#you will get a pretty good approximation of edgeworth i think .

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

halloween special 2019

(Or, Halloween Special 2027, because this is set immediately after Turnabout Academy but contains no reference to it besides the fact that Juniper exists.)

A Fae AU side story. A classic meme of the autumnal season gets a cannibal joke twist, and the real horror story is the friends we made along the way. Written with the profoundest apologies to the professor from whom I took an entire semester course on Edgar Allan Poe. 

----

It still feels like the crack of dawn, after the week they’ve had, but dawn is admittedly later in late October, and the sun is already risen, so it’s not early at all. It’s no one’s problem but Phoenix’s own that his brain is still zombified. Trucy woke him up, flinging her things all around the apartment to get ready to head out: Juniper has joined her trick-or-treating group that already consisted of Trucy, Vera, Jinxie, Athena, and Pearl, and Pearl still doesn’t have a costume, and now neither does Juniper, and Vera hasn’t finished making hers, and it’s T-minus two days until Halloween.

So he scrambled some eggs for his daughter and ushered her out the door after making her promise to say hi to all of the other girls for him, and then he crawled back into bed. Barely three minutes after, his phone rang. That was marginally better than his phone ringing once he had fallen back asleep, but this deprives him of the chance of going back to sleep at all, probably, and actually it’s not better. Phoenix doesn’t know why he thought that. He squints at the tiny screen on his phone to see that an impossible amount of symbols, including what looks like some Japanese characters, a pentagram, and a simplified pixel art hand making a middle finger. 

“Hello, Maya.”

“Niiick! I need you to settle a dispute!”

Phoenix groans. “Between who?”

“Hello.” Iris’ voice comes through as clear as Maya’s, clearer than humans ever are on phone calls. Magical speakerphone. Phoenix drops his face into his pillow. 

“Iris says that the only one of Edgar Allan Poe’s stories to involve cannibalism was his one weird-ass novel that he never finished. But he’s gotta have had more than that right? He strikes me as a cannibalism kinda dude.”

“I don’t know,” Phoenix mumbles into his pillow, and then, resigned to his fate, he lifts his head and repeats clearly, “I don’t know. I’m not the literature guy.” He knows Shakespeare, and what he knows about Shakespeare is that he needs to keep Maya away from it, else she might decide that Puck is a role model. “Iris would have more of an idea than me.”

“Nick! You can’t take your ex’s side over me!”

Iris giggles in the background. “This is an argument about objective facts, Maya,” Phoenix says. “I’m not ‘taking sides’ personally.”

“Okay, but, Montressor was definitely saving Fortunado down there to chill him to a good eating temperature and then have him as a snack with the Amontillado. Like that’s gotta be why he killed him that way.”

That’s one of the few Poe stories Phoenix knows. He can answer this one. “There was no Amontillado,” he says wearily. “That was the whole point of the story, Maya. He lied about having the fancy wine to get Fortunado down to the catacombs because that was the best place to kill him quietly. There wasn’t any cask of Amontillado.”

Maya gasps. “What?” She sounds so betrayed that Phoenix almost laughs and almost feels bad. “He lied? He can’t lie!”

Now Phoenix does laugh. “What, did you think he was fae because elaborately killing someone for some unmentioned slights is a fae thing to do?” She sounds more scandalized at the lie part that the murder part, which, for anyone even slightly versed in fae culture, does make sense. 

“Well—” Maya sputters. “Yeah!” She heaves an exaggeratedly loud sigh. “I guess The Cask of Amontillado really isn’t a story that implies cannibalism.”

“There was other wine in the wine cellar where he walled up Fortunado,” Iris says. “Perhaps one of those would pair with him just as well for Montressor’s meal as you imagine the Amontillado would.”

“You don’t need to patronize me,” Maya says, sounding less irritable than Phoenix expects. “But, oh, Nick, other question! Why would the narrator, obviously possessing greater strength and no morals, not simply eat the old man so as to get rid of his creepy staring eye and better muffle the treacherous tattletale heart?”

“Telltale,” Iris says. Maya groans at the correction.

“Bitch-ass snitch,” Phoenix says.

“No,” Iris says. “Definitely not. Now, to return to the heart of your question, Mystic—”

Maya and Phoenix both snicker. What follows is not a long silence, but it is a loaded one, and then Iris resumes speaking, her clipped tone betraying her annoyance with the inadvertent pun. “The heartbeat was not a real sound,” she explains, “but rather the psychological manifestation of his guilt at committing the murder.”

“Oh,” Maya says. “So it’s like when you want to get coffee you have to have a barista make it and hand you the cup because if you tried to serve yourself from a machine it always explodes back in your face. It’s not the machine that hates you, it’s you who hates you, and the machine is the expression of it!”

“That is…” Iris trails off, clicking her tongue in thought. “Actually, yes, similar, though no one but the narrator could hear the sound of the heart.”

“So he wasn’t fae either,” Maya says. “Otherwise the whole house would’ve been, ba-dum! That they all felt it! And then probably it would explode.”

“Y’know, if he had eaten the old man,” Phoenix says, because sometimes it is fun, a flex of creative muscles he doesn’t usually get to stretch, to play along with Maya when she has her inane musings, “he still would’ve heard the heart beating, right, because it was just in his head. But instead of yelling at the cops that it was under the floorboards—”

Maya knows where he’s going with it immediately; either he knows the way she thinks too well, or she knows him. “—dude woulda been yelling about hearing it in his own stomach. Man, can you imagine? You’re just some beat cop coming in to investigate and then the guy starts shrieking about killing a dude but instead of starting to tear up the floorboards to show you the body he starts trying to claw open his own stomach?”

Phoenix considers that. He decides that yeah, it would be pretty far over on the scale of fucked-up things he’s seen as a lawyer. Sort of like Matt Engarde tearing up his own face in despair and fury, but also way worse because it would involve definite cannibalism and possible disembowelment, depending on how far the narrator got in his attempts. “Yep,” he says. “That’d be fucked up.”

“You could write it,” Iris says. “Poe is public domain, is he not, and you an adult man who could get away with it under the name of ‘literary reimagining’ rather than it being called ‘fanfiction’.”

“No thanks,” Phoenix says. “I’m not gonna be the man who messes with the classics.” He’d pitch the idea to Larry if Larry made his name on literally anything other than wholesome life-affirming picture books. Actually, he still wouldn’t, because Larry is an artist as well as a writer and there’d be a chance that he’d turn it into painting rather than prose and that is a level of horror Phoenix doesn’t want to go to. Better just to stay on the level of Maya reading cannibalism into every horror story that crosses her path. 

(Would Athena call that projection? He is not going to think about that any longer.)

“Glad anyway you could help with our dispute,” Maya says. “Cuz” - she’s never settled on one nickname for Iris, but cousin or a derivation usually means she’s not angry with her - “was getting wistful when Pearly went off to talk shop with all your daughters, so she wanted to get in the holiday spirit and it spiraled. I made it spiral.”

As tends to happen around there. As Maya is wont to do. Phoenix isn’t surprised. He also decides to ignore the “daughters” remark. It’s not worth arguing that Trucy is his only daughter, and okay maybe Vera half counts, but on the other end of the spectrum, he’s known Juniper for not even a week. 

So instead he voices the matter that is bothering him. He’s afraid to speak it into the world lest she hadn’t thought about it, but he also needs to be prepared. “So, Maya,” he begins warily, “you planning on venturing out for Halloween?” 

He’s dreaded this holiday ever since that first year, when she figured out what trick-or-treat meant and decided that this was the most fae of holidays, what with one being allowed to threaten and extort strangers for goodies. It’s more blatant than the fae usually are, even. That first year, he had to keep her entertained and distracted all night, with candy and other sugary sweets and campy movies, so she couldn’t go and fulfill her suggestion of egging Edgeworth’s car as revenge for him being “a huge douchebag to us in court”. She had gotten the eggs ahead of time and stashed them in his fridge so at eleven they made a run to the corner store for other ingredients to teach her how to make omelets. 

“Nah, don’t worry, I’m staying right here. Pearly can have her fun. But you and I are totally on for our post-Halloween bargain bin on-sale candy shopping spree. You’re buying! It’s tradition.”

“Huh?” It happening three years in a row, and then not for the next seven years, does not a tradition make. “Objection!”

