Work Text:
7:00 AM
It's criminal how early schools start in the morning.
It only really takes one alarm for Phoenix to wake up, but goddamn he hates that he's set one at that hour.
He typically stumbles home from work late; he's supposed to finish his shift at 2 am, but it wasn't unusual for him to wrap up around 3 or 4 if he got stuck in a game, especially if a customer rolled in last minute, or tried to play cautiously, or got pissed and threw a fit and he had to involve a bouncer (or god forbid, the cops). Not to mention his route home, a healthy 10 minutes when riding his bike, but could quickly stretch to 30 minutes or more if he was too nauseous from drinking or a hit to the head and had to walk home alongside it instead, clinging to the handle bars for support.
But no matter what, he was always determined to be able to stumble out of bed with enough time to cobble together a lunch and walk his daughter to the bus stop to see her off for the day.
7:15 AM
Trucy is frighteningly perceptive and independent, and sometime after her 10th birthday she started turning off his alarm if she decided he looked particularly rough or troubled in his sleep, forcing him to rest while she made herself her own lunch and walked herself down the block to her stop. After a week of heartbreak and panic when he woke up late morning to find her missing, the jittering in his bones lingering even after he found her messages, colorful sticky notes written in looping letters like he would normally slip into her lunch bag stuck to the highest part of the fridge she could reach, until he saw her home safe again, doors locked firmly behind her, he set a second alarm as insurance if she decided to get smart with him.
7:30 AM
Trucy is frighteningly perceptive and independent.
This alarm is programmed into his phone, which he started jamming under his pillow. She could probably still pull a vanishing act, carefully slide it out from under him and turn it off, but he's grateful she hasn't worked up the nerve to do so yet.
It's not nearly enough time to get her ready for the day like he did when she first joined his life, but it's just enough to scramble into a hoodie and sweats and walk her to her bus.
She'd huff and fuss at him, but it was worth it when her complaints would quickly wear down as soon as he slipped on his shoes and she would greedily link their arms together.
Today was a 7:30 kind of day.
Trucy looked appraisingly at him as he stumbled out of his room, rubbing sleep from the corners of his eyes. Her lips pursed together, and she held her lunch bag tight in her hands. Her eyes drifted over the bags under his eyes, and lingered at the yellowing bruise still curling over his cheekbone and temple from earlier in the week. He dipped his chin to his chest and half bowed to break her line of sight.
"Princess," he said regally, and offered his hand.
Trucy stared at him with narrowed eyes for a few seconds too long, but broke into a shy smile and grabbed his hand.
Phoenix checked his pockets for keys, then clicked the lock on the door from the inside before closing it behind them.
"Don't you think I'm getting too big for this?" she asked.
"Nope," Phoenix yawned, "You're always going to be my little girl." Trucy snorted, but gave his hand a squeeze, and he squeezed back.
"Do you remember what tonight is?" she asked after another minute of quiet.
"Hmmmmm," Phoenix thought, rubbing his chin between his thumb and pointer finger. His scruff scratched loudly. "Happy almost payday night? Pizza night eve?"
"Daddyyyy," Trucy complained, pulling at his arm, and he snorted and snapped his fingers like he'd just recalled a bout of inspiration, straightening his back from his perpetual slouch to mockingly pose like the man he was copying.
"Oh! I know! Parent Teacher night!" he smiled at her. Trucy bit her lip.
"Did you get off work?" she asked, voice bright, but her hand gave a twitch, fingers flexing and pressing the pads into his palm. He gave it another squeeze.
"Of course," he said quietly. "Never have missed one before and I don't plan to start now. Besides," he gave a half smirk, "I need to charm all your new teachers."
He collapsed face first back into his bed as soon as he watched her drive off safely in her bus and had clicked all the locks back in place.
11:00 AM
His actual time to wake up. He's still groggy, but doesn't let himself try and hide it, or exaggerate it to goofiness, swaying drunkenly and leaning half his weight on Trucy and making big moaning zombie noises until she squeals and giggles and pushes him away. This was true, just-out-of-sleep Phoenix, and he cussed and grumbled and dragged his feet into the hall. He grabbed his cigarette pack on his way out, carefully tucked out of view in the corner of his dresser drawer.
