Archive of Our Own ^beta

Miles stared blankly at his sister, Franziska, who was standing in the doorway. “The Prosecutors’ Ball? I thought they stopped hosting those years before I was even born.”

“They did , but some of those foolish elderly fools felt nostalgic and are now holding another foolish ball.”

“Are we–”

“Expected to attend?” Franziska interjected, leading Miles to frown at how well she knew his thought process. She cracked her whip on the ground, something that might’ve startled Miles a few years back, but was now perfectly regular. “Not precisely . However, do be aware that all of the upper echelon of our foolish system will be there, so perhaps it would be best to…” She stopped for a moment to prepare her words, scowling. “...make an appearance .”

At this, Miles sank fully into his chair. He did poorly enough with the occasional mandatory meeting, where there were typically ~50 people max. A ball ? With all of the top prosecutors in Japanifornia?

He could practically feel his brain shut off.

“Anyway, little brother, at the very least I will be there, and pry a few other fools you know. I can’t promise you it’ll be fun , but it won’t be…” She didn’t say the last part, but they both thought it. Von Karma had made the two of them attend a German ball for the elites of the country when Miles was 17. He had known not a single soul there, but Von Karma ensured he spoke with everyone , which led him to become so overwhelmed that he excused himself to go to the bathroom then hid on a balcony for 20 minutes. Franziska, who was around 10 at the time, had found him shriveled up in a ball outside. It was… mortifying to say the least, but although she provided no comfort (“comfort” was a word alien to the Von Karma household), she had not mentioned it to her father, which in Miles' mind was better than anything she could’ve said. There grew an understanding between them following that, perhaps nothing as strong as amity, but whatever concept close to that that could’ve existed in the Von Karma household.

“I’ve done a lot of developing since then, Franziska, you needn’t worry about that.” He paused, before smiling. “I’ll still pry be quite awkward, however, but alas. I’m not Wright.”

Franziska raised her eyebrow at the mention of the man’s name, and Miles immediately regretted it. For a moment, she adopted a disinterested expression, before it twisted into something unreadable.

“Perhaps, Miles Edgeworth, you have better work on finding a guest. I know you primarily surround yourself with foolish fools who are no doubt unfit for such an event, but perhaps it’d be good for your… how do you say it –” She paused for a moment, eyes still indecipherable, before she turned to the side. “Conscious, emotions, whatever other foolish concept you care about. I am off now. Goodbye.”

In true Franziska fashion, she then briskly walked out of the room without even waiting for Miles’ response, leaving him minorly shell shocked. After a moment, however, he smiled.

Franziska had a perhaps atypical manner of showing that she cared, but once you got to know the woman and her character, it became easier to notice what her words truly meant. Miles was glad the two had reconnected. She was his one ally growing up, no matter how young she was. In many ways he did feel like her younger brother, even with the 7 years between them.

However, though she was his sole ally back then, that was not the case anymore. Which led him to his current predicament, as first-world as it was: the Prosecutors’ Ball.

The… guest option was certainly appealing , it would be pleasant to have an accomplice who he would certainly enjoy the company of. He even had an idea of who he would want to be there, and he was sure Franziska did too, considering the look she had given him. The problem, however, was that in order to have a guest, he would need to ask that certain esteemed individual to accompany him. Though Miles had worked on quite a few of his social problems, asking for things like that was still a concept rather… unattractive, to say the least. He was not the greatest fan of rejection, which of course was what his mind always jumped to instead of the more agreeable alternative.

Even then, with his numerous anxieties, Miles knew it would be quite worse for him if he were to attend that (as much as he abhorred sounding like his sister) foolish event solo, where he would certainly garner pitiful looks for not having even one acquaintance willing to make an appearance with him.

I could simply pose it as a good networking opportunity , Miles thought, but then he shook it out of his head. Though that would work on any of the pompous folk who would no doubt surround him at the ball, it would be much less appealing to his more worldly acquaintance. He certainly won’t go with you if you continue to refer to him as a mere “acquaintance”...

Conscious aside, Miles knew that he would have to come up with something . He knew that he simply must attend, perhaps it was the Von Karma still taking residence within his brain speaking, but alas it spoke loud and clear. He would have to make the proper arrangements, find a suitable outfit, prepare dialogue openings and responses… it all sounded quite horrible, if he were to be completely honest. Alas, as they used to say in Germany, tja . 

For now, however, he still had work to do, and the pound of paperwork on his desk was calling his name.

Miles Edgeworth knew that he had been through a lot of horrible things. He could perhaps make a top 10 list, if he wanted, and still have numerous events that deserved honorable mentions. Considering the boatloads of pure, horrendous trauma he had endured, something as simple as this shouldn’t be skyrocketing to the top of his list.

And yet, it was.

As he stood in front of the door to Wright & Co. Law Offices , or whatever foolish name that man had gifted it, he could practically feel his anxiety skyrocket. He had no sensible reason as to why, he wouldn’t even be losing much if he did happen to be rejected. He was simply asking him out–(no, avoid that phrase)– inviting him to attend a work function with him. One that would surely look good for the both of them. It could even be… enjoyable , though that would take effort. It was fine . He could do this.

Thus, he knocked, and immediately experienced the urge to run. Before he could, however, he could see an eye in the peephole, and then heard scrambling inside. After a confused moment, the man’s assistant opened the door, beaming.

“Mr. Edgeworth!! It’s so great to see you. Nick is just–” She slightly closed the door so he couldn’t see inside, while looking behind her. “Erm, finishing some things. Lots of… paperwork?” Her explanation came out as more of a question, and she looked up at him as if awaiting his response. He slowly nodded, making sure to not shift from his normal neutral expression. After a moment, the door closed again, then reopened with him standing behind it, smiling meekly.

“Edgeworth!! It’s always great to see you.” Behind him, his assistant was giggling over something , but the man pushed her out of the way quickly.

“Same to you, Wright,” Miles responded quickly, leading them into an awkward silence as he attempted to gather his words.

After a moment of shifting, the other man crossed his arms and looked to the side. “So, um, what brings you here? You’re a pretty rare visitor, not to say you’re not welcome, but –” He was stopped suddenly by a blow to his arm by his assistant, who retreated as quickly as she had attacked. “ Maya– ”

“Well,” Miles started, giving the man time to return his full attention. He weighed the best openers he had in his head, but none seemed good enough in any way, shape, or form. “Have you ever heard of the Prosecutors’ Ball?”

“No, I don’t think I have.” He looked awkwardly to the side, before turning back to him. “Why?”

“It’s this… you know how the elites of our system value their traditions , and this is allegedly a rather valued one. It’s a… rather foolish social event, supposed to bring together prosecutors throughout Japanifornia to network and such. I, being a rather high up member of the Los Angeles branch, am of course expected to attend, and–” He looked up at the other man, who was gazing at him with full attention. “I’m… well I’m expected to bring a guest, and I believed it wouldn’t be too horrible of an opportunity for you, seeing as how…” He lost his gusto then, and looked over at his listener expectantly. He was met with a blank stare, perhaps not fully flabbergasted but something close. After a moment, he slowly raised a finger up to point at himself.

“You want… me to go with you? Me , Phoenix Wright?”

“Yes, Wright , unless I’m speaking to some strange doppelgänger who has managed to take both your name and appearance.” He scowled, and the other man slowly lightened up.

“It’s just… well, I wouldn’t be my first choice.” He smiled, then began to rub at the back of his own head. “I’ve never attended anything fancy like this.”

“Luckily for you, it’s not hard to blend in, believe me. As long as you have a decent outfit and socialization skills, and we both know you have ample of the latter, though perhaps not much of the former–” The other man frowned at that, and Miles had to resist smiling. “--You’ll be alright.”

The other man seemed to deliberate for a moment, before looking quickly to the side and back to Miles. “Sorry, I just need a moment to discuss with my cohort here–”

With that, the door was shut, leaving a frowning Miles and many hushed whispers inside. After a moment, it was opened once again , and he was met by both the man and his beaming assistant behind him. The man was smiling, and his assistant seemed as if she was about to squeal from joy. As to why , he had no idea, but he wasn’t about to act as if he understood the two.

