Work Text:
Phoenix hums happily as he waltzes through the Prosecutor’s office. He’s here more frequently than ever before, now he’s got his badge back. Even the receptionist greets him by name and lets him know if Miles is in his office or not.
He’s unsure if he should be more concerned that every member of staff in the building knows exactly who he’s going to visit, but instead the feeling settles as the pleasant warmth of familiarity.
Phoenix arrives at the door plaque reading ‘Chief Prosecutor: Miles Edgeworth’ and raps his typical pattern on the wood. Without waiting for a response, he swings the door open with a wide grin.
“Morning, Edgeworth, fancy taking a look at this case with me?”
Miles is sat at his desk, a tea cup in hand, looking up at Phoenix with a mixture of chagrin and bemusement. It’s an expression Phoenix is certain no one aside from Miles would be able to conjure.
“Do I have an option?” Miles asks wryly. Phoenix chuckles and flops down on the pink velvet sofa.
“Not really. If you’re busy, I’ll just sit here and wait,” he says with a shrug. Miles likely already knows this, but allows a small smile onto his face. It’s a rare sight for most, but Phoenix is getting gradually more accustomed to seeing his old friend drop his guard around him. The increased frequency hasn’t abated the flipping sensation each smile causes in Phoenix’s stomach, but he’s learnt to deal with it.
“Fine,” Miles relents, his small smile growing into a rare, genuine smile. “Care for some tea?”
Phoenix scrunches his nose up, earning a warm chuckle from Miles and providing answer enough. Miles gathers the papers he’s been working on into a neat pile and comes to take a seat beside Phoenix on the couch.
“Which case is it? I didn’t think you were leading the defence on any, this week,” Miles asks as he leans over Phoenix’s shoulder to glance at the paper in his hand. If Phoenix had told himself from ten years ago that he could saunter unannounced into Miles Edgeworth’s office, slump down on his sofa, deny tea and discuss a case with the other practically leaning against his side without so much as the smallest complaint from his friend, he would have laughed.
Now, it seems more normal than anything in the world, and Phoenix is proud of the progress the two have made and grateful that he has Miles in his life.
“Iona Shope, suspected for the murder of Gus Tomer,” Phoenix supplies, despite knowing Miles could easily read the names on the Case File in his hands.
“Hm, I’ve put Gavin on that one,” Miles says, eyes still flickering across the page.
“Apollo will be glad to hear it,” Phoenix grins. Miles turns his gaze towards Phoenix, a bemused smile gracing his lips. Their eyes connect and Phoenix can’t help but inexplicably stiffen. He needs to look away, before he says something stupid.
(Or does something stupid.)
“So,” Phoenix starts a little louder than he intended. “I was hoping you’d be able to point out any flaws in my reasoning; the usual. I’ll get you a pen.”
He’s on his feet in no time, quickly exiting the bubble of warmth provided by Miles’s body. Phoenix could swear he never used to be this bad around his friend. Admittedly, he’s had a lot of other things occupying his mind for the last seven years and for that time and longer, they’ve scarcely been in the same country.
Now, things have settled. Phoenix has his badge back, Miles isn’t running off to another country and they’re actually spending time with each other the way normal friends do. Phoenix supposes that explains the increased intensity of his feelings for Miles, but it won’t do him any favours. After all they’ve been through, the last thing Phoenix wants is to impose his feelings onto the other man.
(The adjective ‘unnecessary’ inadvertently jumps to mind. Phoenix bats it aside, if with amusement.)
“I can get my own pen, Wright,” Miles grumbles under his breath, but Phoenix is already at the desk, simultaneously relieved to get away from his friend and devastated to leave the warmth and closeness he so selfishly desires.
The fact that he’s beginning to sound this dramatic is enough forewarning that the situation has definitely gotten out of hand.
Phoenix manages not to glance back over at Miles as he selects a mundane-looking magenta Parker pen. He’s about to leave the desk when a piece of paper catches his eye. It’s clearly a ticket and, ever curious, Phoenix shifts the envelope obscuring it.
He’s pretty sure he feels his heart stop for at least two seconds.
There is a one-way plane ticket to Germany on Miles Edgeworth’s desk. Phoenix is almost surprised there’s no fake suicide note attached to it.
“I know my pen collection is extensive, but I assumed even you wouldn’t have too much difficulty choosing one, Wright. Do you need my assistance?” Miles’s voice breaks through the dread and panic coiling in the pit of Phoenix’s stomach.
Miles is leaving.
Phoenix swallows the too-large lump in his throat and tries to respond with a hearty chuckle at Miles’s barbed remark. His friend is still sat on the sofa, a sardonic smirk etched onto his handsome face and Phoenix wishes he could return to the blissful ignorance he had been enjoying before entering Miles’s office today.
Miles is leaving him.
“No one needs this many pens, Edgeworth. Are they the only thing people buy you at Christmas, or something?” Phoenix tries to tease in response. To him, the words sound far emptier than normal. He hopes Miles doesn’t notice the difference.
(Why would he?, a particularly rude part of Phoenix’s brain comments. It’s not as though he cares about him, apparently.)
“Just bring it over here. Unsurprisingly, I already have annotations to make,” Miles rolls his eyes. Phoenix manages to drag his gaze away from the foul document on the desk and walks back to the sofa, handing the pen to Miles as he retakes his seat, a few inches to the right of where he’d been pressed against Miles, before. He wouldn’t want to stay too close to him, after all.
Miles is leaving him .
The silence is stifling, because all Phoenix can hear is his overactive brain loudly reminding him that Miles is going away- that Miles doesn’t want to be here- that Miles doesn’t want to stay with him.
(They’re not even together, Phoenix rationalises. He’s overreacting… only he doesn’t feel like he is.)
