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Evenings at the Wright residency were a matter of habit. For all the eccentricities of their little family, Trucy had realized early on that both her father and herself thrived on - at the very least - a predictable schedule. Less ways for things to get out of hand if they both knew where the other was supposed to be throughout the day, when they were getting back, and who was supposed to be with them.
Which led to her next point of interest.
Trucy peeked her head into the kitchen, target in sight. "Daddy?"
The two men paused in their conversation to turn her way, mugs still in their hands and the smell of coffee and tea mixing in the air.
"Yes, sweetie?"
"Where did we put our extra pair of keys for the apartment?"
"Uh," Her daddy's eyebrows pinched together, "They were in your old red hat by the TV, no?"
"I thought so too but I checked. Found my rock collection from when I was ten but no keys."
"Green coat's pockets?"
"Checked."
"Tie drawer?"
"Checked."
"Bowl of candy at the coffee table?"
"Checked. We're also almost out of candy."
Her daddy chuckled and, next to him, her uncle Miles sighed, long-suffering, and raised an eyebrow in his direction.
"Why do you never keep anything where it's supposed to be?”
"'Cause," he began, sipping on his mug, "It's easier to remember if you leave them in a weird place."
"Clearly not, if the last five minutes are anything to go by."
"Hey, I don't question your methods."
This. Uncle Miles stopping by after work was another thing that had become habit, so much so that Trucy was far more likely to fall out of rhythm on the days he didn't show up. If he was here, then it was after six p.m., which was just another convenient little way of keeping track of things. If he was gone before her, then the next day meant an early morning for them all, if not, it was either a weekend or right after a big case, when things settled down.
Today, he was lingering, seemingly in no rush to finish his Earl Grey (which her father had stocked back up in recently, which meant it had been about a month since the last box, which meant—)
Hm.
Trucy sauntered into the kitchen, cape fluttering behind her to stand in front of the two men, "Daddy, uncle Miles," she called, successfully cutting their bickering short once more, "Nevermind the keys, but since you're both here, I had a question."
That got their attention.
"Yes, Truce?"
“What is it, dear?”
She locked eyes with each of them in turn, but didn't give them enough time to grow suspicious before she spoke up.
"Are you two dating?"
She sidestepped the sputter of coffee as her father coughed the liquid back into the right pipe, and caught a glimpse of her uncle's knuckles tightening around his mug with a stiffness that might've shattered one of his own teacups.
Predictably, he was the first to regain his voice, if only because her father was still heaving air back into his lungs.
"What," He croaked, "What makes you ask that. Dear?" he added as if almost forgetting it was meant as a question. His jaw looked close to locking in place, so Trucy gave him a pass.
"Dunno. Everything?"
"Sweetie," her daddy finally wheezed, voice cracking around the word even as he tried to summon a nervous smile, "What did we say about wild accusations while we're at risk of choking?"
Trucy frowned, hands on her hips and standing at her full height (a whopping head smaller than either of them), "Don't change the subject! And anyway, it's not a wild accusation if there's plenty of evidence for it."
She began counting on her fingers before either of them could interrupt.
"Neither of you has dated anyone else for as long as I've been aware."
"W-well, maybe, but--"
"You get dinner together almost every week, now."
"Yes but Trucy, those aren't--"
"There's also the traveling from before daddy got his badge back, the late hours you both keep when you work a case together, you both have each other as one of your emergency contacts, and you also have the keys to each other's places, not to mention--"
"Trucy." her father might have sounded stern if he didn't sound like he was pleading. Trucy caught his eye.
"I wouldn't be mad," she let her hand drop, "I just want to know if you haven't told me."
"Trucy, darling," her uncle this time. He seemed to have recovered some color to his face, but was still struggling not to sound clipped, "Your father and I aren't hiding anything. That is - we didn't tell you anything because there's nothing to tell."
"Right, exactly." her daddy nodded along vigorously, "I promise you, no secret relationship, we're not dating behind your back or otherwise."
She couldn't see any tells.
"Oh." Well, not what she had expected, but they were both being entirely truthful. "Okay, then."
She began turning, ready to drop the subject for the time being, but something caught in the gears in her mind. She pirouetted back around.
"I have another question."
The looks sent her way almost made her roll her eyes. They needed to stop acting like she was marching them down the plank.
Her father still smiled forcefully, even as his eyes begged for mercy.
