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Miles Edgeworth was a grown man. He most definitely wasn’t sulking at his own misfortune as he nursed a glass of suspiciously tart “apple juice” served to him merely because of the young Ms. Fey’s presence at the annual Wright and Co. New Year’s party.
And he certainly wasn’t bitter over being practically dragged here by his fool of a friend and his minor assistant when he’d rather hole up in his office and work. Not at all.
As it was, he’d made a nice home for himself in a chair in an unoccupied corner of Wright’s office, where he sat studying the party scene with an unamused expression. The younger Fey, Pearl, seemed to be in good spirits, holding up a bowl-shaped relic with great pride as the older, Maya, chugged what he could only hope was the same apple juice currently in his possession. His gaze drifted to the good detective and Larry, who seemed to be debating the science of asking a girl on a date and the chances of rejection when the aforementioned science failed. Typical.
As he glanced around, a certain missing familiar face flashed in his mind, but he pushed the thought away before he could wander down a rabbit hole entirely too deep for his liking. Unfortunately, this opened up his mind to the other train of thought it constantly occupied.
He took a swig of his juice as he recounted the dreaded month this year. December was always horrible, but this one had been particularly dreadful. Images of his father, while now gone from his nightmares, still haunted him, while his dreams turned into fears regarding the blue-suited lawyer he cared fo- valued in a strictly professional sense.
Sometimes he dreamed that he had shot him instead, awaking in a cold sweat, Pess’s warm nose nudging his palm his only source of comfort. However, that wasn’t even the worst part. If he was being honest with himself, he could not decide if he preferred those horrid visions over the ahem, other types of dreams he had been having about the same man, a small blush dusting his pale skin.
Edgeworth was not used to having hope. Hope was for naïve school children and bright-eyed, bushy-tailed idiots. Knowing that he hadn’t killed his father didn’t change the fact that he was gone, just as the fact that Wright had somehow reappeared in his life continued to persist in truth.
After all, he had been liberated from his roundabout nightmare, only to be thrust into a world of uncertainty as the flooring fell out from under him with no hope of catching his flailing self.
He decided, with a frown, that he would not miss December as the tide turned towards the New Year.
Even more so when he noticed the grey-haired, red-hairpin-wearing old hag that seemed to be determinedly making her way towards him. He mutely slammed down his drink before planting on his most tolerable expression, internal grimace making itself known. One glance at the mistletoe above his head told him all he needed to know.
Schiesse.
***
Phoenix Wright had no idea how he’d gotten wrapped up in a copious amount of red ribbon. He stood in the kitchen, utterly dumbfounded by the shimmery trap ensnaring him. It weaved across his broad shoulders, intermingled with the expanse of his suit, and twisted around his legs, entirely making him look like he belonged on the ceiling as some sort of prop.
He sighed as he debated the logistics of untangling himself before considering that it might be a good idea to enlist Maya’s help. It was probably her fault he’d ended up like this… it usually was.
“Maya!” He called to no avail, as the New Year’s party was in full swing. He could hear Pearl’s distinct laughter from the other room as Maya undoubtedly did something she’d regret. He just hoped she hadn’t gotten into his special apple juice. Heaving a great sigh, he trudged his way to the living room as best as he could, hoping someone would take pity on him and help him untangle himself.
And that is where three disastrous things happened simultaneously.
First, Pearl’s peal of delight at seeing Phoenix wrapped in ribbon like some sort of contorted birthday present made Maya spit out her drink, the contents of which landed on the trajectory to Miles Edgeworth’s little hideout of a corner.
Second, Wendy Oldbag began to approach Miles Edgeworth, the gleaming look in her eye nothing short of calculating as she absolutely devoured him with her mere gaze, sending him involuntarily scooting his chair away from her and right under the mistletoe.
Third, Phoenix Wright tripped and fell straight into Miles Edgeworth’s lap, launching the glass of apple juice at Wendy Oldbag and drenching her in what remained of the sad, sorry liquid.
All at once, it went quiet.
“…”
“…”
“WHYYOUWHIPPERSNAPPERYOUNGINBACKINMYDAYPEOPLEHADRESPECTFORTHEIRELDERSI’LLSHOWYOUYOUABSOLUTEFOOLYOUSPIKYTWINKOFAMAN-“
“That’s quite enough,” came Edgeworth’s unexpectedly dry, quiet voice. Ever the gentleman, he offered a handkerchief to the woman, who seemed entirely too eager to accept her prize if the way she tucked it into her pocket was any indication. “It was clearly an accident, though how Wright ended up in my lap seems to only be the sort of accident he can successfully pull off.” Though he sounded cool and unaffected, Phoenix couldn’t help but notice the slight blush on the prosecutor’s cheeks as he tilted his head away from him, eyes screwed shut. Still, he wasn’t pushing him off. And was that sandalwood he smelled on him?