“Edgeworth, I’d be happy to attend with you. It will be…” He looked back, and was met by his assistant nodding, as if egging him on. “An excellent opportunity and stuff. Yeah.”

Miles nodded slowly, not quite believing his ears. After a moment, his senses caught up with him. “Pleasant. I will send you the details of the event, and please remember to get a new suit. For the sake of both of us.”

“I will, I promise.” Miles decided to give him one of his rare smiles, and for a moment they were caught in a comfortable silence of friendly looks. Soon, however, the spell broke, and Miles cleared his throat. “I have many things to attend to. I trust you will return to your paperwork?”

“What–” This was met by another hit from his assistant, and the man’s face morphed from confusion into a forced smile. “Oh yeahhh , my paperwork, totally. Yeah. Should certainly attend to that.”

“Good bye , Wright,” Miles replied, exasperated but fond. He closed the door for the other man, and turned away, but not before hearing excited chatter inside. Against his best efforts, he found himself smiling as he returned to his car, pleased with the outcome of this previously abhorred confrontation.

Attending such an esteemed social event is more than just smiling awkwardly at your childhood best friend, of course, and thus Miles found himself waiting stiffly in the lobby of his favored tailor. Even with his current occupation, he couldn’t quite get his mind off of the earlier events, and kept returning to a specific image in his head: how the man smiled before accepting his invitation. It’s because I’m quite pleased with achieving such levels of friendship with a person to garner such expressions, of course. No alternate reasoning.

Yes, that’s all .

Not too happy with where his mind was beginning to drift, he set to staring deeply at the photos of the wall.

They were all of various men in suits, not atypical of a tailor that specializes in that sort of thing. They portrayed a wide variety of colors and styles, from typical and modern, to more vintage and wacky. Miles often liked to look at some of the odder looks, green/yellow plaid suits from the 60s, for example, and attempt to envision himself in them. Of course, it was always impossible, he could never picture himself as anything but a Victorian wannabe. Maybe Ph– that man – could…? He could envision his friend in one, but of course it seemed out of place from his typical blue. Despite his rather flame-related name and fiery personality, it was near impossible to picture the man as anything but royal blue. A blue plaid suit… that would work .

Right as he began to create an image in his mind of what the suit would even look like, his tailor appeared in the doorway, waving at him. Forced to remove the image from his mind, Miles stood up and approached him.

“Mr. Edgeworth! It’s great to see you, as always.” He wore a customer-service smile that Miles could tell was carefully crafted from years of experience, the type of work that he admired. “Are you here because of the…”

“Ah, it seems you’ve heard of it.” Miles smiled, more out of a slight embarrassment than anything else. “Yes, I fear I’m being forced to attend.”

“I’m glad of it.” Upon seeing Miles’ perplexed expression, the other man made his smile a bit more legitimate. “More money for me!”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure this is all a great opportunity for you.”

“That’s one way to put it. I’m glad they’re bringing them back. I’ve been doing this long enough to remember the originals, and this time of year was always quite lucrative. I’m sure it’s quite good for all of you, too. Networking and such.”

“Maybe if I was a different person…”

The conversation mostly trailed off after that, and they turned to the main purpose of the visit: the suit. Miles wanted something not too different from his typical look. Burgundy color, jabot, all the essentials of his mature look. If he had it his way, he would’ve essentially copied his work suit. Alas, were he to do that, he would surely be mocked by his acquaintances, especially Franziska. He needed something new, something proper, that would still fit his usual style and not stand out too much.

He said such to his tailor, something he immediately regretted once the man began to grin.

“Something new, huh? I was hoping you’d say just that…” Miles quirked an eyebrow, prompting the man to go on. “You see, I’ve had something here for a while that I always thought would suit you quite well. Of course, if you’re willing to try it…”

“I…” He immediately felt the urge to turn the man down, but then thought better of it. What would he say if I simply showed up in my regular attire? Especially after egging him on so much about his own… “I suppose it can’t hurt.”

Immediately, the tailor’s face lit up. “Wonderful! I shall go retrieve it at once, then. Just give me a moment…” At that, he ran off, leaving Miles alone again.

Now, he was able to look around the man’s studio, and see what he was working on. There were many typical suits, black or gray, sleek and modern. He could directly correlate some with their owners, what with prosecutors in Los Angeles enjoying having a somewhat iconic style. The more he looked, however, he found stranger looks. A gaudy pink suit that immediately reminded him of a certain defendant, way back from his first case against his particular acquaintance. He remembered the man who had worn it, and his strange… flashiness. It was odd to think back on those times, when he was a very different man, blind to both justice and sense.

Deliberations aside, next to it laid a green suit, one not unlike the pictures in the hall. It had a strange, swirling pattern, one that certainly drew eyes towards it. It was hard to picture anyone in it, really. He almost turned back at that, but then his eyes were drawn to the one over…

He got immediate déjà vu to his earlier imagining. It was a sort of dark cyan, with light brown stripes that gifted it a plaid pattern. It was a tweed suit, which alone wasn’t strange, but with the pattern… it was solely original, and left a large impression on the viewer. This is exactly what I was thinking of earlier. It’s…

At that moment, the tailor reentered the room, prompting Miles to return to his earlier spot. He was carrying with him a certainly peculiar outfit.

“Now, I know this may seem bizarre at first, but really you must see it all together…”

He grabbed a mannequin, and first put on a deep, wine-colored, velvet button-up shirt.

“I know this isn’t your style, exactly, but I do think it fits you, especially with this… Now, I know you prefer jabots , but I thought a cravat wouldn’t be too much of a stray from the typical…” With that comment, he then laid a silk cravat over the shirt. It was black with gray details, and paired with the shirt it did make a good impression.

“I will admit it’s nice, but–”

“It’s not exactly you , is it?” The tailor interjected, then clapped. “Well, fear not, for with this final item…” It was then that the man grabbed a long coat, one that was burgundy with black lace details. Upon laying it on the mannequin, he then turned to Miles. “You know, your father was one of my first clients. He was a fantastic man, truly.” Miles nodded slowly, not aware of that previous bit of information. After turning away for a moment, the tailor continued. “I remember, he would always wear this brown long coat, well I suppose it was more of a trench coat, but… it left a mark on me. I always remember him with that , rather than any of the suits I made for him.”

Miles, too, remembered his father’s coat. He would always come home with it on following his investigations, and Miles would greet him at the door as he took it off and hung it on the coat rack. He preferred to remember his father in these moments, when Gregory Edgeworth’s previously serious demeanor would melt away the moment he saw his son.

“Well, anyway, I know it’s not exactly the same, but I thought a long coat… Well, it’d be a good reference to your father, while still being original and within your style. And paired with the velvet shirt and lace cravat, it crafts a good image of power and elegance, one I think would be perfect for the Ball. We could always go with your typical look, but, well, I thought it’d be good.”

Miles stared at the look for a moment, unsure of what to say. It was certainly a lot to take in, but…

“Could I–”

“Oh, yes, here.” He handed the items to Miles, who then went to put them on. When he returned to the room to look at himself in the mirror, he was slightly taken aback.

The man was right. He did look rather dignified, and he knew he would stand out in whatever room he entered. And the long coat…

He looked at himself again, and slightly smiled. “I believe… this will work. Yes.” The other man grinned back, and went to take measurements and the such. At the end, he turned to Miles again.

“Will this be all for today?”

He was about to deal an automatic ‘yes’ when he thought back to the plaid suit. “I was looking through your work earlier, while I was waiting, and was curious about one item in particular.” The man raised his eyebrows, but followed Miles when he went to point it out. When he saw what Miles was referring to, his eyebrows went up even further.

“This old thing? This was merely an experiment of mine, I’ve had it around here for a while, but nobody’s ever been too interested…”

“Well, I thought it’d fit an acquaintance of mine, one who I need to ensure is dressing well for this event.” A look of realization dawned on the tailor’s face, and he smiled.

