Work Text:
December 20th 3:53am
Airport
It was three days ago almost exactly when Phoenix Wright got a call from Miles Edgeworth asking to pick him up from the airport. This was the first he heard of Edgeworth being in town for the holidays, but he shrugged that much off. Edgeworth, you know. Not like Phoenix planned to entertain him anyways. “Sure,” he had said over the phone. He let Trucy know what was happening, assured her he’d be back before she even woke up, and reminded her that if god forbid something suspicious did wake her to not open the door for anybody but him. She’s a sharp kid, she's got that.
Edgeworth weaves his way through the crowd. He’s easy for Phoenix to pick out: big red blotch in a long pea coat that swishes dramatically with every strut. He raises a hand so Edgeworth can see him. Once he catches up, Phoenix gives him a smile and starts walking. “Baggage claim?” he prompts, noting Edgeworth’s lack of luggage.
“That won’t be necessary,” Edgeworth responds. “I only have a small personal item.”
Alright, whatever. He changes course and starts walking to the exit instead. “I’d say I’m parked on G, but you know I don’t really drive.”
Edgeworth looks away. “Yes, I’m aware. I apologize if meeting me has caused any imposition.”
Phoenix could only shrug. His unspoken question of Why ask a guy without a car to pick you up? went similarly unanswered. “You know I never mind seeing you. Plus, it’s not like I’m all that busy since…”
“Since your leave of absence,” Edgeworth finishes.
“Yeah, that.” Phoenix nods without look back. It’s a thing Edgeworth does. Says that Phoenix is just “on sabbatical” or “shirking duty” or however he puts it. Phoenix knows better than to correct him. “Man, I used to be so crunched for time just…constantly, you know?”
“Hm, yes.”
“Uh huh.”
Edgeworth isn’t picking up on any throws at making conversation. Not that Phoenix really expected him to. “Yup,” he says again, more to himself this time, and they continue walking in silence.
They make it through the screaming winter crowds and angry staff.
Out the giant automatic sliding doors.
Down to the garage that they’ll need to walk through the long way, since neither of them even stopped at the elevator.
In silence.
Until Edgeworth coughs to clear his throat and says, “Here’s fine.”
Phoenix furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”
“I just wanted to get out of the crowds first, if possible,” Edgeworth replies.
“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense,” Phoenix says, despite not knowing what Edgeworth’s getting at, at all.
Edgeworth reaches into his pea coat and pulls out a small box tied with a ribbon. “Here you are,” he says simply.
Phoenix is caught off guard by his own embarrassment. “I didn’t bring you anything.” God, he should have, but he didn’t think Edgeworth celebrated Christmas – well, no, he knows he doesn’t. Then again, he’s home for the holidays, so maybe Phoenix really should have taken into consideration that this year he is.
Edgeworth seems annoyed. Oh shit, he really was expecting a present? Well how on Earth was Phoenix supposed to know that? He can’t read minds – “Just take it,” Edgeworth says, holding his arm.
“Alright. You want me to open it now?”
“I don’t have a preference, Wright,” he says, as if that question is making him even more annoyed.
Phoenix does his best to shrug it off. It’s not like Edgeworth isn’t annoyed with everyone everywhere all the time permanently. To dwell on it would be meaningless. And so, he pulls at the end of blue, translucent ribbon, undoing the bow, and takes the lid off the little box. In it, he finds with a sudden laugh, is a gift card. A gift card in a folded cardstock holder on a bed of cotton foam more suited for delicate jewelry. Phoenix takes the card out of the box and opens it at the fold. Regards, Edgeworth, is all that’s written at the top. At the bottom is the plastic thing itself with the store name and value written: $500 to Whole Foods.
Phoenix couldn’t help the chuckle that came out of him. $500 for household items – for groceries. If it were someone else who gave this to him as a Christmas gift, he’d see it as a veiled insult, something that blatantly points out how far he’s fallen but with the level of generosity and faux sympathy attached that Phoenix can’t say anything to it without drawing more attention to exactly what he doesn’t want to talk about.
If it were someone else. But not from Edgeworth. If Edgeworth wanted to insult him, he’d just do it. He never minces words when calling someone a pathetic idiot. Looking down at the card in his hands, it dawns on him how absurd it is that he finds that refreshing. He’s really reached a place in life where he can describe Miles Edgeworth’s unique way of communicating as straightforward and genuine.
