Work Text:
Miles Edgeworth wishes the receptionist a good night as he strides across the foyer and exits the Prosecutor's building through its revolving front doors. The November evening air has a cold bite to it; the warmth from his heated office leaches from his body. Miles draws his overcoat tighter around himself as he fishes for his car keys within his pockets.
"Blast, I could have sworn they were oof -" Miles mutterings are cut short as he knocks into a couple, their intimate embrace stiffening at the impact, "my apologies I- Gavin?"
The pair jump apart. Miles' star Prosecutor slowly turns around, plastering on a pearly grin, "Ah, Herr Edgeworth, it's no bother," Klavier waves a hand dismissively as his partner attempts to distance himself and blend into the darkness. Of course, the red of his suit and his equally red blushing face would be difficult to miss.
"Mr. Justice," Miles nods stiffly at the young attorney. Apollo's head snaps up, his distinctive hair antennas bounce with the motion, eyes darting between Klavier and the Chief Prosecutor.
"G-good evening," he replies curtly as he stands as straight as his short stature affords him. Miles notes the clammy sheen of the boy's face and sighs.
"I supposed a congratulations is in order?" He raises an unamused eyebrow at the pair. Klavier's smile faulters as Apollo grows paler, now gripping Klavier's sleeve.
"Herr Edgeworth, I hope this, I mean us, being involved I mean ach-" Klavier stammers, wringing his hands anxiously. Miles fights to keep the amusement off his face, intrigued by the usually composed man falling apart in front of him. He holds a hand up, silencing his ramblings.
"There is no issue, technically, but there are proceedings in place for situations such as this. I expect you to report to me, Prosecutor Gavin, first thing tomorrow morning. We can discuss this at length and hand you off to HR," Miles turns his attention to Apollo, "and you, explain yourself to Wright tomorrow, the faster we do this, the better."
The pair share a confused, but hopeful, glance.
Klavier clears his throat, his usual confident facade clicking back into place "Danke Chief Prosecutor, truly," he replies smoothly, "Ah, these defense attorneys, they will be the death of us, no?"
"Klav!" Apollo hisses, mortified. Miles is suddenly desperate to leave this conversation, gazing forlornly at his beloved car parked neatly a few spots away.
"Ah, quite," Miles nods, slowly side-stepping around the couple. Klavier swings an arm around Apollo, drawing the furiously blushing man towards himself.
"These defense attorneys require a lot of wooing. Well this one does anyway," Klavier says, growing more gleeful by the second at Apollo's embarrassment. Miles stops in his tracks, frowning at the young Prosecutor's comments.
"Okay, well, I wouldn't call you repeatedly asking me out as wooing as such, but sure," Apollo says, rolling his eyes.
"Ach, you wound me, Apollo," Klavier puts on an exaggerated pout, raising the back of his hand to his forehead in a fake swoon. His gaze shifts past his partner, locking eyes with Miles, "was I wrong to do so Chief Prosecutor?"
"Oh my God, you don't need to bring him into this. You've put him through enough," Apollo mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"No, I-" Miles blanches, caught off guard, "I don't know. Wooing feels like a waste of valuable time. Shouldn't the parties involved just... know?"
Klavier and Apollo are stunned, the latter momentarily forgetting his embarrassment. They stare-slack jawed at Miles.
"Forgive me, but know what?" Klavier asks tentatively.
Miles sighs, exasperated, his reserves of patience dwindling fast, "when the time is right, two people will simply know they are in a relationship, naturally."
The pair glance at each other then back at Miles. He grows troubled observing their baffled expressions.
Apollo laughs uneasily, "Well, if that's worked for you, that's great Mr. Edgeworth. It is certainly a... novel way to navigate a relationship," Apollo muses, choosing his words carefully, "But to each their own, we should really be on our way," he grabs Klavier by the wrist, "Good Night Mr. Edgeworth!" he calls over his shoulder.
Miles nods at them stiffly, watching as Apollo ushers Klavier towards a garish motor bike. They seem to be conversing rapidly, Miles catching a snippet of 'This explains so much about them-' from Klavier before they slip out of earshot.
Mind and body numb, Miles makes his way to his car, backs out of the parking lot and on auto pilot as he speeds his way home.
