Chapter Text
“Miles,” Phoenix says, his voice scratchy over the phone. Miles can’t tell if it’s the connection or how Phoenix actually sounds. It could be either. Miles hasn’t heard from Phoenix since the trial, despite how many times he’s tried to call.
Maya hasn’t been able to get through either.
Really, it’s the use of his first name that tears Miles out of the shock of seeing Phoenix’s contact name light up his phone.
“Miles,” Phoenix repeats, “I need your help.”
Less than twenty-four hours later, Miles is standing in Phoenix Wright’s apartment, surrounded by boxes. When he let Miles in, he had muttered something about not being able to afford the rent for both his apartment and the office, and he wasn’t letting go of the office yet.
Miles isn’t going to comment on that.
What he is going to comment on is the current predicament that Phoenix finds himself in. Specifically, with the eight-year-old currently asleep in Phoenix’s bed, clutching a magician’s cape like a blanket.
Miles closes his eyes. It’s late, and it was a long flight. But they need to have this conversation now. Before it gets even more out of hand.
“This is—she’s not a pet, Wright. She’s a child; you can’t just keep her because you’ve gotten attached!” Miles struggles to keep his voice low. He doesn’t want to wake Trucy, but does Phoenix have any idea what he’s doing? What he’s suggesting?
Phoenix tugs at his hair, messy black strands tight between his fingers. He’s going to start pulling his hair out at this rate. “I know! I know. I couldn’t help her before, but I want to help her now.”
Miles rubs the bridge of his nose.
Of all the times for Phoenix’s savior complex to butt its head against reality.
“You can’t make impulsive choices when it comes to children,” he says sternly.
“Hey.” Phoenix grabs Miles’ hand and pulls him onto the couch between a stack of towels and a basket of clothes. “The idea might have been impulsive, but I swear I’m thinking all this through. I’m taking this deadly serious, and that’s not a joke. That’s why you’re here.”
The look Miles gives Phoenix is part concerned and part slightly terrified. Maybe more than slightly.
Phoenix takes a careful breath. The build-up is the worst part; Phoenix just wants to rip it off like a bandage. But not yet—he has to explain himself more before Miles can outright reject him. Miles has to understand.
“Miles,” Phoenix says softly, “Zak isn’t coming back. And I just… With the foster system being what it is, and how everything with Pearl went down, and you—“ He realizes he’s gripping Miles’ hand like a lifeline and lets go.
Miles sighs. There’s a strange feeling at the bottom of his stomach, like things are about to take a turn, like they’re in court and Phoenix is about to flip the entire case on its head. “What is this grand plan of yours?”
Right, Phoenix thinks. This will be the hard part.
Phoenix squares his shoulders and sits up a little straighter. “They’re never going to let me adopt Trucy right now.” Miles’ eyebrows furrow. “I have no job—I’m working on it, I swear—I have a tiny one bedroom apartment that I’m about to break the lease on, I don’t have a great financial record, and I just…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I just had a huge work scandal that’ll probably ruin whatever background checks anyone does on me for the rest of time. Not to mention, it involved Trucy’s father.”
Miles opens his mouth, and Phoenix rushes to finish.
“That wouldn’t matter if Trucy weren’t in the picture, but she is and I’ve made up my mind—if you’re willing to help me. And it’s kind of a big ask.”
“Wright. Phoenix—“
Phoenix swallows hard and stands from the couch, Miles following his every move with hawk eyes. Hawk eyes that turn to saucers as Phoenix gets down on one knee.
“Miles Edgeworth,” Phoenix says as Miles turns an almost frightening shade of white, “will you marry me?”
Fifteen minutes later, Phoenix is leaning against the kitchen counter as Miles puts the kettle on. If he’s being honest, he didn’t think he would get this far.
Phoenix technically doesn’t have a yes, but he also doesn’t have a no.
Miles rubs his temples. There’s a tightness in his chest that won’t go away, and he knows exactly what it is. So instead, he focuses on the logistics. “Won’t it be suspicious? The timing of it all?”
