Work Text:
A pair of keys scrape against the lock outside of the Wright-Edgeworth residence. A low voice mutters in an annoyed tone, followed by a chirpier one, both muffled by the apartment door. The key scrapes with more force for a second time before the door is flung open. A young mousy haired magician stumbles across the threshold of her home, armed with an array of shopping bags. A tired grey haired man follows closely behind, juggling almost double the amount of bags as the girl, shutting the door with a kick of his heel.
Upon hearing the commotion, the third and final resident of the apartment exits the kitchen, observing his boyfriend and daughter toe off their shoes. He eyes the vast array of shopping in their arms- fancy looking bags overflowing with what look like clothes, magic props and makeup. He puts a hand on his hip, jagged eyebrows furrowed in disapproval. Phoenix doesn't say a word, but frowns as the two freeze upon realising he's watching them. He turns on his heels and slinks back to the kitchen.
Miles sighs, looking down at his daughter. She looks up at him in turn, a mischievous grin spreading across her face, "Ooo you're in trouble Papa," she says with a giggle. Miles sighs again, following Trucy down the hall, avoiding looking into the kitchen, and into her room. He deposits a majority of the shopping near her bed. The remaining bags he takes with him, walking slowly towards the sound of a tap running and the clinking of metallic cutlery.
He enters the kitchen, quietly placing the remaining shopping on the island counter before daring to look in Phoenix's direction. Miles, not really in the mood to be the one to start this argument, waits for his boyfriend to finish fussing around the sink. He watches, amused, as Phoenix is clearly unfocused, having scrubbed, rinsed and was again scrubbing the same spoon that was near spotless to begin with.
"Phoenix?" he says mildly, growing impatient, crossing his arms across his chest. The other man abruptly shuts off the tap and turns around, dripping spoon still in hand. His eyes dart behind Miles and pouts at the offending bags sitting innocuously on the counter.
"Edgeworth," he replies back, mirroring his folded arms. ouch, second name basis? Miles cringes internally.
"Is there... are you ok?" Miles asks as gently as he can. He dares to move a step closer, plucking the spoon from the other mans grip to set it down beside the sink. Phoenix struggles to look him in the eye, opening his mouth to speak only to huff in frustration. "Spit it out," Miles snaps suddenly, regretting his tone immediately, subconsciously flinching as Phoenix shoots daggers at him.
"Spit it out?! Why- I- fine," Phoenix fumes, "you know why I'm pissed off. You knew I would be so why do you keep doing this?"
"I'm sorry, am I not allowed to spoil my daughter?" Miles bites back. A sense of Deja Vu washes over him having recycled this line God knows how many times over the years.
"Our daughter. Ours. It means I get a say in how she's raised too," Phoenix pinches the bridge of his nose, "I just- there's a limit to the spoiling, how many times do I have to say this? This has to be the most I've seen you spend in one go, how much was it this time?"
Miles feels his frustration bubbling to the surface, a barrage of retorts threatening to spill from his lips. It's not my fault I have the money to spoil her is the one at the forefront of his mind before he stops himself, realising quite suddenly how cruel that is. The other rebuttals rapidly die on his tongue. That's an ugly Miles he's long buried rearing its head again. He quickly pushes it back down. The prosecutor decides to change tact.
"Why does there have to be a limit to how much I spend on her?" He says carefully instead, allowing his anger to fade.
Phoenix jerks his head up in surprise. He was ready for this argument to spin out of control as per usual. He quietens, collecting his thought for a moment before looking back up, "I want her to have nice things, I want her to have everything, don't get me wrong. I hate how, ever since I blew up at you that first time, years ago, you both tip toe around me. I hear you two, you know? 'don't tell your Daddy Trucy' as you get her something I just told her to put away when we're out shopping. I'm not stupid, Edgeworth," Phoenix takes a shaky breath.
Miles reaches out, attempting to place a comforting hand on Phoenix's wrist, but the man shrugs him off with a huff, "Phoenix..." Miles mumbles dejectedly.
"And it sucks!" Phoenix continues, "I know I have the means now to do similar, I have my badge back, a kind of good salary, I could get her anything, and maybe I should. I'm just not comfortable with that level of indulgence and I don't know why and it sucks and now she tiptoes around me when she wants something, deferring to you. Which is fine too, I guess..." Phoenix tails off, frustration morphing into confusion "I don't know, let's drop this."