As much as he tries to push it away, he can't help but linger on Klavier and Apollo's stunned expressions. The way they shared those looks with each other. It doesn't take a genius to understand they think Miles is insane, but he is steadfast in his philosophy. Or at least, he thought he was.
Yes, I know most people don't operate this way, but it's worked for Phoenix and I, no? Miles reasons with himself as he waits at a red light. We are in a relationship... aren't we?
Their friendship had been turbulent for many years what with Miles' early prosecuting days, his 'death', and his habit of running away, they had found it difficult to connect. However, over Phoenix's period of disbarment, they had grown closer. Miles flew Phoenix out frequently to act as a legal consult, and he had assisted in raising Trucy as best he could given the distance. He eventually moved back to LA permanently, taking on the Chief Prosecutor mantel. As well as fixing the corrupt legal system, his mission was and still is to take an active role in the Wright's lives. These days he spends more evenings at their cozy apartment over Miles' own estate.
He assumed they had crossed that upper threshold of friendship just after Phoenix had gotten his attorney badge back. That evening they celebrated, just the two of them. Trucy was away for the night, sleeping over at a friends house. One too many drinks and stolen touches led to the two tumbling into Phoenix's bed. And then it happened again, and again, each time a little less drink involved until being together felt as natural as breathing; At least to Miles.
It's raining now, Miles flicks on his windshield wipers, its mechanical squeak grating to his ears.
We don't have an anniversary Miles realises with a start, we haven't told Trucy, I do not think we've told anyone. I've never stayed over night. What if Phoenix thinks this is just... casual. He shudders at the thought, why have I never realized this before. I'm an idiot. Fuck. Of course this doesn't mean the same to him, why would it? Why would he want me?
Miles stops at a quiet cross road. He instinctively signals left and begins his turn belatedly realizing he's heading in the direction of the Wright Household.
The evening prior, Miles had taken Trucy grocery shopping. She had recently gotten the urge to bake and had been complaining there was never enough flour in the apartment because her Daddy always forgot to buy it. Having heard this complaint one too many times over the month, Miles took it upon himself to remedy this issue, and bought some ingredients with her guidance. Yes, he may have gotten carried away after Trucy had shown a passing interest in baking equipment, subsequently buying up an aisles worth of appliances, but it was worth it for that happy gleam in her eyes.
After dropping her at her doorstep that night, she had vowed to bake some cookies for Miles and made him promise to come back the next day to try them. She had extended her pinky. Miles had wrapped his own around hers. She is sixteen now, maturing into an intelligent young lady. Miles can barely comprehend the passage of time that allowed this to happen so fast, but she will always be that mischievous little child to him. They had pinky promised on anything and everything over the years and Miles had honored its binding pact as seriously as any legal contract; This was no different.
He had then helped Phoenix find the space to cram all the new equipment in his already cluttered cupboards before he left.
Unsure as to why, the spark of this memory breaks the numb shield Miles had been fighting to keep up. The thudding of his heart is painful behind his ribs. Embarrassment and frustration pools in the pit of his stomach as he blinks furiously, refusing to let a single tear fall. As much as his mind reals at the thought of seeing Phoenix, his heart compels him push on.
Miles is drenched by the time he has trekked from his parked car to the entrance of Wright's apartment complex. Gray bangs stick pathetically to his forehead, his burgundy suit thoroughly soaked through. He hopes it distracts from the puffiness around his eyes.
He presses the buzzer to Phoenix's apartment.
"Hello?" Miles can't help but smile at that familiar voice. He clears his throat.
"Phoenix, could you-"
"Oh Miles! I was wondering where you'd got to. Come on up."
A click is heard over the speaker before the door buzzes. Miles wearily pushes it open, trudging past the lift and up three flights of stairs.
Miles drags his feet as he peers down the hallway on the third floor. The horrid florescent lights bathe the patchy plastered walls in yellow. He's always hated this place. It's ugly, unsanitary and he's certain there is a rodent problem. But most egregiously, it holds the memories of those seven years Phoenix spent struggling with his disbarment.