“I’ve thought this through—“
“Have you?”
“Yes, which you would know if you shut up for one second and listened.”
Phoenix has it all written down on a piece of paper. That he left in his bedroom. But he doesn’t want to disturb Trucy and he probably looks more confident if he isn’t reading off hastily scribbled notes from two in the morning.
Miles gives him a withering look.
“We’ve been engaged for a while, like a year or so,” Phoenix says, watching Miles’ expression carefully. “A perpetual engagement—no date planned, we just knew we were going to get married at some point. And then…I got disbarred.”
“You got disbarred,” Miles says slowly. Faintly. As if, like Phoenix, he’s still getting used to saying the words.
They taste acrid on Phoenix’s tongue.
The air in the kitchen feels tense, and the kettle whistles. Miles moves it off the burner and pours it into a chipped mug Phoenix found in a cabinet.
“I got disbarred,” Phoenix repeats. Maybe the more he says it, the more okay with it he’ll be. “And we realized it would be the best option for us to get married as soon as possible.”
Miles stares down at the slowly coloring tea. Phoenix only has cheap, off-brand black tea, but it’s better than nothing. Mostly, Miles would do anything at this moment to hold a warm cup in his hands to ground himself.
“As soon as possible,” he murmurs. “Even with me living most of my life in Europe?”
Phoenix shrugs. “Long distance relationship. You come home whenever you can. But financially, I’m in a tight spot. If we’re married, then we get the tax benefits of a married couple. I stop feeling like a charity case and you feel better about my health insurance.”
Miles gives him a sharp look. “Are you doing this for tax benefits?”
“You would focus on that. No, it’s just part of the story of it all. We can still file separately or whatever, I think. Maybe. After it’s done, they probably won’t check. Is that legal?”
“You’re a lawyer, Wright.”
“Not any more. And not a tax lawyer. I feel like we should give them more credit.”
Miles pinches the bridge of his nose. For some reason, Phoenix doesn’t feel like he’s convinced him.
“Alright,” Miles says. “So, let’s say you hypothetically convince them that this isn’t a harebrained scheme to adopt a child, which it is—“
“I’m a very good actor.”
Miles shoots Phoenix a dark look. “If you do this, isn’t this quite a few drastic measures to take at once? Getting married and adopting? In one fell swoop? People wait years and—“
“And we didn’t,” Phoenix interrupts. “That part’s easy. I’ve been caring for Trucy while waiting for Zak and while social services sorted out what to do, and we realized we wanted her to be part of our family.” The word feels strange in Phoenix’s mouth. “We don’t really have to explain more than we fell in love with her.”
“I’ve never met her,” Miles says, exasperated. Which is true. She was already asleep when he arrived.
“You will when you do.”
“I still work in Europe.”
“There are video calls. You say you’ll come home as often as you can.”
“And you still don’t have a job.”
“Trophy husband.”
Miles does not look amused.
Phoenix rolls his eyes. “I have applications out. I’m…working on it.”
Hypothetically. He’s had his resume open on his computer for the past few days, but whenever he tries to revise it, he feels nauseous.
“You could just ask for help, you don’t have to ask for marriage.”
That stings a little. “I’m not just asking for help,” Phoenix snaps. “I don’t need money, I’ll figure that out. I need to adopt Trucy, and do I really look like someone that they’re going to accept as a parent?”
Miles sighs. He knows the answer to that question because he looked into why von Karma was so easily able to adopt him after his father’s murder. The answer was that von Karma was rich, powerful, and had more strings to pull than most people knew existed. For other people, it wasn’t that easy.
For someone unemployed, much harder.
Miles wasn’t even sure if he could imagine Phoenix being approved for adoption before his disbarment. His habit of taking pro bono cases meant a fluctuating income—perfectly fine for a single man who didn’t mind living on cheap noodles if a month was rough, but certainly not acceptable for a social services evaluation for adoption. Even fostering would have been difficult for Phoenix to swing.
And despite Miles knowing what the answer would’ve always been, he can’t believe the next words that come out of his mouth.