Phoenix leans against the counter, both men rendered into a rare bought of silence.
"I believe I understand," Miles says, tentatively breaking the quiet. His boyfriend quirks an eyebrow at him in confusion, "I remember we first had this argument when you were visiting in Europe," Miles muses, turning his mind back a few years, "and it baffled me. Why would you not want your daughter a little pampered?"
"I said drop it, it doesn't matter," Phoenix sighs wearily. Miles shakes his head.
"Of course it matters, I hate making you upset-"
"Seriously? I thought our whole bit was pissing each other off," Phoenix says with the beginnings of a smirk, unable to miss out on an opportunity to jab at his partner. Miles rolls his eyes, choosing to ignore his comment.
"I want this to stop being such a point of contention between us. Money is an ugly thing to argue about," he moves a step closer to place a gentle hand on Phoenix's arm, stroking him lightly with his thumb, "forgive me, please don't take this the wrong way, but back then, I know you didn't have the, how do I put this- you were um..." Miles tuts, searching for the least offensive way to say-
"I was broke," Phoenix says bluntly, his shoulders tensing.
Miles smiles sympathetically, "I suppose that's one way of putting it, yes. It's nothing to be ashamed of and perhaps- no - I should have been more sensitive to it." he plucks up the courage to move one more step closer, relieved Phoenix is no longer shying away from the proximity, "I apologize. I know we don't have the same relationship with money. I know even when you have a fair sum of money you prefer to save or be frugal. I'll be honest with you, my intentions aren't completely altruistic when I splash out for Trucy."
Phoenix pulls away slightly, "what do you mean?"
"To preface, I would say 95% of the reason is due to the fact I unequivocally adore Trucy and only want her to have the best. I never thought in my wildest dreams I would have a family, let alone a daughter like her, how could I not spoil her," Phoenix tries very hard not outwardly show he's currently melting on the spot as Miles continues, "There's that and of course my inability to say no to her sweet face," he tacks on sheepishly.
Phoenix laughs, "she's always had you wrapped around her finger."
"Quite," Miles says with a small smile.
The defense attorney nudges him, "and the the other 5%? The less altruistic side?"
Miles clears his throat suddenly unable to make eye contact, "It's kind of a - forgive me- a fuck you to my adopted father, if you can even call him a father. To provide for the daughter of the defense, to provide for the defense himself sometimes is to defy him, in a way. Money and reputation was all he understood. It's all I understood for a little while. Bad habits die hard I suppose," He looks back up, locking eyes with Phoenix. He's wearing a thoughtful expression, free of judgement, much to Miles' relief, "Maybe it's a little self indulgent. And stupid."
"I get it. Although, I wouldn't say it's stupid. I'm always in support of anything that would have him rolling in his grave."
"Hmm me too," Miles agrees, "I don't want to argue about this again. I don't think it's fair for our daughter either."
Phoenix offers a lopsided smile, "I agree. Just, I want you to learn to say no to her sometimes at least. There is really no need for her to have a top hat or cape in every single hue of every single colour, or another set of cards that have a pretty back."
Miles closes his eyes, and reopens them, "I will try my hardest," he says firmly, "I'm sorry, love. I don't know why I let this go on for so long."
"You're not the only one dragging this out, don't worry it's behind us." Phoenix says, offering a reassuring smile, "fuck, why do I feel I lost this argument. When did you go and mature on me? What happened to the old Miles who'd still be foaming at the mouth over this?"
At least I'm back on first name basis, "you seriously want that guy back?" Miles scoffs, "I very nearly turned into him for a moment there."
The defense attorney huffs out a laugh, "nah not really. Mellow middle aged Miles in which our most major argument is about spoiling our daughter is cute. mildly hot, even-"
"Mildly!?" Miles scowls, offended.
"- I do miss the hate sex though," Phoenix laughs brightly as Miles somehow scowls even harder, "I'm kidding! Do not have the energy for that these days."
Emboldened, Miles moves as close as he can to the man, "I'm just remembering, there is someone else I enjoy spoiling," he says smoothly. Phoenix is slouched against the counter, leaving the prosecutor to tower a full head over his boyfriend. Phoenix is forced to look up, eyes narrowed, "I'm sure I can find the energy to-"
Phoenix's eyes widen, pressing his hands against Miles' chest, feeling the rumbles of a chuckle against his palm, "Hold it cowboy," Phoenix digs his fingers into the soft fabric of Miles' shirt in warning, "Trucy will be coming in here soon no doubt, you know how she is."
