Work Text:
Miles Edgeworth had come to a series of realizations about a certain attorney as of late. This isn’t all that surprising; the sentiments were all many years old, just newly emphasized. What was surprising is how these realizations came about. See, Miles had known for many years that he was in love with Phoenix Wright, but now he was noticing these little details. He was beginning to find new reasons to fall for him all over again. Again and again, Miles felt like he was falling in the most mundane of moments. All because of a silly little accident.
They had been investigating a crime scene when the opportunity arose to interrogate a highly suspicious suspect. The man had been very visibly anxious the whole time, but neither had expected him the actually bolt the way he did. He’d shoved his way between himself and Wright with enough strength so send them both to the floor. Wright was perfectly fine if not a little irritable, but Miles was far less lucky with the angle in which he fell. His weight crashed down on his left ankle, twisting it in an unnatural direction. It was safe to say he wouldn’t be walking home.
Now, it wasn’t Wright’s immediate concern or fretting or soothing voice that sparked this whole ordeal. Rather it was his absolutely preposterous solution to the problem.
“Are you sure you’re okay?? It’s just your ankle?” He asked for the tenth time.
“Yes, Wright, as I have clearly stated many times, I am perfectly fine. All I need is a little help standing up and I’m sure we can figure something out,” he sighed, struggling with how simultaneously endearing and irritating his worrying was, as well as the throbbing pain of what was most likely a sprain.
“What? No, I can carry you, it’s fine,” Wright proposed the notion like it should’ve been obvious. It was not, in fact, obvious.
“Excuse me? I do not need you to carry me, I am perfectly capable of-“
“You can’t even move your foot, don’t pretend you can walk!”
Miles gritted his teeth, glaring at the expectant furrow in Wright’s stupid eyebrows. “I‘ll simply contact Gumshoe and let him know I need a ride to the hospital.”
Wright rolled his eyes. “Yeah, no, we’re not roping Gumshoe into this. It’s like a ten minute walk to Hotti Clinic from here, I can manage.”
Miles was still deciding on what to protest- the fact that Wright intended to carry him down the road in full view of the public, or the fact that the absolutely wretched destination was Hotti Clinic- when all of his cognitive thought ceased to be as he was lifted into the air.
He let out an embarrassing noise and scrambled to wrap his arms around Wright’s neck, his heart sinking and shooting up into his throat all at once. Wright stood up like it was absolutely nothing, and it struck Miles for the first time how strong he actually was.
“What the-“
“Jesus, Edgeworth, do you even eat??” Wright asked incredulously, having the audacity to lift him higher to emphasize how easily he could do so. It was true, Miles didn’t have the most consistent eating habits, but he was by no means a small person. He wasn’t all that skinny and was pretty damn tall, so this was hardly a testament to himself being weightless.
“I’ll have you know you’re just a brute!” He spat as if the hands cradling him weren’t the gentlest he’d ever felt. How was it that such a show of raw strength could be so soft? Wright chuckled at his clear distress and ignored the way his lips were working to find incoherent words as he began his trek to that dreaded clinic.
Continuously, Miles fought to find words for the situation and came up with nothing. Once Wright took the right (nice) onto the sidewalk along the main road they’d come on, he finally managed a flustered complaint.
“This is absolutely ridiculous,” he grumbled, wanting nothing more than to curl up and hide his face from all the passers by who could very clearly see him being carried like a bride by none other than Phoenix Wright. This would be a wild one for the tabloids if someone like that Lotta woman happened to snap a picture driving by. What would the headline even be??
“You need to relax, Edgeworth, it’s not a big deal,” Wright hummed, his amusement barely concealed in his smile. Miles scowled and tried not to focus on just how close that stupid smile was.
“Maybe not to you, but some of us actually have dignity, Wright!” He spat. Wright’s smile fell as he rolled his eyes.
“So what? You want me to put you down on the side of the road and just leave you there?” He challenged.
