Work Text:
When Miles finishes work for the day, it’s already late.
A troublesome case had required him to stay until 8, when he’d determined that spending any more time rereading scattered files while his vision grew increasingly exhausted wouldn’t lead to progress, and Miles had finally clocked out.
When he was younger, he might have stayed into the early hours of the morning to try and force out an answer from the stacks of papers. But he’s changed, wiser about work-life balance, and old enough that his back will make him regret not sleeping eight hours.
His is one of the final cars lingering in the parking lot, easy to spot even were it not a vivid red.
Miles walks over, turns the key, and starts the drive back home.
An advantage of being on the road so late is that there’s little traffic at this hour. It should feel lonely, going down quiet highways in dim light, but there’s a strange tranquillity to it. The grey evening is joined by a light sprinkling of rain, and Miles flicks the windshield wipers on.
Indeed, safe inside his Mazda, to the hum of his engine and the rain, it almost feels cozy.
The only thing missing is good music.
Miles turns the radio on to a channel playing classical piano. Chopin. As the pianist glides across the scales, pulling real emotion from the keys, Miles finds himself humming to the tune.
It’s a little sacrilegious. Would the musicians of the 19th century approve?
Manfred Von Karma surely did not. In his house, everything had been for perfect victory and only for victory. The little music that scampered through the halls of that overlarge house was only played as dull background noise for work. Music for pleasure, music that Miles would hum or nod his head to, was obviously out of the question.
There were many things to unlearn in the education Von Karma had given him.
Phoenix had called him out on it regularly, when they had started rekindling their friendship a decade ago. "Edgeworth, we’re just playing a game! It’s okay to lose!" "What? No, I’m not bribing you. This is just a gift. A thank you. For, last month, but also for everything." "Nobody here is trying to make fun of you. Come on, believe in us."
It was a terrifying experience. Phoenix Wright, brash, loose-cannon, lightning-strike Phoenix Wright, had threatened to change his life.
The humming habit Miles now has is partly Phoenix’s influence.
Though off-key like a duck, Phoenix sings without a care. He’ll belt out song whenever he feels like it, whether that’s an age-old hymn, the Steel Samurai theme, or whatever ‘skibidi’ music Trucy has shared around.
In fact, it was probably how horrifically Phoenix was butchering some song that Miles had started desperately humming the correct rhythm and melody. And then he’d continued.
Because nobody, barring Trucy in bad moods, ever told Phoenix to shut up about singing the things that he loved, Miles too had stopped fearing being exposed for enjoying his music. It had helped that whenever he hummed in front of Phoenix, the other man’s eyes went sappy.
Speak of the devil.
At his side, Miles’s phone starts to ring. He glances down at the caller ID, though already with a hunch he knows the caller, and accepts the incoming call from a brightly beaming contact photo.
With a soft buzz, the phone line opens.
"Hello, Phoenix."
"Hi, Miles."
A pause, as Miles takes in the sounds of their own first names. For many years, it had been Wright and Edgeworth, a far cry from their playful days shouting nicknames in elementary. As professionals working in court, it would have been very strange—even suspicious—to address each other less formally.
Miles has to admit to himself, with a tinge of shame, that the person that he was would have found it unbearable to admit to the weakness that came with familiarity.
It is a good thing, for all of them, that they have grown since then.
"Is there a particular reason for this call?" Because it is Phoenix, Miles can’t rule out the possibility of an urgent kidnapping or murder that will require him to rush to the scene.
The line crackles with Phoenix’s soft chuckle. "Not really. Just, saying hi. There’s some background noise on your side, are you outside?"
That’s a relief. You never can be sure. "Ah, then hi. Hi to you too." Miles sounds ridiculous, his third greeting in less than a minute, he’ll blame Phoenix for being infectious. "And yes, I’m driving back from work."
"Oh, damn! I didn’t realize, I wouldn’t have bothered you right after work."