Realisation crashes down on Miles. He groans, craning his neck to bury his face in Phoenix's shoulder, "fashion show," he murmurs.
"You reap what you sew honey," Phoenix pats his partners back in solidarity. As if on cue, Trucy bounds into the kitchen as the two embrace, just as Miles twists his head to press a kiss into his boyfriend's temple.
"Daddy, Papa, stop being gross," she commands," look here, what do you think?" The pair split apart to appraise the teen now hovering at their elbow.
Trucy stands proudly in what appears to be her usual ensemble, bar her boots and gloves. Except, Phoenix notes, his eye twitching involuntarily in disbelief, her usual tone of blue is darker by a few shades. He whips his head around, glaring at his boyfriend. Miles has a strained smile on, his focus trained on the young magician.
"You look lovely Trucy," he says nervously, "doesn't she Phoenix?"
"Yes, Truce you look-" Phoenix Wright makes the vital mistake of locking eyes with Miles Edgeworth. There's a moment of tense silence, before the pair burst into laughter, much to Trucy's confusion. Miles slides to the floor, clutching the handle of a nearby cabinet to steady himself. Phoenix leans heavily against the counter above, a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter as best he can.
Trucy pouts, "just say you don't like it, damn," she turns on her heals and stalks back to her room, "strange men," she mutters darkly, shutting her door and quickly putting on her next outfit, undeterred. The show must go on.
Phoenix wipes a tear from his eyes as he calls after her, "Truce, you do look wonderful! As always!" he looks down to find Miles still crouched on the floor, just able to catch his breath. Phoenix's attention is drawn to the kitchen counter, at the bags Miles had deposited there earlier, "What are those for, by the way? Are they not Trucy's?"
Miles hauls himself up, moving to stand beside the island counter, "I told you, there's someone else I like to spoil."
Phoenix groans, "Miles, why?"
"Because I love you? Is that illegal?" the chief prosecutor snaps as angrily as a man proclaiming his love can, "It's nothing too extravagant, I know what you're like," Miles pulls the bags towards them, "A few new shirts, so you stop stealing mine," Miles takes them out to allow Phoenix to approve of one by one, "Oh, that horrid coffee you drink, you've somehow almost finished that. Hmmm," Miles moves on to a different bag as Phoenix's arms slowly fill up with items.
A book he mentioned the other week, grape juice, the cheap kind that Phoenix loves and Miles loathes, a light spring coat to prepare for the season ahead. Trucy pops in and out every now and then with a new outfit. To Phoenix, they all blur into one. Miles stops his haul to provide the teen with his undivided attention each time, nods his approval, and goes back to unloading the bags.
Miles moves on to the second to last bag. He fishes out Phoenix's favourite brand of hair gel, proclaims it disgusting and informs him it's known to cause baldness and questions whether he could be with a bald man in the future. He then grabs the next item, a new pack of boxers, and throws both gel and underwear in the defense attorneys direction. Phoenix has never felt more in love with the man in his life.
Ok maybe he could get behind this whole spoiling thing. Sometimes.
Curiously, Phoenix notes Miles does not show him the contents of the final bag. It is the smallest by far, a discrete sleek black bag he almost overlooked. He opens his mouth to ask about it before he's distracted by Trucy skipping into the room once more.
"This is the last one, I promise, what do you think Dads?" Trucy chirps excitedly. Phoenix turns his head to appraise his daughter. She's wearing a pretty light blue sundress adorned with stars, her hair is a mess and there's a mysterious grey smudge on her chin that was not there an hour ago. To Phoenix, she's never looked more beautiful. He grins toothily in approval. Trucy meets his gaze and mirrors his expression instinctively. Phoenix wordlessly scoops her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her hair, now a frizzy nest after changing in and out of God knows how many clothes. Trucy giggles, squirming in his grip, only encouraging her father to squeeze her closer. The magician peaks over Phoenix's shoulder, zeroing in on Miles. She raises an eyebrow expectantly. Somehow, that's all it takes for the chief prosecutor to stride over, bracketing Trucy on the opposite side, wrapping his arms around the pair.
