?” Phoenix demands, arching an eyebrow expectantly.
Edgeworth gives Phoenix an apology, an explanation, and his new address.
~~
Socks are socks. There’s nothing less romantic than a pair of socks, and that was fine back when Edgeworth was still pretending to be allergic to kind gestures and physical contact, but things had been different since the Hawthorne case. And by that, Phoenix meant that Edgeworth had walked into his hospital, worried and wide eyed with four pairs of alpaca wool knit socks in subdued shades of blue and Phoenix had declared his undying love on the spot. Or something like that. The fever, admittedly, had spiked around then, but they’d done enough making out on the couch since to be pretty sure the gist had gotten through. They are together and that means this holiday season Phoenix is morally, financially, and romantically obligated to get Miles Edgeworth anything besides socks.
What do you get a guy who has it all? Edgeworth pre-orders Steel Samurai merch months before release, gets all his clothes custom tailored, and has a standing order for fountain pens that could put a kid through community college.
Phoenix is an absolute wreck leading up to Christmas Eve. He calls every contact on his phone in an attempt to crowdsource. Maya suggests a life sized Steel Samurai, but it seems a little creepy. Plus a nagging feeling says that being both quieter and considerably more buff, Edgeworth might prefer its company in the future. Larry’s ideas would get him arrested for public indecency; Franziska’s is too bloodless. And Pearl’s suggestion is out of the question - Phoenix doesn’t know Edgeworth’s ring size.
It isn’t till he gives Gumshoe a call that inspiration strikes. Listening to the chaos of the Gum-Byrde household - plates smashing, fire alarms blaring, dogs barking-
Bingo.
~~
“That is not socks.” Edgeworth stares at him in a way that is clearly Not Great, Actually. Phoenix is starting to feel pretty stupid with his arms splayed out like this, pointing at the kennel. Inside, the flop eared puppy tilts her head to the side quizzically.
“Merry Christmas!” Phoenix tries again. It has less impact this go around.
Edgeworth sighs. Takes off his glasses. Rubs the bridge of his nose. Puts the glasses back on. Takes them off again.
Phoenix puts his arms down.
“Wright,” Edgeworth says with a thin veneer of calm that is quickly evaporating. “I am a high profile internationally renown prosecutor. I travel frequently and work twelve to twenty-four hour days during particularly demanding cases. The cheek of assigning me the responsibility of another life is not to be borne - aside from the fact that we have been dating two weeks and shared pet parenthood is a step of serious, long term commitment. Pets are living things, not toys given according to whim! What in the world could you have been thinking?!”
“I’m sorry, okay, I get it. I’ll take her back,” Phoenix says miserably.
Edgeworth opens the kennel, scooping the puppy up into his arms. “Don’t be daft,” he says. “I am keeping her - obviously. Her name will be Pess; she’s beautiful and I love her. But you are still an ass.”
“Oh.” Phoenix manages a wobbly smile as Edgeworth surreptitiously lays his cheek briefly against a silky puppy ear.
The smile vanishes when it’s his turn.
“A gift card?!” Phoenix is outraged, body and soul. He waves the card in the air excitedly; Edgeworth and the puppy watch him with amused detachment.
“It spends like cash,” Edgeworth explains patiently.
“I know what a gift card is! It’s our first Christmas together and you got me a gift card?”
“It is a practical gift.”
“Did Franziska put you up to this?” Phoenix accuses suddenly.
“I may have held a consultation,” Edgeworth allows.
“It’s the least romantic gift on the planet- you didn’t even sign it!” Phoenix points at the blank To and From line.
“Is the amount less than optimal? I can add more through the app.”
“It’s very generous and that is not the point- Wait!” Phoenix snatches the bag back up off the table suspiciously. “I know this purple bag!” He gasps, scrunching the bag to his chest and staring at Edgeworth with open horror. “This is the Maya bag!”
“I believe it was gifted to me some time ago; I thought the reincorporation would be sentimental.”
“It says To Maya! Right here!”
“You did give it to me,” Edgeworth points out. “If you could not bring yourself to update the recipient, far be it for me to make such alterations.”
“That was before we were dating! You can’t hold that stuff against me, it’s ancient history!” Phoenix shakes his head in disappointment, laying the bag on the table like evidence for the court.
“What would you have preferred, then?” Edgeworth asks, annoyance clear in his tone.
“I can’t tell you, you have to just- just know! Figure it out! Put in a little work! It’s not like you knew exactly what you wanted from me!”
“Yes, I did.” Edgeworth snaps. “I wanted my socks.”
“Yip,” Pess adds for emphasis.
“You… what?”
“Socks, Wright. I wanted my socks. Socks after my lapse in the Powers case, socks after unearthing the truth about my father, socks of forgiveness after my reintroduction to your life. I had expected socks to match this momentous occasion. I would not even have objected to a festive color, so long as it was in a subdued shade of red or green.”
“You wanted socks,” Phoenix repeats.
Edgeworth pinks slightly, turning away to fuss with Pess and avoid Phoenix’s gaze. “I thought it was our tradition,” he says loftily.
“Oh.” Phoenix sits on the couch abruptly. “You think socks are romantic.”
“I wouldn’t wear socks from just anyone,” Edgeworth replies primly.
“Okay,” Phoenix says, thoroughly lost. For a few minutes there’s silence. He taps the gift card against his knee thoughtfully as a plan slowly takes shape. “Okay okay. This is what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna go out after the Christmas rush and we’re gonna use this-” he holds up the gift card. “And we’re gonna buy socks. For each other.”
Edgeworth looks shockingly pleased, sinking down beside him on the couch.
“Every year,” Phoenix adds daringly. “Forever.”
“An acceptable conclusion,” Edgeworth says, resting his head against Phoenix's shoulder affectionately. “Negotiations complete.”