“Well, then! If you’d like, you can give me their contact information, and I’ll set up a meeting.” Miles almost did just that, but then he stopped to think. The man was not the most monetarily well off, and he feared something like that would scare him off, even if he was given a good deal. No, Miles knew what he had to do.

“Actually, could you just tell me the measurements of this one? He’s a rather average sized man, I believe…”

After a bit of discussion, Miles agreed to take it as is, and then somehow find a way to convince the man to come back for a fitting were it to not fit him. The tailor tried to give it to him free of charge, but Miles insisted on paying, though he did agree to a discount. He left the shop with much more than he expected, and he knew this Ball was to be much more of an experience then he had originally believed.

For the second time this week, he found himself standing at the man’s office, though this time with a bag in hand. When he knocked, there was still a bit of shuffling, though quicker this time. He was met immediately by the man, to his relief, for as much as he respected his assistant, he did not want to deal with her snickering.

“Edgeworth…?”

“Wright.” Both seemingly forgot how to talk, and instead stood in silence, something rather familiar for the two of them. After a moment, however, the other man seemed to remember what hospitality is, and beckoned Miles in.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.” He smiled, as Miles walked in, carefully hiding the bag. “What can I do for you? Or did you just miss me?” He laughed at his final question, before grinning again. “Or, y’know, something like that…”

Miles let an awkward moment pass before formulating his answer. “I don’t suppose you’ve managed to acquire yourself an outfit, have you?”

With that question, the man’s face dropped, and he began to do his typical embarrassed head rub. “Well, not yet, but I was… I was thinking about it, and–”

“So in other words, no .”

“I guess that’s the easier way to say it,” the man admitted. “I’ll get on it, I promise.” After a moment, he smiled again. “Did you just come here to scold me?”

“Maybe.” Miles smiled back, before slowly maneuvering to the couch of the office, placing the bag behind him. “No, I promise I’m here on more official business.”

“Do tell.” He sat down next to him on the couch, lounging as he typically did. Miles shifted the bag further away from him, but left his hand on it.

“ Somehow , I managed to foretell that you wouldn’t be on top of things.” The other man frowned at him, and Miles had to resist the urge to laugh. “And thus, I prepared appropriately …” He moved the bag to his lap, then took a deep breath. “Now I know you’re typically against gifts, but I ask you not to think of this as such, and instead as my–” he attempted to form a word that sounded normal, then shrugged. “ Thank you for accompanying me. As much as I posed this as a business opportunity… Well, let’s just say I could use the company.”

This caused the other man to beam, a sight Miles had to look away from for a moment for a variety of reasons he did not want to delve into. “Aw, Edgeworth, you didn’t have to give me anything. It’s my pleasure, and stuff.”

“Then let’s pose it as for the sake of both of us.” He pushed the bag over to his companion, looking away again out of a strange abashment. He’s going to hate it, then he’s going to accuse me of overstepping boundaries, then he’ll rescind his acception, and then I’ll be at that stupid Ball alone and miserable–

“Oh, man!” This caused Miles to look up, and see that his friend was smiling widely, holding the suit up. “This is…” He shook his head, still grinning. “Are you sure? I mean, this is really…”

“I was afraid you would find it tacky, but… well, when I saw it, it reminded me of you.” Miles looked out the window, unable to meet the man’s separate colored eyes. He was aware he pry sounded foolish, and was sure Franziska would call him such if she saw him then, but oh well.

“Are you implying that I’m tacky?”

“No, that’s–” Miles spluttered, forced to turn back to him. He was, luckily, laughing, so Miles shook his head. “You know that’s not what I meant. I mean, both you and the suit are certainly… original. Now, I fear it might not fit you, of course it’s not like I got it custom made or anything, but hopefully it fits well enough, and I can give you my tailor’s contact information if you’d like, I’m sure he would do it free of charge–” Miles was stopped by the look the other man was giving him, one that could really only be described as fond . His head was perched on his hand, his mouth slightly upturned at the corners. All Miles could do was stare at him for a moment, before he regained his senses and cleared his throat. “I apologize for rambling, but you get my gist.”

“Indeed I do.” He stared at the suit in his hands one final time before putting it back in the bag. “Oh, man, I guess it’s time I start to take this seriously, huh? I mean, since I’m going to look so good, I’ll definitely draw eyes, so I’ll need to act the way you all do. All prim and proper.” He fixed an imaginary jabot on his neck, leading Miles to glare at him. “I’m sorry, but you certainly embody the mindset.”

Miles sighed, and rolled his eyes. “Suppose I can’t disagree with that. And yes, you must take this very seriously. If you’re to be the belle of the ball or whatever you’re suggesting, you must act the part.”

“I didn’t say I’d be–” He laughed, before giving Miles another strange look. “You know, I don’t even know how to dance.”

“You don’t know…?” Miles hadn’t even considered that as a possibility. Von Karma had put Miles and Franziska in dance classes from very young ages, so that they’d be perfectly prepped whenever he dragged them out to make appearances. He had come to envision them as a typical part of a childhood, but was now realizing that maybe that was a bit realistic.

“No, not at all. I told you when you invited me, I don’t really go to formal stuff like this. I can only do your typical high school slow dance. Some novelty dances from the 2000s if you count those.”

“Well, obviously we don’t .”

The other man shook his head. “I think it’d be much better if we all did the 1, 2 Step instead of some elaborate waltz.”

“Somehow, I can’t imagine all the old money ancients ‘busting it down’, or whatever the kids say.”

“ The kids– Miles, you’re 27.” He smirked at him, but Miles was too caught off guard by the usage of his first name to return the favor. Not to say that he didn’t appreciate it , but let’s just say he wasn’t used to hearing it. It was… strange.

“I rarely feel like it,” Miles admitted, turning his head to look at that plant that the man kept (Charles? Chandler? He could never remember the name).

“I get you there, man.” He felt a quick pat on his knee, before they returned to silence. After a minute, however, his companion stood up. “Hey, do you have anything to do in the next hour or so?”

Truthfully, Miles did have quite a bit of paperwork to return to, but something told him that whatever he was suggesting would be much more worth his time.

“I don’t believe so. Why?”

“Well, I was just thinking…” Miles almost made an automatic snide response, but decided it was better to let the man speak. “If I want to be the best there, then I might as well learn from the best, no? And something tells me you’ve received a good amount of training.”

“I suppose you could call it that.” His childhood lessons had been horrendous, excruciating, and all in all a horrible time, but they had taught him well.

“Hm…” He pretended to think for a moment, before extending a hand. “Then why don’t you teach me? To waltz, I mean. It can’t be that hard, right? And, um, I don’t mean to overstep, but if we’re going together–” Another bashful look, to which Miles responded with a blank one. “Let me stop before I start rambling.”

It took Miles a moment to process what the man was suggesting, but when he did, his eyebrows shot up. “...Me? Well, I guess you do need the lessons…” He grabbed the man’s outreached hand, and pulled himself up. “And you’re right, I do have the certifications.”

“Exactly!” The other man replied, grinning. “Here, let me grab my laptop, and move the couch out of the way. It’ll be great. For me, at least.”

And thus, on what would otherwise be a typical weekday night, Miles Edgeworth found himself standing in front of that certain man in his office, some traditional waltz tune blasting out of trashy speakers.

“Now, first, we have to establish the leader and the follower. I’ll lead, since, you know, you don’t really know what you’re doing… no offense.”

“None taken.” They exchanged smiles before Miles stepped to the left.

“We’ll start with the basic box step. So, basically, it’s all in ¾ time… you did theatre, you should be familiar with that, you know, ‘1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3’.”