Maybe the card did its job regardless of Edgeworth’s intentions.
Phoenix looks back up at Edgeworth, who’s watching at him receive the gift with palpable nerves. “Couldn’t think of anything, so you just went with cash, huh?” he jokes to break the tension. Edgeworth looks away and rumples his suit more. “Relax,” Phoenix smiles at him. “I love it, ok? I’m just joking. I love it.” Edgeworth dares to look back up, scowling defensively now. “Thank you, Edgeworth.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
And now it’s silent again. Phoenix watches as Edgeworth unhooks his hand from where it’s always glued to his elbow and straightens out his whole body. A twitchy energy is going through him. Phoenix can relate. He can tell that there’s supposed to be something happening right now. If it were Maya in front of him, he’d sweep her up into a hug and tell her merry Christmas. He’d let her bury her face in his chest and wait til she can give him a bright smile again. Solemnness with Maya is always impermanent. Edgeworth reaches out towards him. Phoenix wonders if he should go for a hug after all. Or maybe a handshake. Yeah, that’s more Edgeworth’s style – a handshake that lasts a second too long, and then he’ll look back up at Phoenix like he expects him to be offended by the touch.
It’s with these thoughts that, despite watching his every move as they were happening, Phoenix still straightens with surprise when fingertips graze his cheek. Edgeworth’s hand more hovers over than holds his face, for just the barest existence of a moment, and then it drops to his shoulder. There’s a mortified-disgust on Edgeworth’s face. And then it twists into something else. Something Phoenix is trying so hard to read but, despite how good he’s gotten at reading faces, he just can’t.
“Things will get better, Wright,” he says with all the conviction Phoenix used when throwing bullshit accusations and seeing what would stick.
Phoenix chuckles a bit out his nose and pats the hand on his shoulder once with his own. “I know.”
Edgeworth looks unsatisfied with that, though. “It will,” he insists, still not removing his hand.
Phoenix just raises one eyebrow and gives him a lopsided smile. “And I said I know.” Edgeworth seems to have no intention of letting go of him, however. He just continues to look at him. God, what does he want from him? “I’ve pulled enough miracles in my lifetime, don’t you think, Edgeworth?” he finally says.
Edgeworth responds to that honesty. First, he looks struck, the way he usually does, yet the hand on Phoenix’s shoulder doesn’t shrink away but instead tightens. Phoenix cringes as Edgeworth holds onto his shoulder the way he does his own arm. That darkened look of mortified-disgusted regracing his features before it all falls away and shifts into a glare of resolve. His hoodie bunches where Edgeworth pulls it, and uncharacteristically, Edgeworth refuses to lose Phoenix’s gaze. “Then I’ll do it,” he says.
The hand falls off his shoulder, and Edgeworth’s coat swishes dramatically as he turns around to walk away from Phoenix, back into the last set of sliding doors, back into the airport.
It honestly takes Phoenix a second to process such a stupid exit.
He catches up with the guy quickly enough and manages to grab his arm. “Where are you going?” he asks, incredulously.
“Back to security,” Edgeworth says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and Phoenix is a dumbass for asking. Phoenix just throws a hand up in exasperation, the other one still holding Edgeworth’s forearm in a role reversal even he finds ridiculously sudden. Edgeworth just sighs and holds the bridge of his nose, shoving his glasses up with the motion. “I have a roundtrip ticket. That’s twenty-two hours total travel time, and I would be loath to extend that time away from the office any further.”
Phoenix looks at him in disbelief. “Wh- that’s it? You’re saying you flew all the way here just to- to give me a gift card at four in the morning, and then leave?”
Edgeworth looks unsure of what to say. “That’s correct,” he settles on.
And for the third time this morning, Phoenix laughs. Because what else is supposed to do? He lets go of Edgeworth’s arm and laughs right in his face. Because, really, really, what else? “Ok,” he says, “Well, Merry Christmas, Edgeworth.”
Edgeworth scowls at the well-wish but nods nonetheless. “And a Happy New Year, Wright.”
And Phoenix watches him walk off. Back into the December crowds and the angry staff and bustling of luggage. Back to Germany. Back to his work, to a world Phoenix once threw his every hope into becoming a part of. Little red blob in a swishing blue cape.
Well, Phoenix thinks, it was worth waking up at 3 and dealing with his bullshit for $500. As if he hadn’t shown up planning to do it for free.
As if he wouldn’t do far more for just a glimpse of him.