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Phoenix stares down at the box of his new iPhone with a mixture of bafflement and intrigue. Perhaps there’s a bit of suspicion in his gaze, because he hears Edgeworth scoff before the words, “Good god, Wright, it’s a phone, not a bomb.”
“It’s a phone inside of a box,” Phoenix clarifies needlessly. “I’m just having trouble processing that this belongs to me. My number’s already on it and everything?”
“Yes,” Edgeworth clarifies for what must be the fifth time. “All you need to do is turn it on. Surely even you can manage that.”
They’re in the Wright Anything Agency. It isn’t Phoenix’s birthday or even a holiday; hell, Phoenix hadn’t even known Edgeworth was going to be stateside until he showed up at his front door. His childhood friend has the frustrating tendency to do whatever he pleases without properly notifying Phoenix of his whereabouts, and he’d be interrogating him about it if he wasn’t so blindsided by the small white box shoved into his hands as soon as he’d gone to say hi.
Edgeworth looks out of place among his and Trucy’s clutter, though not as uncomfortable as Phoenix imagined. He would’ve invited him to sit down but, once again: The Box.
Finally, he moves to tear off the plastic and lifts the lid to reveal his very first smartphone. He hesitates before reaching for it.
(... Really, Phoenix? You’ve faced unimaginable horrors and underwent varying degrees of pain… but a phone intimidates you? Pull yourself together!)
His eyes lift to Edgeworth’s, who still seems to be thoroughly unimpressed.
Once he sets the box down, retrieving the device and holding it awkwardly in one hand, he recalls that he’d been challenged to turn it on.
(That shouldn’t be too difficult. There’s even a big round button right on the front of the phone. I bet that’s it!)
He presses it once. He presses it again when it’s unresponsive, but allows his finger to linger this time with hope for a different result. In his peripheral, he can see Edgeworth draw an exasperated hand to his face, pushing up his glasses. “Wri--”
“No! I’ve got it!” He steps away from Edgeworth to examine the other sides of the phone. He finds a tab on the side and holds it down, elated to see that it powers on. “Ha! Take that!”
Edgeworth’s eyebrow twitches.
Phoenix, now thoroughly entranced, takes a seat on the couch and peers at the start-up screen. “Alright,” he mutters, “now it’s just like my old -- what. Why’s it asking for my language? Isn’t that supposed to be automatic?” Before Edgeworth can respond, he taps English and smirks when it registers his touch. The expression falls away quickly. “Wifi?” He tilts his head back to find his friend. “Edgeworth, we don’t have that here.” Trucy makes due with the library.
“No matter. You have a data package now.”
“A what?”
It seems Edgeworth finally loses what little patience he has; he snatches the phone from Phoenix’s hands and joins him on the couch, speeding through the set-up screens with ease. Phoenix glares sidewise but his gaze soon flickers back to the phone. He scoots a bit closer to Edgeworth to see that he managed to reach the home screen, which are filled with a bunch of… squares.
“Oh! Apps, right? I know what those are.”
“Congratulations,” Edgeworth replies wryly. “I’m going to dispose of the applications you don’t need. Heaven knows you’d only frustrate yourself with so much clutter.”
“Y’know, I’m not sure I appreciate this grief from you of all people.”
He’s ignored.
He watches as Edgeworth opens up the phone’s address book. He adds himself under ‘Miles Edgeworth’.
“I already know your number by heart.”
Edgeworth glances up at him and pauses before looking back down. “Yes… well, this makes it easier for contacting one another. Whether it’s by calling or… texting.”
Phoenix grins. “Is that an open invitation to text you whenever I want?”
He scoffs. “I couldn’t stop you if I tried. You may, but of course there are circumstances in which I wouldn’t be able to reply right away.”
“Unless it’s an emergency,” Phoenix suggests, which is unfortunately more of a guarantee than it is a precaution.
“Mm,” he agrees.