Miles did not grace him with a reply.
“Exactly,” he finished smugly, the beginnings of a smirk curling his lips. It was getting progressively harder not to focus on how close his face was. He decided to cut his losses and stop arguing before he did something stupid like kiss him right out on the LA sidewalk.
. . .
Since that god forsaken accident, Miles had been left with yet another ridiculous aspect of Phoenix Wright to get lost in thought about. The sensation of being held in his arms, secure and almost protective, was something his mind had been turning over and re-examining again and again. It led him to ponder just how strong the arms that carried him were. His mind wandered back to past instances where Wright’s brute strength was put on display. One memory in particular came to mind and stuck there, begging to be replayed and analyzed.
Back during the Engarde case, many years ago, now. Miles remembered it well. The moment they’d rushed into Matt Engarde’s estate to rescue Ms. Fey. Miles had reached the side door first, finding it locked (obviously). He’d informed Wright that they’d have to find a way to unlock it, but his exhausted friend had other plans.
“Stand back,” he’d grunted, lightly pushing him to the side away from the door.
Then, without so much as a word of preamble, he kicked the damn thing down. Miles had just stood there, gaping, the notion of forcing the door open in such a manner never having occurred to his brain.
“Well? Door’s open. You coming, Edgeworth?” He’d prompted impatiently, his breath slightly ragged from the effort of kicking an entire door off its hinges in a single blow. And god, wasn’t that beautiful?
Phoenix Wright, the man who cried over cheesy romance movies, who felt bad for stepping on bugs, who often didn’t charge his clients out of kindness- Phoenix wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly Wright had kicked a fucking door down for the sake of Maya Fey. This didn’t surprise him now as much as it had back then. In reality, it made sense. If Wright was anything, it was selfless. It made perfect sense that his strength was only ever made apparent when it was needed by someone else.
Perhaps that, Miles mused, was exactly what he liked about it.
. . .
The weeks went by with Miles appreciating this new aspect of affection from a distance. Like everything else he adored about Phoenix Wright, he kept it to himself. That was, until tonight.
“That was a disaster,” Trucy mourned, flopping down onto the park bench beside her father. She’d just concluded one of her shows in the park, the crowd still not full dispersed. From where Miles stood, he didn’t think the show went too poorly, but Trucy was clearly disappointed that her grand finale hadn’t gone as planned.
Miles knew how much time and effort she put into her performances, so he understood how upset she was about the slip up on stage. Still, he couldn’t quite find the words to comfort her. Wright on the other hand chuckled easily and patted her hair soothingly.
“Yeah it was kind of a mess, but not every show can be perfect,” he reminded softly. When she still looked utterly downtrodden, Miles offered his own encouragement.
“Even though it wasn’t how you planned, you actually managed to keep things together very well. If your father and I hadn’t known what you had in mind, I doubt we’d have even noticed the mishap.” This lessened the furrow in her brow, leaving her looking contemplative.
“Do you really think so?” She asked. Wright nodded quickly.
“Edgeworth’s right, it was still a good show, even if it’s not what you wanted. The crowd loved it! You should’ve seen the look on this kids face. You blew his mind, Truce,” he assured her, playfully poking her cheek to get her to smile. She did, at last, allowing Miles to release the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. It was always so startling when Trucy was feeling down, not just because he never wanted to see her upset, but also due to just how seldom she ever let her mood be soured.
“Why don’t we all head back home? I’ll make dinner and then we can figure out how to make sure that trick is perfect next time,” Miles offered, moving to stand.
Wright hummed his agreement but Trucy huffed. “Daddy, carry me,” she muttered, closing her eyes and flopping limply back against the bench. Wright snorted.
“Did your legs disappear during the show when I wasn’t looking? Why can’t you walk on your own?”
Trucy grumbled, “I’m exhausted! I’ll never make it all the way home…” Wright shot him an amused look, drawing a smile out of his very soul.