“Wright, are you quite alright?” Miles asks after Phoenix takes yet another shaky breath, false concern in his voice.
To think only an hour ago he would have mistaken it for genuine concern.
“Yes, just fine. Peachy. Why do you ask?” Phoenix responds in a chipper tone. For someone who bluffs for a living, he’s abysmally bad at lying under pressure. Or maybe it’s just lying to Miles he has an issue with. He was under the impression the other trusted him.
(Not enough to warn him before another disappearing act, apparently.)
“You seem… tense,” Miles concludes. Phoenix almost wants to scoff and inform him that it’s no thanks to him, but he manages to restrain himself.
“I just want to clear Iona’s name. Stressful case, y’know?” he laughs nervously. Miles eyes him suspiciously, but similarly to his bluffs in court, the Prosecutor allows him the benefit of the doubt with his far-fetched tale.
“Of course I understand,” Miles responds, and the false concern has returned, alongside something Phoenix hopes is not pity, because the last thing he needs is more pity from his old friend. He suffered through seven years of that. That and Miles being in another country.
(He’ll never stick around for Phoenix. He knows this- has known this for years. Why is this such a hard blow?)
“If I’m being honest,” Miles continues and Phoenix would feel guilty for half ignoring the words he’s saying if he wasn’t too engulfed with rage at the prospect of Miles abandoning him, “one of your most admirable traits is how much trust you build with your clients. However, it causes you a lot of stress, Wright. I- hmm- I hope you know you can always come to me to help you out like this whenever a case becomes too much for you.”
Phoenix’s angry thoughts are at least somewhat paused as he takes in the pink flush to Miles’s cheeks. What has he just been saying? Phoenix almost wishes he listened, if the result is a ruffled Miles Edgeworth.
Almost.
(Because it isn’t like the information will be important when Miles is gone.)
“Wright…” Miles says and he looks nervous more than flustered, now. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”
Ah, right, he forgot to respond, similarly to how Miles forgot to mention he was leaving him again. Phoenix opens his mouth, about to say something of the sort, when his brain thankfully catches up with him.
He has to leave, or he’s going to say something he’ll regret. Phoenix will never forget the flash of pain that shot through Miles’s eyes when he thoughtlessly announced that it would have been better if Miles had stayed dead.
“I have to go,” Phoenix decides to say. Miles raises an eyebrow.
“So soon? You only burst into my office a few minutes ago,” he points out.
“I just remembered Trucy wanted my help with a trick. She’ll be mad if I forget,” Phoenix splutters through an excuse.
Miles chuckles, the noise only infuriating Phoenix further. How can he sound so relaxed as if everything is normal when he’s about to abandon Phoenix?
“Give Trucy my best, then. I’ll drop by the Agency later with the case file once I’m finished looking through it,” Miles casually says with a smile. Phoenix wants to laugh harshly. Yeah. Sure he’s going to drop by the Agency. As if he doesn’t have a flight to catch.
“‘Course you will,” Phoenix doesn’t manage to stop himself from dryly accusing. Miles looks at him with confusion and Phoenix can’t stand to be in there anymore.
He runs out of the Chief Prosecutor’s office and slams the door behind him, hastily making his way to the elevator. It’s the one place he knows Miles won’t follow him after his out of character outburst.
As the metal doors grind closed in front of him, Phoenix groans out loud and puts his face in his hands.
“What a brilliant plan, you idiot,” he accuses himself. “Oh, just run away from him because you’re mad that he’s doing exactly that.”
Phoenix is vaguely aware that he pressed a button when entering, but now he’s started his rant about Miles, he doesn’t want to stop, and it’s better to get it out of the way before he has to return to the Agency and face Athena and Apollo. They’d know something was up instantly.
“Edgeworth can do what he wants,” Phoenix reasons to the metal, button decked wall. “If he wants to run away again, he can. Why should I care this much? Just because he comes to movie nights on Saturday and we get coffee on Tuesday and we eat lunch together on Thursday and we go to dinner once a month doesn’t mean he suddenly has an obligation to never leave my side.”
Phoenix feels his eyes watering and he should probably start getting a grip on himself before his elevator trip finishes.
“Just because I’m selfish and I don’t want him to leave because I’ve been in love with the idiot since-“
“Am I interrupting, Wright-dono?” a cool voice comes from the elevator door and Phoenix snaps his eyes up to be greeted by a bemused Simon Blackquill.
“How long has this door been open?” Phoenix manages to ask in a weak voice, both the terrifying presence of Prosecutor Blackquill and the embarrassment of being caught ranting about his convoluted feelings for the Chief Prosecutor in the public elevator of the Prosecutor’s building causing him to shrink in on himself.
(Please, please, please can the elevator floor open up and let him plummet to his death.)
“Long enough,” Blackquill unhelpfully answers, offering a chilling glare in comfort. “Is this your floor?”
Phoenix has no idea what floor he’s on, but if he can avoid embarrassing himself even further, he’ll happily take the provided out.
“Yep. Definitely. Great talk, see you around,” Phoenix rambles as he pushes past Blackquill and briskly walks away from the elevator.
Maybe he and Trucy should book a one way flight, too. That way Phoenix never has to embarrass himself in front of terrifying Prosecutors or deal with the fact Miles doesn’t care about him.
He has to take the stairs the rest of the way down, as it hadn’t in fact been his floor, but by the time Phoenix is out of the building, his anger at Miles has dissipated and he’s ready to focus on Iona’s case for the day, distracting himself by investigating Manny Puh’lait’s business.
(Unfortunately, his anger has morphed into a weighted dejection and Phoenix is pretty sure no amount of investigating will remove its ironclad grasp on his heart.)