The other man nodded, recognition dawning on his face. “Yeah, I can count. If my 3 years in my drama degree did anything…”

“I still can’t believe you quit it so far in. Well, anyway, the actual steps. If I may–” He gulped, preparing himself for what he had to do. He took the other man’s hand, and placed it on his shoulder, then looked at him for a conformation of any kind. Upon seeing him nod, he took a deep breath and grabbed the other man’s back. With his remaining hand, he grabbed his partner’s remaining hand, and held it up. He prayed to whatever Lord there was that he wouldn't begin to sweat. “Now, we’re going to start somewhat diagonal to each other, with your feet planted firmly side by side. Like we’re doing right now.”

He looked down to confirm that they were in the right starting position, then nodded.

“Now, here’s what you’re going to do. First, you’re going to step back with your right foot…” He waited for him to do just that, then continued. “And with your left, you’re going to do a sort of diagonal back step, so that you’re standing with your legs far apart.”

“Okay…” He followed Miles’ directions, then breathed out. “This is easier than it looks.”

“Slowly, maybe, but just you wait.” After receiving a grimace from his partner, he continued. “Now, move your right foot so that it’s right next to your left, a mirror of the beginning. Yes, just like that. Finally, step forward with your left foot… yes, and return your right foot to its original position. And now the left foot.”

When the other man managed to do that, Miles nodded. “Good, now let’s just do that a few times to get the steps down.”

The two did just that for a few moments, gradually speeding up until they were at somewhat a normal pace. He wasn’t perfect , there were a few foot stomps and the such, but he was a quick learner, and Miles thought he did pretty good. After a bit, Miles stopped them.

“Okay, let’s move it up to the pace you’d be expected to dance at. It’ll be rather quick, so…” He shrugged as best as he could with a hand on his shoulder. The other man gave him a very determined nod, and the two launched into it.

“You know, I’m starting to understand why you all enjoy this.”

“Really? I’ve failed to find such an understanding myself.”

“Oh, come on. You have to admit it’s a bit fun. Perhaps it’s just the frenzy of it all.”

“Maybe my enjoyment has just been tainted by years of doing it. Though I will admit, it’s better with a partner that…” His cheeks flushed at what he was about to say, and so he looked away. “You don’t actively dislike.”

“High praise.” His delivery was somewhat dry but fond, causing Miles’ cheeks to heat a smidge. It’s the proximity, Miles, that’s all .

“Well, you know, I fear you deserve it for putting up with… all this.” He meant to refer to the whole Ball scenario, but soon realized the potential double meaning. “What I mean is, you’ve taken to this quite quickly.”

“Well, once a theatre kid, always a theatre kid, and taking to things quickly is my speciality.” He stopped then, but didn’t let go, leaving the two standing somewhat awkwardly. “Though, I will say, I still prefer the traditional slow dance.”

Miles furrowed his brows at that. “...How? Isn’t it rather… primitive?”

“ Primitive , Miles, you can’t talk. I mean, have you even ever done it?” Another name drop… 

“No, but…”

“Let me guess, it’s a gauche American tradition that has no room in your ever-so elegant life,” he replied, voice twisting to perhaps attempt to sound like Miles.

“Glad to see you’ve been reading a thesaurus.” It was then that the position they were standing in got too awkward for Miles, so he let go. The other man slowly did the same, but not before he sighed.

“I haven’t been, actually, I think it’s just my proximity to you.” He poked Miles in the chest, then laughed. “Say, do you even know how to slow dance?”

“Well, it’s not a traditional component of upper class education, especially in Germany, so no.” Miles huffed. That man will mock me for anything.

“Hey, wait.” The other man suddenly walked to his computer, and turned off the lively ¾ music. After a bit of searching, a vaguely familiar song began to play, one slow and sweet. Miles raised an eyebrow, causing him to roll his eyes. “Don’t you recognize The Carpenters?”

“I was wondering more why you put them on.”

“Because I happened to get an idea. Why don’t I teach you something?” The look on the other man’s face was strange, questioning yet sly.

“You don’t mean…”

“Time for you to get the true American high school experience you were robbed of. Come on.” He extended a hand again, an invitation. His smile was a curious one, as if trying to decide whether Miles would accept it or not.

“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt… I may as well get accustomed to the local scene.”

“I definitely would not call it that,” he replied, grimacing. “It’s been a minute since I got to do one, but I think I remember the steps well enough.” Miles took his hand then, and they shifted into a position similar to that of the waltz. “It’s actually not too different from the waltz. Just much easier.”

“Would you prefer to lead, or…?”

“Actually, I think you should.” Seeing Miles’ confused expression, he smiled. “Because, um, your name comes first alphabetically, or something.” When that only confused Miles further he shrugged. “Don’t worry, it isn’t difficult. Essentially, just… sway. Yeah.”

Miles stared at him blankly, then did as he suggested. “I don’t actually think I need lessons for this.”

“Oh, come on. That’s not all . As we dance, sort of… guide me in a circle. Like rotating.”

“...Okay.” He still found it all somewhat primitive, but he did have to admit it was nice. You didn’t have to think about it much, and could instead focus your attention on your partner. And, he did have to admit, his partner looked quite nice at the moment.

The two simply moved gently in circles for a minute, before the other man suddenly brightened. “Here, try a twirl. Don’t try and force me into it. Just… raise your hand up.” When Miles did, his companion turned on his own volition, which he did have to admit looked much better than when people propelled their partner into one. “See, not so bad, is it?”

“I guess not.”

“Oh, man, this is making me nostalgic. I always wished…” The man looked away then, something overcoming him for a moment. After a moment, though, he turned back to his partner. “Hey, do you think we would’ve done this if we did go to high school together?”

The question knocked Miles off guard, as he had been thinking about it. Lamenting lost possibilities was nothing new to him, and well…he was sure teenaged him would’ve greatly enjoyed this. “Hmm… no.” When the other man’s face fell, Miles offered a smile in response. “You know social events have never been my thing… though, actually, I’m sure you would’ve found a way to convince me.”

“Well, you know, I AM rather persuasive.”

“Oh, surely.” Miles allowed his face to contort into something sentimental, and was greeted by a similar one from his friend. The two merely smiled at each other for a moment, before the other man sighed.

“I really wish you never… Well, you know. It would’ve been nice.”

“It would’ve.” It was then that Miles noticed a strange phenomena: the two were slowly getting closer to each other. He almost pointed it out, but was interrupted by his companion.

“Hey, you know what, no slow dance is complete without a dip.” Miles looked at him horrified, to which he shrugged. “Come on… it’s, like, necessary.”

“I fear I’ll be unable to support your weight.”

“Oh, come on, I’m not that heavy. I believe in you, Miles…” Something in the way that he said his last sentence encouraged Miles, and he dipped the man in his arms, thankfully not dropping him. He didn’t bring him back up for a moment, instead basking in his smile and the look in his eyes. When they returned to the typical slow dance, Miles felt very light in the chest, which normally would have worried him. Now, however, he was simply caught in the moment.

“See, I knew you could do it…” Miles hadn’t realized that when he had brought him back up, he had left him mere inches from his face. Their proximity caused him to gulp, and then try to disguise it with a laugh.

“I guess I’m a prodigy in multiple senses, ha…” The other man didn’t bother to respond to Miles’ half-baked comment, and instead only seemed to be getting closer. Miles couldn’t bring himself to look away, leading him to notice that the other man seemed to have made a quick glance at his lips. He made one of his own, and then they seemed to get closer, and closer…

And then he heard the blasted Steel Samurai theme.

The two practically shot apart, and Miles realized it was his own phone. He picked it up awkwardly, and then looked back over at his companion. He was met by a somewhat bashful smile, and then he seemed to suddenly get very interested in the wall. Miles glanced down at who was calling him, and seeing it was Franziska, picked up.

“My foolish fool of a younger brother, why are you not at your office?”

“It’s…” He sighed, then lowered his voice. “I’m with Wright .”

“With that fool –” Her voice sounded vexed until she randomly stopped, perhaps experiencing a realization of sorts. “Oh, don’t tell me I’m interrupting .”

Miles lowered his voice even lower, to the point where it was barely audible to himself. “ I– Well, I wouldn’t call it that , but– .”

