Work Text:
The soft, simple scent of spices drifted through the air. It tangled in his hair and slept on his clothing, making itself at home. He smiled at the pepper, cumin, and more, opening the doorways of his senses, softly, as if they were hesitant to be welcomed in. He stood there, taking it all in. It was… beautiful.
“Wright,” the man next to him spoke, shattering his immersed senses. “Remember to stir. They must be evenly-”
Phoenix lazily pushed a finger to his lover’s lips, as if he was paying attention all along. “Miles. I have this.”
“Nngh…” Miles muttered with less dignity than he was used to after the finger slipped off. “Yes, err, Phoenix.” His name was drawn out a little slowly, almost in a defeated way. Phoenix smiled to himself, the dim kitchen light barely illuminating his face. He knew Miles would get used to this, eventually. That formal man, stuck in his haunted past, had a lot of work to do. He could see the progress, though– the transition from biting bitterness to cooking a meal with his boyfriend ( partner , as the man would insist) while Phoenix’s child was sleeping cozily in a large bed off in the side room of Miles’s own rental house. It was incredible, if Phoenix was being honest. That stubborn prosecutor refused to hear any of it, though, stuck in brooding and work most of the time.
“We must catch Gavin in the act, somehow. It’s essential. I refuse to let your talent go to waste— Phoenix.” It had been said like a soft pillow to the face, this time. A shock, a sting, but mostly a gentle comfort. Whatever message Miles hid in those words was lost to the main objective: getting proof of Gavin’s wrongdoings.
So, Miles worked. Phoenix helped on cases, and pointed out new perspectives. All in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. And they came together, again and again, to find the truth. Just like in court, all those years ago.
All of that was over, right now, in the dim kitchen light. So Miles cut up vegetables, while Phoenix stirred.
Miles slid more bits of vegetables from the cutting board into the pot, then started on the sausage. Phoenix stirred, just happy to be in his lover’s presence, whether he was trusted with the task of cutting up food or not. He knew Miles saw him as the fast-food buff that Maya was, living off cheap food and never touching any cooking tools other than a microwave. It was true, to be fair.
“The potatoes…” Miles mumbled, just loud enough for Phoenix to hear. He put the knife down. “It should be good for now. We have to let it simmer.”
“Got it boss!”
Phoenix lazily saluted, his arm falling flat at his side. He put the pot lid on and turned up the heat before following Miles to the couch. Flopping down, he ran a hand through his hair and laid back. He had never in his life felt such a luxury as the cushioned couch he now sat on– it had always been trashed college dorms, squeaky offices, and cheap apartments.
He looked over at Miles, who seemed to be waiting for something. “Come here,” Phoenix offered, reaching a hand out. He could see the light in Miles’s eyes as he did so, though the expression remained seemingly preoccupied. It always did. Still, Miles took his hand. Kissed it, even. It was a small sign, physically, but it lit sparks in Phoenix’s chest. He laid back with Phoenix, tightening his grip on his hand.
The Edgeworth everyone knew was cold, unforgiving. Physical contact was never a thing for him. Not with his adopted family, not with anyone. But the Edgeworth Phoenix knew? Cold, sure. He always kept his apartment’s temperature low, for a reason he had yet to tell him. But the Miles Phoenix knew liked hand-holding. Liked little kisses when they counted. Liked the scent of Phoenix’s aftershave (or, if he was being honest to himself, was it the aftershave or the fact that he had shaved during these times at all?). The Miles Phoenix knew was warm.
They held hands, quiet, the sound of their own breathing the only thing to break the silence.
“Wri- Phoenix, I’m.. grateful to have worked with you for this trip.” Miles avoided eye contact, staring at the floor.
“Me too, Miles.” His voice was shaped with sweetness; his love for the people around him had always seemed to leak into his voice and thoughts. “I can tell we’re getting there. I just need to find a way to get even closer to Kristoph.”
Miles turned back, making eye contact this time. “Why must you always put yourself on the frontline? I– We could work on this behind the scenes, stay in Europe, and get him arrested with a little evidence. We know he did it. We simply need to figure out how to prove it.”
Phoenix felt himself deflate a little. “I know I can do this, Miles. If I get closer to Gavin, I can get him to admit something. Do you trust me?”
“You know I do, Wright.” He turned away. “I simply…” Phoenix waited for the few seconds it took. “I’d rather not have something happen to you or Trucy.”
Phoenix softened again. “You know I’m careful about Trucy.”
“You are not careful about yourself. That is the problem. You know very well I care. I do not want…” There was another pause. “I do not want to almost lose you again.”
They sat in silence for another uncomfortable minute. Finally, Phoenix turned and hugged Miles. Surprised, Miles took a second to react, but soon enough, he returned the hug. “I promise. I won’t put myself in too much danger,” Phoenix mumbled.
Miles went quiet. “If you say such,” he responded, much more quietly than before. He pulled away, lacing his fingers back with Phoenix’s and tightening his grip. “It must be time for potatoes by now…”
Phoenix laughed and pulled Miles up. “Let’s go, then.”
Soon enough, Miles had poured bowls of hot soup for the both of them. The warmth of the food opened Phoenix’s pores, letting the steam in and heating his body up. The smell of salt, sausage, and vegetables were like nothing he had experienced before. Something new, something deliciously beautiful.
He turned to Miles. “I love you.”
“As I do you.”
Phoenix threw him a grin. “Come on, say it.”
Miles swallowed nervously before turning to Phoenix. “I love you too, Phoenix.”
Phoenix leaned forward, and they kissed, light but meaningfully. They smiled at each other. There was just something about him…
And they began to eat.