Work Text:
Miles Edgeworth is healthier than he has ever been.
He is still a workaholic, that is something that isn’t likely to be subject to change, but he takes breaks and he’s been getting better at not bringing work home. Literally and figuratively. He eats more too and sleeping… well that is still a struggle, but the nightmares aren’t as frequent anymore and he sees a therapist a few times a month.
He gets out more. Whether that’s spending time with Kay or wearing pathetic excuses for disguises when going to Steel Samurai conventions with Maya Fey or going to his local cafe for a cup of tea; he’s been spending more time with Phoenix too. More than his heart can reasonably handle but… it is worth it.
The rapid beating of his heart around Phoenix gives him the idea to suggest working out together. Whether it be biking, hiking, walking, jogging, or going to a gym — just whatever gets his heart pumping for other reasons than the fantastic man who he’s lucky and grateful to call his friend. If his heart is going to be beating out of his chest anyway he might as well gain a physical benefit from it.
Phoenix agrees and they mostly only end up walking or jogging around People’s Park. Occasionally they wind up in their local gym, usually on the weekends, sometimes on Thursday evenings when it’s near a ghost town.
Today is one such Thursday. They arrive around the same time. Phoenix grins and waves at Miles when he sees him approach the front doors, gym bag slung over his shoulder. “Hey, Miles!”
Miles grins. “Hello. Have you been waiting long?”
“Nah, just got here.”
“Well… shall we?” Miles gestures towards the door and bows slightly.
“Dork.” Phoenix chuckles and pushes the doors open.
It is pretty empty. From what Miles can tell there’s about three other people not including what seems to be the only employee, a receptionist who looks bored out of her mind. She brightens when she sees Miles and Phoenix, and they wave at her as they pass by, heading towards the men’s changing room.
One thing that Miles has found to be a little troublesome is the fact that his suits no longer seem to properly fit. They’re a little tighter on him, it’s hard to ignore when he first puts them on or when he takes them off, but during the day he almost forgets about it completely.
He’s gaining weight but it isn’t all fat. There’s muscle there too, and it doesn’t make him feel worse about himself, if anything the only negative feelings it inspires is having to get all his perfectly tailed suits refitted. Gumshoe noticed it just the other day and he had asked Miles if he was bulking. Perhaps he is, albeit unintentionally, and he finds that it isn’t a bad look on his frame.
Phoenix is pulling up his basketball shorts, already finished dressing and more or less ready to go, and Miles is staring at his shirt. “Oh dear.”
Phoenix glances at him and his eyes seem to bug out of his head slightly. “Uh.”
The buttons on Miles’ shirt are doing their best, they really are, but it might be time to buy a new one — a few new ones.
“Did ya… did your shirt shrink in the dryer?” Phoenix asks. His face is a little red and he’s rubbing at the back of his neck, giddy grin plastered on his face.
“I dry clean my clothes.” Miles says dryly.
An awkward laugh tumbles out of Phoenix at that.
Miles huffs and moves to undo a button, his muscles flex and they stretch the fabric of his shirt and — the button he moves to undo — undoes itself. It clatters uselessly on the pale-grey linoleum floor. Three more follow its example, opening his shirt down to the middle of his chest.
“I suppose this is as good a sign as any to buy new clothes…” Miles sighs and looks up to Phoenix who looks… “Are you alright, Phoenix?”
Phoenix is practically gnawing on the fist he shoved into his mouth, his other hand gripping his arm tightly, and his face is so flushed Miles has half a mind to check his friend’s temperature. His eyes are staring intently at something, something on Miles, but he looks down at himself and doesn’t spot anything out of the ordinary. “Phoenix?”
Phoenix’s eyes seem focused but there’s a sort of drunkenness to them. Is it possible to be simultaneously focused and unfocused? Miles isn’t entirely sure and worried. He takes a step closer to his friend and the sudden movement seems to snap Phoenix out of whatever trance he was in.