He shook coffee grounds into his old machine without really measuring and to let it start sputtering and chugging away as he stepped out onto the balcony.
Phoenix started to feel a little better as the nicotine curled into his lungs. He tapped out the ashes into his.. modern art ash tray
(it's a pussy) (it's definitely a pussy) (it's pale pink and has the weirdest curves to it and it's completely undeniably yonic and Maya calls him an art snob and described it as modern art when she gave it to him as a Christmas gift and she was giggling the whole time and broke into hiccups the longer he glowered at her) (she still laughs her ass off at him when she comes and visits and tries to stand upwind from his smoke).
When the cigarette was burned down to a stub, he ground it out and stepped back inside to turn off the gurgling coffee maker and pour himself a cup.
It's 11:30 before he started to feel some semblance of being a human as he downed the caffeine. Dinner with Kristoph cancelled - check. Boss called to remind them not to book him for anything that night - check. Meat pulled out of the freezer to defrost - check.
He should actually clean and do chores, but it'd been a while since he let himself have a day to do nothing, so he brushed his teeth and threw himself in the shower before he busied himself doing absolutely fuck all.
3:45 PM
The day passed too quickly, and Phoenix was jolted from his half dozing state from his phone buzzing its alarm at him again. He groaned, pausing the tv in the middle of an episode of some British detective show that he'd let play in the background, sounds muffled out of focus as he worked. His sketchbook was opened and propped up against his knee as he lounged against the arm of the couch. He'd dropped sticks of oil pastels, papers mostly peeled off, to rest on his stomach, unwilling to sit up and reach for the box on the table as he worked, and his finger tips were smudged with reds and silvers. He squinted appraisingly at the piece so far, scratching at his stomach and leaving traces on his shirt.
Finding it acceptable so far, he sat up, wincing as his back popped with a hollow thunk, and packed up his supplies to shove back under the coffee table. He shuffled over to the kitchen and filled a pot with water, setting it on the stove, and turning the burner to high.
Phoenix stepped out for another smoke while he let the stove slowly heat up and fucked around with his phone. Maya had sent a few texts when he wasn't looking, and he stuck the cigarette between his teeth to click out a reply to her. He'd been... trying to get better at that, actually replying when he saw them instead of leaving messages untouched for days.
Or, more like weeks.
Maya was easier, since she'd double and triple and quadruple text when she had a new thought regardless if he'd responded yet or not, latching onto his flagging friendship with teeth, unwilling to let him bow out behind the curtain at the end of the act.
He appreciated her.
Phoenix left the balcony door open, and heard the click of the front door unlocking before he was finished.
"Welcome home," he called out as he heard the door shut again. He didn't look up from his phone, frowning at the picture in Maya's immediate response, trying to interpret the unknown hieroglyphics of a meaning from it. The locks clicked back in place and Trucy's backpack thumped as it hit the ground by the door. He glanced up when he heard socked footsteps come pattering up.
"That's gross, Daddy," Trucy informed him cheerfully, and Phoenix gave a lopsided smile. He half turned to angle himself, holding the cigarette away and letting the smoke drift downwind.
"I know," he replied sympathetically. "I'll be done soon. Is it going to be an apple cider or cocoa type of day?"
"Cider," Trucy declared, decisively and immediately. Phoenix grinned a little brighter.
"Anything interesting from school today?" he asked. Trucy shrugged.
"No, not really," she said. Phoenix's eyes narrowed. Trucy was clever, a bright spot of burning sunlight and an actor till the end, but her hands twitched like she was palming a card, wrist rolling and thumb flexing. A good magician always knew how to hide the secret, hands waving the subtle movement away with an exaggerated act and movement, but her hands were still now on her crossed arms.
"You sure about that sunshine?" he asked again. She huffed and shrugged, caught in the act.
"Nothing important," Trucy murmured. She rested her head against the sliding door, eyes glazed over, looking out into the distance at nothing in particular. Phoenix frowned and took another drag as he watched her.
"Katerina was being a bitch today," she finally muttered. Phoenix blew out the smoke over the railing.
