Work Text:
Phoenix is used to waking up to an empty bed. Miles is an early riser even on weekends, while Phoenix likes to sleep in (unless, of course, he has a new case lined up or Maya calls him to command him to “Play a word, Nick! Yes, now!”, Words With Friends be damned). Nine out of ten times, Miles wakes up before his alarm clock can even think of ringing. Some days, they don’t see each other at all in the morning.
So, when Phoenix sleepily opens his eyes upon hearing the familiar sound of Miles’ alarm – the Steel Samurai theme, what a nerd – it’s a surprise in and of itself. He glances at his watch and remembers that it’s Sunday, and he groans and gives Miles a gentle shove. “Good God, Miles. Seven o’clock, seriously?”
The only answer he receives is a grumpy murmur and the sound of rustling sheets, then fumbling with the mobile phone, then silence, then again the sound of the sheets as Miles pulls the blanket a little higher. Phoenix smiles, because sleepy Miles is the most precious thing in the world, but then he remembers that Miles is almost never sleepy, and this wakes him up. It’s like a reflex. Worrying about Miles is one of his tasks, and he doesn’t even mind it, although Miles himself does. He searches his mind for the reason behind his worry – it’s Sunday, it’s perfectly acceptable for Miles to be sleepy. Heck, it’s perfectly acceptable for anyone to be sleepy on any given day. But … there was something …
The date. He looks at his watch again, and the little numbers confirm that this is the source of his concern – it’s the 28th of December. How could he forget?
For a moment, he doesn’t quite know what to do next, he always feels a little lost in situations like these, even after all these years, but then he simply shuffles closer to Miles and puts an arm around him. “Good morning”, he says, hoping to somehow get a grasp of Miles’ current mood.
“Mhmm. Morning, Wright.” Miles sighs, it almost sounds content, and puts one of his hands on top of Phoenix’s, and this is good, this is reassuring, because on days when it’s really bad, Miles will shy away from every touch.
“Tired?” Phoenix places a soft kiss on Miles’ temple.
“Maybe a little.” He still sounds half-asleep, but he rolls over on his back and turns his head to look at Phoenix.
“… Miles?”
“Mhmm?”
“You know that you can always wake me up when you can’t sleep, right? Or when you wake up in the middle of the night. I really don’t mind; quite the opposite; I-”
“God, Wright.” He rolls his eyes. “Will you never stop with that?”
“With what?”
“Worrying about me.”
“Nope.” He sounds very determined.
“But it’s getting on my nerves.”
“That’s what boyfriends are for, right?”
“… I told you to stop calling us that. We are not in high school.”
“Thank God. If we were, we’d be up for breakfast with my parents, and I’m sure this would be very awkward.”
Miles snorts and flicks his fingers against Phoenix’s forehead, and this, too, helps taking the tension off of him. Miles is obviously okay. He takes a hold of Miles’ hand and kisses his thumb before looking at him again.
“No, but seriously. How was your night?”
“I’m fine, Wright.”
“Gee, odd hearing that without the Chords of Steel. … But, you’re tired.”
“It took me a while before I fell asleep.”
“You-“
“But I slept well. I really did. Now stop worrying.”
“Yes, Sir, Chief Prosecutor, Sir!”
“You are an idiot, Wright.” Miles looks beautiful when he smiles.
“I’m your idiot.”
“No reason to sound so proud about it. It’s not like I’ve ever asked for right of ownership concerning your idiocy.” He sighs, but the smile is still there, and Phoenix feels light and pleasingly fuzzy.
“It’s the all-inclusive Phoenix Wright bundle. Limited edition, too! Worth more than your entire Steel Samurai collection.”
“I seriously doubt that.” He grins and takes a look at his own watch. “Well. As much as I enjoy the pointless discussion you force upon me again and again-”
“Hey!”
“-I’ll have to get up now.”
Phoenix shakes his head furiously and flings his arm around Miles as soon as he tries to sit up.
“…Wright.” Furrowed brows and a serious expression. It’s just Miles’ bad luck that Phoenix can’t be bothered by this glance anymore.
“Noooo. You don’t have to get up. It’s Sunday. Sunday is for sleep and cuddles.”
“I’ll have to disappoint you. There’s paperwork waiting to be filled out.”
“It can wait a little longer!”
“Wright, please. Stop pouting.”
“I’m not allowed to worry, I’m not allowed to pout – what am I allowed?”
Miles tries to shove him away, but Phoenix holds on tight. “Feel very free to get back to sleep.”
“That’s no fun without you.”
Another sigh. “Wright, seriously.”
“Yes, I’m very serious! Lay down again. Pleeeaaase. Just ten more minutes.”
“Wright, really, these documents are important, and-”
“I’m also important.”
And yet another sigh, more frustrated this time. “I never said you were not.”
“Then lay doooown.”
Miles rolls his eyes again and shoots him a scolding glance, but he does. “Ten minutes.”
“Half an hour.”
“For heaven’s sake, Wright. I hate you.” But no objections.
Hah. Victory. Phoenix immediately shuffles closer against Miles and puts his arm around him when he turns on his side to face him. Miles’ hand against his cheek, soft and warm and gentle, his thumb against his lips and then a tender kiss.
“Wright?”
“Mhmmm?”
“I love you.”
Phoenix closes his eyes and smiles, resting his hand in Miles’ neck, playing with strands of his hair. It’s such an uncommon occurrence; Miles saying it first. He had needed a fair amount of time before he had been able to return the phrase (“I do hope that you know that the problem isn’t that I don’t, I just … can’t say it, right now”), and even now, Miles rarely is the one to volunteer the words.
“I love you too.”
“I would hope so.”
Phoenix grins and tries to pull Miles even closer. Another quick kiss, and then another one, longer. He’s still amazed by how perfectly their lips fit together. As if they’d been built for this exact thing and nothing else.
They stay like that for some time, body to body without any distance between them, looking at each other from time to time, sharing the occasional kiss, breathing together; all in unison to the point where it’s getting hard to separate one from the other. They operate like a clockwork; Phoenix knows that hearing his steady breathing makes Miles calm and content, and Phoenix, in return, never feels as certain and at home like when he’s sensing the warmth of Miles’ skin against his own.
Miles makes a few other half-hearted attempts at sounding like a busy Chief Prosecutor – ‘I should really’ and ‘Half an hour is over’ and ‘One of the files involves a very interesting case precedence’ and ‘Wright, if you’d let go-’. But Phoenix doesn’t, and Miles never actually acts upon his words; he just stays at Phoenix’s side, fingers gently caressing his chest until they aren’t anymore because he’s fallen asleep again. Phoenix takes some minutes to just look at him and ponder on how lucky he is before he, too, closes his eyes once more.
After all, it’s Sunday, and Sunday is for sleep and cuddles.