With a few more tantrums, Oldbag left, crying that she’d be back with “backup”, whatever that meant. As time passed, Edgeworth didn’t miss the way the other guests exchanged looks, particularly the Feys, their mischievous demeanors doing nothing to ease his already-frazzled nerves. “Wright,” he hissed, “Why are you still in my lap? Get off.”
But Phoenix wasn’t particularly inclined to do so, not after he had just made this wonderous discovery about Edgeworth’s delightful scent. Coupled with the fact that he hadn’t exactly been sober when he tripped and fell into Edgeworth’s lap (which explained how he’d gotten into the ribbon mess in the first place), he decided he was staying right there, to the clear disdain of his friend.
“Wright I swear I’ll-”
Phoenix brushed a lazy hand against Edgeworth’s lips, involuntarily shushing him and turning the other man a startling shade of crimson.
“Mmph!”
“Sh…Shut up, Edgeworth. Y…You… can’t cut my salary, I don’t… hic… work for you.” Phoenix shot him a dopey grin, sending traitorous butterflies straight to Edgeworth’s heart as he desperately tried to deny his longing to kiss this idiot of a man that decided to make itself known at precisely the worst moment.
“Wright, people are staring.” Though if he was being honest, the rest of the partygoers had returned to their prior conversations, the only thing out-of-place the absence of that wretched woman. He sighed in absolute relief. Who had invited her, anyway?
Meanwhile, Phoenix gazed at the plant suspended above his head with great interest. “Hey, E..Edgeworth, isn’t that…”
Edgeworth could already feel the migraine coming on, along with the crimson blush threatening to spill over his cheeks. “S-Shut up, Wright. Now come on.”
With a slight groan, he lugged himself up, Phoenix wrapping his arms around his waist with a sleepy expression much to the chagrin of the prosecutor. After entirely too much effort and a good bit of detangling, he managed to drag him to the relative privacy of the balcony. The soft patter of rain hit the rooftops, strong enough to sense, but gentle in its touch, while the cool night air seemed to do wonders for Wright sobering up, for he released him as soon as his gaze hit the twinkling of the glittering stars in the sky. A very small part of Edgeworth may have been disappointed at the release, but he’d take that to the grave.
“Gosh… sorry, Edgeworth. I… I dunno what came over me.” Phoenix gazed out over the balcony, stars lighting his eyes aflame, and Edgeworth desperately tried to suppress the warmth filling his heart at the sight.
“It is alright. A bit embarrassing, but it happens.”
Phoenix shot him another one of those dopey, heart-shattering grins and Edgeworth remembered why he needed glasses. “Glad you understand.”
Just then he stumbled, dangerously close to the balcony. Almost on instinct, Edgeworth’s arm shot out, gripping Phoenix for dear life and inciting a blush in both men.
“B-Be more careful, Wright. You’re still quite intoxicated.” The other man’s blue-brown eyes widened almost imperceptibly before stepping back, though he didn’t remove himself from the prosecutor’s grip.
He chuckled. “Who knew you were such a mother hen, Miles?”
Edgeworth frowned at the thought of his carefully thought-out action being regarded so callously. “I am no such thi-“ He exclaimed indignantly before cutting himself off. “Wait…” Redness overtook him as he came to his realization, eyes widening. It was evident that Phoenix already knew what he was going to say if the mirth in his eyes was any indication.
“Yes?” Phoenix inquired, amusement lacing his tone.
“Y-You called me Miles.” Edgeworth didn’t know why he was contesting this. It was a fluke. Utterly irrelevant. Besides, they had known each other since they were children if one didn’t count the exceptionally long break in-between. Surely it meant nothing. Right?
“So what if I did?” He grinned lazily.
“You’re not thinking clearly, Wright,” Edgeworth said with a frown, though the reluctant pangs shooting through his heart evidently wanted whatever this was to continue to bloom into fruition.
Just then, his friend turned his head, a startling spark of sober clarity in his rain-painted blue-brown irises as they met gunmetal-grey ones. As iridescent fireworks went off in the distance, they paled in comparison to the figure of the man standing in front of him, only illuminated further by the sheer adoration in his eyes. How could Edgeworth ever have hoped to escape his traitorously thudding heart, one that continued to tug him insensibly forward despite all that he knew?
“Promise you won’t let go, Miles?”
And as Phoenix uttered those words, Edgeworth’s starstruck gaze pulled him closer, closer than he should have been. And at once, he knew.
“Of course.” With a single spark of feeling utterly decimating the cool, silvery façade of his closeted mind, he was his. “I promise.”
As if he could’ve ever looked away.
After a sharp moment, the two exhaled as the clock rang out. "Happy New Year, Miles."
"Happy New Year, Wright."
The liquid courage running through Phoenix’s veins gave him the courage to do what he did next. He gently tugged his jacket from Edgeworth’s tight grip, instead sliding his hand down to interlace his fingers with the other man’s. “Is this okay?” he whispered softly, admiring the shadows dancing across the man’s pale skin.