"What did I say about using that type of language?" he scolded.
"That I should only use it if the other person really deserves it," she dutifully parroted back. "But she was being a huge bitch!"
"Uh-huh," Phoenix replied dryly. "You wanna tell me about it?"
Trucy bit her lip.
"Not right now," she said. Phoenix hummed back.
"You don't have to," he said. "You just lemme know if you need to talk, or if Daddy needs to fight someone, okay?" Trucy snorted and rolled her eyes.
"You want a snack with your cider?" Phoenix suggested, and she perked up.
"Do we still have anything? I thought payday was tomorrow," she asked, doubtful.
"I have some secrets still," he replied cryptically. "Is that a yes?"
She nodded, and Phoenix grinned and shoed her away and carefully shut the door.
Water was boiling and Trucy was firmly installed at the repurposed office computer by the time he came inside.
"Dad tax," Phoenix cheerfully declared as he set down her mug and small bowl of trail mix, and took a few pieces for himself. He squinted over her shoulder, but didn't see anything too incriminating on the screen - just her school's online work site.
"Starting homework right away? Without any of your school supplies?" he asked doubtfully. Trucy smiled coyly at him.
"Hmmm. Well, work time officially starts in half an hour," he warned, and she blinked innocently and sweetly at him. He met her eyes as he threateningly turned the timer to the 30 minute mark.
4:30 PM
Trucy groaned loudly when the timer trilled, but still slipped from her chair to grab her bag.
"What do you have today?" Phoenix asked, turning the timer to the 15 minute mark.
"Math sheet, and a chapter to read for history," she rattled off. "I did my work for bio during lunch and the first draft of my essay isn't due until next week."
"Not too much then," he encouraged, and set down the timer to click away. He stayed at the dining room table, scratching away at his grocery list. He stuck his tongue between his teeth as he jotted out some prices next to each item tried to come up with a plan.
"What do you think of chili?" he asked and turned to her. Trucy gave a thumbs up without looking up, frowning lightly as she scratched away at her own paper.
Trucy rubbed her eyes and dutifully turned her timer to 5 minutes when it rang. She turned back to the computer.
When it trilled again, she turned it back to 15 minutes, and Phoenix sat back from his gradually worsening hunch to pop his back and roll his shoulders.
He narrowed his eyes as she kept typing away.
"Truce," he reminded her gently, and she glanced up at him.
"I'm using my class group chat to ask about one of the questions," she replied. Phoenix shrugged and stood up, brushed off his hand on his pants, and walked to busy himself in the kitchen. He actually had time to cook tonight, but was staying simple, and pulled out the last container of defrosted ground beef and dried pasta. He chopped an onion as the water boiled, and scraped in into a hot pan when the timer chirped again.
"Five minutes," he called out over the sound of sizzling, and didn't wait for a response as he continued working. He opened the freezer to drop the scraps into the large stock bag, and gave the pan a toss. When he heard the buzz again, he tossed in the spices - cumin, garlic, thyme - and gave a quick stir.
Trucy wandered over and wrapped her arms around his waist as he started to break up the meat into the pan.
"How's it going so far sunshine?" he asked.
"Can you look over my work? I don't think I'm doing it right. Everyone else is getting a different answer than me," she murmured. Phoenix put a hand on her head.
"How about you see how far you can get with the rest of the problems and we'll go over it after dinner?" he suggested. She gave him a squeeze and nodded against him.
5:35 PM
"They can't change math," Phoenix muttered to himself through a mouthful of spaghetti. He scowled at the sheet. "What about PEMDAS?"
Trucy sighed and slumped dramatically in her chair.
"Why did I inherit your brains?" she bemoaned.
"Sorry baby," he snickered, and Trucy threw an arm over her head, the back of her wrist posed against her forehead, and sighed again.
"I guess this is my fate," she lamented, "Cursed to the pits of STEM hell."
Phoenix gave her leg a nudge with his foot.
"Your classmates seem pretty smart. Have to asked any of them for help?" he asked. Trucy tipped forward again, resting her elbows on the table and cupping her chin in her palms.