“Nope!” She sounds positively gleeful; he can picture exactly what her smile looks like, how wide and toothy. “Ignored! What’s it that judges say again - overruled! You are overruled! And your penalty is reading Poe for a refresher so we can talk about it more! We need to talk about the one with the cat because I can’t decide if the cat is fae! Or even if it’s one cat! I want everyone’s input!”

His phone display shows a pixel jack-o-lantern with a grin in a probable approximation of Maya’s. He drops his head back onto his pillow. “Goodbye, Maya.” 

The second Halloween, they carved pumpkins in the office; Pearl demanded they not have scary faces, Maya ate half of the seeds even before they roasted them, and Phoenix tried not to think about how last year at that time Edgeworth was around that they could consider the prospect of egging his car. When they dropped pumpkin guts on the floor, Mia flung it right back at them to get it stuck in their hair. The third year, they brought Pearl along for candy shopping, too, and she sat in the cart atop a throne of bagged sweets and pointed out clearance decorations she wanted for next year. They’re boxed up somewhere. He should find them for her and the other girls. For next year, or seven years later, it’s not that much of a difference, is it?

“And,” he adds, “I’ll see you in November.” Start anew. “Tradition, right?”

#fae au extras #roddy fanfics #fae au tag #fic: the witches of los angeles #Wolf would you believe i had this concept BEFORE talk started of the poe musical in chat

[ace-attorney-headcanons]

Characterization Headcanon (Long)

Hi friends! So I wanted to cover a character analysis headcanon cause I've noticed some misconceptions about lawyers, and I thought it'd be interesting for others. Anyway, so I noticed a common characterization of Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth is that Phoenix is typically poor and Miles is a lot richer. But I don't think that's true. Here's the thing...

Typically, defense attorneys make WAAAY more money that prosecutors do. An average salary for a defense attorney, with less than 10-15 years of experience, is $78,500, and they make over $130,000 a year. An international prosecutor's salary, without experience, is about $47,500 (They make about $62,000 a year). Heck, even WITH 10-15 years of experience, their salary is approximately $76,000 (about 81,000 a year). That's still less than the average salary of a "rookie attorney."

So here's what I realized. The reason why Phoenix is always complaining about his wallet is because EVERYONE goes to him to ask for money. Because he's actually pretty rich, or at least financially stable. And Phoenix, being the good person he is, can't say no to people in need and the people he cares about when they ask for money. Sure, anybody would be like, "stop eating my paycheck." But I definitely feel like he has enough to get by. And he's not the type to spend much money on himself either! He didn't bother buying an expensive suit, he doesn't own a car (I have a headcanon on why he a doesn't too) which means he doesn't spend money on gas, and he inherited Mia's office. So I imagine he'd have a lot of money leftover in savings and money for emergencies. Emergencies such as disbarment.

But here's another thing! Poker is a gambling game. Winning a professional game of poker gets you a LOT of money. Professional poker players, depending on their skill, make approximately $250,000-1,000,000 a year (some of the richest poker champions actually are millionaires). That's not accounting for the fact that Phoenix is a 7 year undefeated champion, which means he COULD EASILY make at least $1,000,000 during big matches. That's WAY MORE than what Phoenix made as an attorney. Now here's the catch! Phoenix said he DOESN'T play with money; instead he plays "just a game of wits." But, he ALSO said that people still pay him to play against him, even when he doesn't bet anything. The people that come to play against him are also very likely "millionaire professional" poker players. So he still likely makes a lot of money. Which explains why he said he was "happy where he was." Remember though, Phoenix technically worked as a piano player which means he also received a basic salary along with his poker money. Further evidence of Phoenix's financial stability is Apollo Justice. It's clear that Apollo did NOT like Phoenix's morals at the time (as proven by his punch). But Apollo STILL continued to work under Phoenix. Why? Because Apollo likes his job, had nowhere else to go, AND it pays well! Working with Phoenix gave him a great opportunity to get experience as a lawyer and to make money. Apollo, in AA4, was just trying to make a living (as evidenced by his eagerness to work.) We later see development in AA5 and AA6, where he leaves to find the truth and bring justice for Clay, and decides to stay in Khura'in to help their legal system. He stops caring about money and devotes himself to the law. Anyhow, I really truly think that Phoenix actually made quite a bit of money, contrary to what most people believe.

As for Trucy, who ALSO made money as a magician (That's approximately $43,000 a year, which is almost the same amount of money that prosecutors make), odds are, Phoenix and Trucy were fine, financially. Now, we know Trucy spends money on professional magician equipment, which varies from $5,000-$25,000. And since their agency appears to be cluttered with magic stuff, the two are very likely able to afford to spend that kind of money (Phoenix is not a irresponsible guy when it comes to Trucy either. He knows how mature and responsible she is, which is why he trusts her with finances, since she does most of the spending on magic equipment.) Since they're really not selfish people though, it'd make sense that they'd leave just enough to get by for themselves (Phoenix probably still has money in savings though). Anyway, we know Phoenix decided to come back to law for Miles' sake, which is evidence of his devotion Miles and the law. Which means he decided to go back to a smaller salary (Again, evidence that he is NOT a selfish person) for the sake of Miles and his love for his job. Which makes me wonder about his new suit. Did Miles really buy it for him? I headcanon that instead, Miles helped SHOP for it since Phoenix doesn't really care about his image (I mean for god's sake have you seen the stuff he wears?! Lmao). Miles Edgeworth, on the other hand, clearly has incredibly classy tastes, especially since he can pull of a cravat in 2028. Which is why I feel like Phoenix gets his new sense of style from Miles.

I also wanna add that on a societal standpoint, it makes sense. In this series, defense attorneys tend to get a bad rep, while prosecutors are praised more. Which is understandable, since the government is trusted a lot more in this series and prosecutors work for the government/state. But defense attorneys are likely less trusted since they're "rich" and "greedy" and can afford to forge evidence (which is why a defense scandal is more likely). This also explains while Miles' didn't receive huge repercussions for his forgery scandal. It was proven (or confessed/admitted) that he was forced to forge evidence by the CP and his mentor, and he likely didn't pay for any sort of forgery. Instead, he was probably just provided forged evidence to present. It was also less likely for a prosecutor to forge evidence anyway (which is why nobody suspected MVK). Phoenix other hand, was charged for forgery AND for presenting forged evidence. Since it was very likely for a defense attorney to pay for a forgery and there was no proof of innocence, he was disbarred.

Now I wanna cover another thing about Miles Edgeworth. He's very obviously not poor. As a kid, his father was a defense attorney, which explains why he dressed so nicely: his family was also financially stable. THEN, he is adopted by a man who CLEARLY inherited a fortune. Von Karma was very obviously born into wealth, and Miles inherited both Gregory's belongings AND a portion of Von Karma's wealth when they passed away/were arrested. Now it's obvious that Miles doesn't care much about money either though. With all his wealth, he doesn't really need to work and he can easily get a better job that pays more. But he doesn't, because he is devoted to the law, just like Phoenix. Miles became a prosecutor to "punish criminals (and himself"). He wanted to see justice be served and he would never give up his job. He really truly cares about finding the truth and convicting the right person. Which is a great test of character. Instead, he uses his money for a good public image and for his aesthetic (smart thinking!).

Also note that other prosecutors like Simon, Winston, Sebastian, and Gaspen tend to not dress very fancy. As for Franziska, VK, Chief Gaspen, Klavier, and Nahyuta, their "pompous" clothing and wealth are easily explained. The VKs inherited their fortune and Khura'ins legal system is different. Khura'in prosecutors probably get paid a lot more than prosecutors in the states. Actually, they're practically royalty. As for Klavier, he's a platinum record rockstar. Of course he dresses really "glimmerous." When considering their situations, it makes a lot of sense.

Anyway, my point is that defense attorneys make tend to make more money than prosecutors. And when it boils down to it, Miles and Phoenix are likely equally financially stable. Phoenix just spends a lot of money on others, whiles Miles spends very little money on himself for his public image.

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #apollo justice #trucy wright #wrightworth #character analysis #headcanon #i thought this was worth mentioning #sorry its so long lol

[wingsonghalo]

Project: Matchmakers- Chapter 3

Chapter 3 of my WrightWorth/NaruMitsu fanfic. POV characters this time around are Kay and Phoenix. Posting this a day late. Oops. Also available on Ao3 and Fanfiction.net. Chapter 1 can be found on tumblr here, and Chapter 2 is here.