"So you aren't dating." she said first.
"Correct." he nodded again.
"Indeed." her uncle hid his reddening face behind his tea.
Trucy cocked her head.
"Why not?"
Two for two on the sputtering this time, luckily with no liquid for her to dodge.
Scarily in synch as they often were, they both recovered in time to speak over the other.
"Your father is not into men." her uncle offered, right as her daddy said, "Uncle Miles isn't into anyone."
Trucy narrowed her eyes at them but they were busy blinking dumbly at each other.
"Um,” her daddy spoke up, “Trucy knew already, obviously, she figured it out years ago – but I thought it was pretty obvious that I'm bisexual?"
Her uncle bristled and crossed his arms "You're one to talk, what gave you the idea I'm not interested in anyone?"
"Uh, your literal lack of in interest in anyone who's ever flirted with you for as long as I've known you, for one?"
"Well the only relationship of yours I ever knew about was with a woman! And what do you mean 'anyone who's ever flirted' with me?"
Oh boy.
"I just call them as I see them—"
"—and who have you seen flirt with me, exactly? Aside from literal witnesses?"
Trucy cleared her throat loudly to remind them of her presence. It worked well enough, at least they stopped glaring at each other to acknowledge her.
"A-anyways, it doesn't matter if your uncle is into someone--"
"--or if your father is into men--"
"Because he's still not into me." they finished as one.
Yikes.
Well, at least this explained things. Not where their spare set of keys was, but mostly everything else. Maybe it was time she pretended she still needed to brush her teeth--
"Oh!" her excited exclamation almost made her current hostages jump out of their skin, but she paid it no mind as she ran down the hall and into the bathroom.
The first aid kit behind the sink mirror opened with a squeak from its faulty hinge, and there it was - a small keychain with a fluffy end, and the two missing keys it held.
Trucy picked it up and skipped back into the kitchen where the victims of human emotion were still avoiding looking directly at each other.
"Found it!" she chirped, clinking the metal in her hands before stepping closer and grabbing at her uncle's hand to set them safely in his palm.
"Er, I'm glad dear, but," he tried giving them back, "I already have a copy."
Yeah, don't remind me Trucy fought back the urge to sass her uncle and instead shook her head.
"They aren't for you. They are for when daddy forgets his keys after going to your place but he refuses to ask for your copy so he ends up waiting until I'm back and nearly falling asleep outside." she explained in one quick breath.
Two pairs of eyes blinked at her.
"So they're... for your father."
"Yep!"
"But your uncle is meant to take them to his place?"
"Yup!" She made another flourish as she closed his fist around the keychain, "That way I don't have to worry about him getting locked out and I know you won't lose them!" her father huffed, insulted, and she stepped back, "I gotta go now, I still need to get a few things ready for tonight's show, getting all the doves in place always takes me longer than I think it will."
"I'll drive you--"
"Nuh-uh, you stay." she grabbed her hat from the rack and her bag from where she'd left it on the couch, "I'm a professional, and you and daddy still need to come up with an answer to my question that is for yourselves and not for each other."
"Trucy--"
"You have a few hours, better make them count!" She waved at them, an innocent smile plastered on her best performer's mask, and made sure to slam the door on her way out just to be petty.
But honestly! The nerve of those two. Making her worry for no reason.
She glanced at the clock on her phone. Maybe they would need more than a few hours, if their little display was how they'd dealt with things so far.
Nodding to herself, she dialed as she skipped down the stairs. Polly's couch was better than whatever unstable chemical reaction would be waiting for her at home.
--
My only daughter is trying to kill me.
Okay, maybe that wasn't fair. Trucy was fresh into adulthood (and god, did that thought make him feel ready to be blown into dust), it was only normal for her to notice things she hadn't before. Even if what she noticed left him wishing for a black hole to materialize in his apartment and swallow him whole.
Phoenix dared a side glance at Miles, who somehow hadn't melted from the proximity to his burning face, and was met with stiff shoulders raised all the way to reddened ears.
He forced his tongue to unstick. "Sorry, I," Phoenix swallowed around the lump in his throat and tried again, "I've no idea why she brought that up."
He caught a small flinch before Miles spoke, "Verily, that is... Normal, I'm sure, for her age. Do not concern yourself over it."
Phoenix smiled despite himself. Leave it to the scary Chief Prosecutor to be understanding of his safety hazard of a daughter. "Right, I was thinking just that."