“Huh, wha—“ Phoenix pulls his hand from his mouth. He glances at it, clearly embarrassed, and wipes his salvia off on his shirt.
“Disgusting.”
“It’s an athletic shirt, it’s gonna get sweaty and gross anyway.” Phoenix grumbles.
Miles folds his arms and glares. Instead of getting the usual bored, unamused expression or sheepish grin that he’s typically rewarded with from Phoenix, he gets dilated pupils and a mouth that’s half open.
Miles is dumbfounded for about half a minute and then it clicks. Color fills his cheeks and his heart is in his throat, but he has truly come a long way because he doesn’t feel like running or deflecting, he wants to face this head on.
“Phoenix. Phoenix, are you even listening?” Miles starts and Phoenix snaps his eyes up, his head follows and the blush on his face spreads to his ears.
“Y-yeah, I was…”
Eyebrow quirked, arms folded tighter than necessary, and pecs straining beautifully against the fabric of his shirt, Miles fights off a smirk. Phoenix’s attention, slowly but surely, moves from his face to his chest.
Miles snaps his fingers. “Eyes are up here, Wright.”
The man in question splutters. “I wasn’t— I was looking at your tits— face, I was looking at your face!”
“I think you were correct the first time.”
“No, no I was looking at your tits— face.” Phoenix covers his face with his hands and takes a deep breath, or as deep of a breath as he can while his only two airways are being smothered. Miles is slightly taken aback by the muffled scream that comes from Phoenix, and a little concerned, but then Phoenix removes his barrier and smiles at Miles. “Yeah… I was looking at your chest, pecs, tits, holy shit Miles,” he gasps.
Miles clears his throat. Unsure how to respond to such a statement… compliment?
“I’m sorry it’s just— might as well come out with it: when I first saw you again I thought you were handsome— and a dick.”
Miles starts. “W-well,” and after a moment or two of deliberation, “fair…”
“And after I got to spend more time with you, especially while I was defending you, I could tell you weren’t taking care of yourself and it became real obvious during the that trial, the reason why.”
“And now, you’re clearly doing better for yourself and I’m so happy for you because, holy shit Miles—“ Phoenix darts a hand out to touch, and touch he does. His palm rests on the supple flesh of Miles’ left pectoral and he gulps when Miles tenses; he can feel the muscle underneath pillowy flesh tense under his touch, but his actions catch up to him and he snatches his hand away. “I’m sorry. That was— uncalled for, I should have asked or just not have done that at all! I just wanted to tell you that I’m happy that you’re doing better, and then I went to touch you, and that was a mistake because, ohmygodpleasekillme…”
Miles’ heart is in his throat. His face is warm. His muscles tense, they flex, his arms drop to his sides. Phoenix is still rambling apologies and curses at himself, and he’s so wrapped up in his own misperceived blunder that he doesn’t notice Miles move until their chests are nearly touching.
“Miles?” Phoenix’s eyes widen, “what’re you—“
Miles closes the gap between their lips. He grabs Phoenix’s hand, the very same hand that had touched him earlier, and places it back on his chest. Phoenix is shocked, Miles can tell, he doesn’t begin to return the kiss until Miles pulls away and whines at that. His eyes are still wide and his mouth is agape and his face is the color of Miles’s sports car.
“You kissed me.” Phoenix says dumbly.
“Indeed.”
“You kissed me and you’re letting me touch you.”
“I am.”
“I like you.” Phoenix blurts. “I’ve liked you for a long time. A long time and I’m—“
Miles kisses him again. “I like you too,” Miles mumbles against his lips.
“Okay.” Phoenix mumbles and wraps his arms around Miles, pulling the bodies flush together. They kiss until they can hardly breathe and they separate, foreheads resting against each other. “Wanna keep making out in the locker room or do ya wanna go get a bite to eat?”
“A date?” Miles asks.
“Yeah.”
Miles smiles. “Okay,” and he leans again to kiss Phoenix silly.