"You’re not bothering me. Thank you for keeping me awake for my drive, the last thing I was reading was written by Payne." Miles makes an attempt at a joke.
It’s bad, but Phoenix still laughs. "If you get pulled over for falling asleep at the wheel, it’s a good thing you know a good defence attorney, hmm?"
"Yes, Apollo has a good record."
Phoenix sputters on the other side.
Miles laughs to himself, too quiet to be picked up by the phone. "I know I can rely on you." It bears worth saying anyways. "Though, if you end up in the same scenario, I’m afraid I can’t promise I’ll throw the prosecution’s case for you."
"Guess I’ll be a careful driver."
And Miles doesn’t even have anything to say to that, just letting Phoenix’s own words hit him. For one — the words 'Phoenix' and 'careful' do not tend to exist in the same sentences. For a second — Phoenix doesn’t have his license, and after seeing Phoenix in the driver’s seat only one time, Miles has a suspicion why.
They both start snickering at the same time.
“Are you the last one in your agency without a license?”
“Hey, Athena’s license might as well be hypothetical. Besides that uh…”
“Trucy? She’s almost old enough to take the test, isn’t she?”
“Oh. Right, she’s gearing up for her license. Yeah.” Phoenix’s voice sounds a little funny when he says it, though it could be the static.
A lone car whooshes by Miles.
“Well, that’ll be convenient for her to drive you around. Though I’m sure you’ll mourn your jay-biking greatly.”
With the length of Phoenix’s sigh, Miles can easily imagine him throwing his head in his arms to go with it.
“…Sorry, am I going too far?” Miles asks, a tad wary.
"Well, even if you’re using it to bully me, it’s nice to hear your voice. Takes me back to the good old days, life was so easy when the only thing I had to worry about was how to get you to chill."
Miles snorts.
They have always been like this, haven’t they?
A back and forth volley in every conversation, bouncing jabs and jokes, near-insults or pure-insults that land more teasing than sharp. For the two of them, it could count as a love language. To know they have the mutual respect and confidence to pull it off makes it…intimate.
On more than one occasion, there has been a witness, a judge, a fellow lawyer, muttering about ‘bickering like an old married couple.’ Miles takes offense only at the implication that bickering is a sport reserved for retirees. He’s grown so used to their banter, he can’t remember a time when it was different.
But now is not the time to fall down memory lane.
Phoenix can’t possibly think he can get him off the lead that easily. Miles asks directly:
"Are you going to tell me the real reason you called me now?"
A silence, as Miles can imagine Phoenix’s face rotating through several shocked sprites.
Finally, across the line—"Ugh. I can’t believe you picked up on that." Phoenix sighs so mournfully he must be copying some actor. Theatre kid. "Never date a prosecutor! They’re too sharp!"
That word, ‘date’, and Miles’s heart flutters.
What power words have, what power Phoenix’s voice has over him.
It’s nice.
Recently, they had started…something. Something, after years of being estranged, rivals and enemies, and each other’s saviours and confidants. Now, they were at a place with a 'something' between them.
It feels silly to call each other boyfriends, with their boyhood days so long past, so they had informally settled on partners. Partners in truth and in justice, in court and in life.
Honestly, putting a label on it hadn’t changed them much. Already they were so very involved in each other’s lives, important to each other beyond definition. If Miles hovered at the Wright apartment a little more often, if they timed an extra lunch or two together, if a comfortable walk around the city ended with a kiss, was that so strange.
But that thing between them was still a new thing, and had its fragile parts.
Phoenix has had his heart broken too many times to have his characteristic unflinching optimism when it came to romance.
Miles isn’t used to giving his heart away.
As a result, they share the unfortunate habit of drawing back or exhausting nearly every other option before relying on somebody else. When in that vulnerable, tense/jumpy, injured-animal state, they both have to be coaxed out so very delicately.