Miles is perfectly sure there is an understandable and logical reason why Phoenix Wright has seized all communication with him. At least, that’s what he’s been telling himself all week, but as he stares dejectedly at his phone during his lunch break on Thursday, waiting for an invitation he’s growing steadily more certain will never come, he can’t help but worry.
Over what he should be worrying, Miles is unsure. Is Wright ill? Is something the matter with Trucy? Has an investigation gone awry and the man’s being held hostage, hoping Miles will be smart enough to realise that he wouldn’t go awol without warning and will send a fleet of detectives to track him down? Or has Miles just messed up and hurt Phoenix, ruining their deep bond of trust and years of friendship?
Miles refreshes his text feed with Phoenix and when no new messages show up, he huffs in frustration and turns his phone off. There are many reasons why Phoenix wouldn’t have messaged the details for Trucy’s latest performance, or answered his text about grabbing coffee, or invited him over for movie night, or asked him where he’d like to grab lunch today.
Miles is probably overthinking. Maybe the Shope case has been causing the Agency some problems and Phoenix has been too busy.
Still, if there’s a chance this is Miles’s fault and he doesn’t do anything to fix it…
Miles presses the button on his office phone that connects him directly to his secretary.
“Ms. Fright, I’m heading out for lunch. I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Okay, sir,” she replies, dutifully.
Miles pulls on his jacket, pockets his phone and wallet, and heads to the car park, ready to drive over to the Wright Anything Agency. He cannot risk his friendship with Phoenix. That man means far too much to him.
The blinds of the Agency are half shut, when Miles arrives, but he’s fairly certain he can see signs of movement from inside. He hopes that means Phoenix isn’t dead or seriously injured. Surely one of the other Agency employees would have thought to contact him, had that been the case.
(It doesn’t do much to quell the ever growing fear that Phoenix’s radio silence is due to Miles, himself.)
When he knocks on the door, it isn’t Wright who answers, but Trucy. Miles opens his mouth to greet her when, to his surprise, her face falls.
Miles is more taken aback by her sullen expression than he’d like to admit. Trucy has been one of the few people he’s known to always greet him with pleasantries, and he’s grown very fond of her since she became a part of Phoenix’s life.
“Daddy isn’t here. Sorry, Uncle Miles,” Trucy breaks the now awkward silence to tell him. Miles may not have a magic stone or lie-detecting bracelet, but he can tell from the tone of her voice that Trucy is being insincere. His theory that Wright’s disappearance from his life is his own fault only seems to be confirmed more with every passing second.
“I see. That’s a shame,” Miles says, planning a ruse of his own. “I brought lunch for two, after all. Would you care to join me, instead?”
Miles has never been so grateful that he picked up their usual pastries on the way over. He’s certain he can get Trucy to speak with him honestly if he has her well fed and alone.
Predictably, Trucy’s grim expression brightens at the offer and, forgetting the lie she’s supposed to be telling, she spins on her heel.
“Daddy, Uncle Miles is taking me for lunch. I’ll be back soon,” she calls into the office. Miles raises an eyebrow at the young magician and watches with amusement as her face grows abject with realisation.
“I thought your father wasn’t in,” he points out. Trucy only frowns for a second more before her expression quickly flips into her normal grin.
“Force of habit,” she convinces him. “At least Polly and Athena know I’m heading out. Come on!”
(Ah, bluffing. She really is Phoenix’s daughter.)
Trucy grabs Miles’s hand before he can muse further and drags the two of them to his bright red sports car.
“I can sit in the front, right?” Trucy enthusiastically asks, used to being subjected to the back seat when Miles is summoned to personally chauffeur her and her father around. The things he does for that man.
“Of course you can, Trucy,” Miles confirms with an amused smile. He drives them to a nearby park and finds a bench for them to sit on before pulling out the lunch he’d intended for Phoenix and presenting it to Trucy.
She swings her legs as she sits and glances into the bag, her face erupting in a sly grin.
“Steak and kidney pie. That’s Daddy’s favourite, you know,” she says smugly. Miles feels his cheeks redden.
“Yes, well, I had intended the lunch for him, originally. Do you not like it? We can swap, if you’d prefer,” he offers. Trucy shakes her head, still smiling.
“No, I like it,” she confirms, taking a large bite.
As they sit there, Trucy idly tells him about what she’s spent her break from school doing and Miles nods along, adding commentary only where necessary. It’s easy to speak to Trucy. He’s known the girl for quite some time and she’s always filling to the brim with tales to tell him.
He had been hoping to garner some information on Wright’s wellbeing, however, so once he’s finished his food, he decides it’s as good a time as any to inquire.
“Is your father okay? I haven’t heard from him in a few days and he normally insists on harassing me daily.” Miles would normally put up more of a front to disguise his genuine care for Phoenix, but Trucy knows all too well how much Miles cares.
The girl in question sighs.
“I already know what questions you’re going to ask me and I could answer them all right now,” she shrugs, face downcast. It’s not a promising sign.
“How can you be so sure of what I’m going to ask?” Miles raises an eyebrow at her.
“No, Daddy isn’t doing very well; yes, he’s avoiding you; yes, it’s specifically you; no, I don’t know why,” Trucy answers pointedly. Miles often forgets how old she is, due to her often childlike behaviour, but times when she displays her emotional intelligence like this remind him that she’s a young woman- hardly the small child he’d first met, yet still far more intuitive than her age would imply.
“Ah,” Miles summarises astutely. “I suppose you did know what I was going to ask.”
Trucy’s response answered his questions, although not in the way he’d hoped. Phoenix is avoiding him and not only is it his fault, but something he wouldn’t even talk to his daughter about. Furthermore, Phoenix is apparently not okay.
(What on earth has Miles done??)
“If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly did he say when you asked him what was wrong?”