This chapter: Kay reads a book. Phoenix and company go to the airport.

Chapter 3: Recollections and Reunions

“H-How long have you been there?” was the first question that tumbled out of Mr. Edgeworth's mouth. Kay was expecting something more like “Where have you been?” or “How are you?” or “My, but you've grown into a beautiful woman!”

Okay, so that last one wasn't a question, but still. Ten years, and all he said was “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to see your legendary battle against the filing cabinet,” she answered, and then added in the closest approximation to an innocent tone that she could muster, “Gee, Mr. Edgeworth. I didn't even think you knew words like that!”

She was rewarded with a delightful flush painting the prosecutor's pale cheeks. “Kindly explain why you are here!” he blustered.

She would have been hurt, but she knew it was just his way of deflecting his embarrassment, so she didn't hold it against him. She wasn't going to let him know that, though. She stuck out her lower lip. “Gosh...I've been gone for so long, and I finally get to come see my good old friend Prosecutor Edgeworth, and what does he do? Asks me why I'm in his office.” She toed the ground a little, her posture slumping.

Surprisingly, Mr. Edgeworth softened at that. “I'm sorry,” he said. “You are right; I'm being terribly inhospitable. You just surprised me.” He motioned to one of the couches in his stupidly big office. “Would you like to sit down?”

“Well! That's more like it!” Kay said, and threw herself on a couch with a flump. “To answer your question, I'm here because I want to be. I've been very busy these days, you know. But I wondered how you were doing, so a few weeks ago I flew in and started trying to track you down.” She propped her feet on the glossy, polished coffee table between the two sofas. “Chief Prosecutor, huh? Nice.”

“Please don't do that,” her old friend said, frowning at her.

She laughed, but removed her feet from the table as he asked. “Oh, man, I missed that disapproving face of yours! Looks a lot older than the last time I saw it, though.”

“Did you just come here to insult me, or do you have something you wanted to talk about?” Mr. Edgeworth sighed, sitting down on the couch opposite from her.

“Sure I do! I want to talk about everything!”

“I'm afraid I haven't enough time to cover all that,” Mr. Edgeworth said, quirking an eyebrow.

She smirked and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. She'd actually been in L.A. for weeks now, and the truth was that she already knew pretty much everything she needed to know about Mr. Edgeworth. And some besides. “All right, then. Let's just talk about what this Great Thief has been up to.”

“Still calling yourself that?” He took his glasses out of his breast pocket and put them back on.

“Well, no. Not as much.” She ran her fingers over the Yatagarasu pin on her scarf absentmindedly. “But it still kinda applies. I definitely still steal the truth!” She grinned, and awaited a reaction from him. When he continued to just stare at her austerely, his arms crossed, her face fell. “Aren't you going to ask me what my job is?”

“I assumed that you would tell me whether I asked or not.”

“Touché. All right, don't share this information with anyone, but...” she leaned forward further and motioned for him to do the same. The furrow between his eyebrows deepened, but he did lean forward across the table. “I've become a professional infiltrator,” she whispered excitedly. She was pretty psyched about her job. Not only did she get to steal the truth, but she got to hide in the shadows and fight crime, just like the Jammin' Ninja! Although learning guitar hadn't worked out for her. But that was beside the point.

“So...you're a spy,” Mr. Edgeworth said bluntly.

“Professional infiltrator!” she insisted, frowning and crossing her arms right back at him. Couldn't he see her awesome new outfit? The way her vest was actually a removable parachute harness? The kick-butt utility belt with a holster for Little Thief? The fashionably asymmetrical length of her gloves, with the right glove going up to her elbow and the left one only slightly past her wrist? The overall darker color scheme which allowed her to be less easily-seen? Heck, even the new key-shaped hairstick that didn't jangle as she walked anymore? Clearly she was dressed for slipping in under the radar, making as little noise as possible, and handling dangerous situations with the greatest of ease! She was no mere spy. Such unfortunate connotations would sully her good name!

“Such unfortunate connotations would sully my good name!” she declared.

Mr. Edgeworth's mouth quirked up on one side in a smirk. “Not any more than calling yourself a Great Thief would have,” he pointed out.

“You may be right about that,” she conceded. “But enough about me—“

“I thought we were only talking about you?”

“—I want to know what those guys were talking about earlier!” She smiled at him, hoping her eyes were sparkling innocently. Of course, she knew all about what they'd been talking about. But she wanted to see how Mr. Edgeworth would react to the question.

To her delight, he flushed again and flapped his mouth a few times soundlessly. “Th-they were speaking absolute nonsense,” he managed to get out. “What in the world were you doing listening to them? Where were you listening to them?”

“Sorry,” she said, shrugging. “Can't tell you. Trade secret.” He looked as if he was about to protest, so she cut him off. “So tell me about this 'Mr. Wright.' He wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that mysterious figure from your jour—”

“That's quite enough for tonight, Kay,” Mr. Edgeworth said forcefully, holding out one hand like a crossing guard and massaging the space between his eyes with the other. He sighed. “Please, can we pick this back up tomorrow? I'm quite tired and I'd like to get home.”

She nodded, trying not to let her amusement show too much on her face. Bulls-eye, she thought, remembering the incident from ten years ago.

***

“Hey Mr. Edgeworth, what's this?” a 17-year-old Kay Faraday asked, waving around a brown leather-bound notebook, which she'd found tucked between two law books.

“Please stop moving it, or I won't be able to tell you,” replied Mr. Edgeworth from his desk. They'd come back to his office so he could look over some old case files, but besides the unique chessboard (red and blue pieces; possibly specially-made) and the figurine of the Steel Samurai (psh, the Jammin' Ninja was way better), there wasn't much in the way of entertainment in this place. Even the tea the prosecutor had made hadn't kept her occupied for long. So naturally, Kay had started pulling down books at random. It was while she was pulling out one of those books that this little one had fallen, quite literally, into her lap.

Kay did as he asked and held the book still. Mr. Edgeworth's face froze in the briefest expression of horror, and then melted into his usual composed one as he brought his teacup to his mouth. “That is a journal in which I keep notes about past cases and my own actions,” he said smoothly after he'd taken a sip. “It helps to organize my thoughts.”

“Ohhh, so it's a diary, huh?” Kay sang knowingly, flipping to a random page eagerly.

“It's not a diary,” Mr. Edgeworth insisted. He looked as if he was trying very hard not to spring from his chair and rip the book out of her hands. “It is a journal.”

However, the book said otherwise. “So who's this 'P' person?” she asked with interest after reading several entries. “You sure write a lot about him!”

Mr. Edgeworth wore a face of mild panic, but he took another sip of tea to keep up the facade. “Yes, well, he's been involved in a lot of cases I've worked; it's only natural.” His voice was a little defensive, but disguised under layers of nonchalance.

Hm. These were all quite interesting reactions. A smile that was just a little evil spread across Kay's face. She leafed through the pages and stopped on an entry somewhere in the middle, pointing to the words, drawing in a deep breath, and then reading in a dramatic voice as loudly as she could: “'Friday, 23rd May. P was a marvel today, as usual. Everything I said, he handled with alarming dexterity and managed to respond in kind, refusing to allow me to lead, as if we two were danc—'”

Faster than the Jammin' Ninja himself, Mr. Edgeworth had launched himself across the room and made a grab for the book. “Give me that!” His cheeks had gone rather pink.

But this thief was not going to give up her prize so easily. She turned to the side, dodging his swipe and angling her body around the book. Then she danced out of reach, flipping to another page and again reciting theatrically: “'Saturday, 5th August. Ran into P at a café downtown. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, quite a change from his usual blue suit. I almost didn't recognize him except for that spiky hair of his.’”

“What is that accent supposed to be? Is that supposed to be my voice?!” Mr. Edgeworth blustered indignantly.

Kay avoided another grab and held the book aloft, continuing her reading with as much emotion as she could put into it. “'He has become a fixture in the courtroom for me, and I don't feel quite at home in it without him. But when he caught my eye and smiled, I realized it didn't really matter where we were—’”

“Kay Faraday you give that back to me right this instant!” the prosecutor bellowed, reaching for the book again and again and having it repeatedly yanked out of the way. It was most undignified, and Kay couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun.