He has repeatedly begged Phoenix to move out for over a year, he surely has the means now. Miles had once offered up his own funds in a plee of desperation for any place of Phoenix's liking. He had been refused point blank. To think, I have been looking for houses for us all to move in to. All this time he has never wanted my help, how could I be so blind. What was I thinking? Why would he want to live with me?
Almost immediate commotion is heard within the apartment as Miles wraps his knuckles against the Wright's paint chipped door. A familiar muffled laugh floats through the walls before the door is flung open to reveal a grinning Phoenix Wright. His expression falls as he takes in Miles' sodden state.
"Jesus, you must be freezing," Phoenix yanks him across the threshold of his home, leading Miles by the wrist into the warmth of the living room. The beginnings of his protests at being manhandled are cut short as a high spirited teenager barrels into his chest, throwing her arms over his shoulder.
"Uncle Miles!" Trucy tightens her grip around his neck. Miles huffs, a smile threatening to form on his lips as he gently reciprocates the hug.
Phoenix chuckles at the sight of the winded Chief Prosecutor, leaving the pair and wonders into the restroom.
"You're just in time," Trucy springs away, bouncing on the balls of feet, "those cookies I promised you are almost ready."
"Well, if that smell is anything to go by, I wager they'll taste fabulous," At his comment, Trucy giggles, eyes sparkling.
His first encounter with the young magician had not been smooth. Miles had dropped everything once he had learnt of Phoenix's disbarment, abusing his status and departmental funds to make his way back to LA from Germany as fast as humanly possible. He only had the foresight to pack a single spare set of clothes and toiletries, turning up at Phoenix's agency flustered and heavily jet-lagged. He was mentally preparing himself for the worst, running through multiple scenarios and plans of action to present to Phoenix. What he did not account for was a tiny girl in a top hat and cape answering the door. He absolutely did not expect her to introduce herself as Trucy Wright and hated himself for for the viscous jealousy he felt for whomever her mother was.
When Phoenix eventually surfaced from the depths of the office and sat him down, he was told the girls background and suddenly felt a twinge of kinship. Of course he was worried if a man in Phoenix's state could adequately provide for a child, but knowing what good hands she was in, he could see this working. He wouldn't begrudge a child of a loving parent.
Phoenix had described her as his light. Miles didn't understand it at the time. Unfortunately, Miles has a horrible weakness to Wrights and she quite rapidly wormed her way into his heart. He likes to imagine some of her frankness and dry humor came from him.
Now she stands in front of him, explaining the intricacies of baking, eyes gleaming. Miles reaches out to tuck an errant strand of hair escaping her ponytail behind her ear. He always marvels at her immense wells of infectious energy, her light. Miles' self-inflicted malaise momentarily lifts at the sight.
Trucy suddenly stops rambling and runs in the direction of a distantly ringing timer, "Wait, don't come into the kitchen yet, I'll tell you when you can!"
Phoenix reappears with a fluffy blue towel in hand and Miles tenses involuntarily.
"C'mere," Phoenix mutters affectionately, draping the towel over his head, obscuring his vision as he vigorously rubs at Miles' hair. He mutely complies as he's pulled flush with the other man's chest. Any other day he would be thrilled to be held close. Now he stands stock still, hyperaware of the flashes of Phoenix's handsome face every time the towel is briefly moved away from his eyes.
"Enough Wright, I can do this myself," Miles snaps, stepping back, dropping the towel so it hangs limply around his neck. Guilt floods his stomach as Phoenix's eyes widen in shock.
"Uh, sure," Phoenix scratches at the nape of his neck, eyes warily searching Miles' face, "let me take your coat at least. Go get some dry clothes from my room, you'll catch a cold at this rate."
Miles would be a fool to disagree. He sheepishly hands over his coat and quickly makes his way to Phoenix's bedroom.
He peels off his jabot, waistcoat, and shirt, shivering as air hits his damp skin and lays his clothes on the radiator. He gravitates towards the wardrobe, blindly pulling out the first item his fingers come into contact with. It's a well worn black t-shirt. Whatever logo was printed has rubbed away with time, leaving behind a smattering of random splotches of colour. He rubs its soft fabric between his fingers and brings it up to his face, burying his nose into it. He takes in a shaky breath, the heady smell of Phoenix filling his senses. It simultaneously sooths and brings him to the edge of tears again.
