Chapter Text
Phoenix had always embraced Miles' few and rare hobbies. But he always loved the comforting turning of pages accompanied by the scrunched nose under Miles' glasses as he read into the night. Not that he was opposed to The Steel Samurai and it's many adaptations, but he always graciously passed the conversations onto the ever excited Maya, mostly leaving his own experiences with Miles long ago, on a small period he had always thought back to. Even back then his husband's facade of decade old maturity had been deeply engraved, shocking the boy then and now where this interest stemmed from.
His ever present gaze on his husband's face was fractured by a small snort that seemed unbecoming of the Chief Prosecutor, despite the sound ringing familiar on the attorney’s ears. Whilst Phoenix revelled in the security Miles had in him after so many hesitant years, his curiosity was peaked and as the old saying goes, curiosity killed the cat. Unwilling to disturb his husband's rare moments of complete peace, Phoenix shifted, glancing at the faded yet familiar words on the front cover.
*The Great Gatsby*
The title was well known to him, reminding him of many days of boredom from his younger years. His time in High School was a strange age, half spent secretly pinning over his long lost (love) friend, and the rest getting into absurd shenanigans with Larry. He had done well in school, but not through any great attempts at trying and this particular book was lost to the many times he'd spent drawing through his lessons. He tried to think to Trucy’s curriculum, pondering whether she was familiar with such a text but tiredness overcame him as he began to lose himself to that weariness hidden behind his eyes.
Unbeknownst to the now dreaming attorney, Edgeworth glanced at his lover's face overcome by (unnecessary feelings) emotion as he quietly turned out his lamp, leaning into his other half, pondering old lovers and their missed opportunities. Perhaps Phoenix would be willing to discuss the finer details of his current read, sure that the man must have studied it if had been part of his testing adolescence tucked away in a cold manor within Germany.
~
The smell of eggs cooking away awoke Edgeworth the next day, sitting up and grabbing his book on the way down into the warm kitchen. Domestic bliss covered the men as their weekend began in peace, unprepared for the testing debates it would end up in.
"How's the book going?" Phoenix asked as the tome had been neatly set aside, making the way for a fresh plate to replace it.
"The same as it usually goes, it appears sentimentallity resides over this book for me," Edgeworth replied, expecting their usual small talk over breakfast. "Despite my undesirable location for first reading it many years ago, I can’t help but reread this when the memory returns. I had many colourful discussions with Franziska over it back then, and I still never have known what I truly think of it, much to young sister's dismay."
"It can't be that much of a thinker if it's read in high schools, " Phoenix puzzled, "What does happen in it?'
'You cannot be serious, Wright," Edgeworth began, "I expect you spent many months on such a fine novel.'
"I think we must have," was met with an eye roll, "Hey! English was never that important to me, you know."
"What a disgrace you are to an already failing education system. Can you not recall a single event, Wright?"
"Probably some fated crime you were expected to prosecute, I imagine."
"Fine, I guess I must educate you myself if we wish to have any meaningful conversation." and so they began ...