“Well, I don’t remember word for word,” Trucy ponders, “but he did tell me I was better not knowing and that I shouldn’t ask you about it because he didn’t want you to know he was upset.”
“I take it you didn’t trust his reasoning much, considering you’ve imparted his upset state to me,” Miles raises an eyebrow.
Trucy grins sheepishly; an expression reminiscent of Wright’s when he messes up in court.
“Oops,” Trucy giggles. “Don’t tell Daddy I told you. It’s not just me Daddy won’t talk to, either. He wouldn’t tell Auntie Maya when she called the other day and I saw Athena trying to harass him at work. Even she couldn’t get him to crack.”
Rather than making him feel better, Trucy’s accounts only fill Miles with more dread. He recounts their previous conversation in his head. Wright had been acting rather strange. When had his changed demeanour begun? What had Miles said?
“And I’m not sure if it’s because he doesn’t want anyone to know or because it’s really personal. It’s about you, so it probably is. Daddy feels bad talking about his feelings to me, Polly and Athena. He always jokes that’s why he has you- so he doesn’t have to moan to his kids,” Trucy continues, Miles only half listening to her as his brain goes over everything he and Wright said to each other.
It’s then Miles remembers the rather forward comment he made towards the end of their interaction. Come to think of it, Phoenix had hastily left his office almost immediately after. Why hadn’t he recalled that sooner?
Trucy looks at Miles expectantly, having finished her piece. Miles swallows, ready to voice his concerns. It isn’t as if Trucy isn’t aware of his… feelings. If the pointed looks and giggles he received from her when Phoenix fell asleep on his shoulder during Moana are anything to go by, Trucy is well aware that Miles’s feelings for her father stretch beyond ‘friendship’.
“I have a theory,” Miles says quietly. Trucy’s eyes brighten with intrigue.
“You remember what happened?”
“It is the only thing I can think of which could have caused this… distance between us,” Miles laments, wishing he was hiding his emotions as well as he usually managed. “Right before your father left my office the other day, I was unintentionally rather forward with him. Perhaps he is simply responding badly to that.”
To Miles’s surprise, Trucy Wright bursts into laughter.
“Uncle Miles, I know you’re worried, but there is no way that’s what upset Daddy. What did you even say?”
“I- that’s none of your business,” Miles huffs, trying to regain his composure from Trucy’s sudden outburst.
“But if it helps me figure out what’s hurting Daddy?” Trucy pleads and her laughter is so quickly replaced with puppy dog eyes that Miles would be impressed if he wasn’t so busy trying to avoid their draw.
“I… paid him a compliment and then informed him that he could call on me for help whenever he needed,” Miles relents, scowling as he does so. Trucy dissolves into giggles once more.
“If that’s 'forward', no wonder it’s taken the two of you decades,” she mumbles under her breath.
(Miles pretends not to hear her and turns his face away so she doesn’t see the pink flush on his cheeks.)
“Uncle Miles, listen,” Trucy snaps to attention suddenly, placing a hand on his shoulder decisively. “Daddy cares about you a lot, which is why he’s such a mess right now. You care about Daddy a lot, too, which is why you’re a mess right now.”
“I am not-“ Miles tries to interrupt but Trucy keeps talking.
“Give Daddy some time. I’m sure in a week or so, he’ll be willing to talk. Then you two can figure it out and everything will go back to normal. I’ll keep trying to get what’s wrong from him and I’ll call you if I find out, okay?” she finalises. It seems like a good plan, even if Miles would rather they found a solution today, until he remembers a very important detail about his schedule for next week.
“Ah, Trucy, I’m going to Germany next week. Is there any chance we can do something to sort this now? I’d rather not be in another country whilst Wright still hates me,” Miles sighs.
“Daddy couldn’t hate you even if he wanted,” Trucy rolls her eyes before her expression morphs into one of realisation. “Wait, you’re going to Germany? Does Daddy know?”
Miles’s eyebrows furrow. He thinks he mentioned the conference Franziska and he are attending the following weekend, but he doesn’t recall mentioning it was in Germany.
“I don’t know. He should be aware I’m attending a conference, although we both know your father can be unreliable with information,”
Trucy giggles at that.
“Leave this to me. I’ll get Daddy to come visit you at work before you leave- then the two of you can stop moping and we can have movie nights again,” she decides, jumping to her feet.
“I am not moping,” Miles insists grouchily. He is merely disgruntled at the sudden lack of Phoenix Wright in his life.
“Can I play on the swings before we go?” Trucy asks, face bright and their previous conversation forgotten.
Miles caresses his forehead with his hand in exasperation at her exuberance.
“Trucy, you are nearly an adult.”
(Miles is very relieved no one sees him pushing a teenaged girl on the park’s swing set whilst in full work attire.)
“Mr. Wright, you’re going to take this to the Prosecutor’s office,” Apollo demands one afternoon, thrusting a file at Phoenix’s chest. Phoenix splutters indignantly for a while before composing himself, raising an eyebrow and clearing his throat.
“Who, exactly, is the boss around here?” he reminds Apollo. Athena seems to materialise from behind Apollo.
(It’s quite the feat, considering Apollo is only 5’0” and logically should not be able to hide another person behind him).
“Boss, this is getting kind of ridiculous. You can’t avoid him forever,” she huffs, placing her hands firmly on her hips.
(Oh great, he’s getting an intervention. Just what he needs.)
“Avoid who?” Phoenix bluffs sheepishly, his hand going to the back of his neck nervously.
“Do you think we’re stupid?” Apollo asks and Phoenix has to try very hard to bite back a response. “You ran into the toilet when Mr. Edgeworth came to the Agency two days ago and you wouldn’t come out again until you heard his car leave.”