With the length of time that they have known each other, it is easier with each other to try to let their guards down. Given all the (unfortunately literal) skeletons in their history, every crime they have struggled to the bitter end to solve and the justice system they fought for, they know each other inside out. They tackle it like a new case, try to make it work.
It’s not that different. In court, Miles always trusted that they would find the truth. Here, he trusts in Phoenix’s strength and the strength of their partnership.
Phoenix would not lie to him about something serious. He would, however, use quick words to smooth over any concern Miles might have, even if it left Phoenix limping alone.
“Is it work?” Miles tries.
Light grumbling. “Yeah, I guess, that. Just. A whole bunch of things.” A louder groan. “This case is so…! I swear I’ve gone around to EVERY possible witness, examined EVERY last tree and potted plant, and still I can’t get to the bottom of it. I’m pretty sure my client isn’t guilty, unless he has a third arm, but man is it hard to prove."
Miles makes a sympathetic sound.
"I only got the judge to accept that there could have been a person in a box today, after hours of debate and cross-investigating toddlers. Simon was poking holes into everything I could put up, you trained him too well, ugh."
Phoenix gives him too much credit. Simon was already terrifyingly keen, Miles’s only role in that was giving him a chance.
"Do you want me to look over it with you?"
But this isn’t the right thing to say, because Phoenix just replies with a muted, "No, that’s definitely a conflict of some work thing."
“Hrm.”
"I’ll poke at this bear of a case tomorrow. Sure I’ll figure something out, or, hey, maybe I’ll just get lucky." He still sounds utterly unenthusiastic.
Phoenix had that green spiritual object that could tell when somebody was hiding something. If Miles held it, he has a suspicion he would see those red locks.
“There’s something else bothering you?” Miles guesses.
"…Not really. I mean, I’m not bothered, I’m just really really stressed. Upset?"
Miles purses his lips. "Can you tell me more?"
There’s a very loud, very reluctant, very heavy sigh.
“Trucy. I got into some dumb fight with her. I can’t even remember what it was about now—but it was bad, she didn’t come home after school today and wouldn’t answer my texts. I started calling everyone, hounding them all insane, until Maya yelled at me to relax.”
Miles nods slowly, letting Phoenix spill the whole story.
“But I couldn’t, right? Because—because what if something happened? I couldn’t just do nothing. Apollo let it slip that he knew where she was, she was fine, and she just needed time. Away from me.” A long breath. “I’m glad she’s not in danger. But…”
Phoenix groans again, and the line vibrates with static. “It’s so stupid. She’s my little girl but she’s almost all grown up, she’s smart enough to make her own decisions…If she wants to move out soon, that’ll be great for her. But did you know that sound echoes really well in an empty house, Miles?”
This is a tricky one.
Even now that Phoenix and Miles’ relationship has changed, Miles has tried not to treat Trucy too differently. He doesn’t want to interfere in family issues and overstep his place as Uncle Miles. Trucy is not his daughter, even if he cherishes her very much and has watched her grow with quiet pride. He sees why Phoenix has tied himself into knots worrying over her. But Miles knows Phoenix and Trucy and the fiery insults an angry teenager can hurl and regret (Franziska, so many years ago).
“She loves you. She’ll come back.”
“I know. But it started me thinking—she doesn’t have to. And I, kind of don’t want her to feel like she’s stuck with me? She’s so smart, Miles, she has the whole world if she wants it. I don’t want Japanifornia to be the tiny pond she’s forced to swim in. But I also really don’t want her to leave. Ugh. This is talking in circles, what am I saying.” Phoenix laughs self-deprecatingly.
Crackle from the line. "I’m old. We’re both old. We’re probably going to live the rest of our lives here, in the legal system. And that’s great, I love what I do. But at a certain point, this is it, right? Even fighting for justice has its limit, can’t save everyone. Maybe can’t even save myself.” A scratching sound, maybe Phoenix scratching his head. “I chose to stay in law in this city even after everything, but that comes with its downs. Even before this week, I see Trucy less and less while she’s running around doing what she does. Apollo’s doing an amazing job in Khura’in, Maya’s stepping up as Fey clan master. They’re not gone forever, but it kind of stings.”