"Mhmm." His knuckles were still tight around his mug, a single pale finger tapping on the ceramic in a frenzy not unlike the one on his heart.
"I mean, I guess maybe she finally got tired of her old man being a bachelor." God, why was he still talking. Why did he have the ability to speak. "But, uh, that doesn't - I'm sure she's letting her imagination run a bit wild."
"Quite," Miles mumbled, going to sip his tea again before realizing he was empty. Phoenix had the offer on the tip of his tongue before Miles spoke again, pushing himself away from the small kitchen island. "It has gotten quite late. Thank you again for the tea."
"Sure." Phoenix watched as he rounded towards the sink, Miles' back to him while the suddenly too-loud sound of of the faucet filled the room. Of course he would still choose to wash anything he used before bolting from the elephant in the room trying to trample them both.
God, Phoenix adored him.
Stop. That is exactly the kind of thought your daughter can see in your face and use against you, and you know she will win.
Not that Trucy had ill-intent, he knew that. Better than anyone, really.
The more likely scenario was that she had simply noticed her dad's not-quite-platonic feelings expanding like a broken radiator every time the prosecutor was around, and had commented on them in an attempt to help.
There was nothing to help with, though, because broken radiator feelings or not, his friendship with Miles wasn't faulty. It was more than he could ask for. There was nothing to fix, and he was happier than he ever thought possible. The background radiation of his wish for romance was not lethal, it just was, and Phoenix had gotten used to it. Even if sometimes (like often, like now) it made him stare at his friend's nape and grow warm with a sigh he couldn't let free.
"I'm sorry about earlier." Miles spoke up suddenly, bringing Phoenix back from the danger zone of his daydreaming.
"And why are you apologizing?" He was stunned enough to laugh, "Last I checked you weren't the one creating a court out of my kitchen to call me out on my love life."
He caught the brief, subtle movement of shoulders that told him Miles was holding back a chuckle, and felt his own grin spreading.
"That might be true, however, it's not what I meant." The faucet was switched off, but Miles still didn't turn around. "I was referring to... my incorrect assumption on your interests. It was rude of me."
It took Phoenix a second to rewind their conversation, "Oh, that." He leaned forward and rested his arms on the counter, "I mean, it'd be unfair of me to say anything, I assumed your sexuality too." he added, "Though you gotta admit I was working with the evidence I had."
He heard a huff of air, and when Miles finally faced him, he had one of his amused smirks on display, "And jumping to conclusions as you usually do, yes, I suppose that's on me."
Phoenix shrugged, still smiling, "No harm, no foul?"
He watched Miles fail to hold in a snort, "You're very lucky Trucy isn't going into law, or she would quickly become the more efficient Wright."
"Pfft, like she isn't already? I'm telling you, she would have culprits confessing on day one."
Something flashed over Miles' face and his eyes focused on the window instead, "Before, you said... that Trucy knew, about you being bisexual, yes?"
"Ah, yeah." Phoenix thought back on the memory, "I think she was fourteen or so? She sat me down, with this serious look on her face, and nearly gave me a heart attack before she simply told me she 'would be okay with a mommy or another daddy'. I guess it's in her nature to shave years off my life by being ominous."
"Wise beyond her years, as usual."
"She's a danger, and she knows I love her too much to care."
Miles smiled in that way that did things to his heart, "Well, I'm glad I didn't somehow out you to her."
"Wouldn't want her having more power." Phoenix agreed, wrenching his eyes away lest he go blind, "But nah, don't worry about it. If anything, you're the one in trouble. Care to share who's caught your attention before she gets back?"
Miles froze, and Phoenix immediately wanted to hit his head against the nearest wall repeatedly.
"That was a joke," he backpedaled in a panic, "Sorry, you – that's none of my business, I didn't mean to--"
"It's fine, Wright."
"No, no, I was--"
"It's fine, Wright." Miles snapped, and if Phoenix had a tail it would be between his legs.
"Okay. Sorry."
Whatever face he was making made his friend sigh deeply. Phoenix was ready to apologize again, but a palm raised his way stopped him.
"You're probably the one person I don't mind being nosy about my personal life," Miles began, expression hidden as he adjusted his glasses. Phoenix felt his chest constrict at the admission, "But this particular subject is a bit... complicated."