“And you’ve sent me and Apollo to the Prosecutor’s office every time you’ve needed to go for the past two weeks,” Athena adds.
“I’ve just been busy,” Phoenix lies. “The Shope case has had a lot of paperwork now we’ve caught Mr. Puh’lait, and Edgeworth’s visit was just a bad coincidence. Can’t a guy use the toilet around here?”
When he looks back up at his employees, Apollo is gripping his bracelet and Athena’s holding widget, both Attorneys looking at him with disapproving stares. He really should know better than to blatantly lie in an office full of human lie detectors.
“Okay, okay, look. How about you take this file today, Apollo, and I’ll take you off toilet cleaning duty for a month,” Phoenix reasons, hoping bribery will be his way around this one. Apollo’s expression wavers and, for a second, Phoenix thinks he’s won. That is, until Trucy seemingly bursts out of thin air, which is a surprisingly frequent occurrence.
“Polly absolutely can’t go, Daddy,” Trucy insists, folding her arms and pouting at him. Phoenix can sense the puppy dog eyes already.
“Why’s that, Truce?” Phoenix asks, shooting her his patented ‘Dad-glare’. It is, unfortunately, far less effective than it was when Trucy was younger.
“He promised to be my assistant, today,” she says brightly. Phoenix shoots Apollo another look, but the temptation of escaping toilet duty seems to have dissipated.
“Well, then, Athena can take it,” Phoenix reasons, determined to escape the intervention unscathed.
“Athena’s going to be my assistant as well,” Trucy smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, Daddy. I need both of them and they already promised.”
Phoenix resists the urge to groan. He does not want to go anywhere near the Prosecutor’s office and risk seeing him. He can’t bear it. Not right now. Not until he’s out of whatever funk he’s managed to get himself into.
(Why does his daughter hate him so?)
“Can’t I be your assistant today?” Phoenix suggests, which should clue Trucy in as to how desperate he is to escape this trip.
“Nope,” Trucy grins. “Polly and ‘Thena already agreed. Besides, I need you to go and see Uncle Miles because someone needs to invite him to my next magic show. He didn’t show up last weekend.”
And cue the puppy dog eyes. Phoenix is screwed. How is he supposed to avoid Miles and avoid devastating Trucy?
(Funny how Miles can manage to avoid Phoenix for years when he needs, but Phoenix can’t go two weeks.)
“Fine,” Phoenix hisses, snatching the file from Apollo and storming to the coat rack to pull his jacket on. “You’re all grounded for this,” he adds for extra effect.
“Whaaat?” Trucy and Apollo bemoan.
“Boss, you’re not my dad; you can’t ground me,” Athena points out. Eh, it had been worth a try.
“Sorry, I can’t hear traitors,” Phoenix insists, opening the Agency door with more force than is necessary.
“Mr. Wright, you are a grown man,” Apollo hisses at his dramatics.
“Bye, Daddy, say hi to Uncle Miles for me!” Trucy says excitedly as he leaves. Phoenix huffs under his breath for dramatic effect and begins the long walk to the Prosecutor’s office.
Under normal circumstances, he’d cycle, or at least call a cab, but Phoenix wants to delay the inevitable as long as possible. With luck, he won’t even see Miles. Phoenix glances down at the file in his hands and reads the sticky note attached.
For
Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth
(He’s starting to think the Universe personally hates him.)
“He’s definitely gone,” Athena confirms from where she’s practically leaning out of the office window. Trucy nods in affirmation and hits ‘Call’ on her phone.
The phone rings twice before it’s picked up.
“Trucy? Is everything okay?” Uncle Miles’s voice filters through the line.
“Hi, Uncle Miles,” she greets enthusiastically. “Daddy’s on his way to the Prosecutor’s office right now. Just thought I’d warn you.”
“He is?” Uncle Miles splutters in response, his voice rising in pitch. Athena, who has returned from the window, raises her eyebrows in surprise. Trucy can only imagine what readings she’s getting from Uncle Miles, even if it’s over the phone.
“Thank you, Trucy,” he continues. “I don’t know how you managed it. And thank you for the forewarning.”
“Anything for you,” Trucy giggles down the line and she receives a small chuckle in response.
“You’re too good, Miss Wright. I’d best be off so I can prepare to corner your father. Thank you, once again.”
With that, Uncle Miles hangs up the phone and Trucy bounces on her feet excitedly. Finally her Daddy and Uncle Miles can sort out whatever has been going on.
“Don’t you think all this is a bit,” Polly flutters his hands in front of his face, “invasive?”
“Apollo, have you seen Mr. Wright, lately? He needs to sort things out with Mr. Edgeworth. Plus, you already agreed to this,” Athena points out. Polly sighs.
“I get why you want to help. I can’t stand the way he’s moping about the place, either, but shouldn’t we let them sort this by themselves rather than interfering?”
“Uncle Miles asked me to help him out. In fact, he as good as begged for my assistance when he took me for lunch,” Trucy insists.
“Somehow, that’s hard to believe,” Polly raises an eyebrow.
“You weren’t there,” Trucy points out, wagging her finger at Polly. He rolls his eyes.
“So, what’s the plan if they don’t work their issues out today?” Athena asks, deciding to sit back on the sofa and kick her feet up on the coffee table. Daddy tells her off for it, normally, but now he’s out, Trucy supposes the three of them might as well relax.
“They will,” Trucy insists. “Uncle Miles is flying to Germany for a couple of weeks and he won’t leave unless he’s sorted things with Daddy. I know he won’t. When Daddy finds out Uncle Miles is leaving, he’ll get over his stubbornness.”