“Entirely so.” But, with a single glance in his direction, Edgeworth knew it wasn’t okay at all. He wanted more. “Wright, may I-“
And the feeling of his lips on his utterly crashed into him, tuning out the rain, the entire world, in comparison to the sensation of Wright- no, Phoenix’s kiss. For who needed it when his entire world stood in front of him, kissing him like a starved man searching for a feast, like Edgeworth was the only precious gem he’d ever get to hold with all the tenderness and clarity he bestowed upon him now? He could hardly think of his own frazzled nerves as hints of vanilla threatened to undo every coherent thought he possessed, entirely too preoccupied by the fireworks going off in his own head to even dare to consider the ones around them. His lips, soft, full, and sweet, were all that Edgeworth could focus on as his mind and heart aligned to thud in complete clarity: Phoenix, Phoenix, Phoenix.
With a shuddering gasp for air, they broke apart.
“Miles…” Phoenix spoke his first name like no one ever did. No one ever dared to, but when this man said it… it was like he was someone to be valued, someone worthy of being held in his lover’s comforting embrace… Edgeworth couldn’t help but kiss him again, tangling his fingers in his voluminous hair, surprised to find it far softer than its spiky demeanor implied. He delighted in the sharp sound of surprise that escaped the other man, only prompting him to devise a plan to coax other such sounds from him. But not yet. No, not yet, for they surely had all the time in the world so long as they could spend it entangled in each other’s arms.
With an uncharacteristically soft smile, he pulled the other man close.
“Phoenix,” He whispered, the baritone of his voice contrasting the gentle way he said it as his arms wrapped around his neck. “Darling.”
All that surrounded him was warmth, pure, unfiltered warmth, finding its way to every cracked-apart, dusty memory he’d buried in favor of ruthless calculation and tactless lack of mercy. Phoenix hadn’t merely saved his life… he’d saved him. Him, in all his shattered glory.
He was snapped out of his thoughts when a soft sniffle alarmed him, even more so when he noticed tears pinpricking Phoenix’s usually clear starlit gaze.
“What’s wrong, love?” He surprised himself at how easily the pet name escaped him, yet couldn’t care less.
Phoenix laughed, a clear sound that cut through all his worries as though melting a path into his very own heart. He knew his mind would play the sound over and over again, a lilting, beautiful thing that wrapped him in the very embrace of the person he loved the most. Still, he couldn’t help but ask.
“Why’re you crying…?”
“Because I love you. I love you, Miles Edgeworth.” Phoenix let out a shuddering sigh, shoulders shaking as he spoke. “This is so… so hard to say…”
And, as if that wasn’t enough for Miles’s weak, fluttering heart, his fears were quickly put to rest when the other man returned his hug with twice his own strength, arms encircling him like he’d never let go, like he’d never dream of losing him again.
With the softest of whispers, he returned the sentiment. “I love you too. I… I adore you, Phoenix. Far more than I can say with mere words.”
For a moment, all was still, the only sounds their breaths in tandem, taken in the slightest of drizzles. As it began to rain, Phoenix glanced up at Edgeworth, bright-eyed.
“Let’s dance, Miles.” His voice was light, almost high on the sheer happiness of the moment. Edgeworth blinked for a moment at the suddenness of the question but did not hesitate to agree. “Certainly. Shall we waltz? Or perhaps the quickstep-“ He was cut off by the soft burrowing of the other man into his arms, warm cheek pressed against his own very rapidly increasing heartbeat.
“P-Phoenix? Are you alright?” But he merely smiled up at him, melting him with a single glance. “Miles, I’m always right.” His smile turned into a bit of a smirk while his partner shot him a deadpan stare.
He groaned. “Oh for the love of-”
“Ahem. Anyway,” Phoenix interrupted, laughing. “I know you know all sorts of fancy dances, but can we just… sway in the rain while hugging? It would make me really happy.”
And, despite the logical part of his brain protesting, who was he to deny his newfound lover such a heartfelt request? Perhaps just this once…
With a gentle smile, Edgeworth kissed Phoenix’s cheek, enjoying the rosy hue that bloomed anew once more. “I would do anything for you, Wright.”
Phoenix shot him a mischievous grin. “Back to Wright, huh?”
“Yes, well,” he grumbled a bit amusedly. “Better get used to it, Wright.”
He relished in the thought of kissing the small smirk that crossed Phoenix’s lips straight off of them but surmised that he had all the time in the world for that now. Because, as they danced in the near candle-lit glow, soft pattering rain set their silhouettes apart from the shadows around them, and for once in his life, Miles Edgeworth was genuinely inclined to thank Wendy Oldbag for a dream he didn’t particularly mind coming true.
“…”
“…”
“Guess I got my kiss after all~”
“Shut up, Wright.”
Fin.