“MR. EDGEWORTH'S IN LOOOOOOOOOOOVE!!~” she shouted gleefully, running around the office like a small child playing keep-away.

By the time Mr. Edgeworth had at last wrestled the book out of her grip, they were both gasping for breath. Kay had tears in the corners of her eyes from laughing, and Mr. Edgeworth was still red in the face, though from embarrassment or exertion Kay didn't know.

“What do I have to do to ensure that you never tell anyone about this journal, ever?” Mr. Edgeworth panted, glancing at her from where they were both slumped with their backs against the wall. His normally immaculate hair was a little mussed, and his cravat was crooked. Kay took a mental picture and told herself that whenever she thought of him as an austere, unshakable statue, she would always remind herself of Mr. Edgeworth as he was now: out of breath, a little unkempt, flushed like a normal human being, and embarrassed about having a crush.

“You don't have to do anything,” she responded, smirking. “Just the knowledge of this diary is priceless, and I want to keep this precious treasure all to myself.”

Mr. Edgeworth groaned and covered his face with his hands.

***

Ten years had passed since then, and Kay was finally getting to the bottom of this mystery. She'd been away for quite a long time looking for her place in life and carving out a niche for herself, but now that she was fairly comfortable in her position, she had come back to visit her friend.

What she didn't tell him was that she definitely knew who P was now, because she had been tailing him for about three weeks now.

It wasn't constant, mind; just every once in a while when she saw the spiky-haired man out and about. He was remarkably easy to find, after all.

Even though the only things she had to go on about him from the journal were “blue suit,” “spiky hair,” and “worked on lots of cases with Mr. Edgeworth,” Gummy had been able to immediately identify someone matching that description when she'd listed off the descriptors to him.

“Oh, you must mean Mr. Wright,” he'd said without hesitation. “Yeah, those two go way back, I hear.” His voice then took on a disappointed tone as he gave her his trademark thick-browed puppy dog eyes. “But did you really track down your old friend Dick Gumshoe after all this time just to ask a question about Mr. Edgeworth, pal?...”

After a few days of staking out the courthouse, she'd at last seen the man from the journal.

Phoenix Wright didn't look like anything too special the first time she'd seen him. He was attractive enough, she guessed, though she had to question his taste in hairstyle. More than imposing and commanding of respect, he gave more the impression of being someone's bumbling young uncle or something. He walked at an easy pace as he approached the courthouse, followed by an athletic-looking orange-haired girl in a yellow suit, who ran ahead of him on the steps to the door and then turned to face him as if to say “What's taking you so long, old timer?” At least, that's what Kay would have said. All in all, she found herself a bit disappointed with the famous Phoenix Wright.

And then she sneaked in after him and watched him at work in the courtroom.

Gone was the air of awkwardness and hesitation from the blue-suited man. The way he squared his shoulders and stared down his opponent spoke nothing but self-assurance, and suddenly not even his hair seemed so goofy anymore. He said everything with so much conviction and confidence that it was hard not to have faith in his words, too. Even when evidence stacked up against him, and Kay glimpsed the faint shine of sweat on his brow, he offered no quarter and forged ahead. That tendency to move forward regardless of having not gotten the full picture yet, of making things up as he went along...it resembled the way Mr. Edgeworth would work when he was missing some links between pieces of evidence: keep trying to make connections until you find something that sticks.

Or perhaps it had been Mr. Edgeworth resembling Mr. Wright all along.

She could see why this man had inspired the prosecutor. He was loyal to his client and trustworthy with the evidence (as a former thief and current professional infiltrator, Kay had a knack for picking out untrustworthy people), but more than that, he pursued the truth with all his heart and would not stop fighting until everything was revealed, just like Mr. Edgeworth. He had none of Mr. Edgeworth's haughtiness or condescension, however. In fact, the way that he'd slump a little and look so utterly sheepish when the prosecution or the judge pointed out something faulty in his claims...it was so refreshingly humble and unpretentious. The girl next to him was obviously his apprentice of sorts, but Mr. Wright wasn't even afraid to be wrong in front of her.

That humility, that wearing his heart on his sleeve...it was...endearing.

Oh yes. She could definitely see how he'd captured even Miles Edgeworth's stone heart.

***

Kay had been following Mr. Wright occasionally since then, though only when he was on his way to meet Mr. Edgeworth—if she discovered that he was merely out to get lunch or on his way home, she quickly lost interest and wandered off back to her hotel room. She learned things about him: His favorite order from the café (was it the same one from Mr. Edgeworth's journal entry, she wondered?), the names of the people he worked with, his preferred places to walk on days off. She had been fairly confident in her stealth skills during the whole operation, which made it something of a surprise when she'd heard Mr. Wright's pronouncement to Mr. Edgeworth on that day:

“I think I'm being followed, lately.”

Mr. Edgeworth had laughed, but she could tell that what the other man said had worried him. It worried her, too. Perhaps she was not as good a spy as she thought she was?

Nonsense. Mr. Wright must just be really good at sensing the presence of others, that was all.

Kay was even more cautious than usual as she followed Phoenix Wright half of the way home.

***

The morning after Kay had made her presence in the city known to Mr. Edgeworth, she decided she had to be more careful about her information-gathering. From what the prosecutor had told her after her 5 inquisitive texts, he was quite busy today and in no mood for Kay's relentless questions. Well, fine then. She'd just see what Mr. Wright was up to that evening. She knew he went to a small noodle stand every Monday and left with takeout. Once she'd seen Mr. Edgeworth meet him there, and she hoped today would be a similar occurrence. She'd see then if Mr. Edgeworth was so “busy,” wouldn't she?

The Great Thief lounged in the thick branches of an oak tree which hadn't lost all its leaves yet, snacking on an apple. Winter was a difficult time to use trees for cover—the bare branches didn't do a very good job at concealment, and if you used evergreen trees, the smell and the sap tended to cling to you afterward. Luckily, she'd found this tree still covered in colorful leaves, as if it was left just for her. It was a good 5 yards away from the noodle stand, but she had a pretty good vantage point from up here. The enticing, salty scent of the noodle broth wafted through the air. Hm. Perhaps after the lawyers left she would get some of those noodles for herself. She slipped the apple core into her bag and waited.

Like clockwork, Mr. Wright approached the noodle stand at 7:00, greeting the stand owner in a manner which suggested the two were well-acquainted. However, unlike the last two times she'd seen him come here, Mr. Wright sat down at one of the three small seats in front of the stand, the way he had on that other occasion...

Sure enough, a prosecutor in red soon turned the corner and sat down at the stand as well. He looked rather comical there, a frilly and fancily-dressed man waiting for a humble meal of noodles at a tiny mobile stand.

Kay struggled to control her breathing so she could hear the conversation better.

“Any developments?” Mr. Edgeworth said smoothly, handing the stand owner a bill to pay for his noodles. Kay was looking forward to seeing if he slurped his noodles like a normal person or if he cut them up into manageable pieces, but it looked like she'd have to wait a while, because the prosecutor merely took the plastic cover off the bowl and let the steam begin to escape. Kay's mouth watered. Her apple felt like a distant memory.

“No, but it's only been two days since I last spoke to you about it, so it would be stranger if there had been,” the defense attorney responded, gathering up some thin, wavy noodles with a pair of chopsticks and slurping them like a normal person. Well, no surprise there.

“You may be right there,” Mr. Edgeworth admitted.

“I'm always Wright, Edgeworth!” He flashed his companion a cheesy grin.

Mr. Edgeworth didn't offer him any more than an unimpressed eyebrow quirk in return. “That wasn't funny the first 10 times you said it, and it still isn't now,” he informed him.

Mr. Wright frowned. “Hey, humor me once in a while, why don't you?”

“I suppose one of us needs to know how to humor.”

“Hey!”

The girl in the tree smirked at the conversation. Being together was so easy for the two of them. It kind of baffled her that they weren't together together, so they could have these kinds of affectionate teasing matches all the time. But then, that would require some kind of confession of feelings on the part of both parties, and as far as she knew Mr. Edgeworth had never confessed any kind of feeling (except to his diary).