They spend the rest of the afternoon customizing Phoenix’s new phone to suit him best. Edgeworth even teaches him how to set up and compose his email, assign favorite contacts (Trucy, of course, was his first choice, followed by Edgeworth), and take a picture.
He has a feeling Edgeworth regrets showing him that last bit.
“C’mon! Put your hand down!” he chides, tugging at Edgeworth’s arm.
“Absolutely not. There’s a time and place--”
“This is definitely the time and place. I don’t have any pictures of you. Let alone the two of us together. We can take a… y’know. What’s it called? Selfie?”
Edgeworth grunts.
“Please?”
Silence.
“... Fine. One picture.”
Phoenix pumps his fist into the air before inching into Edgeworth’s space for the sake of them both fitting into the frame. He beams wide and watches Camera-Edgeworth awkwardly adjust himself and quirk his lips into a small smile.
He snaps the picture and immediately pulls it up to see how it turned out.
“Aww,” he begins, but Edgeworth interrupts him.
“Is that Trucy?”
“Huh?” But he doesn’t need clarification from Edgeworth; he can hear the sound of a key clacking around in the office door before Trucy appears.
She’s staring down at a new phone.
“You--” He looks from Trucy to Edgeworth. “Did you--?!”
Edgeworth looks away, gruff. “It would’ve hardly been fair to gift you a smartphone and not Trucy. Most children her age already have such devices. Not to mention the need for a reliable form of communication, should something happen…”
Phoenix stares at him. “But -- aren’t these worth… a lot? Like, hundreds-of-dollars-a-lot?”
“Don’t concern yourself with that, Wright. They’re gifts that I wanted to give.”
Trucy speaks up, her phone disappearing into one of her pouches. She approaches Phoenix from behind the couch and swings her arms around his neck. “Yeah, daddy! It’d be rude not to accept, right?” She looks to Edgeworth, who nods in approval.
Phoenix narrows his eyes. “Have you two been conspiring behind my back? Just what have you been teaching her, Edgeworth?”
“Nothing untoward, I assure you.” He rises from his seat and brushes off his suit. “In any case, it’s about time for me to leave. There are some things I need to take care of before nightfall…”
Trucy squeezes Phoenix more tightly as she whines in disappointment. “Already? I just got here!”
“Gah,” says Phoenix in his attempt not to be strangled by his own daughter.
Edgeworth glances away, looking a bit hesitant. “I apologize, Trucy. Perhaps… this weekend, when you aren’t in school and your father and I don’t have work -- we can all spend some time together.”
His eyes flicker back to Phoenix for validation.
Without pause: “Of course. It’s a date! I’ll call you.” He winks, holding up his iPhone and laughing at his own joke.
Edgeworth sighs longsufferingly and reaches past Phoenix to tug Trucy’s hat down over her eyes as he approaches the door. She giggles.
“Right. Until then.”
The door closes behind Edgeworth and Trucy kisses Phoenix’s cheek. “That was really nice of him… I’m glad he’s here. And that he’s staying for good this time!”
Phoenix smiles. “Yeah, I was pretty s--” He pauses. “What?”
She pulls away from him and finally discards her bookbag and hat, tossing them aside. “What what?”
“What you just said. He’s staying for good…?”
“Yeah! Didn’t he tell you that?”
“He neglected to mention it,” he intones flatly. “But I guess… I didn’t really ask why he was here. I was pretty distracted by this.” He lifts up the phone again. “He taught me how to do some things. Now I’m as hip and cool as all you kiddos.”
“Pffft. Not when you say things like that.” She plops on the couch next to Phoenix, pulling out her phone again and holding it up next to her father’s. “We have different colors! Mine’s the silver… and yours is gold. I wonder if Mr. Edgeworth had something in mind when he picked them out…?”
“I dunno. It’s kind of hard to imagine Miles contemplating which color would suit us best.” But then he recalls the excessive coordination that goes into Edgeworth’s habitats. “... Actually, no it’s not.”