“Well, then, I apologize, Miles Edgeworth, I can call you back in a moment, if need be.”

“I think it’s a little late for that.” He sighed, and then heard the line drop. He turned back to the other man, who was now staring at him somewhat regretfully. Miles returned the look, then turned again. “Well, I reckon it’s time I go…”

“It was nice to see you, Edgeworth.” The return to his surname almost made him wince, but he managed to retain his composure. “I… I’ll see you at the Ball.”
“I suppose you will.” He grabbed his coat, then looked back one final time. He had forgotten how well his companion looked even devoid of fancy clothes, with just a white button-up and slacks he was as powerful a force as ever. Miles tilted the corners of his mouth somewhat upwards, perhaps not a smile but more a ghost of one. He was met by one with a bit more effort, and sight that stayed stuck in his head even after he left.

I’m screwed.

On the day of the ball, Miles was dressed hours prior to what was necessary.

He just needed to get accustomed to the look. In his core, he knew it was a good one, one that would surely win him the admiration of his peers (and perhaps others…), yet it was still odd to break from his tradition. There was nothing Miles loved more than tradition and routine, it was just who he was. A few years earlier, before he was a (partially) healed man, any break in routine could send him spiraling, which is exactly what happened when that man reentered his life and messed everything up for him.

Isn’t it funny how things change…

Every few moments, Miles subconsciously checked the mirror. He couldn’t say why, other than some inherent doubt of reality, needing to ensure that what he was seeing was true. Of course, he knew it was, but his mind wasn’t exactly known for being rational , just ask his therapist. And everyone who knew him.

Speaking of people who know him…

Perhaps another reason he kept checking the mirror was because he needed a distraction. Every single time he closed his eyes, he had flashbacks to… whatever had happened the previous night.

How am I supposed to face him? He covered his face with his hands and groaned, then promptly stood up. Just as I’ve faced him all these years prior. Es ist Zeit, sich zusammenzureißen.

Gazing at the clock, he decided he might as well head out now. He had to pick up his companion , after all, lord knows he’d never get his license.

I think I’ve been at this door more times in the past week than the multiple years prior. Of course, he hadn’t been in America much until recently, but still. Maybe more effort is in order…

He raised his hand to knock, but before he could even do so, the door flew upon, and inside was…

Miles focused so much of his attention on not letting his jaw drop that he was unable to do quite much else. Inside stood, well, him , but…

Miles had been right in assuming that the suit was his size. In fact, it fit him perfectly, in a way that made it hard to believe it wasn’t bespoke. The blue of the suit sweetly complimented his left eye, with the brown details pairing well with both his skin color and right eye. The plaid was a pattern that seemed practically made for him, both being rather original and sure to stand out in any room. As for the man himself– he had clearly paid a lot of attention to his hair, being in its typical style yet a tad cleaner than usual. Paired with the dazzling smile he was giving Miles, he was just… a force.

It took him a moment to realize that the other man’s mouth was moving, and another second to hear what was coming out of his mouth.

“...Edgeworth, buddy, you good?” His expression had sunk into something a bit concerned, prompting Miles to nod and clear his throat.

“Yes, yes, just the stress, you know…”

Miles’ seemingly believable response made the man grin again. “Hey, there’s no need to worry! You have me there, after all, and I’m a fantastic companion.”
“Surely…” Miles uttered, before looking away.

“And with that outfit, you’ll be sure to draw eyes. Trust me. You look… fantastic,” he all but whispered. His tone prompted Miles to look back, meeting his soft gaze. Hoping to avoid another shutdown moment, he quickly turned around, and beckoned him to follow.

“We… um… need to act with haste. We don’t want to be late.”

“Are you saying we need to leave posthaste?” Although he wasn’t looking at the man, he could practically envision his shit-eating grin.
“I’m searching your office for a thesaurus, and if I find one, I’m confiscating it.” He looked back, which confirmed his earlier theory. He couldn’t help but return a minor–perhaps not a grin, but something close–of his own. “Posthaste.”

“Please tell me my taxes aren’t going towards this.”

“I’m somewhat sure it’s privately funded, but… well, these people do get their salaries from your taxes, so…”

The two stood gazing at the venue of the ball, a refurbished Victorian manor with a massive estate. Outside stood various congregations of the greatest legal minds in the state, and even some from outside. All were dressed elegantly, giving the whole scene an immense reek of money .

“I’m sure we look 10x better than all of them,” his companion whispered, as if reading Miles’ mind. Almost subconsciously, he elbowed him, before smiling.
“I’m not going to discredit that.”

The other man then extended his elbow, which Miles linked around his own. Elbow-in-elbow, they walked up to the door, and therefore other people. He took a deep breath, before feeling a nudge on his side.
“Hey, we don’t have to go in yet, if you’re not ready,” his accomplice whispered, which against his instincts made Miles smile.

“Worry not, Wright, I’ve prepared myself for this.”

As they entered the ballroom, Miles was astounded by the magnitude of it all. He knew it’d be big, but this was grand . The room was about as tall as four stories of his apartment building, and even the central dancing portion was pry the size of his entire apartment. And, of course, it was filled . There were people no matter where you looked, every inch chock filled with perhaps the most elitist people possible. Instinctively, he couldn’t tell whether it was the stuffiness of it all or the type of people, he tensed up. Seemingly sensing this, the other man placed his hand on Miles’ shoulder, prompting him to look over. His… atypical eyebrows were slightly furrowed with worry, but otherwise his expression was reassuring.

Spotting a whirl of blue hair in the crowd, the two approached a corner, where they found Franziska waiting.

“ Miles Edgeworth ,” she opened with a slightly worrying smirk. “So it seems you were able to force someone to attend this foolish event.”

“Well, he didn’t force me–”

“I did not ask for your input, fool,” she interrupted, before softening a bit. “But I do extend my gratitudes for your attendance. My foolish little brother…” Miles shot her a look, for which she rolled her eyes. “I’ll spare him his sensibilities and leave it at that. Well, anyway, I was just speaking to that fool Playn Tiff , if you remember him from–”

She went on for a bit describing old connections, all the while Miles simply nodded along absentmindedly. He could tell his companion was similarly out of it, and thus attempted to end their talk appropriately.

“I suppose I really should go about speaking to Ellie Ta, I’m sure she has many things to say…”

“Oh yes, I saw her earlier, her foolish husband too. I’ll let you go, then.” Then, turning to the man she was previously ignoring, she lowered her voice. “If you happen to see Maya Fey , point her this way. I seem to have lost her in this foolish crowd of fools.”

“ Maya’s–” But before he could finish his sentence, Franziska had turned away. He turned to Miles as if to confirm what he just heard, for which he just shrugged. Truly, he was as shocked as he was, but he wasn’t about to admit that.

“It’s a wonder she managed to keep that hidden from you.”

“ I know , usually she wouldn’t be able to stop going on and on, especially since–” He stopped himself then, as if suddenly remembering something. “I don’t think I should share that last part.”

“Maybe not. I have some connections to speak to, I’m sure they’d love to meet the man who ruined the Demon Prosecutor, if you want to tag along.” He said this with a smile, recognizing now the stupidity of his former title.
The other man grimaced. “Hey, quick question, are murderous prosecutors a one-off thing? Or is it a common occurrence?”

“Well, not to discredit my profession, but…” He looked around quickly, then whispered: “The numbers aren’t great .”

“Hm. I’ll make sure to watch my drink then.”

Socializing had been about as boring as Miles had expected, though everyone was quite intrigued to meet the rookie defense attorney who had managed to tumble the Von Karma dynasty, or something like that. When Miles introduced him, they all raised his eyebrows at him, as if surprised that he would bring him , even more so when the two spoke in a way that revealed their–friendship? Were they friends? He wasn’t quite sure. I’m sorry that I didn’t go for the “shooting my rival in an elevator in front of his son” route…

In the other man’s defense, he took it all quite well. He let out sufficient laughter at all attempts at humor, answered questions dutifully but concise enough to not be too much , and seemingly knew exactly what to say. Miles found himself pleased that his assumptions were correct–the man could find his way in any crowd.