After the two ate in silence a little while (Mr. Edgeworth did neither of Kay's two predicted eating methods, and instead twirled the noodles around a fork like spaghetti), Mr. Wright spoke again. “Aren't you going to ask me why I summoned you to this lowly noodle stand?”

“Who are you calling lowly?” the stand owner interjected in a gruff voice, leaning one elbow on the counter challengingly.

“Er, no one,” the defense attorney backpedaled, looking sheepish. “It was just a joke because everywhere is lowly to the Chief Prosecutor. You know I love this place, Mr. Eldoon.”

The stand owner—Mr. Eldoon—grunted in affirmation. “Suppose I can't argue with that,” he said, and then ambled over to the other side of the stand to give the other two men their privacy.

“To answer your question,” Mr. Edgeworth continued as if there had been no interruption, “I don't have to ask.” He lowered his voice, leaned ever so slightly closer to Mr. Wright. Kay cupped a hand around her ear. “I know very well you don't feel safe walking around in the evening anymore,” the prosecutor said in a tone that was almost gentle. “It's all right, Wright. I don't mind.”

Mr. Wright's cheeks went pink. “W...Well, that's big of you,” he attempted to play it off as a joke, but the words came out as an embarrassed mumble. He looked as if he was going to say something else, but then cut himself off and instead slurped some more noodles.

“How's Trucy?” Mr. Edgeworth asked, to spare his friend the embarrassment of silence.

“Oh, she's great!” The defense attorney's face lit up. From her expert intelligence gathering (which mostly involved asking Detective Gumshoe), Kay had discovered that Trucy Wright was Mr. Wright's adopted daughter. He always sounded so happy and proud whenever he talked about her. The Great Thief Yatagarasu felt a little pang in her heart, a longing for something she hadn't had since childhood. “Then again, you'd know that already, wouldn't you? You just took her to and from school today, and she hung out with you at that crime scene yesterday.” Mr. Wright shot the man next to him a suspicious look. “You're really asking me if Trucy shared any of her notes with me, aren't you?”

“That's quite a leap in logic you just made. Though I suppose jumping to conclusions is your forté.” When Mr. Wright just continued to stare at him promptingly, the prosecutor shrugged in defeat. “All right, yes, that's what I'm asking. From what I could see of them, the girl was very thorough in her notes. I can't imagine she'd do it all just for fun.”

“She did share the notes with me,” Mr. Wright admitted, pushing around some noodles with his chopsticks. “But she didn't pressure me to take the case, and the notes weren't even written with any kind of favoritism for or against anyone. Has an arrest even been made?” he added, offhand.

“Yes,” Mr. Edgeworth answered.

“Anyway,” Mr. Wright continued, deciding that part wasn't as important, “when I asked her why she was always trying to get me cases through you, she said—get this— 'I just wanted to spend time with Mr. Edgeworth and thought a case would be fun to talk about.'”

“Oh, yes,” said the prosecutor, a little sardonically. “Corpses and foul play make for delightful dinner discussion.”

“Yeah, really,” Mr. Wright chuckled.

They continued on in this manner for a while, and when they were both finished their meal, it was already about 8:30, and Kay's ankles ached from remaining in a crouched position for over an hour. Goodness, perhaps she really was out of practice—she used to be able to hold a position for over three hours!

“Well, I guess I better be getting home—Truce is probably eagerly awaiting her noodles,” Mr. Wright said, patting the takeout bowl he held after they both rose from their seats.

“Will you be all right on the way home?” Mr. Edgeworth asked, his tone sincere.

“Why, Mr. Edgeworth,” said the defense attorney, teasing. “Are you offering to walk me home?”

“If necessary,” he answered plainly.

The other man flushed again. “N...no, that's all right,” he stuttered awkwardly. “Thank you, though.” He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet a little, but then he spoke again, attempting to regain his casual tone. “Sorry I made you miss the Steel Samurai. I know Maya never wants to go anywhere at 8 on weekdays, and you're even more of a fanboy of that show than she is.”

His gentle teasing had the desired effect: Mr. Edgeworth was the one blushing now. “I-I am not.” He then muttered in an undertone, “...Already have them all on DVD anyway.”

Mr. Wright laughed, and regarded his friend with poorly-concealed affection. “Thanks for coming out here, Edgeworth.”

“As I said before: Anytime, Wright.” He smiled. It was a very natural smile, one that made him look much younger and smoothed out the furrow between his brows. Mr. Wright smiled back, then turned around and waved as he walked away.

Mr. Edgeworth watched him go until he turned a corner and disappeared from sight.

“Still content with just watchin' him go, eh, Miles?” growled Mr. Eldoon good-naturedly, raising a dark eyebrow at the Chief Prosecutor.

“...I don't remember asking for your opinion,” he grumbled lamely, and Mr. Eldoon barked a laugh as the prosecutor stiffly walked away from the stand.

Kay finally slid down the tree as soundlessly as possible as soon as Mr. Edgeworth was out of sight, and quickly wondered whether she had time to buy some noodles before tailing Edgeworth back to his office. Perhaps if she ambushed him again tonight, he would be more willing to talk to her? She decided to forego the noodles for now, and rushed past the stand.

“Come back soon, lassie,” Mr. Eldoon called after her.

She hadn't gotten more than a few yards before she crashed headlong into someone who had already been hiding behind the building she dove behind for cover. She conked her head right into another girl's.

“Ow!” she wailed, clutching her head.

“Oh!” said the other, also holding her head. Kay squinted open one eye. The girl was very tiny, petite and delicate-featured, with pale skin, big gray eyes, and shiny light-brown hair done up into a strange pretzel hairdo, with a long strand in front hanging down and ending with a round bauble. She was wearing clothing that was obviously Japanese-inspired, cream-colored and pink with a wide magenta obi. Her skinny legs were splayed at the knees as the girl rubbed her forehead, having been knocked on her rear.

“I...I'm sorry,” Kay said, offering a hand to the girl to help her up. She took it, and Kay was surprised by how light the other girl was when she hauled her to her feet. Gosh, and she was so short!

“Th-that's quite all right. It was my fault for not properly observing my surroundings,” the girl responded politely with a little bow. The formal manner of speech made Kay a little nervous. She never quite knew how to respond in situations like that.

“Uh, I'm pretty sure it was actually my fault for diving into you headfirst,” she said with an awkward chuckle, scratching her head. “I just needed a hiding place fast—I don't want to lose sight of that guy in the red suit,” she explained.

“You mean Mr. Edgeworth?” the girl asked, her voice raising in pitch with surprise.

“Yeah!” Kay said, just as surprised. She blinked. “Wait, how do you know Mr. Edgeworth?”

“Um, I hope you'll forgive me for prying, but I was about to ask you the same question,” the girl said humbly, nibbling on her thumb a little. Even her voice was dainty and girlish.

“I'm...kind of an old friend,” she said. “I worked a few cases with him way back when, and I flew back into town recently to check in on him.”

“Oh, I see,” said the girl, nodding. “I am also an old friend of Mr. Edgeworth's.” She stuck out her hand. “My name is Pearl Fey. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss...?”

“Kay,” she responded, taking Pearl's hand and shaking it. “Kay Faraday.”

“Miss Kay,” Pearl repeated with a smile. “That's a nice name.”

“Yours too,” she complimented in return. “So, if you don't mind my asking, why are you following Mr. Edgeworth?”

She went a bit pink in the face. “Oh, um, well...I...happened to be following his friend, Mr. Wright, to that noodle stand back there—”

“Wait, you know Mr. Wright, too?” Kay interrupted, surprised again.

“Oh, yes!” Pearl chirped excitedly, clapping her hands together and bouncing on the balls of her feet. “He is a very dear friend to me! I have known him since I was 8 years old.”

Kay blinked in confusion. “So...why were you following him in secret if you're so tight with him?”

All the excitement rushed out of Pearl like a punctured balloon, and she slumped her shoulders guiltily, her eyes searching the ground. “I, um...it's...kind of a long and unusual story,” she mumbled awkwardly.

“What a coincidence,” Kay said with a grin. “Mine is too.” She held out her hand again. Pearl looked up inquisitively. “What do you say we get some noodles and swap tales?” she suggested.

A shy smile spread across Pearl's face, and she took Kay's hand, allowing the other girl to lead her off in the other direction. The questions for Mr. Edgeworth could wait.