“We don’t have rings.”
Phoenix practically glows. “We can buy them before going to the courthouse. I assume you’re going to want something more than I can afford—“
Miles picks up his mug and grips it in his hands. He wishes that tea would burn his skin through the ceramic. “Can you afford any decent jewelry, Wright?”
“—so I’ll just jot down the price as an I.O.U.,” Phoenix barrels on, ignoring him. “I will for anything you pay for. Not that I need much help; I’ll be back on my feet in no time.
His tone is light. Neither of them believes it.
“Where will you say you and Trucy are staying?” Miles asks. He takes a careful sip of his tea. Bitter. “I can’t imagine here, and your office is hardly a suitable living environment for her. Not if they’re going to evaluate it.”
Phoenix rubs the back of his neck. “I…hadn’t figured that one out yet, honestly. I thought we could just show them your house instead of my apartment, sign some court documents that say we’re legally bound, and also convince them we’re a happy couple.”
Miles gives Phoenix a pained look. “I want a prenup.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s fair.”
Miles takes a long drink from his mug. It’s still too hot, but the burn is a good reminder that this is very real. “I suppose you could simply move into my home. It sits empty whenever I’m in Europe. I have two guest bedrooms—space for you both whether I’m in the country or not.”
Phoenix stares at him. In accounting for as much as he could, he never considered moving in together. Somehow, that seems beyond marriage. Because, as he has told himself repeatedly for several hours, marriage is just paperwork.
“You don’t have to do that,” he insists, “I can figure it out.”
“Yes, well.” Miles puts down his tea. “If I am legally Trucy’s father, I refuse to be a deadbeat. It would be unfair. And what about when social services does come to check up on her? How would that look?”
Phoenix’s expression softens. “I didn’t think you were going to be a deadbeat, Miles. I just don’t want you taking on responsibilities you didn’t ask for just because my life fell apart.”
The tightness in Miles’ chest gets even tighter. There’s a pit in his stomach. A lump in his throat and this overwhelming feeling of—no. Not tonight.
“We’re adopting a child,” he says, instead of confronting any of that. “That’s a serious undertaking and we will do it properly or not at all.”
“We’re adopting a child,” Phoenix echoes. Because that was the plan, this entire plan was concocted around Miles being the one who had a better chance at being approved for adoption than Phoenix and his unstable—er, nonexistent—income. But there was some difference that Phoenix couldn’t put his finger on about the word we.
We’re adopting a child.
Miles sighs dramatically. “That is what we’re doing, isn’t it? I assume we’re on a relatively short time line, and this is to be an even longer night?”
“I’m sure you’re tired—“ Phoenix starts, but Miles just waves him away.
“If time is of the essence, I’ll sleep later.”
Said with all the confidence of a man who had too much experience working with no sleep.
Phoenix nods. “I guess we have some details to iron out, then.”
“You’re nuts,” Maya says. She sounds slightly horrified and slightly fond and definitely fed up with Phoenix’s bullshit. “I’ll see you then.”
Phoenix drags a hand down his face. “Yeah,” he says. “See you.”
Miles is still on the phone in the tiny kitchen, presumably, getting yelled at by Franziska. They went through all the details, straightened out their story with meticulously written notes courtesy of Miles, and read up on Japanifornia marriage law and adaption law.
Which Phoenix had done before calling Miles in a sort of manic, frenzied haze, but it’s good to go over it again with Miles. Even if they kept arguing over the finer points and everything started to make Phoenix’s head spin, it does make him feel a little more solid in this admittedly very unhinged plan.
Phoenix stares down at Miles’ handwriting. It swirls in his tired vision, and the weight of everything feels like it drops onto his shoulders.
There’s a word that Phoenix hasn’t managed to say to Miles yet.
Responsibility.
He feels an overwhelming, heartbreaking responsibility for Trucy. To fix everything in her life that he broke. To make it better for her. Because that was what he was supposed to do for her father and her, and he failed.
And Phoenix can’t fail again.