“Maybe I needed them more than they needed me,” Phoenix mutters. “I’m not cocky enough to think I can have everything, but it sucks that people go in come and go. I have you, we have <this> but let’s be honest we’re both married to our jobs first. Has it been worth it? Doing this with my life, having all this happen, for a badge. Ugh.” That neck-scratching sound again. “Don’t make fun of me for having a mid-life crisis on a Tuesday night alone at my house. What am I even doing.”
“…I think you’re worrying too much. It makes sense to reflect on things, that’s not silly, but I think you’re getting lost in your worries.”
“Thanks, I didn’t know that.”
Miles winces at Phoenix’s cutting tone.
“…Sorry. Sorry for snapping at you, I know you’re trying to help.”
“It’s alright. You’re under a lot of pressure right now. I’m not really sure what to say to help but…what you do is worth it. You’re a good person, Phoenix, the best man I know.”
Phoenix chuckles soullessly. “Don’t flatter me, Miles.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you to spare your feelings. I’m saying that because I mean it.” It’s hard trying to have a conversation like this through the phone while still steering the car. “Everyone you care about would tell you the same thing. Yes, the currents of life bring us to different places. But even if they live their own lives, and there’s greater physical distance, you are still important to everyone. People will find time and space for you in a way that catches you off guard. …And please trust that you will always, always have me in your life.”
Miles briefly fears he’s gone too far when Phoenix grows quiet after his monologue.
“…Thanks. That helped a bit, I think.” Phoenix sounds a little quiet. “Still moody but that’s not a you problem, I’ll sleep it off, I think I’ll just hang up.” A short silence. “Sorry for bugging you again.”
Phoenix says that, but the tension in his voice says another thing. Miles doesn’t want him to just bear through this alone. What was the saying, partners in sickness and in mid-life crisis?
Miles glances at the signs on the road ahead. “I’m coming over,” he declares.
“Huh? Wait—what?”
“I’m five minutes from yours right now, I can bring some dinner for us to eat together and chat face to face. If you would like my company.”
“I—You know I’d never turn down hanging out with you, but, really? You aren’t sick of me complaining about stuff?" Hesitantly Phoenix adds, “My mood is worse than the grumpiest witnesses, I’m not fun to be around right now.”
“I insist.”
"Well. Then don’t buy food, I feel bad already taking your evening."
"Phoenix. I would love to spend my evening with you. It’s no trouble, in fact please think of it as my gratitude for your company."
There’s no sound from his phone, and Miles glances to make sure he hasn’t accidentally hung up.
“Okay. Thank you, Miles.” Phoenix’s voice dims to a whisper.
“I’ll see you soon.”
The call ends with a click.
Miles drives to grab takeout, then drives over to Phoenix’s apartment. He walks up the three flights of stairs, and knocks on the door.
Immediately there’s the sound of shuffling feet, a concerning thud, a human voice swearing, more shuffling. The door opens.
Phoenix looks at Miles awkwardly. “Hey. Hey. Come on in.”
Miles does so.
Inside the house, only the lights by the entrance are on. Miles hadn’t failed to notice that Phoenix was still in his work clothes.
So it’s bad enough that Phoenix’s exhaustion had left him sitting in uncomfortable clothes in the dark? Miles has his job cut out for him.
Food first, nobody was ever successfully comforted on an empty stomach.
Miles moves to the kitchen to start unpacking the takeout, Phoenix shuffling along with him.
“Sushi,” Miles says, pointing down.
Phoenix only gives him a short nod. Unlike earlier, now he isn’t trying to hide his mood at all. He paces back and forth, barely even glancing at the meal.
Miles sighs quietly, going to a drawer to grab chopsticks for the two of them. He picks up a piece and raises it to Phoenix’s mouth.
“Eat,” he insists.