The door opens and Miles jumps to his feet, clutching the shirt to his chest to cover his modesty. Phoenix enters, closing the door behind him, laughing heartily at the scandalized prosecutor.
"Miles, I've seen much more of you than that, don't worry," he heads into the opposite corner of the room, unplugging his phone from its charger and pockets it. He turns around to scrutinizes Miles once again, leaving him feeling more exposed than he already is, "you need help with those pants?"
Miles squawks indignantly "I can manage just fine," he hurriedly puts the t-shirt on and freezes as his fingers work into the buckle of his belt.
"So... take them off, aren't they uncomfortable?" Phoenix raises a jagged brow at the offending soggy article of clothing as it clings to Miles' thighs, "not that I mind the view."
"Not while you're looking at me," Miles averts his eyes, looking pointedly at the bedside table behind Phoenix.
"Since when has that been a problem?"
"Wright just-"
"You're 'Wright'-ing me again?" Phoenix says dejectedly, "that's the second time now, have I done something wrong?"
Miles snaps his head up. He opens his mouth but no words come out, leaving them to stand in an uncomfortable silence.
"Uncle Miles! Daddy! They're ready!" Trucy's calls, voice floating through the walls. Phoenix breezes past wordlessly. He hesitates at the boundary of his bedroom and the hallway, casting a sidelong glance at Miles. He decides against whatever he was about to say and retreats, footsteps growing more distant.
I shouldn't have come tonight, my mind isn't in the right place Miles berates as he strips off his pants, pulling on a pair of Phoenix's sweatpants. He looks at himself in the mirror, feeling ridiculous. His hair is tousled into a frizzy mop. No matter how he tries to smooth it, it stubbornly bounces back. The t-shirt is overly baggy and the sweats too short, grazing the tops of his ankles.
There is no salvaging his image for now, he thinks. He feels too much of an emotional mess to care in this moment.
Another call from Trucy has him finally exiting the sanctuary of Phoenix's room, following the warm scent of baking into the kitchen.
In the nearest corner of the room lies a cramped circular dining table crowded by three chairs. Phoenix occupies one of them. Miles slides silently beside him, neither looking at each other and instead focuses on Trucy. She waves off her father as he offers his assistance in plating up. She plops herself beside the men, sliding a plate stacked high with freshly baked cookies.
"Oh, are these..?" Miles gasps.
"They're raspberry white chocolate, your favourite, right Uncle Miles?" The young magician beams up at him.
"Yes, you remembered," Miles smiles faintly, "actually have I ever told you this?"
"Well, no. Daddy told me," Trucy nods at her father. Miles' cheeks warm as he shifts focus to Phoenix. They make tentative eye contact, Miles unable to decipher the emotion swirling behind his blue eyes. Trucy glances between the two, huffing impatiently, "stop making googly eyes at each other for one second. Eat! Eat! Eat!"
She shoves the plate closer to Miles. He delicately picks one up and takes a bite.
"My Lord," Miles groans, too enamored with the cookie to hear the startled choke from Phoenix at his reaction, "I knew they would be good, but this, I have no words."
"You can be honest with me, I know I had some problem with the batter-"
"Trucy," Miles cuts her off, levelling her with a serious look, "have you ever known me to lie to you?"
"No..." Trucy replies bashfully.
"Then believe me when I say, not only are these the best cookies, but one of the best baked goods I have ever had the privilege of tasting."
"Uncle Miiiles," Trucy whines, covering her face in embarrassment.
"He's right Truce, I'm not the biggest fruit in dessert guy, as you know, but this really takes the cake..." Phoenix pipes up, taking another bite to accentuate his point. Miles and Trucy brace for impact "... or should I say cookie."
Phoenix immediately bursts into laughter, slapping the table at his horrid pun. The other two glance at each other sagely, unimpressed.
The night continues amicably. They gorge themselves on as many cookies as they can stomach, discussing anything and everything. It is... pleasant, like any other night at the Wright's. Yet Miles cannot shake off his previous spiraling thoughts - what if this is all he's allowed to have? An honorary uncle title and a dinner guest? A quick fuck from time to time? Perhaps I should be grateful Miles muses, this is probably more than I deserve.
