Work Text:
A blank canvas, an empty mind. Phoenix could only stare dreamingly at the paper, fixating it intensely. Pencil in his dominant hand, the little eraser on top chewed, reminiscence of previous waves of anxiety and hyper focus.
Right now, the pencil was scratching the man’s chin as his brows furrowed furthermore. He grew frustrated by the lack of imagination his brain offered him on this day.
Phoenix pulled a little on his very pink pull, feeling his cheeks heating up, the warmth spreading all over his upper body. It wasn’t particularly hot today, and the window of Phoenix’s dorm was open at maximum capacity, but something about staying there doing nothing but brutalizing his poor brain in every way possible created that insufferable heat. Phoenix knew that taking his pull off would do no better and he didn’t really want to in the first place, the pull being a far precious gift from his Dollie.
The ravenhead took a break, sighing then stretching on his chair, arms high up in the air, face scrunching up. He let out a little appreciative noise as he felt relief in his bones cracking just the right amount. Phoenix scratched the dark spikes on his head as he let an eye go through the small open window. Outside, it was a typical spring weather, not too hot nor too cold. It was still early in the morning (around 10:00 am or so) and the light illuminated the trees around the campus just nicely. Phoenix could smell from here the scent of fresh grass, pinecones and wet moss. And Phoenix felt like falling back in childhood.
Nostalgic of the days he would spend outside with this type of weather, back in elementary school. Right after school, as soon as the bell would ring the end of the day, little Phoenix would race to his secret spot. It was a small place by the forest’s border, next to the school’s gymnasium. Phoenix remembered his nose being full of the forest’s air, making him feel like he landed in a whole new world. He remembered he and Miles walking here together and enjoying some time alone in each other's company, talking, playing, or just sitting in silence and relaxing on the green grass.
Phoenix let out a dreamy smile at the bittersweet memory of his and Miles’ younger self laying on the fluffy ground, admiring the view of the sun passing through the thick leaves of the trees around. Both letting all the matters of the day be taken away along with the spring breeze. Phoenix wondered a moment if Miles thought about the memory like he’d been doing.
No. Miles was a very serious man with a very serious work and he surely didn’t have time to think about these silly things, certainly. Phoenix told himself as he got up and closed the window, shutting with it the beginning of spiraling thoughts. The Demon Prosecutor undoubtedly had more important things to think about than old and foolish childhood memories. God, Phoenix hated that nickname that seemed to have been built only to forge a character that simply wasn’t Miles. The press didn’t know Miles the way Phoenix knew him, he was certain of that. They didn't know the boy he grew up with. The one who arbored his silly bow tie all the time, in hot summers and glacial winters. The little boy that held a great although secretive affection to that one child show.
Phoenix paid very special attention to the silver haired boy, his law minor being the proof of it itself.
Phoenix got back into his seat, this tiny trip having reinvigorated his stiff legs as well as his mind. He took the pencil into his hand and spun it around his thumb, looking around his desk. It was a bit of a mess, with school work stacked messily right beside the boy, art stuff spilling over the pencil cases and dried paint coloring the wooden desk. Amongst this disorder, the raven boy identified what looked like a newspaper, rolled and put behind one of the many pencil cases sitting on the desk, it stuck out of its place like it screamed to be taken. By sheer curiosity Phoenix grabbed the paper and wasn’t really surprised when he saw Miles’ scowl greeting him on the front page.
It was the journal Miles made the front page of after another harsh win against yet another defenseless defense attorney. The journal stated usage of forged evidence and manipulated witnesses, introducing the sadly famous nickname of ‘Demon Prosecutor’ that now followed Miles like the plague.
Phoenix took in Miles’ facial expression. How he seemed to have grown up after all those years, but still recognizing all these familiar traits that enchanted him, both during childhood and now. Such as his bright silvery bangs embellished with light brownish highlights, or the shape of his jaw that admittedly grew stronger with the passing years but still remained very similar to the way it used to be. All these little details that made Miles, Miles. Phoenix could almost imagine the little smile he used to give him in his childhood, on this older Miles’ face. Heavy and strong sensations pooled down at the pit of Phoenix’s stomach fiddling together and making his cheeks grow hotter by the second for a reason that was very unknown and confusing to him.
Unconsciously, more or so, Phoenix stilled his pencil back into the palm of his hand and moved it into the pristine block of white paper. While still side-eyeing Miles’ picture, with concentrated eyes and thin lips, Phoenix began shaping the other man’s head shape. The crayon sliding easily on the paper, Phoenix relaxed his shoulders and designed all the other little details of the prosecutor onto the drawing. He found that Miles was a very easy person to draw, the only difficulty Phoenix encountered was with the clothes that Miles wore. Especially the cravat he arbored proudly at his neck, the curves and loops of it creating a difficult pattern to redo. But soon enough, he managed to recreate it into the paper, as well the ornaments of his aristocratic costume.