After a bit, they separated themselves from the crowd, and his companion grinned.

“How’d I do? I didn’t catch any assassination attempts, so…”

“I don’t think you find any of that type at this particular event, but regardless, you did quite well. They all seemed pleased.”

“Good. It’s pretty easy with these people. Just seem mildly interested in what they’re saying, nod along, smile. I’m glad they were all so busy talking about themselves that they barely talked about me .”

“You were the center of attention, though, just a bit.”

“The center for them to reflect on, maybe. Everyone had a first loss story to share…” He shook his head with a sigh, and Miles let his expression turn bemused.

“Yes, I fear these types are quite obsessed with all that. You remember how I was…” Though, to their credit, nobody else has tried to fake their death, at least not yet…

“Oh, quite well. No offense.” After a sheepish look, he began to glance furiously around the room. “I wish we ran into Maya, but you know she loves disappearing.” He shook his head again, but then seemed… reflective , almost. “I’ll let her have her moment. She needs a break.” It was then that the song that was previously playing ended, and he got a sudden look in his eyes. “Speaking of…”

Miles raised his eyebrows, prompting him to continue. He began moving to the center of the room, prompting Miles to follow, then spun around and grinned.

“How about we take advantage of those dance lessons?”

Miles couldn’t help but smile. His cheeks felt extremely warm, but he contributed it to the warmth of the room. He wasn’t the only one, even his companion had pink cheeks as he grinned.

The other man extended his hand as an invitation, which Miles quickly took. With soft looks, they began to move in step to the music, a lively little piece that Miles found himself secretly enjoying. What he enjoyed even more, however, was basking in the presence of the man in front of him.

He had always… let’s say admired him, but something about his proximity, the room, the handpicked outfit he was wearing, the warm expression on his face…

It was almost too much for Miles to handle.

Still, he maintained his composure, till they reached the point where he was barely focusing on dancing and instead solely on his partner.

“You’ve improved a lot in the past… what? Two days?”

“Something like that. I had a good teacher.”

“Oh, spare me of your flatteries, Wright…” Miles tried unsuccessfully to combat his face’s drive to become even more red, something the other man clearly noticed.

“Then perhaps you should become less worthy of ‘flatteries’.” He grinned, and Miles resisted the urge to stomp off (in his typical manner) in humiliation.

“I’m not going to justify that with a response,” he huffed instead, and lifted their shared hand. Seeing what Miles was trying to do, his partner practically beamed, then twirled, getting quite a few astonished looks from the other prosecutors. Miles, however, had long erased them from his mind, and paid their shock no mind.

“You know there’s no discouraging me, Ed– Miles–” He stopped as if to gouge his reaction, for which luckily he was already uncharacteristically visually chuffed. “–I’m an unstoppable force.”

“Then I’m an immovable object.” This caused the other man to let out one of his wonderful laughs, which turned into one of his court smirks.

“Objection! I think we’ve proven in the court of law that you are actually quite moveable, just think back to… well most cases, first People vs. Powers…”

“Was I moveable or just firm in my drive for justice? Which allowed me to change opinions, while still maintaining the same true motive?”

“I see your argument, however I implore you–” I need to destroy whatever thesaurus he has ASAP. “to consider that such opinion-shifting was previously unheard of. I think that you were moved by the facts of the case, which I so wonderfully presented and that is what started your thirst for justice or whatever.”

“I’ll ignore the fact that I believe you’re attempting to mock me, and instead point to the fact that there is no way that just the one force managed to destroy my status as an immovable object.”

“Objection again! I would like to point the court’s attention to a statement given by the defendant– that being you – to the prosecution, hey wait, we switched roles.” Miles gave him a look, and he continued. “Anyway, a statement given to me after that trial, in which you stated, what was it? Something about “ unnecessary feelings ”?”

“Oh, you–!” Miles would have attacked him if his hands weren’t so tied up in the art of dancing. He noticed then that their argument had made their movements a bit more… let’s say passionate . They were nearly drawing the eyes of everyone, but Miles had bigger things to worry about, such as this current battle of pettiness.

“That clearly rings a bell for the defendant, doesn’t it? What were those emotions again? Unease ? Uncertainty ? Those sound like symptoms of being moved to me.”

“Why do you even remember that?!” Miles interrogated, attempting to keep his voice down. His brow was furrowed in genuine mortification, a sight that made his companion fight to hold back laughter.

“Let’s just say it was very… memorable.”

“Well, how about–” Miles was interrupted by the sudden realization that the music had stopped, and the two awkwardly broke apart. He hadn’t realized how close they had gotten, they were nearly in tango territory. It was also then that he realized just how much attention they had drawn, they were surrounded by pry half the room.

“By Jove, was that a show !” A strange man with white hair commented, clapping. They received similar remarks from other members of the crowd, and some even began to step out.

“You must give me the next dance,” a woman with short blonde hair implored, but she was interrupted by others giving the same command. Miles had not prepared himself for this, and began to back away awkwardly. It was then that he realized that though the room appeared quite large, at least in this moment it was all very small, seeing as how he bumped into someone no matter where he went. I need to get out of here , the last functioning part of his brain implored, and he began to seek desperately for an exit. He was stopped, however, by a hand on his shoulder, a sensation that gave him unfortunate flashbacks. Half-panicked, he slowly turned, but was thankfully met by his former dance partner.

“Miles–? Hey, man, are you–?”

“Um. I don’t–”

“Here, wait, come on.” He was led to a more secluded area of the room, away from the main crowd. The other man waved down a waiter and was given a glass of water, which he handed to Miles. After drinking it, he looked at his rescuer sheepishly.

“Thank you. I apologize for my… irrationality, but it was all…”

“A bit too much?”

“Yes, you could say that.” After a momentary pause, he sighed. “Did I ever tell you about what I did the last time I attended such a large, formal event?”

“No? Let me guess. You fell down the stairs.” His serious tone made Miles break from his prior hysteria-stricken attitude, and instead hold back a chuckle.

“No, thank goodness. No, I got panicked–as you just witnessed–and made a mad dash for the balcony, where I then hid for hours.”

“That’s… extremely in character. Sorry.”

“No, you’re right. I sat out in the cold of German winter for hours alone, because I couldn’t handle a few people talking to me.” He shrugged. “ Tja .”

“Sometimes you just need a break, I get it.” He looked strangely to the side, where a large staircase stood. “Hey, you know, when I went to the bathroom earlier, while you were talking with the others, I saw one of those.”

“German winters?” Miles deadpanned, causing him to splutter.

“No! I meant, like, a balcony. It was pretty big, I don’t know. If you need to cool off… Like it is pretty stuffy in here…” He looked at him nervously, to which Miles really didn’t know how to respond. The intuitive portion of his brain begged him to go, desperate for both relief and the chance to be alone with him. The sensible part, however, knew he couldn’t just leave . He had business to attend to.

He looked around the room, he wasn’t sure quite what for. Through his glancing, however, he managed to catch the eye of Franziska from across the room, who was speaking to the young Ms. Fey. She gave Miles… a look , and he knew then what to say.

“That… sounds like a good idea.”

“Really? I mean, yeah. Sensible.” He nodded, and then grabbed Miles by hand again. Before he could protest, he was leading him to the staircase, then up, then around the corner.

“How lost did you get while searching for a bathroom? Didn’t you ask for directions?”

“Never underestimate my abilities.” It was then that they stepped foot on the balcony, which was, as described, quite large. It overlooked the manor’s large and glorious garden, and you could still hear faint music and chattering from downstairs. The cool air of a Japanifornian autumn night hit Miles pleasantly, a welcome relief from the suffocating quality of the ballroom. “Pretty cool, right?”

Miles could only nod, gazing out in a haze. He was struck by the intensity of being here , in this moment, alone with him in such lovely surroundings. Still, he couldn’t help but think back to his childhood times alone on the balcony, wistfully staring out just as he was doing now. Turning back, he offered a meek look. “Are you familiar with the works of Byron?”