***

“—So then, he got soooo embarrassed that he'd acted like a fanboy, since it was only Larry who was in the Steel Samurai suit!”

“I would have liked to have seen that!” Pearl giggled, setting aside her chopsticks. “Mr. Edgeworth being flustered like anyone else...it must have been so charming!”

“Well, I dunno if 'charming' is the word,” Kay mused, slurping up the last of her noodles. “But it was definitely hilarious.”

“It sounds like you are nearly as close with Mr. Edgeworth as I am with Mr. Nick,” Pearl said thoughtfully.

“Oh yeah, Mr. Edgeworth and I go way back!” Kay exclaimed. “I met him when I was 10 years old, y'know! 'Course, it was a lot longer ago than when you were 8,” she trailed off into a laugh. “How old are you, anyway, Pearl? 14?”

A blush came over Pearl's small, delicate cheeks. “I'm 18, actually.” She looked a little depressed, suddenly.

“O-Oh, I'm sorry!” Kay said, immediately feeling remorseful. “D-don't look sad! I only thought that because of, um...” She cast around for a reason besides the other girl's...undeveloped features. Or her height. She suspected Pearl was sensitive about that. “How clear your recollections about Mr. Wright are! I thought for sure they must have taken place only within the past few years, heheh!” She grinned, hoping it didn't look too forced.

Pearl must have been as innocent as she looked, because her face brightened up right away. “Oh, why thank you! But I must say your storytelling was quite good as well!”

“Hey, thanks!” They were quiet a brief moment, before Kay finally decided to ask what she wanted to ask: “So...any particular reason you were following Mr. Wright tonight?” Pearl looked evasive, so she clarified. “This stays strictly between you and me. I promise not to breathe a word to anyone else.” She leaned in closer, hoping it would seem more private that way.

Pearl glanced around like she was looking for professional infiltrators, and then leaned in close. “I think Mr. Nick is in love with Mr. Edgeworth, and I want to help them get together.”

Kay reeled back so fast she almost fell off her stool.

“You too?!” she exclaimed, apparently rather louder than she'd meant to, because Pearl looked startled. Kay tried dialing it down a bit. “You too?” she asked again. “I've been following Mr. Edgeworth for the exact same reason!” Suddenly, this was ten times more exciting. It felt like having a partner-in-crime! Especially if the crime was stalking!

“Really?” Pearl's eyes almost looked like they grew bigger with wonder and excitement. They shone with interest. “Oh, I am so glad it was not just me!” Suddenly, she blinked, and the huge smile she'd been wearing slid off her face. “Not...just me...” she repeated, looking off into the distance. Then she looked like she'd just put together two mental puzzle pieces. “Oh my,” she muttered, biting her thumb with a worried expression. “I shall have to assure Mr. Nick that he needn't worry about someone following him...he's looked so tired lately; I think it's really affecting him...”

Kay abruptly remembered how worried Mr. Wright had been about being followed, even going so far as to tell Mr. Edgeworth in case anything happened to him, and felt like a real jerk. How much anxiety had she been causing over the past few weeks, and for what? She hadn't even come up with a plan to get the two together yet. “No, that's okay,” she said, holding up a hand. “I should tell him. It's my fault he's been so uneasy lately. I guess it never really occurred to me that it would affect his life so much.” She slumped on her stool, hunching her shoulders. “If only I was better at my trade, he would have never detected my presence...”

“Oh, I'm sure it's nothing to do with your abilities!” Pearl said earnestly. She thought a moment, looking up at the dark sky, before lowering her gaze to Kay again. “Mr. Nick has been in lots of dangerous situations. I think he's just used to picking up on things other people miss!”

Kay broke into a smile. This kid really was sweet, wasn't she? “Thanks, Pearl. But I still feel bad for stressing him out so much, so could you introduce him to me sometime?”

Pearl nodded. “I'd be delighted!”

“Great!” said Kay. “So, what did you first notice that made you think they'd be good together?” she continued, switching to a mischievous tone.

A glimmer came into Pearl's eyes, too. “Well, I guess for me it started when Trucy told me she thought Mr. Nick was dating someone...”

Three days later, Phoenix sighed and checked his watch for like the twelfth time, and then looked at the arrivals schedule. It was already five minutes past when the flight was supposed to come in, and yet there had been no announcement over the speakers.

“It'll come, Daddy,” Trucy assured him at his side. He looked down and offered her a grateful smile in return. Her hold on his hand tightened a little, a squeeze of solidarity.

“Yeah, Mr. Wright,” Athena grinned at him from his other side, the little robotic pendant around her neck shining a cheerful green. “As he himself would say, 'It's fine!'”

“I know, I know,” Phoenix said quietly. “I just can't help but worry about the kid.”

Apollo was coming home for a whole month and a half from his extended stay in Khura'in. He'd had to practically bend over backwards to do it, but he'd managed to secure the time off to spend the holidays in the States. Only a year had gone by since he'd been gone, but it still felt like it had been an eternity since they'd heard his ridiculously loud voice.

Every time the chime came over the speakers, all three of them tensed up with anticipation. Their shoulders slumped when the flight number did not match the one they had on the paper in Phoenix's breast pocket.

Phoenix's eyes drifted around the airport, his gaze falling on families saying tearful farewells, businesspeople weaving through the crowd expertly, reuniting lovers flinging their arms around each others' necks... Must be nice, he found himself thinking, a little resentfully, to know without a doubt exactly how someone feels about you. He wondered what it would be like, having that easy intimacy all the time. He couldn't imagine it.

He blinked, and the airport came into focus again. He hadn't even realized that he'd let his eyelids fall half-closed. Phoenix sighed, rubbing his eyes with his free hand and attempting to keep his mind on-task.

But the more he looked around, saw all the love stories and heartwarming moments unfold in every direction, the lonelier it made him feel. Without noticing, he let his eyes glaze over again, and like a broken record, his mind replayed yet again yesterday's phone conversation with Edgeworth.

***

As soon as he saw the number displayed on the Caller ID, he scrambled to hit the correct button, nearly dropping his phone. Be cool, Phoenix, be cool, he told himself mentally before attempting a smooth, professional tone. “WrightAnythingAgencyPhoenixWrightspeaking,” was the jumbled mess that spilled out instead.

“Wright? It's Edgeworth,” came Edgeworth's voice, sounding smooth and professional without even trying, damn it.

“Oh, hi, Edgeworth!” said Phoenix, feigning surprise. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

There was a brief pause on the other end, though long enough for Phoenix to say “Edgeworth? You there?”

“I apologize,” said Edgeworth, sounding oddly hesitant. “I was attempting to find the best way to say what I want to say.”

Phoenix's heart gave a lurch. What could that mean? Instantly a thousand stupid thoughts zoomed through his mind. “W-well, take your time,” he said as calmly as he could, his pulse racing.

“Well...” Edgeworth started. Phoenix held his breath. “The thing is,” Edgeworth continued, “I'm...not so sure we should be so heavily involved in one another's lives.”

It felt like a heavy stone had been dropped into Phoenix's stomach. His racing heart juddered to a stop. He forced a little laugh. “E-Edgeworth, what brought this on?”

“It's nothing personal,” said the voice on the other end, “It's just...I've been hearing a lot of gossip lately. They keep saying that the Chief Prosecutor is...conspiring with a defense attorney.”

Phoenix felt his face flush, a little from embarrassment but mostly from irritation. “Since when have you ever cared about gossip?” he asked, sounding a little more snappish than he'd intended.

“Since my reputation became instrumental in holding the Prosecutor's Office together,” said Edgeworth, his voice a mixture of exasperation and defensiveness. Phoenix heard him sigh. “I don't like this, either,” the prosecutor admitted, his tone softer and less guarded, “but the fact is that what people think about me does matter, at least to some degree.”

Phoenix felt a sting in his chest. “Well, clearly those people are idiots,” he said dismissively. “Doesn't everybody know how stingy you are with information?”

There was a huff over the line that might have been a small laugh. “Apparently not. But they do know about Trucy tagging along to crime scenes.”

“Oh,” said Phoenix. “I can see how that might look suspicious.”