Oh, but he wants more. He wants to wake up to Phoenix, make him that ghastly coffee he loves every morning, kiss him good morning and good night. He wants to take Trucy to school, attend her parent-teacher meetings and scream to the world the Wright's are his. He wants to be their emergency contact and-
Miles is once again winded by one Trucy Wright, his thoughts momentarily jostled as she squeezes him with all her might.
"I'm heading to bed," she announces, moving on to her father and wrapping him in an equally tight hug. Phoenix reciprocates with even more force, unwilling to let go until Trucy has to wrestle her way out of his embrace. No wonder she has such a vice like grip if this is what she's had to put up with, "night dads- uh Daddy and Uncle Da- MILES."
Before Miles can figure out if he's heard her right, Trucy darts away, cheeks flaming with embarrassment.
"She adores you, you know?" Phoenix says with a chuckle, reaching out to run his fingers through Miles' hair, working his way through the knots.
"As do I..." Miles allows himself to lean into Phoenix's touch momentarily. He almost whines as Phoenix retracts his hands, catching himself at the last moment and chews at his lips to keep them shut.
"So, you going to tell me what's bothering you?" Phoenix's tone is casual, but there are hints of anxiety around its edges. He rises to collect the dirty dishes and heads towards the sink, waiting patiently for Miles to speak up.
"I-" Miles stills, already exhausted. When it comes to logical rebuttals or spitting out a scathing remark, Miles' tongue runs faster than his mind can comprehend. But when he has all his emotions screaming within his head, he struggles to utter more than a single word.
"You what?" Phoenix returns to his spot beside Miles, wipes his hands using a dish towel and slings it over his shoulder.
"Your Apollo Justice and Klavier Gavin are together," is what Miles eventually blurts out instead of anything useful.
"And... that's bummed you out?" Phoenix has that irritating glint in his eyes. He gasps theatrically, pointing an accusing finger at Miles, "you're homophobic, aren't you? Gosh, I knew it."
"Shut up Wright."
"But then... who sucked my dick the other day?" Phoenix pouts, tapping at his chin in thought. Miles reels, frowning disapprovingly at the other man.
"Your daughter is barely out of earshot, control your tongue-" Miles ignores Phoenix's mutterings of 'make me', " - Also men who service other men can be homophobic, mind you," Miles retorts, folding his arms across his chest, "Grindr has an outage at most conservative conventions."
"So you are homophobic. And conservative?"
"Of course not I - you know what never mind," Miles throws his hands up in frustration, pushes his chair back with force in order to storm out.
Phoenix grips the arms of Miles' chair, "no wait! I'm sorry, please talk to me," he begs. Miles slumps back in the chair and massages a finger into his temple.
"I don't know what to say," he says, disgusted at how pathetic his voice sounds. Phoenix takes Miles' hands in his, lacing their fingers together.
"You were saying, about Apollo and Klavier?" Phoenix prompts gently.
"Hm yes, by the way, we'll be dealing with that tomorrow so, happy days," Miles drawls sarcastically, "but, they made me realize something I should have a long time ago."
"Oh?" Phoenix mutters to fill the silence as Miles collects his thoughts.
"I want to end our arrangement," the prosecutor whispers, head bowed.
"Excuse me?!" Phoenix yelps, dropping their conjoined hands.
"Come now, I thought you would be relieved, finally free of me and all," Miles tilts his head back slightly, willing away the tears forming.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Phoenix spits, visibly queasy.
"It's not like we're together in an official capacity, is it?"
"Yes we aren't officially together because you never wanted it!" Phoenix cries, burying his hands in his hair.
"No, we- what?" Miles is stumped, "when did I say that?"
"You've never said anything, that's exactly the point. Who's the one who scampers away every time we fuck like I'm some dirty secret?"
"I thought... I thought you wouldn't want me to stay."
Phoenix laughs incredulously, "I would never tell the man infamous for running away to leave," Miles inhales sharply, "shit, sorry that was too far. Man, I keep messing up tonight."
"No, I probably deserve that."
"Miles, you really don't," Phoenix laces their fingers together once more, hooking his foot around a leg of Miles' chair to pull them closer, "I think we've had a tiny communication error here."