"A little," she sighed after a pause. Her eyes flickered up at him. "Jasmine invited me to an after school study class on Mondays."
"Yeah?" Phoenix encouraged, and nudged her leg again. "Give it a shot. I promise I won't sulk too much if you're home late."
Trucy gave him a warm smile, eyes crinkling up at the edges.
6:59 PM
Phoenix left after cleaning the dishes. It was thankfully a short ride, only about 15 minutes by bike.
Phoenix shook some of the sweat out of his shaggy hair and jammed a beanie over his head to cover some of the mess after he locked up his bike at the front of the school. He ran a hand over his face - shit, he'd forgotten to shave. Thursdays were normally the day he looked the roughest by design, and he hadn't changed his routine, auto-piloting through his normal grooming without a thought on who he'd actually be facing.
He'd at least been in the mind to try and dress a little cleaner than normal, wearing sneakers and jeans for once, and a shirt and hoodie that smelled like clean laundry instead of smoke. It'd have to been enough. He shoved his hands in his pockets and put on his best casual smile, and made his way inside.
Most of the other parents were already there, milling about and talking. He didn't recognize many faces from the crowd, an unfortunate reminder and reality of switching schools again this year.
He just hoped this one would stick; having to move again was the last thing on his list of plans, rental down payments were a bitch to deal with and a young kid deserved as much stability as he could manage to cobble together. But rent control could only do so much when apartments were so fucking expensive in the city and you needed to live close enough to bike or bus to wherever you needed.
He leaned against the side of the wall to watch carefully, mapping out social relationships. They'd been given about 30 minutes to socialize with the other parents, and families slowly filtered into the room.
He tried making a few conversations after circling the crowd for an opening.
"Phoenix Wright," he introduced himself to a couple lingering on the side, gesturing out with an open palm. "I'm Trucy's dad. She's new to the school this year."
"Oh, lovely to meet you! I'm Tia, and this is my husband Caesar. Did you guys recently move to the area?" the woman asked kindly. Next to her, the man made a puzzled frown. His lips parted slightly, tongue touching the roof of his mouth.
"Sort of. We've been in LA for a bit, but moved school districts over the summer," Phoenix replied. He watched the man out of the corner of his eye, whose eyes were glazing over.
"I'm sure you'll love it! The parents in this district know each other pretty well, a lot of us have been seeing each other since elementary school," she said cheerily. Her husband was mouthing something - Phoenix Wright, Phoenix Wright - and a chill struck through him like lightning, unsure which record of infamy was living in the back of his mind that he was trying to call back to the front.
"Your family should get dinner with us some time! Jasmine has mentioned your daughter's name a few times, and I'm sure we can set up a playdate for them while we spend some time with you and your wife," she suggested excitedly. Her husband was still unfocused, thankfully not looking too hard at the man he was trying to decode.
"Ah," Phoenix replied. He jammed his hands deep in his pockets and turned in his shoulders, putting on a sheepish smile. "There's no one else, it's just Trucy and me."
She flushed hard.
"Oh, god, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to assume anything-" Phoenix waved his hand, brushing away her concerns.
"I'm used to it at this point," he replied dryly. "Let's exchange numbers, we might be able to work something out."
She nodded, red in the face, and helpfully punched in her number to his phone. She didn't question his frantic escape from her own embarrassed desperation.
"Wright?" he heard another voice call out as he wormed through the crowd.
Fuck, it'd been a while since anyone but Edgeworth or Kristoph called him like that. Not a great sign.
"That's my name," Phoenix agreed, lazily cocking his head to meet the gaze of -
Winora fucking Howe. She cocked an eyebrow at him too. Her suit was cream colored silk and and fell sleek and unwrinkled around her. Her gold badge sparkled on her collar. Phoenix didn't look at directly, avoiding it like the sun to protect his eyes from burning out from the radiance.
"It been a while Wright. I barely recognize you now," she said, tilting her head to the side and crossing her arms, voice lilting with faint amusement. Phoenix shoved his hands in his pockets.
"Howe, haven't see you in forever. Let's not break that streak now," he said, and turned to make a break for it. Howe quickly stepped in his way, frowning. He blinked at her, eyes hooded and dark.