Trucy leans over to peek at Phoenix’s screen. “Aw, you haven’t changed your home screen yet? It’s so boring.”
“I only have one picture,” he defends, holding it away from her.
“Then take some more,” she suggests cheekily, tapping away at her phone until something occurs to her. She starts slapping her father’s arm in enthusiasm. “Daddy! Now you can take lots of pictures at my performances! You could even record them!”
“First of all, ow, and secondly, yes I can. And I absolutely will.” He lifts his hand up to ruffle her hair, and she smiles.
Something else seems to occur to her. “We could make Vines,” she whispers in amazement. “I could become Vine famous!”
“... Alright. You’ve lost me.”
She bolts up from her seat. “I’ve gotta go!”
And she’s out of sight before Phoenix can question her further. He looks down at his new phone and, after a moment of deliberation, taps at the messaging app.
Miles is jolted out of concentration by his phone clattering softly against his desk. He looks up from his paperwork and glances at the screen.
Phoenix Wright
1 New Message
He lifts his brows. (That didn’t take very long at all... )
He unlocks the device and peers uncomprehendingly at the message, which is simply a series of numerous question marks.
Yes? he responds. Then he thinks better of it and adds, Would you rather I call?
Nah, responds Phoenix after an extended moment. I want to get the hang of this fist.
First*
Well, he can’t say he didn’t see that coming. He stares blankly at the three dots signifying that Wright has more to say.
Is it true??? You’re staying in America?
Ah. Of course. Miles is glad that Wright chose to text. It’s easier to conceal his unwarranted embarrassment. He’s in the middle of typing a response when Wright sends him the American flag emoji.
He squints at it, pausing, and then continues.
Yes. I’m actually filling out the acceptance paperwork for a position here at the prosecutor’s office as we speak.
He hesitates before adding, As Chief Prosecutor.
And he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t expecting the abundance of exclamation points, shocked emojis, and confetti, but the sight of them pleases him nonetheless. (Absurd.)
No way! Congrats edge worth!! Celebration dinner this weekend y/y?
Edgeworth
Cmon iPhone his name is even in my contacts aren’t you supposed to be a smartphone
He’s glad that nobody is here to see him smile. I would like that. A celebration is long overdue, regardless… He’s referring to Wright’s reinstatement. The single grinning emoji he receives as a response tells him that Wright is on the same page as he.
That next morning, Miles awakens and reaches for the hotel nightstand, feeling around for his glasses and cellphone. Once righted, he checks the screen to see another text from Wright.
Do you have Snapchat?
He lifts his brows. I’m surprised you know what that is. And yes, I do, though I rarely use it. One of my previous associates insists that I keep the application on my phone so that she’s able to send me ridiculous photos…
He receives the occasional snap from Franziska, too, usually in the form of her smirking visage and a gloating caption describing her latest win.
Trucy, is Wright’s explanation. I just downloaded it. Hold on
Miles arches a brow before he slides out of bed to shower. His towel is still wrapped around his waist when he checks the notification from Wright via Snapchat. It’s a photo of Wright and Trucy grinning at the camera, hands tossed up with a flourish.
He finds himself echoing their expressions; he covers his mouth with his hand and sets his phone aside. Moving back to the states…
(I don’t regret it one bit.)
And that’s just the beginning of Wright’s foray into Snapchat. He pesters Miles endlessly that day, photographing nearly everything in that damned office and adding a comment to boot, as if there’s a story to tell for each item.
After the eleventh or twelfth image, Miles wonders if perhaps this is Wright’s way of filling Miles in on everything he’s missed during these past few years. After all, he’s now aware of several magic-related incidents and Charlie the plant’s status -- purely inconsequential, but tidbits of information that feel as though Wright is including him in the history of the home he had made with his daughter.