“Trucy-baby, you’re sixteen. I can’t carry you like I used to,” he chuckled, making his daughter pout in the way she most certainly inherited from him.
“Come on, Daddy! It’s not even that far!” She whined, dropping her forehead dramatically against her father’s shoulder.
“Truce,” Wright began with very little sternness, frowning at her hair. Even as he sat there contemplating, Miles could see his resolve caving. “Fine, you big baby.” Trucy lit up, a mischievous smile brightening her previously exhausted face.
“You’re the best, Daddy!” She giggled as Wright defeatedly got up before stooping down to let her climb onto his back. She wrapped her arms around his neck in the practiced motion of a daughter who belonged in that exact space, squishing her cheek against her father’s in a sweet embrace.
The sight was somehow so powerful that Miles feared for a moment his heart would stop. It was so special to him, for some reason, to see the Wrights in this way. To be reminded that even though Trucy was much older now, she was still his little girl. Miles had watched this same moment play out countless times over the years. From eight years old to sixteen, and every time it never ceased to warm his heart. Because there was something so lovely about watching Wright acting as a father.
Miles loved each and every side of him, but he knew that this one would always be his favorite. The side with gentle hands and soft smiles and easy laughter, the side that was overflowing with love that threatened to sweep him away every time he was near. He loved the way he held Trucy close, firm and guarding yet oh so careful. He loved the way his eyes crinkled around the edges when he smiled at her with all the adoration in the world. He loved the way his clumsy hands became expertly careful when he tucked her into bed. He loved the shape of his lips every time he kissed her forehead. He loved the way he loved her.
To Miles, there was nothing he could ever love more than how much love Wright had to give. The way that his warm heart guided each and every one of his actions and made his body a vessel of unending comfort. The fact that his strong hands would never do harm to what he loved. Maybe it was admiration or maybe it was gratitude or maybe it was comfort that made him love these things, Miles didn’t know, all he knew is that Phoenix Wright was his definition of home. He was safety and warmth and love, and he was certain he wanted to spend the rest of his life basking in that feeling.
“Miles? You comin’?” Wright called to him over his shoulder when his thoughts had kept him still for too long. It felt like a miracle that he was allowed to close the distance between them, to take a few simple steps and fall in beside him.
“Always,” he replied with all the reverence due in that moment. Wright seemed to understand in one way or another how swollen his heart had become, and gave him a smile that somehow melted him further. Perhaps he should’ve been embarrassed about such an obvious slip up, but the moment felt almost ordinary.
They didn’t discuss it when they got home and ate dinner as a family.
Trucy yawned as she moved to bring her plate in the kitchen. Miles reached across the table to stop her. “That’s quite alright. You go ahead and get some rest, I’ll clean up,” he offered with a small smile. Trucy returned it with a lopsided grin.
“Are you sure? I won’t fall asleep at the sink, I promise,” she joked. Her father chuckled.
“Miles is right, Truce, you had a long day. Let the old men take it from here,” Wright- or Phoenix, he supposed- agreed. Trucy sighed and stood from the table, capturing her father in a quick hug.
“Thank you, Daddy,” she giggled as he kissed her cheek. Then she stepped around the table and wrapped her arms around Miles as well. “Thank you, Miles.”
He found himself smiling in full now, heart warming exponentially at the simple act of being included. “Goodnight, dear,” he hummed and patted her shoulder gently.
Even as Trucy said goodnight and went to her room, the shift in the air went unmentioned.
Miles took a deep breath and gathered their plates, Phoenix quietly doing the same from across from him. They worked in silence, Miles washing the dishes and passing them off to Phoenix to dry and put away with practiced ease. It was simple and relaxing and Miles wanted nothing more than for this to be the expectation. He wished so badly that this could be routine. Suddenly the weekends weren’t enough anymore. Somehow, he wanted more.