"I'm here for my kid, Howe. I don't think there's any need for us to talk, you already made your thoughts on me very clear," he murmured quietly, casual and uncaring. His shoulders shifted into his practiced stance, setting people at odds and bleeding their own emotions with his aura of irritating arrogance, giving nothing for them to peel apart in return.
Howe gave plenty of obvious ones he didn't even need Trucy's eyes to spot for him; eyes lingering over his unshaved jawline, the twitch of her upper lip into half a sneer, and the flat annoyance in her eyes.
"My decision was nothing personal Wright, I simply have integrity and you've shown that you clearly don't. Are you really that petty that you'll keep proving that by holding it against me?" she hissed back.
"Yup," he responded, lips popping at the end of the word, "But don't look me in the eye and pretend like you can play nice either. Worry about your own family and butt your head out of mine."
Howe didn't stop him as he ducked away this time.
7:30 PM
Phoenix couldn't be more grateful when the parents were split into fifths and shuffled away into rooms to meet with the teachers. He thanked what little luck he had that he didn't share a group with anyone he'd talked to so far.
ENGLISH
"Phoenix Wright, Trucy's dad," he introduced himself. Mx. Hancock smiled and shook his hand.
"Wonderful to meet you! I know it can be odd to join a new group, but Ms. Wright has been fitting into class well so far, and she's been an excellent participant," they told him warmly. Phoenix let himself relax a fraction.
"I have a lot of hopes for her class this year. We've been having some very intelligent discussions this class. I've adjusted our curriculum a little based off our progress so far, and we're planning to start To Kill A Mockingbird for our next book," they told him cheerily.
"O-oh?" Phoenix said, voice sharply cracking. Hancock's smile froze, teeth bared.
"Yes," they said patiently and firmly. "It's a good book for opening up conversations about racial issues and the justice system. I've used it in previous years very effectively, and I can answer any concerns you may have but don't plan to change the curriculum."
"Ah, no that's fine, I know all about... lawyers," Phoenix said weakly, voice fading out. Hancock looked concerned at him. His palms were sweating.
"Defending innocent clients against false charges and the loss of faith in the justice system," he continued rambling on. He raised a fist. "Whoo hoo." He was sweating. "Atticus Finch is a uh, a very handsome man, am I right?" He needed to stop talking, now.
ALGEBRA
"I'm Phoenix. I'm Trucy's dad," Phoenix introduced himself. Mr. Gauss turned to him, making direct eye contact with the left half of his face.
"Ah... yes, Trucy's family," Gauss said. His eyes didn't move from their spot, even as Phoenix cocked his eyebrow at him.
"That's me," he prompted. The other man coughed lightly and snapped his eyes to meet his.
"Yes, um. I haven't had much time to work with Trucy yet so far," he admitted. His eyes started drifting again, to Phoenix's annoyance. "She's been quiet in class so far, even with the other students at her table."
"Math isn't the easiest for her," Phoenix said.
"That's why we try to put students on different parts of the bell curve together," Gauss replied, "to more naturally balance it out and help each other out. But she hasn't been using those resources yet. Is she getting the support she needs at home?"
"Math isn't exactly my forte either. If her group isn't working out, isn't there a way to set her up with a different one?" Phoenix snipped. Gauss was fully ogling his cheek bone again.
"Er, maybe, but she needs to be able to make connections too. Usually when I see a student struggling at school it can mean..."
Phoenix flushed with hot anger and embarrassment and realization, and turned his head to angle the side of his face away from his unending gaze, and caught his eye with a glare.
"Her home life is fine. Focus on supporting her in her class," Phoenix snapped.
Gauss at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed, and didn't finish his sentence.
ART
"I'm Trucy's dad," Phoenix tried and Mr. Ross -
Mr. Ross visibly brightened up, back straightening and light sparking in his eyes. Phoenix stood up a little straighter.
"Oh! Trucy! She's very bright you know. Very creative!" he said animatedly.
"I do," Phoenix agreed. He watched cautiously, but Ross excitedly powered forward.