“You’re really sure they’ll be able to communicate so well? We’re talking about Mr. Wright and Mr. Edgeworth. They’re the champions of not communicating,” Polly points out and Trucy concedes that he has a point, but from what Uncle Miles mentioned in the park last week, she’s fairly certain their deliberate avoidance of confronting their feelings for one another is about to come to an end.
“I’m very sure. In fact, if Daddy doesn’t come back through that door looking happier than he has in months, I’ll never ask you to be my assistant again and I’ll take toilet cleaning duties for a month,” Trucy decides, her hands firmly planted on her hips.
“Woah,” Athena smirks. “That’s quite the deal, Trucy.”
“And if you’re right?” Polly hesitates. Trucy can tell he’s tempted.
“You have to be my assistant for every show until next school holiday,” she determines.
Polly grumbles under his breath and Trucy is pretty sure he’s realising he would probably be doing that anyway.
“Fine,” he concedes.
Phoenix would normally jump in the elevator as soon as he entered the Prosecutor's Building, but after his previous run in with Blackquill, he glares at it and decides to take the stairs. The stairs give him more time to control his emotions, anyway. He can be civil with Miles. He didn’t take theatre classes in college for no reason- Phoenix can act, and he’s about to put on one hell of a show.
Maybe his breathlessness after climbing twelve flights of stairs will be a good excuse to not speak in front of Miles.
(For someone who is forced to cycle pretty much everywhere, Phoenix is still shockingly unfit. Is this age? Is he just getting old?)
He reaches the Chief Prosecutor’s floor sooner than would have been preferred, and when Miles’s secretary catches sight of him, she smiles amiably.
“Mr. Edgeworth is free. You can go right on in,” she cheerily announces. Phoenix has never disliked the woman more. He spent the last three flights of stairs deliberating between acknowledging that he’s been avoiding Miles, and pretending that nothing is wrong so they can both continue the charade that Miles cares about Phoenix. He still hasn’t made up his mind and had really been hoping for at least a phone call to occupy Miles whilst he decided.
Instead, Phoenix musters all the courage he can and knocks a rather disinterested version of his usual pattern on the door.
“Come in,” Miles’s voice filters through. He sounds off in a way Phoenix can’t put his finger on. Maybe he’s been last minute packing away his entire life in LA so he can vanish at the earliest convenience.
When Phoenix pushes the door open, he finds Miles leaning casually against his desk with two tea cups in his hands.
“Hi, Edgeworth. Sorry to disturb you. I’m sure you’re very busy. Apollo needed me to give you this file, but I’ll be out of your hair shortly. Trucy’s next show is at seven this Saturday if you’re still in the country. I’ll be off, then,” Phoenix hears his voice saying before he’s really aware of it. He doesn’t even meet Miles’s eyes as he shoves the file on the desk and immediately spins on his heel to leave.
Phoenix doesn’t so much as make it one step towards the door before a firm hand grasps his arm.
“Phoenix,” Miles’s voice rumbles pleadingly. Despite himself, despite everything, Phoenix’s throat constricts and his heart skips a beat at the sound of his given name in the other man’s baritone.
As if being held at gunpoint, Phoenix forces himself to turn back around and meet Miles’s gaze. His grey eyes are brimming with confusion, concern, and a magnitude of other emotions Phoenix isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to identify.
(It’s a lie. It has to be an act. Miles is leaving him- he is not allowed to look at Phoenix like that.)
“I pressed the wrong button on my coffee maker and there’s milk and sugar in this tea. I don’t want it to go to waste and I know that’s how you take it. Please, stay for a second,” Miles implores, and he picks up one of the tea cups he’d placed behind him and practically forces it into Phoenix’s hand.
(It’s ironic that Miles is the one begging Phoenix to stay when it’s the exact thing Phoenix’s own subconscious is urging him to do.)
Phoenix’s anger, confusion and despair make him too slow to respond and somehow, before he knows it, he’s sat on Miles’s pink (wine red, the other always insists) couch, glaring into a cup of tea.
His ‘pretend nothing has happened’ approach has failed him, so Phoenix decides to try the second. He watches Miles slink around the side of his desk and perch next to him out of the corner of his eye, whilst silently alternating between sipping and staring at the tea. The silence between them is almost unbearable, but Phoenix tries to adapt. He’s got plenty scheduled in his future.
“Please, Phoenix, what have I done? I know you’re avoiding me and yet I have no idea what’s caused this reaction. Was it something I said last time you were here? Was it something I did?” Miles breaks the silence. His first name, again. Phoenix almost can’t believe he’s hearing Miles Edgeworth beg. It seems so out of character.
(Although, arguably, Phoenix doesn’t know him, anymore. He never saw the next disappearing act coming, after all.)
“You’ve done nothing,” Phoenix responds dryly after another sip of tea. It’s not a lie. Miles hasn’t done anything yet.
“That’s impossible,” Miles argues. “If I hadn’t done anything, you wouldn’t have started avoiding me without reason. If it were simply some other factor causing this change, you would be behaving differently with everyone, but I’ve discovered that it is just me. Therefore, logically, I am to blame. So, could you tell me honestly what I’ve done?”
Phoenix resists the strong urge to roll his eyes.
“I was being honest,” Phoenix shrugs. “You haven’t done anything yet.”
“Yet,” Miles notices and Phoenix inwardly curses himself. He’s caught people out on the witness stand for mistakes smaller than that. “Meaning you’re avoiding me over something I might do or am planning to do?”
Phoenix doesn’t reply. He just puts his tea cup down, refusing to meet Miles’s gaze. As if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s about to do.
“Wright, if it’s anything within my control, I can rectify it. If it’s out of my control, I promise I can do everything within my power to resolve the issue, just please talk to me,” Miles begs. He reaches out and grasps one of Phoenix’s hands in his own. Miles’s palm is warm and far smoother than Phoenix’s calloused skin. Under different circumstances, Phoenix would have done anything for Miles to hold his hand like this.