They break apart after a quiet moment, Phoenix leaving a parting wet kiss on her cheek, "Ugh, gross Dad," she complains, taking the sleeve of Mile's shirt to wipe away the slobber. He scoffs lightly, drawing his hand back as if burnt.
The young magician laughs heartily as she slips out of the kitchen. She stops abruptly and spins around.
"Thanks again, Papa, for today," Trucy says sincerely, smiling meaningfully at Miles. Phoenix wraps his fingers around his boyfriends wrist, giving it a squeeze, Miles blushes. She doesn't wait for a response and hurries back to her room, settling down for the night.
The two stay still for a moment, absorbing in the peace of the evening. Phoenix moves his hands from his lovers wrist down to intertwine their fingers together. He tugs him closer, sealing his lips against the grey haired mans. Miles grunts in shock before melting into the kiss. His free hand wanders into Phoenix's hair, cringing at the feel of day old gel residue and grease. He sinks his fingers in regardless, scratching at the other man's scalp. He's rewarded with an appreciative hum from his partner as they deepen their kiss, mouths open, their tongues brushing.
Miles is the first to pull away, endeared by the way Phoenix chases his lips. The barb haired man tucks his face into the others neck, placing gentle kisses along the sensitive skin there. Miles ushers Phoenix wordlessly towards their room, allowing the man to cling to him the entire journey there.
Before they could leave the kitchen, Phoenix is suddenly reminded of the little black bag. He shoots a glance over his shoulder, surprised to find it missing. He stifles a yawn, resolving to investigate tomorrow, distracted by the arm currently strung protectively around his waist as he allows himself to be guided down the hall, past Trucy's room and into theirs.
Phoenix flops onto their bed, wrestling out of his clothes, scattering the floor on his side of the bed leaving him in nothing but his boxers. He shimmies under the covers, pulling them tight around him. Miles glances wearily at the mess his boyfriend leaves behind in his wake, deciding to tidy it tomorrow. He undresses more methodically, folding his shirt neatly. He deftly unbuckles his belt and steps out of his pants in quick succession.
"I know you're watching me, pervert," Miles spins around to find a pair of blue eyes peaking over the edge of the comforter. He isn't graced with a response. Phoenix instead rises to sit up, his chest exposed as he stares even more pointedly at the Chief Prosecutor in a state of undress. Miles rolls his eyes and turns, willing away the blush rising on his cheeks. Phoenix observes as his boyfriend hangs up his slacks in the wardrobe. He narrows his eyes as Miles briefly brushes his fingers against its pocket, shoulders sagging minutely, before he shuts the wardrobe closed firmly. Phoenix waits as Miles makes his way to the adjoined en-suite before swinging his legs out of bed to pad across the room.
He glances over his shoulder, only continuing with his investigation when he hears the tap running. The start to Miles' lengthy nightly skin care routine no doubt. Phoenix turns back to Miles' pants. He brushes his finger in the same motion he had observed earlier, surprised to feel something other than its soft material. He plunges his hand into the pocket, fingers making contact with something small, but hard. He pulls it out
Phoenix finds a sleek black box sitting in the palm of his hand. He's stunned, his breath trapped in his throat. Was this what was in that bag? It must be. He swallows thickly, daring to brush a finger along its edges. He decides against opening it, placing it carefully back into the pocket. He ambles back to bed, a dopey grin on his face and he slides towards his side. He sits up, leaning to the bedside table beside him. He opens the topmost drawer, digging through the various papers and candy wrappers before finding what he was looking for. He breathes a sigh of relief, reaching out to grab at the small velvet box, currently housing a modest sapphire encrusted engagement ring. He's pulled out of his reverie as Miles steps out of the bathroom. Phoenix buries the box again and shuts the drawer firmly.
Before he can turn around, a pink silk clad arm wraps around his shoulders, pulling him down into the inviting covers of their bed. Miles crawls into his usual position, head cushioned against Phoenix's bare chest, a hand splayed across his sternum, enjoying the feeling of the defense attorney's steady breaths.
"G'night," he mumbles, yawning. Phoenix looks down at the man splayed across his torso, a plan forming in the back of his mind. He's wanted to propose to Miles for months now and will not let the other man win this round. He'll do it tomorrow, he resolves. It's his turn to spoil his man right back, after all.
"Night love," Phoenix says with a fond smile, allowing his eyes to droop close.