(That sentimental fool. Although I suppose that makes two of us…)
By the time the weekend rolls around, Miles decides that he’s going to take Wright and Trucy out somewhere nice to eat. He texts the defense attorney to wear something decent for once, and No, Wright, your standard work suit certainly does not count. He receives a :/ emoji for his trouble.
Despite that, Wright looks perfectly presentable when Miles arrives to pick the two of them up. Wearing charcoal gray slacks and a navy blue dress shirt, Miles has to work his expression into something impassive lest Wright get cocky.
But he must’ve noticed anyhow, because the insufferable man sends him a smirk.
Miles huffs and looks aside. “You do know there are colors other than blue, don’t you?”
Wright leans in, making a show of looking Miles up and down. “Uh huh. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in something other than…” Miles’ eyes flick back to Wright’s, warning him with a sharp glare. “... what you’re wearing now.”
Trucy appears in modest dress that’s nearly the same shade as Wright’s. “What’s wrong with blue?” she pouts.
“Nothing, sweetie. Miles is just jealous that he can’t pull it off.”
Both of the Wrights snicker, but Miles is unfortunately stuck on the sound of his first name in Wright’s voice. He’s heard it before, surely. They’ve been friends long enough for that. “Shall we?” he segues, gesturing toward the door.
“Smooth, Edgeworth,” Wright murmurs, nudging Miles on his way out.
“Real smooth,” echoes Trucy, bounding after him. “Shotgun!” She speeds ahead and barrels into the passenger seat.
“Wha -- hey! Trucy!”
Miles’ lips twitch. “Fair’s fair, Wright. She did call it.”
He frowns at Miles. It resembles his daughter’s pout. But then his smile returns full force, and Miles isn’t quite sure of the cause. His befuddlement must show on his face, because Wright shakes his head in dismissal.
“C’mon. I’m starving.”
Dinner goes well, with Trucy providing plenty of conversation starters, until Wright gets that glint in his eyes with which Miles has become all too familiar. He opens his mouth and confirms Miles’ suspicions.
“We should take a picture.”
“Why?” Miles says at the same time Trucy cries, “Good idea, daddy!”
Wright lifts his brows at Miles, cheeky. “Evidence.”
He scoffs. “Of what?”
“Miles Edgeworth having a good day. Miles Edgeworth having a nice time while also not at work… with a foolish defense attorney.” He drops his chiding and shrugs with one of his honest smiles. “I just think it’d be nice to capture the three of us here.”
There’s a lot unsaid that Miles can interpret without it being spoken clearly. The pieces in Wright’s life are finally coming back together; his daughter is safe, his closest friend has chosen to move back into the area; and, quite obviously, the repossession of his badge.
So, reluctantly, Miles can’t bring himself to do anything but agree. Trucy and Wright both scoot their chairs closer to Miles, leaving Wright in between. He pulls up the camera on his phone and extends his arm.
Click!
Wright lowers the screen and peers at it. “Truce, can you show me how to set a picture as my wallpaper? This one’s a keeper.”
She walks him through the process and Miles witnesses the change, feeling his chest squeeze with something he can’t identify. He clears his throat. “Wright. I’d like for you to send me that picture as well.”
“Huh? Oh, sure! Let me just… er…” He fiddles with his phone for a moment, clearly only familiar with using Snapchat as a form of sending pictures to Miles. Miles leans to the side a bit to peer at his screen.
Partner :)
Message sent
Miles’ chest aches painfully, now, his eyes widening in shock before he can tell his heart to calm down, they’ve referred to one another as such in the past. They truly are partners in uncovering the truth -- that much is certain.
“...worth? Miles? Earth to Miles?”
He blinks, leaning away from Wright. “Yes?”
“I think we lost you for a minute. I asked if you got the picture?”
“Oh. Um…” He fishes his phone from his pocket and checks the screen. “Yes, thank you…”
Wright’s innocent look of concern has a hint of something else. Something knowing, perhaps? Miles huffs down at the remains of his dinner plate and refocuses his attention on Trucy who is studiously scanning the dessert menu.