Now it only fills him with rage.
“Surely you must know by now that I will be here for you, no matter what,” Miles gently promises and all the bottled up anguish and pain Phoenix has been storing inside him for the past couple of weeks reaches breaking point.
“If you were really here for me, you wouldn’t be running away to the other side of the world again!” Phoenix spits out, tearing his hand from Miles’s grasp as he jumps off the couch. He has tears in his eyes. He can hardly even see Miles’s outline until he blinks away the blurriness. More tears only follow.
Phoenix is angry and sad and tired of keeping his feelings inside and he wants nothing more than to punch Miles or maybe hug him, clinging so tightly that he’ll never be able to run away again.
Phoenix needs Miles in a way he’s never realised before. The past two weeks without him have been horrific and he’s only so angry because he doesn’t know how to survive with Miles oceans away and unreachable. It hurt him badly enough when Miles did this ten years ago. His heart can’t handle the sequel.
“What on earth are you talking about?” Miles breaks through Phoenix’s stream of thought, his voice softer and gentler than it has any right being, given the scene Phoenix is making of himself. Miles is stood up, too, looking torn between walking towards Phoenix and backing away. Phoenix can’t imagine why he’s wondering which choice to make now.
“I saw the plane ticket on your desk, last time I was here. It’s pointless hiding it. A one way ticket to Germany,” Phoenix spits out. “Once again you’re going to run away and leave me the second I think I finally have you back in my life for good. I’m almost getting déjà vu!”
Miles’s face is abject to the point it would be funny if Phoenix wasn’t preoccupied with presenting his torn up heart to the Chief Prosecutor.
“What was it this time? Did I sit a little too close to you last movie night? Did we have one too many coffee outings for your liking? Trucy accidentally called you ‘Dad’ a time too many for you to handle the fact that people in this country care about you?”
“Wright,” Miles hisses out as Phoenix finally comes to the realisation that he’s being a little too harsh. His friend looks as though he’s been stabbed through the chest. “Please can I just explain this to you?”
“Go for it. Give me the best excuse you’ve got,” Phoenix rolls his eyes, folding his arms pointedly.
“I’m not running away. I’m not even going to Germany alone, and it isn’t a one way ticket. Franziska is keeping hold of the returns. I’m only going for a short while to attend a conference and provide a guest lecture or two at the University,” Miles explains and a creeping horror at how drastically Phoenix has misunderstood the situation weighs him down like lead.
Before Phoenix can muster an apology for the ridiculous overreaction he’s displayed, Miles says eight critical words.
“I thought you trusted me more than that.”
“Apologies for maybe having a few trust issues after you made me believe you died for a year,” Phoenix snaps back before he can stop himself. Miles’s face flashes with pain and he glances down at the floor, grasping his elbow for support.
“I’d hoped you’d forgiven me by now. I apologise for being presumptuous. Phoenix, I need you to know that I never meant to hurt you. I truly didn’t think through the consequences, and I will never-“
Phoenix doesn’t let Miles finish, because he’s still angry and he’s been selfishly holding these feelings back for two weeks, now.
(Several years is a more accurate time frame, if he’s being honest with himself.)
“The thing that frustrates me most is that I do trust you, Miles,” he emphasises. “I always trust you to find the truth in court. I trust you with my life. I trust you with Trucy’s life, but I don’t trust you not to abandon me the second your emotions get too complicated for you. I don’t trust that you won’t run away again.”
The heartbroken look on Miles’s face is enough to cause a torrent of tears to flow from Phoenix’s eyes. Arms engulf him almost instantly and any other day, Phoenix would be jumping with elation that Miles is hugging him.
Today, he just buries his face in Miles’s magenta suit and cries tears he’s been withholding for a decade.
“I’m just tired of falling in love with people only for them to break my trust,” Phoenix sobs. “First it was Dahlia and Iris, then you. I don’t know how to cope if you break my heart again.”
If Phoenix were in a sound state of mind, he would be more concerned that he just unintentionally revealed his feelings to Miles whilst crying into the man’s suit.
Miles doesn’t respond to his confession, too preoccupied with reassuring Phoenix, his voice low and steady and close to Phoenix’s ear.
“I had no idea you felt this way, Phoenix. I’m never running away again. I’ve nothing to run from. You’re too important. You can talk to me about things like this, you know. If I’d known, I would have bought extra plane tickets and brought you with me,” he murmurs. His voice is soothing and grounding and Phoenix’s tears are slowing enough that he actually catches and comprehends that last bit.
“Edgeworth, I have a daughter,” he sniffles, managing a dry chuckle.
“I’ll buy two tickets,” Miles assures him, releasing the other man now he’s realised Phoenix is no longer crying. He doesn’t let go, though, and Phoenix finds himself stood with his arms draped loosely around Miles’s waist, Miles’s own still firmly holding his shoulders. “Trucy can come, too. I will do anything to earn back your trust. You mean everything to me.”
Phoenix’s heart catches in his throat. He’s almost certain he misheard Miles, because otherwise…
(Otherwise Phoenix’s wildest dreams are about to come true whilst he’s still snivelling and disheveled, standing awkwardly in the middle of the other man’s office.)
There’s still an antagonistic voice in Phoenix’s head warning him. It tells him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. It reminds him that the deeper he gets, the more painful the heartbreak will be. It convinces him that Miles can’t care about him that much, or that way.
Phoenix releases Miles fully and steps back as the doubt sets in. He doesn’t think about how the action must seem to the other man.
“I apologise,” Miles instantly says, his own hands snapping to his side comically. “I shouldn’t have been pushing my own feelings and agenda forward when my main priority should be your wellbeing.”