He also loves Trucy, or is starting to, anyway. But for now, those growing feelings are being smothered by this sense of duty. Phoenix Wright is going to protect Trucy Enigmar, because he didn’t protect her before.
He doesn’t let himself consider the actual guilt of Zak, because that’s not the point. It boils down to Phoenix being the one to screw this up. So he’s going to do what he can with duct tape and super glue.
Even if that means going down to the courthouse with Miles Edgeworth and signing a marriage license, like it’s not killing him inside.
Phoenix will smile and nod and fake his way through questions from social services and he will be the best damn fake husband in the world to give Trucy the life she deserves.
“Good lord,” Miles mutters as he rejoins Phoenix in the open space he’s always called a living room but has mostly just been Maya’s (and Pearl’s) bedroom and the TV room on and off for the past several years. That’s the only reason Phoenix is glad he doesn’t have a barely cheaper studio apartment.
“Things okay?” Phoenix asks.
Miles half collapses onto the couch next to him. His saving grace was the timezones because if he had woken Franziska up with this, she would’ve come back to the States just to kill him and hide his body. “She’ll be here.”
“Sorry for dropping this all on you at once,” Phoenix murmurs. It feels too late at night for anything louder than whispers anymore. “I wasn’t sure how much longer they’d let me take care of Trucy and I started panicking.”
Miles nods, but it’s like he’s not there.
Phoenix figures that talking to Franziska made the whole thing a little too real. “I should let you go home, I’ll call you a cab.”
Miles blinks at Phoenix owlishly. Phoenix swims in his vision, hair an absolute bird’s nest of a disaster. “What?”
“You should go home,” Phoenix says gently. “It’s late and this couch is terrible.”
“I should meet Trucy.”
“I don’t want to wake her up.”
“I meant in the morning.” Miles doesn’t really know why he’s resistant to leaving. His bed would probably be nice right now. Space from Phoenix should be nice.
Phoenix gives him a tired smile. “I’m taking over your life and your house—we’ll be here in the morning.”
Miles shakes his head sharply once. Right. Of course. “Don’t worry, I can call a car on my own.” He stands, not even sure why he’s leaving when he has his phone in his hand.
“Miles—“ Phoenix grabs Miles’ arm.
He freezes, eyes wide. “What? What is it?”
What more could Phoenix possibly want from him? What did he even have to give?
Phoenix ducks his head. “We shouldn’t tell anyone about this,” he says softly. “Not yet, at least.”
Miles relaxes a little. “That this is a deliberate scheme? I should think not.”
“No, that we’re married.”
Phoenix is far too exhausted to read the expression Miles’ face properly because he thinks he sees sadness mixed with the confusion.
“Wright,” Miles says, “marriage licenses are public record—“
“But who would think to check if neither of us says anything?” Phoenix barely catches the surprise in Miles’ face before it morphs into a blank slate. Cold. Calculating.
“You want us to get married, adopt Trucy, and then…pretend we’re not married?” Miles asks, almost disbelieving.
And yeah, when he says it like that, it does sound ridiculous. Maybe Phoenix should’ve waited until morning for this conversation, when he could figure out how to make it make sense. Because he’s pretty sure it makes sense.
“We have to pretend for a while, obviously.” Phoenix drops Miles’ arm and shoves his hands in his pockets. “We’ll be getting evaluated and everything, and again when they come to check on Trucy, but…” He looks away. “Someone set me up with—with the evidence.”
“Obviously.” Miles narrows his eyes. In the dim living room light, he can’t decipher Phoenix’s expression at this angle. “Do you have your suspicions?”
“Not really,” Phoenix admits. “Not yet. I…” He shakes his head. “I just don’t want to get you in any trouble.”
Miles takes a step back, startled. “Me? Why do you think—”
“Your reputation. With your history, associating with me, marrying me… I don’t want to drag your career down with me.” Phoenix gives Miles a bitter smile. “Mine is dead in the water. Don’t let me drown you too.”
Too late, Miles thinks. But he nods and agrees anyway. Because what else is he supposed to do?