"What do we do?" Miles murmurs, mesmerized by the soothing circles Phoenix massages over his knuckles.
"First, can we un-break up please."
Miles smiles nervously, "I can be amenable to that."
Phoenix heaves a sigh of relief, "good. Second, I need you to look at me," he waits for Miles to lift his head up, "there he is. God, you're gorgeous. Third, you have to know I'm crazy about you, I always have been and I don't see that ever changing."
"I am quite enamored to you too, Phoenix," Miles says with a tilt of his head. The two lean forward, bumping foreheads, "Lord I've made a mess of things haven't I?"
"I think that's on both of us, Miles," Phoenix murmurs, his breath tickling Miles' cheeks, "let me do this properly this time," the defense attorney leans back in his chair, unlinking their hands, "Hello, I'm Phoenix Wright."
Miles frowns, unsure but plays along, "Good evening, I'm-"
"Miles Edgeworth, I know. If you would cast your mind back I changed the trajectory of my entire life for the chance to meet you again." Phoenix grins gleefully at his partners gob smacked expression.
"Hmmph well, Phoenix Wright, I have chartered several private jets at the drop of a hat to be at your side for an innumerate amount of emergencies," Miles boasts smugly. Two can play at this game.
"Ah well, which one of us defended the other, literally saved his life and took down his bitch of a mentor to boot?" Phoenix retorts.
"Child's play, who dedicated seven years of their life to design an entirely new legal system to serve justice for the other. Who also flew him and his daughter out to several countries under the thinly veiled guise of work trips?"
"Ha! I knew you didn't really need my help. You missed me," Phoenix croons, "wait, I thought you were working on the jurist system before my disbarment."
"Technically, you would be correct, but it was on the back burner until your... um.."
"It's not a bad word, you can say it," Phoenix says with a slightly strangled laugh.
Miles shakes his head, "that time, those seven years... They were so hard on me, being torn apart from you by the ocean. I cannot fathom what you must have gone through," Miles is the one to link their hands together again, gazing softly into Phoenix's dark eyes, "you and dear Trucy."
"Oh, Trucy," there's a flash of sorrow across his features at the mention of his daughter, "I was really worried the two of you wouldn't get on. But the way you two are now, as thick as thieves," Phoenix brightens, gaze distant like he's looking through Miles, "it made me fall for you even harder, didn't think that was possible."
Phoenix's focus returns as they lock eyes, seeing each other clearly for the first time in their lives.
Miles isn't sure how long he simply stares, stuck in this wonderful liminal space; In the corner of a cluttered kitchen, holding hands with the love of his life.
That distance between them shortens, predictably so. This is all Miles can ever think about whenever Phoenix runs his mouth- which is all the time. Their lips brush gently, languidly. They kiss against the backdrop of a dripping tap and the hum of the refrigerator; Like they have all the time in the world. They take detours, a lick to the others jaw, a nip at the ear, but they always arrive back at each others lips, coaxing out satisfied hums and moans.
An open mouthed yawn from Phoenix has Miles suddenly kissing his partner's teeth. He draws back, laughing.
"Damn, we have work tomorrow," Phoenix pouts. Miles rises, offering his hand. The other man takes it. They stumble their way to the bedroom. Phoenix immediately settles down, ignoring Miles' plead to come with him to brush their teeth. He eventually leaves the insufferable man behind, entering the restroom as silently as possible so not to wake Trucy in the room next door.
Miles doesn't have a toothbrush at the Wright's place - yet -he thinks giddily. He immediately feels idiotic getting light headed over a toothbrush and simply swigs some mouthwash and heads back to Phoenix's bedroom.
He slides in beside the man, almost immediately scooped up into Phoenix's arms. From experience he knows there is no escape. Miles accepts his fate, growing fuzzy with sleep.
"Hold it," Phoenix suddenly sits up, jostling a now irritated Miles Edgeworth, "Apollo and Klavier are together?"
"Wright," Miles hisses through gritted teeth, yanking the man back into a supine position by the scruff of his shirt. He spreads himself across Phoenix's chest, anchoring him down. He drifts to sleep to the soundtrack of his partner's heart.