“The creme brulee here is superb,” he comments.
Trucy’s grin appears above the menu. “Hear that, daddy? Superb. That means we have to try it!”
“Not sure if I’d call that an irrefutable claim, but the defense still rests.”
Miles sends him a withering glare.
“What? It’s been years since I’ve been able to make legal puns. Sue me!”
His groan is echoed by Trucy’s, who shortly bursts into giggles. Wright follows, and Miles is not far behind.
Trucy slams Miles’ car door with a bit more enthusiasm than necessary, but he doesn’t chastise her the way he does Wright. The attorney grumbles about playing favorites before he pauses at the walkway up to the office.
“Sweetie?” he calls out to Trucy. “I’ll be up in a few minutes. You go on ahead.”
Miles looks to Wright with curiosity. Trucy sends a salute their way and heads inside. He crosses his arms and raises a brow expectantly.
“Don’t give me that look. I just wanted to thank you for dinner.”
“You couldn’t have done that in the car?”
“And interrupt Trucy’s conspiracy theory behind Apollo’s hair? Definitely not.”
Miles’ mouth twitches into a smile. Still, he knows his friend better than that. But if a direct questioning won’t suffice… “You’ve called me by my first name quite a bit recently,” he notes.
Wright is predictably caught off guard by the change of topic. “Oh. Yeah,” he agrees, lifting a hand to the back of his neck and looking sheepish. “I realized that Trucy’s been referring to you as ‘Mr. Edgeworth’ and it sounds pretty weird when she says it, y’know? You’re my closest friend, and she’s just a kid. You’re not her teacher, you’re…”
Miles’ brows furrow just slightly. “I’m…?”
“Heh. Sorry, I just…” He takes a deep breath and fiddles with his shirt, stepping closer into Miles’ space. “Don’t kill me for this, alright?”
“Wh--” And any further syllables are muffled by Wright’s lips, sealed softly over his own.
He feels like he did back at the restaurant, caught off guard by this wonderful man’s wild emotionality. But he’d be a fool not to respond in kind, to catch one of Wright’s shaking hands in his own.
Wright pulls away, looking about as shocked as Miles feels. He stares at their hands. “I -- you -- that …!”
Miles takes comfort in feeling more grounded than his counterpart, a smirk pulling at his features. “Would you prefer to put your words down in a text so that they might become even slightly eloquent?”
“Oh my god. Shut up.” And he’s kissed yet again, Wright’s free hand sliding up Miles’ neck and pressing himself close. It’s new, and terrifying, but Miles relaxes with each comforting stroke of Wright’s thumb at his nape. He’s always been able to read Miles too well.
Then, he pulls away abruptly and digs in his trouser pocket. “Aha!” Phone in hand, he taps away at the screen, leaving Miles a bit dazed from the sheer amount of passion that Wright had just poured into him.
“There we go,” Wright adds, holding up his phone for Miles to see.
Partner ;)
Miles blinks uncomprehendingly.
“I changed the emoji. Now it’s winking. Gives partner some implications, if you know what I--”
“Yes, Phoenix. I get it.”
Wright’s words die on his tongue and he stares at Miles in amazement.
He hums victoriously and places a hand at Wright’s back. “Let’s not leave your daughter waiting. I believe we have much to discuss.”
The door opens, revealing the young woman in question. “Maybe less than you think. Oops?” She smiles.
Miles watches as Wright flusters a bit at the notion of Trucy having heard her father stutter about like a lovesick teenager himself, gently pushing her inside. He holds the door open.
Miles recognizes the worn down office chair Phoenix had snapped the other day, confirming it to be the same one Mia used; he sees faint traces of ash on the wall, which he’d just recently learned was the result of an experiment gone wrong; he’s nearly blinded by the matching, radiant smiles worn by Trucy and Phoenix, welcoming Miles as if he’d lived there all along.
Most of all, Miles feels at home.