"We're in our fine art semester right now, but we've been exploring different techniques in our work. Trucy has been a delight, she's shown a lot of adaptability and curiosity so far and has clearly put a lot of thought behind her pieces," he chattered animatedly. He gestured for Phoenix to follow him, and Phoenix trailed after.
He kept an ear open to the teacher as he gazed at the pieces carefully clipped up on the foam boards. Looming faces of Trucy's classmates peered out at him, and his eyes trailed over the cautious, wobbly lines. He could see messy blurs of colors and lines, swirls of ink and paint and smears of charcoal.
"We made self portraits based on the idea of identity and family," Ross informed him, and Phoenix snapped his attention to the smaller details of the pieces, bright flags and small objects in the backgrounds. "They were able to pick what mediums to use, but had to use at least two different ones in their pieces."
Phoenix could feel his heart thump louder and swallowed. He kept his eyes lazy and pressed his curling hands and sweating palms deep into his pockets as he glanced around at the works.
His gaze caught on the paper name plate Katerina Howe. He glanced up to see her - face carefully traced in ink, proud smile and black hair hanging loose around her shoulders. Her hair was fully inked in, with a few spots left blank, emulating the shine in her hair line you'd see in animated cartoons, looking like a crown around her head.
Her technique could use some work, Phoenix thought a little pettily and judgementally, eyes tracing the lines of the colored pencils filling the gaps, scratch lines focused to fill the space rather than follow the shape of it. The sky behind her was brilliantly blue with soft, shapeless clouds. Sunflowers burst from behind her, lining her shoulders.
Phoenix quickly looked away, and found Ross looking at him expectantly at him.
"Your daughter picked oil pastels and watercolor for hers," he said. He gestured, and Phoenix stared at the Trucy Wright done in curling pen, slowly looking up -
His breath caught. He could see a few points where the pencil scratches underneath poked out, but it was so vibrant and full of nothing but color. The pastels were placed on thickly, marking outlines and large patches of blocked color, with the watercolors splashed and painted over them. It was clearly her; her face wasn't marked with her distinguishing features, not taken the time carefully comparing the nose on her face to the on the paper like many of her other peers had, instead marking out the suggestion of her features covered in shadow and a half smile. Her hands (she actually drew hands?) were set over piano keys, some depressed where a finger hovered over the space. Card suits were carefully marked across the keys under her fingers, and he swallowed so he wouldn't choke.
Her background was a soft painted gradient, a salmon pink near the top quickly transitioning into a pastel hue of blue. More shapes were marked into the background - hearts and diamonds and clubs and aces and stars and flowers - and when he leaned in he could see the residue of something white and oily sitting prettily on the page, pulling watery paint away from settling on the shapes when it was brushed across.
"Oh," he said softly, hand tracing in the air along the white outline on her baby blue cape. Ross was watching him closely, but he couldn't look away.
"She's very talented," Ross prompted. when Phoenix didn't respond, he rung his hands together.
"Uh," Phoenix said elegantly after a long pause, gesturing at the white oil pastels. "That's, uh. I do that."
Ross took a look back at the piece, then a long look at Phoenix's watery eyes and the way he was chewing on his bottom lip.
"She was very nervous about showing this, but she said it would make sense to her real father," he said softly.
Phoenix wasn't going to cry.
"I guess it does," Phoenix choked out. He tugged his beanie down over his eyes. "Thank you."
"Of course," Ross said quietly. Phoenix wished that the sound of sympathy didn't make his skin itch, but he clamped down on the urge to lash out, like a feral dog at some kind soul just trying to offer a meal with gentle hands.
"Have you considered setting her up with our theatre or music programs as well? She seems interested, and I'm sure her artistic soul would excel there as well," Ross encouraged. Phoenix tugged his hat down further.
"I looked into it. I can't afford the fees for the programs," Phoenix gritted out his confession.
"If that's what's holding her back, the school does have some opportunities. We have donor funds to support families in your position," Ross said kindly. Visions of concerned looking men in suits and narrowed eyes behind glasses frowning and opening their pocket books flickered behind his eyes. Phoenix groaned and ground his teeth.
"I'll think about it," he answered honestly. Damn his stupid stubborn pride; if it were for her, he could manage.