“Indeed,” Edgeworth said flatly. Another sigh. “It's not that I don't enjoy her presence, but could you please pass along to her that she mustn't do that anymore?” His tone was almost pleading.

Phoenix felt a smirk spread across his face. “Aww, are you too soft-hearted to disappoint that little girl?”

Evidently Edgeworth was not amused, because he sounded annoyed when he spoke again. “Well, I've wasted enough of my time—”

“N-no, don't hang up yet!” Phoenix exclaimed. “I'm sorry. I'm just glad you hold Trucy in such high regard. It's...” He cast around for the right word, and then finally blurted “sweet.” He felt his cheeks flush again. Sweet? Why in the world had he said sweet? Anything would have been better: nice, good, even reassuring, but sweet? Who had ever applied that word to Miles Edgeworth?!

“Y-Yes, well, we shall see how 'sweet' I am the next time we meet in court,” Edgeworth challenged, but to Phoenix's surprise he actually sounded flustered. His heart did something that wasn't quite a somersault—more of a clumsy roll, really.

“So...are you still going to drive Trucy to and from school?” he said, attempting to not sound too desperate.

“Well, I can't exactly leave her with no transportation, can I?” the prosecutor responded, businesslike, and Phoenix broke into a grin. Others could say what they wanted about Edgeworth, but he always came through when Phoenix needed him. He felt the tension dissolve a little, and resisted the urge to laugh with relief. “That said, we should probably not act too friendly in public,” Edgeworth went on.

Phoenix did laugh this time. “I don't think I've ever seen you act 'too friendly,'” he pointed out. “But I understand.” He hesitated. “Thanks, Edgeworth,” he added. “Truce and I... We really appreciate everything you've done for us.”

“Oh, stop,” said Edgeworth huffily, but Phoenix could hear the warmth behind it. “So, everything all clear?”

“Yup,” Phoenix answered, but then paused. “Seriously, I don't know what those rumor-spreaders are thinking,” he said, a little more subdued. “As if you'd ever let your personal feelings interfere with your job.”

Edgeworth hesitated. “I'm not a robot, Wright. It's a legitimate concern. Even I must struggle with my own feelings.” His voice was...quiet. Unsure.

And Phoenix's heart was instantly doing warm-ups for a marathon again. “W-well, well. That's news to me,” he joked.

“You're lucky, Wright,” the prosecutor said, suddenly with surprising candor. “You can feel whatever you want with no consequences. There is freedom in your public invisibility.”

“Wow,” said Phoenix, “Only you could express admiration while still insulting me.”

“Sorry,” said Edgeworth, surprising him again.

Well, as long as his friend was being this unguarded... “Hey, Edgeworth?” Phoenix started again, before he could lose his nerve. “I'm...I'm not as open with my feelings as you think. I...put things aside for work, too.” Was his heart actually trying to exit his body? It certainly felt that way.

“Oh?” said Edgeworth. “How curious. What things are these?”

“Things like...” My doubt. My loneliness.

 My feelings for you.

Of course, like always, he chickened out. “My social life,” he quipped. Bawk, bawk, bawk.

Edgeworth chuckled. “I suppose that makes two of us,” he said. “Anyway, I really must go, Wright.”

“All right, all right. Thanks again, Edgeworth.”

“Don't mention it...quite literally, at that. Goodbye for now.” Click. Phoenix was left listening to a dial tone.

He slumped, and ran both hands through his spiky hair.

If both he and Edgeworth were so committed to finding the truth, why could Phoenix never tell it to him when it came to how he felt?

***

Phoenix snapped back to alertness when the chime finally sounded again, followed by a voice over the speakers: “Flight 0691 from Khura'in, arriving at TBIT gate #10.”

“That's him, that's him!” Athena exclaimed, jumping up and down like she wasn't a 20-year-old woman. She tore off towards the gate, Trucy pulling Phoenix along after as if he wouldn't be able to find his way otherwise.

They watched as each person made their way through the gate and over to baggage claim, Trucy especially craning her neck and standing on her tiptoes to get the first look when Apollo finally stepped through.

However, Phoenix had the advantage of height. “There!” he said, pointing towards the third person back in line. “I'd recognize that hair anywhere!”

Sure enough, Apollo Justice shuffled through the gates, his distinctive “hair horns” drooping a little, making him look a little deflated and exhausted. Phoenix guessed he hadn't had time to apply the appropriate amount of gel to make the hairstyle endure for the whole day.

“Apollo! Over here! Apollo!” Trucy cried, jumping in the air and waving her arms around as if Apollo were on the other side of a football field instead of 20 feet away. Apollo's head jerked in the direction of her voice, though, and he offered them a tired smile in recognition. It wasn't just his hair making him look weary—even from here, Phoenix could see the dark circles under his eyes. Maybe Apollo wasn't good at sleeping on planes? Well, in any case, he suspected he had dark circles to match, what with his recent paranoia thing.

Athena all but jumped over someone who was crouched down adjusting their luggage and barreled her way through the throng of people, separating the crowd so effectively that Trucy was able to run after her mostly unimpeded.

“Girls, please! This is an airport!” Phoenix called, but they didn't seem to hear him, so he huffed a sigh and made his way over too, apologizing on the way for his charges' overenthusiasm.

By the time Phoenix got over to them, Trucy and Athena had already wrapped Apollo in a four-armed hug. Apollo looked as if he was struggling between exasperation and joy. “Come on, guys...I'm happy to see you too, but can we save all this for after I'm reunited with my stuff?” He looked up and saw Phoenix, and smiled again. “Finally,” he said. “Come to rescue me, Mr. Wright?”

A smile stretched across Phoenix's face, too. “Nope,” he said, and threw his arms around the whole bunch. However bad he was at expressing his feelings around Edgeworth, at least he could be open with this cobbled-together little family of his. Apollo groaned, but Phoenix knew he didn't really mind.

After they'd all pulled away from their reunion group hug, they shouldered their way towards the baggage claim carousel, Athena chattering excitedly to her senior colleague the whole time. “How was the flight? Did they have food? What did they serve? Oh, but why am I asking about the flight, haha! I should be asking about how things are in Khura'in! Did you—”

“Athena, please,” Apollo cut her off, holding up a hand. “I just got off a 14-hour flight, I haven't slept since the day before yesterday, and right now it seems like light and sounds hate me.”

Athena bit her lip, looking a little ashamed. Widget also flashed a worried blue. “I'm sorry, Apollo...I'll wait until we're somewhere quieter.” Phoenix wasn't surprised she had relented so quickly for once—he knew Athena was quite familiar with what it felt like to be overwhelmed by sensory input.

Before any of them knew she had been gone, Trucy rejoined them, dragging a huge, bright-red suitcase behind her. “Finally...got it,” she huffed, whipping off her hat to wipe her brow.

“Trucy, don't just take random luggage!” Apollo chided her, looking past Athena's shoulder towards where Trucy was now standing. “I haven't told you what mine even looks...” He trailed off as he caught sight of the suitcase, and his mouth dropped open. “Wha...how did you know which one was mine?!” he asked, bewildered.

Trucy giggled as Apollo grabbed the luggage's handle. “Magic!” she answered.

Apollo rolled his eyes. “That's your explanation for everything,” he sighed.

“Because it's the best one there is,” Trucy said with a shrug, following him as he began to wheel the suitcase towards the exit.

“I must admit, I'm curious too, Trucy,” said Phoenix, bringing up the rear of the group. “How did you know?”

“Okay, okay,” said Trucy. “The truth is, I just looked for a bag that was as loud as Polly is!” She smiled cheekily.

“Hey!” Apollo sounded defensive. “Red is a great color!”

“Well, I'll say this: it suits you,” said Athena, and in five more steps they were out the door.

“So,” said Phoenix once they'd all come to a halt at the bus stop, raising his eyebrows inquisitively at his protegé. “What next?” That was the ever-present question, wasn't it?

Apollo leaned slightly on the extended handle of his suitcase. “This probably isn't kosher for someone of my profession to say,” he said with a familiar wide smile, “But I would kill for some Eldoon's.”

Noodles may not have been the answer to the questions that plagued Phoenix at night, but they sure were a good distraction.

Next chapter: Maya makes a phone call. Miles is saddled with unnecessary feelings.