Phoenix raised his head from where it had gone to rest over his arms. In any other scenario he might've found it funny (if not mortifying) how his posture had slowly melted down as they conversed easily. Right now, it only served to give him a creak in his spine and a strange vantage point from which to watch Miles cross his arms.
"Don't feel like you owe me an explanation or anything, Edgeworth. Just... you're my best friend. I want you to know you can tell me anything."
And Phoenix meant it, fully. His own fine-aged feelings aside, Miles was his friend first and foremost. He wasn't stupid enough to pretend it would not hurt to hear him being into someone else, but it might hurt even more to not know these things just because Miles kept thinking his personal issues were too much of a burden for Phoenix. That he was too much of a burden. He hoped those days were behind them.
"You make it sound far more serious than it is." Miles huffed, walking closer to rest his hands in front of Phoenix, who stood even straighter to avoid being dangerously at eye level with his chest. He was trying to be a good friend, but he was also trying not to give himself unreasonable expectations about not staring at the object of his affections. "For the sake of clarity, I'm demisexual."
"Oh, I've heard of that one." Phoenix piped up, "It's the, it's like asexual but, uh..." he racked his brain.
"Would you like to buy a vowel?"
"Har har." he tried to glare through his grin, "Okay Mr. Perfect-Attendance-To-The-Sociology-Class, do please enlighten this lesser soul."
Miles didn't even try to hide his snort this time, "Dramatic. Are we sure Trucy is the performer?"
"You bring out the worst parts of my theater kid self, now get on with it."
“You weren't that far off, if I'm being honest.” He conceded, “I thought myself fully asexual for a long time, but in retrospect this label feels a bit closer to my own experiences. In my particular case, it means I need a strong connection before I feel attraction, romantic or otherwise, to someone.”
Phoenix hummed, “Makes sense.” He caught his eye, the hint of hesitation there, “…But I'm guessing this isn't the part that makes it ‘complicated’?”
Miles shrugged, looking away, “I'm a complicated person, Phoenix, what else is new?”
“Do they know?”
“What?”
“The person you're interested in.” Phoenix leaned into his space until Miles was forced to look him directly again, “Do they know?”
There was a pause, for two beats of a heart, where neither of them moved. Miles was looking at him as though Phoenix was the one meant to fill in the blanks, and then he blinked, cutting eye contact as he fiddled with his glasses again.
“No, I don't believe he knows.”
It is a ‘he’, then. Phoenix felt the sting of jealousy at the pit of his stomach and let it pass through him and into nothingness before speaking.
“You should tell him, I think.” He said then, shrugging a single shoulder and trying for an encouraging smile when the prosecutor looked up. “You’re worth more than a few complications, Miles.”
Too honest His mind chastised him, and Phoenix drowned it out. Miles was worth honesty and trust.
“…Thank you, Phoenix.” Miles said, and he felt his smile grow fond.
Too close It said then, and Phoenix had to agree when his heart tried to escape through his ribs at the searching eyes boring into his.
He was leaning back into the safety of a foot of distance when he felt the space between close again.
There was pressure, soft and warm, at the corner of his lips, and the ticklish sensation of hair brushing his nose and cheek, both gone as swiftly as they arrived.
He stared, and Miles stared back, not two inches away.
“Still think I'm worth this much?” Miles asked, self deprecating.
Not close enough His mind supplied, and he agreed on that too.
He drank the small noise Miles made right before their lips fit against each other, and when he tasted Earl Grey on nerve-bitten skin he decided this was how that was meant to be drank as well.
A hand trembled near his face, he could feel the chill from the faucet still lingering on unsure fingertips, and Phoenix caught it with his own, threaded fingers together, set the cold palm on his neck to try and warm it with the fire there. His free hand went up a shoulder to the nape that had transfixed him earlier, felt a twitch as the pad of his thumb caught behind an ear at the end of a pair of glasses.
The lens were slightly fogged up when Miles broke them apart to breathe, but Phoenix could still see him through them, pupils big and unusually glossy.
“Never ask me that again.”
“Phoenix—”
Their second kiss was better. Phoenix stopped trying to count them after Miles’ hand in his hair caused his neurons to fizzle and die, and he whined the entire two seconds it took them to pull away and round the counter to fit their arms around each other as well.
Later, with his head on the crook of Miles’ neck and Miles’ breath on his temple, Phoenix would realize he didn't remember when the keychain with the fluffy end had been stored in the breastpocket right above his heart.