After some time, Phoenix stopped and eyed his sketch as a whole, bringing the paper journal by its side, spotting the slight differences between the two. The smooth graphite produced softer and gentler features giving the face this delicate atmosphere that Phoenix believed matched his intentions quite well.
Soon enough, one sketch turned into two, then three. Thereafter, it was the whole page that was covered with the prosecutor’s face in many different expressions. Phoenix found it remarkably relaxing and soothing, drawing Miles; he couldn't stop the soft smile from creeping on his face, the mellow hotness in his cheeks. Phoenix was incredibly happy drawing Miles. The sort of happiness that made him all giddy and lightheaded.
It was love. Pure and unconditional love. Only Phoenix was unaware the deep sensations he felt could result in that.
By the time Phoenix looked back at the little clock hanging on the wall, it indicated exactly 12:30 pm.
Dollie must be waiting for me to eat lunch. I’m usually never late. The ravenhead thought as he swiftly put his pencil back in the appropriate pencil case and got up from his seat. Stopping midway to the door, like something struck him at the back of his mind, Phoenix headed back to his desk to refold the journal up, hiding it away in one of the desk’s drawers like some prized treasure. He flipped the sketchbook around to hide the drawings. These actions mysteriously put his mind more at ease, as if what he just did within the span of a couple hours was shameful and the most scandalous thing on earth.
Satisfied, Phoenix finally exited his dorm, aching to see his dear girlfriend.
—
It was the early hours of dawn when Miles’ eyes cracked open. The sun offered a pale rosé hue, fighting to pass through the thick curtains. The silver haired man took some time to adjust to the environment as his vision remained blurry, only showing him vague shapes and colors. However, Miles didn’t take long to consider the hot body flushed against him, clutching him, arms wrapped around his waist. Unconsciously, Miles smiled warmly, looking behind him to witness his partner sleeping like a log.
The man debated for a long time whether to get up or not. As pleasant this situation was - having a calm time with Phoenix was unsurprisingly very hard to get - Miles had never been the type to procrastinate. So, slowly and delicately, he removed himself from his lover’s arms and sat for a moment at the edge of the large bed. He allowed himself to gaze at Phoenix’s peaceful face, all stress from upcoming trials vanished.
Without a noise, Miles made his way to the kitchen. He would have lied if he said he wasn’t surprised to see that Trucy wasn’t up yet too. That girl was much like him, an early bird that did not belong to the bed.
Guess some days the bird is more of a late riser.
He didn’t put much thought into it and began boiling the kettle ( silent kettle moreover ! ) and making a cup of tea. It was these moments Miles cherished the most, those of pleasant and serene moments that put the man’s brain on a well deserved pause. As he waited for the water to boil ( silently ! ) he observed the sun rising furthermore into the cloudless now blue painted sky. It had been a long time since the prosecutor felt at peace like this, and it’d only been thanks to the two very unaware people sleeping like rocks on the other side of this apartment.
With the cup of hot tea now in Miles’ hands, the man let himself wander inside the little apartment. The apartment that transpired Wright. It was disorganized, unkept and pretty much chaotic. Magic tricks piling up on top of law books piling up on even more magic tricks. At first Miles had been very irritated and overwhelmed by all the mess, arranging to come to the Wright’s home only short times. But as his relationship with Phoenix evolved, the more Miles began to acknowledge and accept the other man’s defaults. And that did them the most good.
Miles stumbled upon a wooden dresser who seemed to have seen better days, as the paint on its sides was starting to wear off slightly. Upon it sat a massive pile of most of Trucy’s magic stuff, such as enormous top hats, decks of cards stuck together and more. The chief prosecutor deplored the lack of cleanliness the girl showed, which she certainly stole from her father. He put his tea cup down and sighed, as he tried to make order in this mess, so that at least we could see a little bit of the dresser's original color.
As Miles stored Trucy’s things in the drawers, something inside one of them caught his attention in the corner of his eye. It was a book, a pale blue one with written on it in a white and almost illegible handwriting ‘Sketchbook’. At the bottom and smaller was one name ‘Phoenix Wright’.
Mike had never seen that book before, and it mustn’t have been seeing the sun a lot either as a thick coat of dust gathered on it. It didn’t really surprise him that Phoenix kept a sketchbook, as he was an old art major that must have drawn for years back then. But it was true, thinking of it, that Miles never saw a single of Phoenix’s chef-d’œuvre.
They said that curiosity killed the cat, but Miles didn’t think that way. Curiosity wasn’t much of a bad thing, that’s curiosity that directed his investigations, made him look every nook and cranny around, searching for the perfect clue to present for a trial. And Miles was a very curious person. So, clearly, he would have lied if he said that he wasn’t itching to grab the book and see what it hid from him.