Phoenix absent-mindedly opens his mouth to swallow his piece. As he chews, he starts to regain his sense of self. “Oh, this is really good. Where’d you get it from?”
“I’ll tell you when you finish. Eat more, it’s nine and you need to get some food in you.”
Clicking his tongue, Phoenix mutters something that sounds like ‘Mother hen’. But he obliges, reaching for his own pair of chopsticks to take a piece.
Miles watches Phoenix chew with satisfaction, starting to eat his own sushi.
Finally Phoenix lets out a loud exhale, sitting back in his seat. “That was good.”
Miles smiles his assent.
Then a weight on his shoulder, and Miles turns his head to see that Phoenix has fashioned a pillow out of it.
"Tired?"
"Very." Phoenix even keeps his eyes closed while he talks.
“Then let’s sit for a bit. We can’t have you drooling on my shoulder now,” Miles says with a gentle chuckle.
They relocate to the couch and cushions, Miles half-dragging Phoenix with him.
Phoenix’s limbs have gone so lazy, when Miles sits down Phoenix slumps right over him. His head settles back onto Miles’s shoulder with a contented sigh. The word to describe his actions right now is probably ‘nuzzling.’
Miles scoots Phoenix up so he doesn’t suffocate on Miles’s suit.
“You’re here,” Phoenix finally mumbles, bonking his head against Miles’s nose. “You’re really here, huh.”
“Against all odds of vehicular accident rates, yes.”
“Man, I feel like we shouldn’t be joking about manslaughter with our jobs. …Wow. Being a lawyer just means you can’t make anything fun.”
Miles hums. “Do you want to talk more about it?”
He feels the snort Phoenix makes. “I think I’ve said my fill. Basically life is hard and things suck.”
“I think it was you that told me talking about things with someone else can halve the ‘suckiness’.”
Phoenix grumbles something. “Well, I don’t really want to talk more about it. It just makes me sad.”
“Will you accept comfort in the form of a distraction?”
Phoenix flickers his eyes up. “Whatdya mean?”
Miles raises a hand to run through Phoenix’s hair. Impossibly spiky, that hair. “Even if I cannot clear your worrries, I would like to be here for you during them.”
He receives a short laugh. “Well, if you say so.”
Miles continues stroking Phoenix’s hair, undoing the tangles at the ends as Phoenix nods against him. A low sound, Phoenix’s humming, adds to his own satisfaction.
A minute later, Phoenix speaks. “You’re not bad at this distracting thing. Almost dozed off there.”
“Then sleep, get some rest.”
“But I don’t want to waste having you here.”
“I can see you tomorrow too.”
Phoenix groans theatrically. “Miles, you're going to make me get used to this.” Then his classic wily smile appears. “I mean, I could live with that.”
Miles nudges Phoenix. “Good.”
For a while longer, Phoenix just lays on Miles’s shoulder. Periodically he looks up, smiles, closes his eyes again.
Something seems to grab his attention when he’s next looking at Miles.
Phoenix reaches up to Miles’s face, cupping his cheek. Then his fingers wander up to the frame of Miles’s glasses.
"New glasses?" Phoenix asks, lazily dragging a finger across the metal.
"Yes, I just had my prescription changed."
"They look good on you."
"Thank you."
Phoenix continues playing with the frames, fingers doing a little tap dance. When he starts flicking the edges, Miles feels obligated to speak up.
“Something the matter with them?”
"I guess I just like my men bespeckled."
"Bespectacled."
"Come on, I’m trying to sound sexy."
Miles smirks. "You’ll have to keep trying then, Wright."
Phoenix gags. "Oh my god, that is not your cue to start roleplaying us as baby lawyers." He says this, but still ends on the name, "Edge~worth~"
Miles slides over so he can better face Phoenix. "It’s a shame you weren’t this well-behaved when I was still facing you in court. This would have been preferable to the gibberish coming out of your mouth.”