“What are you on about?” Phoenix asks in confusion. Miles’s cheeks flush an attractive pink and Phoenix is beginning to wonder if the voice was wrong.
“I didn’t intend to force my romantic feelings on you in that way. I’m deeply sorry and I understand if you need space. I promise you I can perfectly control myself to maintain our stable and platonic relationship from here on out, if you’re willing to move past this,” Miles embarrassedly mumbles.
Phoenix blinks at him in awe. Miles didn’t avoid Phoenix’s emotional love confession to gently let him down. Miles didn’t actually hear it.
“Miles,” Phoenix levels his friend with a deadly serious look to force down the grin attempting to make its way onto his face at this sudden turnabout. “How the hell did you miss me confessing my love to you in the middle of all that?”
Miles blanches and the anger and devastation Phoenix has been feeling washes out of his body. He knows, logically, that it has only been set aside, but he won’t complain. Not when realisation is turning Miles Edgeworth various shades of red.
Even the antagonist in Phoenix’s head quiets as he comprehends this new information.
(Miles Edgeworth has feelings for him. Miles likes him back. Miles was never going to leave Phoenix again. He said ‘You mean everything to me’.)
“I-“ Miles tries to say. “You-“ he tries again, equally as unsuccessfully. Phoenix decides they’ve both talked enough for one day.
It takes him a single step to be close enough to grab the lapels of Miles’s suit jacket and crush their lips together.
Miles responds instantly, mouth slackening pliantly under Phoenix’s, hands grasping Phoenix’s waist to pull him closer, a puff of air escaping his mouth and ghosting over Phoenix’s lips.
There’s a thrum of electricity buzzing under Phoenix’s veins from the closeness and the heat of Miles’s body against his and the utter thrill that he is finally, finally kissing Miles Edgeworth and that Miles Edgeworth is kissing him back with equal enthusiasm.
(He has been waiting for this since he was nine years old.)
Phoenix almost falls over when Miles tugs him forward, in the direction of the abandoned sofa. The kiss breaks with the movement and Phoenix takes the opportunity to speak.
“I’m sorry for overreacting about the whole thing. It seems pretty ridiculous, now.”
“It wouldn’t feel like you if it wasn’t ridiculous,” Miles responds with a familiar expression painted across his face. Phoenix finally has a label for it. Fond. “But you should know you’re perfectly justified in having trust issues.”
Phoenix kisses him again; partly out of gratefulness, partly because he can’t believe this is something he can do, now. Phoenix’s hands loosen their grip on Miles’s lapels and flatten against his chest and, before he can realise what he’s doing, he’s the one pushing Miles backwards, towards the sofa.
At the soft gasp that rises in Miles’s throat when Phoenix steps forward, his thigh landing between Miles’s own by accident, he breaks away again.
“Should we talk this through? I feel like we need to talk this through,” Phoenix splutters the question that has been quietly plaguing him since they began. After all, he’s still not sure quite how deep Miles’s feelings run.
“Phoenix Wright,” Miles practically growls, his hands tightening around Phoenix’s hips in a way that is hotter than Phoenix would like to admit. “I have been waiting to do this for the last 10 years and I would really like to make up for lost time.”
(Oh. That answers his question, he supposes.)
Phoenix kisses the corner of Miles’s mouth before trailing kisses along his jaw and to the Prosecutor’s neck, where his ridiculous cravat is denying him the access he craves.
“I can’t believe I could have been doing this the whole time,” Phoenix bemoans against warm skin, his hands searching the back of Miles’s neck in an attempt to untie the stupid piece of fabric. After a few moments, he gives up and decides to make do with what skin is available, attaching his lips to the juncture of Miles’s jaw and neck. The hum of approval Miles responds with is enough to encourage him to keep going.
“And it’s been twenty-five years, for me,” Phoenix adds in a whisper as he trails his mouth against the shell of Miles’s ear. In response, a hand grabs Phoenix’s chin and suddenly Miles’s lips are kissing his, again, opening his mouth with little effort.
Having given up on the cravat, Phoenix redirects his attention to pushing Miles’s jacket off and getting the two of them to the sofa. There are far too many layers separating them and the temperature in Miles’s office has risen about ten degrees in the last five minutes.
When Phoenix has successfully stripped Miles’s jacket and pushed the man backwards onto the cushions, he breaks their kiss to take in his handiwork.
There’s only one word for it. Miles looks debauched.
His hair is rumpled, his face is flushed, there is a small bruise forming under his jaw, his waistcoat is crinkled, his lips look thoroughly kissed, his glasses are askew (Phoenix quickly removes them- they’d been painfully digging into his nose, anyway) and the front of his pink slacks is tenting slightly, if you observe closely (which Phoenix very much is).
There is also a scowl on his face.
“You’d better have a very good reason for breaking this off for a third time, Wright,” Miles hisses. Phoenix grins at him with amusement. He’s pretty certain he does.
“Trucy doesn’t like planes, ever since she last hid in your suitcase. I was thinking she might like to spend some quality time with her Auntie Maya, for a couple of weeks.”
It takes a moment for Miles to place the information and realise what Phoenix is telling him. Phoenix has never seen his brain work so slowly before.
(I did that, he thinks with maybe more pride than is warranted.)
“Wright, are you propositioning me?” Miles retorts, his voice somewhere between offended and amused.
“Is your answer yes, if I am?” Phoenix asks, leaning over Miles and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“I cannot believe I’m in love with you,” Miles mutters under his breath, causing Phoenix’s heart to skip more beats than is strictly healthy. “I’ll book your ticket as soon as you leave my office.”
“That might not be for a while,” Phoenix smirks and he pulls Miles back in.
(At last, he thinks he can trust Miles Edgeworth with his heart.)