And that’s exactly what he did.
The chief prosecutor cursed himself for not having brought his glasses with him, but tried nonetheless to grab most of the details as he scooped the sketchbook higher to his silver eyes. The first drawing were watercolors of various landscapes and other sceneries. The colors were so light, but at the same time properly pigmented, that it gave the paintings some sort of sweetness and appeasement. Miles couldn’t really put a finger on it - and God that was such an odd feeling for him.
Next were studies, sketches of different people made with a grease pencil. Notes were written messily beside them indicating what the younger man needed to improve or simply the things he noticed in the anatomy of the people he drew. They were semi realistic, drawn chaotically, and Miles found them sublime. He was almost annoyed that his partner hadn’t shown these to him before.
Then, Miles arrived at a page, and his brain stopped for more than a second as he tried to register the information that it gave him.
It was him, younger him, sketched in Phoenix’s book, on a whole double page. They covered it all, his face with several expressions. Miles recognized the costume he wore at the time he was under von Karma’s guardianship. The same annotations appeared here, about his features, how to draw them, the way the ornaments on his costume should be sketched out. Miles’ cheeks heat up at the devotion younger Phoenix showed through those pages, all of this to draw Miles the most accurately possible.
Miles’ mind was so pulled by the amazing drawings on this book's pages, he almost missed the feeling of a pair of arms wrapping up his waist, and the feeling of a chin landing on his right shoulder. But the smell of that cologne told him exactly who the person behind him was, as he raised his right hand to lay it on his partner’s cheek softly.
“Good morning, love,” Phoenix mumbled in his morning voice as he laid a sweet peck on his lover’s bare neck. Miles sighed softly and smiled lightly, going incredibly soft and mellow at the pet name. He knew that he would have hated himself for reacting that way years ago, but those ages were behind him now. Miles was just happy to live without feeling like he was failing a ghost, the constant weight in his stomach gone.
“Good morning to you too,” he responded by turning his head around a little and kissing Phoenix delicately. He could feel his partner smile on his lips and Miles could swear he couldn’t be happier.
“It’s been a long time since I saw those,” Phoenix said, referring to the drawings in front of them. Miles averted his gaze at them, the ones showing himself with less lines and more apathy.
“I didn’t know you liked going through my stuff,” The black haired man added jokingly, a smirk playing upon his lips. Miles could feel himself reproducing it.
“I wouldn’t have to go through your stuff if it was tidied,” which was halfway true, as yes, this apartment was a mess, but this sketchbook was currently the only thing well-kept. But that was enough for Phoenix to concede defeat with a huffed “Okay you win,”.
“Those are beautiful, for that matter,” Miles felt like he needed to add, as it was the solemn and only truth about them. Somehow, he felt proud of his lover for his incredible hidden art talents. “You really are a talentuous man,” Phoenix blinked for a moment but then averted his gaze, flushing red, which made him look even more adorable.
“I drew those when I was in college,” after looking at the pencil drawings a little longer he added “I remember being inspired by this picture featuring an article about you,”
“Really, which one was it ?” Miles was a subject that the press loved, and there had been a lot of articles made about him over the years of his prosecuting career. He couldn’t remember one even if he tried, as those things were so insignificant in his life.
“The one calling you out for potentially forging evidence,” okay there had been a lot of articles like those. “The one calling you ‘Demon Prosecutor’,” Phoenix added. And Miles may have remembered that one, as it was the news that made the most noise at this time of his career. People were raising questions about the methods, his mentor’s methods, he exerted in court.
Phoenix turned his head slightly to look at Miles in the eyes. His smile was ever softer. “It was actually the first time I saw you again, after almost ten years,” his partner concluded, the smile never leaving his face. Miles could tell the story. After seeing that news, younger Phoenix got the crazy idea of switching his major only for the purpose to talk with him. Fact is, he did and succeeded at it. The everlasting proof of Phoenix Wright’s determination. Miles would forever be thankful, as he was the one and only man to have saved him. Saved him from a falsely guilty verdict, from his old mentor, and most importantly, from himself.
Miles set the worn out sketchbook down the now clean dresser and turned around to face his lover. Possibly the love of his life.
Swiftly, catching Phoenix’s guard off, Miles kissed him passionately and with a profound hunger, trying to communicate all his emotions, all the sentiments he felt towards this man. He put both his hands on the other’s hips, cornering them, and just like that Phoenix responded to the kiss by putting his arms around his partner’s shoulders and opening his mouth. It wasn’t really rare for them to share moments like those, but still felt as good as the first times.
As Miles began to leave little pecks all along his lower face, Phoenix dissolved into laughter.
“O-kay, I take it that you really like my work !” He said trying to hide his face into Miles’ neck to avoid the tornado.
And Miles, as the ever sincere type, responded with a smile.
“Very.”