"Aw, you wanted me to behave? Were you thinking bad things when you saw my face?" Phoenix wiggles his lightning-bolt eyebrows in a very stupid way that Miles is smitten enough to think is cute.
Miles snorts at the innuendo, but it’s not that kind of mood.
“When I see your face, I only think about how lucky I am to have you.”
The surprise attack of vulnerable honesty makes Phoenix fluster. “H-huh?”
Miles makes sure to keep his gaze on Phoenix. He’s been told he looks scary when he stares, but he tries to look soft. “I feel so very lucky to know you.”
“Oh. Yeah, same for me.” Well, Phoenix is famous for that quick recovery. Backed against the wall, he turns the tables back onto Miles.
“So can I convince you to step down and play prosecutor against me again?”
Miles pretends to think about it, tapping his chin for drama. “You can certainly try.”
“Aw. But I miss seeing you up on the other side, you know? Working together with you was always so, like, wow, we are going to get to the truth here. You’re so goddamn smart, even when you were all tricky. Once you came around, though, you were just great. But still way too smug!" Phoenix surprises Miles by shoving him hard. Playful, but hard.
Phoenix continues with a shit-eating grin. "Poor you. Afterwards, you had to leave the thrill of the case behind. Started all this paperwork as Chief Prosecutor, and it just gave you glasses. They do suit you."
As if he needs to gather evidence, Phoenix leans over to give Miles a peck on one lens. A second kiss for the other.
"Do you really like my glasses that much?"
“Yeah? You look good.”
Miles tsks. “Now I’m going to have to take them off to wipe them clean.”
But he’s not resisting, and if the smirk curling onto Phoenix’s face means anything, he’s having his fun too.
“No, not the glasses!”
Miles slides his glasses off. "Oh dear. Now, whatever shall you do?" he asks with a very blatant smile.
Phoenix swoops down to snatch his glasses from him. He makes a show of peering around Miles’s head before finally dropping a kiss on the bridge of his nose.
"Guess I like your face too."
Miles tilts his head up. Pulling Phoenix closer, he gives out kisses of his own. Cheek and chin and corner of his lip.
“Do you have a favourite part?”
“Hrm. I’ll have to see.” Phoenix takes his time dappling little kisses onto Miles’s face, nose and ear and eyelid. "Maybe. It’s that Iiii like everything about you."
Miles laughs gently. “Alright, that’s enough out of your mouth. Feeling up to finishing dinner with me?"
“Bleh." Phoenix latches onto Miles’s arm. "Food can wait. Stay here with me for a bit.”
“The food will go bad,” Miles says, not unkindly. "I thought you liked it?"
"Well, I’ll go to buy more takeout tomorrow, it’ll give you an excuse to come over. If Trucy’s back—" and Phoenix hesitates, but pushes through—"If Trucy’s back, we can all share it together."
Miles presses a kiss to the top of Phoenix’s head. "Alright."
Phoenix snuggles closer. "Yeah, it’ll be alright." Then he looks up, and stares at Miles until Miles looks back at him.
“Hey." Phoenix fixes a warm smile onto Miles. "I love you.” He has the ability to just say that anytime, and it never loses its effectiveness.
Miles inhales, closing his eyes to the rush of feeling that accompanies those words said so honestly.
Words have power. They are both lawyers, they both know this. A slip of the tongue has sunk many a case while a carefully pointed argument has nailed others.
Phoenix says ‘I love you,’ and those three word mean a thousand things.
I trust you, I see you, I think you’re amazing.
I want to have this with you. I want to spend our lives together.
Even after everything, maybe 'cuz of everything, it’s you and me.
It’s not that it’s easy for Phoenix to say, but rather that he says it freely. After facing some of the worst of humanity, Phoenix has come out of it with a fierce belief in other people. It’s how he can believe in Miles too.
While Phoenix waits for his answer patiently, his eyes shine like stars.
Sighing, Miles gently knocks their foreheads together.
“You know I love you too.”