But of course, he couldn’t say that. So he did what he always did when the night was over. He dried his hands, grabbed his keys and made for the door. Phoenix followed him, as he always did, to give him a proper goodbye. He had a habit of watching Miles go, as if he’d somehow lose his way to the car parked thirty feet away.
“Thank you for inviting me to join you today,” he murmured because it was the polite thing to do.
Phoenix scoffed. “As if you need an invitation anymore. It would break Trucy’s heart if you didn’t come to her shows.”
“Well I don’t plan on missing any, so it shouldn’t be an issue,” Miles shrugged as he pulled on his coat. Phoenix watched his movements with a conflicted expression.
“It’s getting pretty cold at night, huh?” Phoenix commented pointlessly. Miles glanced up at him, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves for no reason other than to stall their inevitable farewell.
“It has. You ought to invest in a better coat.” He hoped he wouldn’t. He’d already begun the process of getting one custom made for him this Christmas.
“Eh, the one I’ve got works just fine,” came his predictable reply.
“Of course it does,” Miles sighed and accepted that his time was up. He turned, finally grabbing the doorknob. “I’ll see you next week, then.”
He’d intended to step outside before facing him to say goodnight. Being separated by the doorframe somehow made it easier to go through with leaving. But Phoenix wasn’t letting him.
Strong arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him away from the door. Phoenix dropped his head onto his shoulder, holding him so that his back was flush against his front. For a moment, neither of them said anything. They only stood there, Phoenix clinging to Miles, whose hand was still rested loosely on the doorknob.
Eventually, Miles heaved a pent up sigh and leaned into the contact, retracting his hand to instead trace the scars on the warm, tanned arms that held him.
“You could just stay the night, you know,” Phoenix said into the fabric of his sweater. Miles hummed.
“I figured, but it didn’t seem right to assume, and I didn’t think it was appropriate to ask,” he admitted.
Phoenix finally lifted his head with a content sound, pressing a brief kiss to what little of his neck was exposed by his undershirt. “Well now you know,” he mumbled against his skin.
Miles released a shaky breath and shifted in his arms. His heart warmed at how quickly Phoenix relinquished his hold, ever so wary of his boundaries when it came to physical touch. As sweet as his thoughtfulness was, Miles didn’t want him overthinking. So he made quick work of turning around before grabbing his hands and guiding them back to his waist. He hugged him properly, wrapping his arms around his neck and soaking in the feeling. It felt so wonderful to finally be able to hold him. To be held by the hand he’d been wondering about for so long.
“So I take it you’re staying?” Phoenix guessed with a breathy little laugh. Miles huffed, burying his face in his neck.
“As if I haven’t been waiting months for the opportunity,” he replied, just to get it off his chest.
“As if you had to wait at all,” Phoenix retorted.
Miles pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, finally face to face with the smile he adored so much. He rolled his eyes at his dumb, lovestruck expression, as if he wasn’t bringing his hands down to cradle his face.
“You are a ridiculous man,” he informed.
“And you love me for it,” he reminded.
Miles huffed a laugh, brushing his thumb across his cheek. “I suppose I do.”
He wasn’t sure who leaned in first, but it hardly mattered. When their lips finally met, they both knew it was a long time coming. Phoenix kissed him slowly and gently, barely anything more than the simple press of lips, and Miles was grateful for it. He could live the rest of his life with this simple, easy love.
“It’s late,” Phoenix muttered when they parted. “Let’s get some sleep.”
And when Miles finally left the bathroom in one of Phoenix’s old college sweaters, and found the man himself waiting for him with the covers pulled back and arms outstretched, he put it all together. He climbed into bed and draped himself over him, breathing in a deep sense of calm. Phoenix pulled the covers over them and kissed the top of his head before fully settling in.
Lying there, wrapped in his arms, those strong, gentle, kind arms, Miles felt completely and entirely safe. For the first time in many, many years, he slept peacefully.