“Byron? Like the poet?” He deliberated for a moment before frowning. “I think we read one of his poems for our 10th grade poetry unit. That’s about it, though.”

“Which one?” He turned to face him, suddenly quite serious. He was met by a raised eyebrow, then a look , one stuck between confusion and intrigue.

“I don’t really know, dude, it’s been a minute. Something about walking? Or nature?”
“Not the one I’m thinking of, then.” He walked back to his companion, and the two sat on the floor. “‘When We Two Parted’. That’s… It’s a good one. Something about this reminds me of it.”

“Didn’t know you were such a poetry fan.”

“Oh, it was part of my mandatory training with Von Karma. The classics and such. Victorian literature was always my favorite… Franziska preferred the old Greek ones. War, revenge, that sort of stuff.”

“I always assumed that would’ve been your favorite, too.”

“No, I fear I’m a sentimentalist at heart. You know my flair for the dramatics.”

“We’re both dramatics, Miles, I just got mine from watching chick flicks.” He said this with a laugh, then looked over at Miles expectantly, making him realize his lack of knowledge in this field.

“You know, I don’t believe I’ve ever watched one of those,” he admitted, lowering his gaze. “The only movies we watched in the Von Karma household were either German classics or released when they were still called ‘talkies’. Though, when he wasn’t around I’d sneak off and watch the Steel Samurai movies…”

“Sounds about right. I just can’t believe…” He shook his head sadly. “I’m making you watch Legally Blonde next time we speak, no objections.”

“Perhaps I should… it seems as if your group is always referencing it.”

“ My group …” He repeated, quizzically. “Miles, you’re literally a core part of ‘my group’. You can’t speak.”

This caused him to splutter minorly, before a slight redness dusted his cheeks, luckily explainable as ‘the cold’. He really sees me like that? So close? “Well, you know what I mean…”

The other man simply shrugged, surprisingly unwilling to argue. “It would be nice for you to be able to catch all of our references. You know what, yeah. We’re making you go through mandatory training.”

“I’ll get my proper American raising at long last.”

“You get it.” The two exchanged grins, a move that Miles accredited to, again, ‘the cold’. I fear it’s making me delirious, really. I feel nonsensical. 

In a comfortable silence they sat for a while, simply listening to the people below. Occasionally, they would look at each other and do some variant of a laugh, but otherwise it was just an experience of enjoying the moment. Eventually, a song began to play downstairs that Miles recognized as a “cool-down” song: slower, meant to encourage people to go around and socialize. It was these that he typically feared most, as it brought on the largest onslaught of people he’d have to deal with. Now, however, it just contributed to the moment, peaceful and reflective and what not.

He was coming up with other pleasant adjectives when his companion nudged him, prompting to look over.

“Hey, this song… Pretty slow, isn’t it?”

“It’s a cool-down song, so yes.” Miles shifted back to where he was before, thinking that to be an asked and answered exchange. The other man, however, had other ideas.

“Hey, you know, it’s strange…”

“I find it rather typical, actually–”

He shot Miles a look, prompting him to be quiet. “I mean, it’s strange… this sounds like it’d be just perfect for a slow dance. Straight out of senior prom. Though, actually, at mine they played ‘Iris’ by the Goo Goo Dolls–” He suddenly quieted, which confused Miles until he realized the name …

Wanting to distract the man, he spoke quickly: “I see what you mean. It is a bit strange, is it not?”

“Exactly!” He stood suddenly, then looked down at Miles. “Care to give me this dance?”

“You don’t mean…”

“I do mean.” After Miles failed to speak for a moment, his face began to fall. “I mean, I don’t want to impose, and you know it’s fine–”

Miles grabbed his hand, shocking him, then pulled himself up with it. “Then I suppose we’ll dance. High school style.”

With the brightest look of the night, the man nodded, and put his hand on Miles’ waist. Attempting to not make a fool of himself, Miles too fell into formation, and the two began to sway.

“Oh, boy, this is giving me flashbacks .” He had a strange look on his face, one that desperately made Miles want to lean in. Get a hold of yourself, Edgeworth… “I didn’t go to junior prom because it was too expensive, but I did go senior year. It was… interesting. Larry rented a limo , if you can believe that, and it was him, his current girlfriend, me, and this girl I went with because I didn’t want to be alone.” He let out a slight laugh. “She was nice, but I wasn’t really into her. I think I stomped on her foot 3 times when we were dancing, and she never spoke to me again. Didn’t matter, because I was off to Ivy the next month, anyway…” He said that wistfully, in a way that immediately made Miles speak up.

“I never had a school dance. Because I was homeschooled, obviously.” He chuckled at his own statement, getting a weird look from his companion. “I never slow danced, also obviously, other than with you , but I’ve waltzed with a few people. Mostly for weird political reasons, people Von Karma insisted on.” He debated speaking again, but decided he deserved his vulnerability. “I got asked to dance by a few people outside of that. I never accepted them. There was, um… there was this one guy who asked me to dance, pry when I was around 17, but, uh, well, Von Karma , so I declined him, too.”

He got another weird look, and the other man failed to speak for a moment. Is he… judging me? He doesn’t really seem like the type to, but… “But… did you want to dance with him?”

“In all honesty? Yes. I was a teenager, vulnerable to my emotions and what not…” The man’s weird look had shifted to being full on bug-eyed, which made Miles feel really weird. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing, I just. Ah. Wasn’t expecting that.”

“What? Me having emotions, or…?”

“ No , you–”

“If it’s about my romantic inclinations , I had supposed I was fairly obvious with all that.” The look he gave Miles informed him that perhaps that was not the case, at least to just him.

“ Please don’t call it that.”

“Romantic inclinations? That’s the term , Wright.”

“No it’s– anyway , I fear it’s not as obvious as you think.”

“ Half this town would beg to differ. Even your assistant has called me out.”

“She calls out everyone , Miles… I don’t really pay attention when she talks about all that.”

“Well, besides that, have you not noticed the signs? How I react with disgust to all flirtations and suggestions from the opposite gender?”

“I thought that was just because you ‘had no room for such foolishness’, or however you put it.”

“Well that’s part of it , but…” He shook his head. “This entire time I thought you knew.”

“Well, I’m a fool,” he responded with a shrug, “as both you and your sister have helpfully pointed out.”

“That you are,” Miles agreed, before deeply frowning. “Why are you so… concerned? Do you have something wrong with–”

“No! That’s not— Miles –” He spluttered, stepping on his foot in the process. Miles yelped and nearly jumped back, but luckily managed to stay relatively in rhythm. “I’m so sorry for that, and also no , do you really think–”

“You can never be too sure with anyone,” Miles offered, looking a bit awkwardly to the side. “I apologize, however, for accusing you–or I suppose I didn’t accuse but–well anyway, I apologize.”

“I’m sorry for apparently seeming so bothered. You just caught me off guard,” his dance partner responded with a slight laugh, before somewhat unexpectedly placing his head on Miles’ shoulder. Miles instinctively tensed up, but nearly relaxed into a puddle once he realized what had just occurred. He remembered, then, that he often saw people do this in dances on American TV shows and movies, and reasoned it was just a traditional part of it all. There’s no need to make something big out of this.

He was so close now that Miles barely had to whisper to speak to him. “Well, I’m sorry for unexpectedly dropping it all. I had just assumed…”

“No need to apologize for being yourself, Miles.” After a moment of comfortable silence, simply swaying, he heard the man snort.

“Hm?”

“I just… I can’t believe you even considered I’d ever be homophobic. I mean… Consider who I surround myself with.”

After thinking it over for a moment, Miles huffed. “Well, yes, but I suppose one can never be too cautious–”

He laughed again, then sighed. “You know, it’s nice to be doing… this again. I mean the dancing. I don’t think I’ve done it since–” He took a moment before continuing. “--My last relationship, and I think you can guess that that soured it a little.”

“Yes, I suppose I can see that,” Miles replied with a grimace, that case not being too long ago. “Were I to be in your position, I’m not sure if I could ever dance again.”

“Okay George Michael,” he responded with a slight laugh, but after a moment of silence he sighed. “We really need to expand your music taste. How do you not know— okay, you know what, I’ll just ignore that for now. Anyway, I suppose I just had a person who made me want to get back into it.”

Miles was glad the other man was unable to see his face from the position they were in. After doing a strange tender-scowl-thing at the floor for a moment, he spoke again: “I’m… glad to hear that.”

“I am, too.” Suddenly, his partner removed his head from his shoulder, leaning back so Miles could now look him in his mismatched eyes, and then replaced it with his hand. “Miles, I– did I ever compliment you on your outfit?”

“I… I believe briefly , earlier, yes.” His cheeks flushed at the mere memory, convincing him wholly that he was very much a fool, as his sister claimed.

“Good. Because you…” Instead of saying anything, he just grinned for a minute, before remembering to finish his sentence. “You’re something else, man.”

“You’re awfully fond of strange compliments, Wr– Phoenix .” He tried to ignore how the man’s face lit up at the proper use of his name, and how it made Miles’ stomach do flips. “But I do believe you’re ‘something else’ as well.”

He was met by a disgustingly sweet look, and he was sure his own face was contorting into some dopey grin against his will. “Do you really think that?”

“I do. You’re quite famously one of a kind, Phoenix Wright. What’s it they call you now? The Turnabout Terror ? Fitting, no?”

“I guess it fits me better than the Demon Prosecutor. If only they knew you’re such a softy outside of court…” Miles was so busy simply staring into the man’s eyes that he had failed to notice that at some point, one of his hands had come down to toy with his cravat. Now, however, he was more than aware, aware too of the fact that he seemed to only be getting closer by the minute.
“I am no ‘softy,’ Phoenix. Out of the two of us, I am not the sentimental fool–” He was expecting a brash argument from him, but was instead met by another one of his looks, the type he was sure he could melt into if he tried. He promptly quieted, eyes wide and heart pounding in both fear and exhilaration.

“I’m sure I could find evidence to the contrary…” Eventually came the expected reply, and, if Miles was not mistaken, his eyes flickered to his lips . The other man tilted his head, awaiting a response.

“I– I would sure like to see what the opposing counsel could come up with, seeing as how–” He’s definitely looking at my lips , his brain interrupted, and Miles couldn’t help but do the same, and then suddenly he was mere inches from his face–

In retrospect, they had many near-misses. It seemed something was always trying to keep them apart, some evil force praying on his downfall. Perhaps, then, it is not unreasonable that Miles, in the back of his mind, expected this to be another one of those events. He was sure they were about to dart apart, look at each other awkwardly, and then not speak for a week, before returning to usual.

That, then, may have been the reason why when the other man finally leaned fully in, Miles failed to perceive it for a moment. One moment, his lips were cool from the outdoor air, and the next they were being warmed by some outside force. When he realized what that outside force was, he nearly spluttered in shock.

He was not upset. Quite far from it, in fact. Had the other man not quickly leaned away, Miles would surely have begun to kiss him back. But, no, instead he now faced the man’s fearful eyes.

“Miles, I– I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t even–” He looked panicked and conflicted, and began to back up a bit. “I should’ve asked , I’m sorry I didn’t, and it’s okay if–”

Miles, still mostly in shock from both the kiss and its quick ending, only had two coherent thoughts: Phoenix Wright just kissed me and I need to stop his incessant chattering . Therefore, he did what seemed most rational to the frenzied mind: he catched up to him, and shut him up with a kiss.

After a moment of hesitancy, that man– no, Phoenix leaned right into it, and looped an arm around Miles’ neck to pull him closer. The moment was fervent and ardent, and Miles failed to notice where they were moving or even that they were moving. After almost a minute, they broke apart to breathe, giving Miles a magnificent view of Phoenix Wright in his marvelous suit.

“You look wonderful,” Miles breathed, and soaked in how Phoenix’s cheeks flushed. “Just– utterly breathtaking. Spectacular–”

“Miles, I think I need you to kiss me again,” Phoenix interrupted, and Miles joyfully complied. Once their lips met again, time seemed to be both indefinite and nonexistent. He wasn’t sure for how long he kissed him, only that eventually they managed to make it to the wall of the balcony, which he was leaning against. Every time they broke apart, Phoenix met him with a smile and laughter, before resuming again, years of tension culminating in this one moment. And lord, did it feel good .

He thought he could’ve stayed there that entire night, had a sudden voice not yelled his name.

Miles begrudgingly pulled apart from a still blissfully-gazing Phoenix, even with the interruption. Slowly turning around, he was met by an extremely familiar sight: Franziska standing at the doorway of the balcony, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. The only thing different was, of course, their ages, and the fact that both had company, with Maya Fey practically grinning ear-to-ear behind her.

“Franziska.”

“Miles Edgeworth. I came here to see if you were alright, but that seems to clearly be the case. Thus, I will… leave you to it .” Her expression was primarily apathetic, as if she was neither surprised by or cared for the situation, but behind that clearly lay something that told Miles she was at least somewhat pleased by this outcome.

“Nick, you are so telling me everything later–” an excited Maya yelled, as Franziska ushered her out. Phoenix sheepishly smiled at her, then turned back to Miles. Miles, however, had one more matter to attend to, and asked him to give him a moment.

He ran to meet Franziska in the hallway, grabbing her sleeve to halt her.

“Sorry, sorry Franziska, I just wanted to say… thank you. You were right.”

“About you being a foolish fool ? About time you recognize that, little brother.” Before she could turn away again, Miles offered her his sincerest look.

“Well, yes, that, but also… thanks for making me come. You were right, I need to socialize more.” Behind his simple message laid a deeper one: Thanks for supporting me. Thanks for looking out for me, even when I’m sure it’s the last thing you wanted to do. Thanks for everything .

Still, even without those more hard-hitting lines, Franziska smiled. “You are welcome. Now go. Run back to your fool .”

Miles nodded at her, then to Maya Fey, who had backed a respectable distance away from their conversation, before returning to the balcony. There still stood Phoenix Wright (it was still weird for him to even admit to the man's name, let alone everything else ), exactly where he left him.

“Hi,” he began, not sure what else there was to say.

“Hi.”

Love is something that had always seemed foolish to Miles. It was a wasteful pastime for sentimental fools, who had nothing of actual importance to consume their days. Perhaps it was because he was always unable to connect with it: in the media it seemed fake, and it wasn’t as if he was raised around the environment that supports it. Perhaps what’s true about love is what’s true about most things: you never quite understand it until you experience it yourself. Had you asked Miles a mere decade or so ago, he would have told you that such a thing was impossible for him. In fact, in some ways he had continued to believe it until now. He was unlovable, and unable to love, and that was just a fact of his life.

But now, looking into the eyes of Phoenix, he knew that both were fundamentally untrue.

He wasn’t sure if he could trust himself to handle such a thing, not to screw up and ruin it as he always believed he did. Had he been the man he was just a few years prior, that very thought would have made his worries a self-fulfilling prophecy; it would prompt him to run to prevent the ruin, escape the mere possibility, only to ruin everything in the process. He knew better now. Giving up was a fool’s gamble, and he was tired of being as foolish as his sister claimed.

So, when he was met by Phoenix’s ever-bewildered grin, he met it, and when he kissed him, he returned it, and when they returned to the ballroom and he could tell Phoenix was constantly looking at him, he gazed back with a smile, and when the day was over and Phoenix told him to call him in the tone that told him what he really meant was don’t run , he knew that the very next day he’d see him again.

And that made him happy. More so then he had ever been before, in fact. He knew then that he had made a mistake in calling forth Byron’s “When We Two Parted” on the balcony, for he was sure they would never part, because Miles knew love now. It was as present as his career, his past, anything else he had formerly believed defined him. And that was a nice thing to know.

And all because of that foolish ball.