#project matchmakers #wrightworth #narumitsu #ace attorney #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #stuff i write #or should i say #stuff i WRIGHT #no? okay

[sqgworld]

Favourite Author Meme

Tagged by the lovely @grumpy-jedi again, again. I’m not on AO3 as a writer so my questions will be answered as they concern my dA account, which is where all my published stuff is. So I’mma have to approximate some of these questions a bit. Alright, off we go!

What is your total word count on AO3 dA?

Hang on while I go put all my written work in a word processor and get an actual number... Round about 110k, most of them one-shots. I don’t do series, I honestly suck at long storylines.

How often do you write?

Not half so often as I used to or as I’d like. Reading and writing essays for uni keeps me pretty busy these days, which is a real shame, cause I’d actually really like to write more.

Do you have a routine for writing?

Not really a routine, per se, but there are certain conditions that make me more likely to write than others. Nighttime is primetime for me; the closer to midnight, the better. Music is a must, and the kind of music played often has a huge impact on how the piece turns out. A cup of tea is also nice, but not a prerequisite. And solitude. I won’t write if I’m surrounded by other people.

What’s your favourite kink/trope/pairing?

I’mma need some time to think this one over, cause I’ve never really thought these through before.

In terms of trope, I’m a big fan of the strong, independent woman. No sissy girls in fancy skirts in my works (though I am currently sort of semi-working on a project that involves a lady in a fancy dress as one of the main characters, but she’s one of many characters in that and the exception).

Kink... I’m not quite sure what qualifies as a kink. Close friendship? I’m not very romantically inclined, so if you really want me to squeal at something cute make it a platonic something. Yeah, that’s it.

Pairing? Ooh, this is difficult, I’ve had so many ships in my life. Let’s go through some games first shall we: DA:O Mahariel/Zevran; DAII Hawke/Fenris; DA:I Lavellan/Cullen: MA:A Ryder/Jaal (because, yes, I played that game); PKMN B&W Touko/N; Ace Attorney Phoenix Wright/Miles Edgeworth. And then one anime pairing: Hetalia GerIta.

Do you have a favourite fic of yours?

It’s a piece I did back in my teenage years called Death and the Harpy. I was real big into writing reader-inserts for several different anime for a long while and this fic is one such, so be warned if you’re not into that sort of thing (it can be found on my dA if anyone is interested, though I don’t know why you would be). More currently I’m very much proud of the ideas I have flying around my head for that sort-of project I’ve already mentioned above. Nothing’s been written yet, but I have many ideas!

Your fic with the most kudos favourites?

Say it again – a cute little, fluffy thing I wrote right at the beginning of my amateur writing career. Again, reader-insert, so beware.

Anything you don’t like about your writing?

Uhh, everything! I explain things way too much, drag out with long dialogue and far too little actual plot progress; I’m not good at writing proper romance, more sort of platonic relationships; long storylines are not a thing I can do; sometimes there’s too much introspection, sometimes too little; sometimes my ideas are grander than my abilities; trying to juggle more than two characters at a time and don’t even get me started on trying to write a neutral third-person narrator! Ugh, impossible!

Now something you do like!

My diction. More ambiguous relationships. Little details (that I might be the only person to ever spot, but that is still satisfying and a nice little easter egg for myself whenever I re-read my stuff). Pacing (and I know how weird that sounds with my complaints above). Almost always having an internalised perspective, be it a first-person or person-bound third-person narrator.

Tag some of your favourite authors!

I don’t do tagging...

#favourite author meme #all the pairs #my shipping has been laid bare #I'll just... crawl into my dark little hole now #peruse my past as you please

[mylittleedgey]

Baring Old Version

His mind struggled to snap back into the present moment and the very real and actually available Miles Edgeworth in front of him. “…Did you just send Gumshoe on a lube run?”  he asked incredulously.

“It never hurts to be prepared.” Miles replied casually.

Phoenix paused. “Purple piece of fluff with the braids?”  Miles replied with an odd choke that implied that he had hoped the sentiment had been forgotten.  “Did he mean Iris?”

“…Yes.” flat and reluctant.

“Is that why you-”

“I believe I’ve already mentioned that I have an appointment in approximately seven minutes.”  Miles responded stringently.  “There’s still much to discuss, and I admit I may have jumped the gun a bit.  You must forgive me, it’s not my nature to let my emotions run free like this.”  He returned to his chair and sat down harshly.  “I have a few requirements before we go any further.  It may be strange to start like this, but it should avoid unnecessary hardship later.  Is that acceptable?”

So Iris was a sore subject, then, and frankly Phoenix wasn’t willing to push it.  “I’m listening.”

“First, let me say that I trust you as much as I’m able to trust another human.” The words were spoken with what appeared to be full sincerity.  “I don’t believe you would intentionally hurt me, and the last thing I want to do is hurt you.  That said, I know I’ve caused you pain in the past, and I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again.”  He took a deep breath. “Yet, I ask you to trust me.  I want you to leave the magatama out of our relationship.  That means you leave it at home when you’re with me.  If there’s a specific instance in which you would like reassurance, you may ask, but I expect you to never use it on me without my full knowledge and consent.”

“I wouldn’t do something like that.”  Phoenix protested.

“And I’m taking you at your word for that.”  Miles pointed out.  “Which is a fairly large deal considering I value my privacy more than most things, including but not limited to my personal safety, and you have the very illogical ability to literally see every reservation I have.”  he looked down.  “I won’t mention it again as long as we’re clear on the rules.  You don’t have it with you today, do you?”

“I thought about it, but it seemed underhanded.”  he admitted.  “No one else gets to cheat like that, and I knew if I saw even one lock it would eat me up forever.  I had no right to go digging into your heart like that just because I didn’t get the answer I wanted.”

Miles’ smile then was genuine and warm, something he’d only seemed to gain the ability to do in recent years.  “I thank you for that, I really do. Now, I said before that I don’t do relationships.  I should elaborate.  I’ve never been in anything deep enough to be considered a relationship.  Ever.”

“Wait,”  Phoenix interrupted, “you aren’t a virgin, are you? Because that was pretty-”

“-Hardly, Wright. Sex and closeness are hardly the same, at least in my book.  I’m actually quite experienced in sexual encounters.  It’s been about a year and a half since my last… adventure, if that makes a difference to you.  My position has made casual sex more difficult to arrange.  Physically I’m certain I’m clean, although I prefer condoms for hygienic reasons.  In the interest of total disclosure I’m willing to be as honest as you wish about past encounters, but there was nothing meaningful. Indeed, I go out of my way to avoid sexual contact with people I know I’ll have to interact with later.”

“And I’m an exception?”

“You’ve always been the exception, Wright.”  Miles sighed. “This has been uncharted territory for me.”

“It’s not exactly normal for me, either.”  Phoenix admitted.  “I haven’t had a serious relationship since college, and honestly… I could count my partners on my fingers and still have enough to make some rude gestures.  My insurance can’t be as good as yours, but I’m sure I’m clean too.”  Miles’ description of his sex life was vague enough to be fascinating, but it wasn’t something to push yet.  Not surprisingly, the prosecutor didn’t take Phoenix’s disclosure as an invitation to offer more information, and he let it pass without comment.

“I…”  Miles began after an abundant pause, “I believe we both understand how long it’s taken to get to this point, for both of us.  I… want to make this work.  For the foreseeable future, at least.”  The last part was hastily tacked on, Miles Edgeworth was willing to jump on a man in cartoon undies on his couch at work, but he obviously wasn’t quite as keen on the idea of open commitment.  “There’s a great deal I’d like to explore before we even need to discuss further arrangements. To that end, I’m willing to offer you unconditional monogamy if you wish it.  I’ve never had a problem with keeping it in my pants until the situation warrants it.  You don’t need to consider yourself constrained in any way on my account, although knowing your personality, I don’t foresee it as being an issue.”

That seemed like a lot of technical jargon for what was it was, but it was Miles they were talking about, and Phoenix was already familiar with his tendency to become more verbose when he was uncomfortable.  “I’m fine with all that.”  he replied dismissively.

Edgeworth nodded in approval.  “Excepting the time constraints my job places on me, I see no reason why I shouldn’t be able to satisfy you physically. I’m comfortable with both giving and receiving sexually, although I’m known to be rather controlling in any position.”  He tapped the side of his glasses as he considered his words.  “I should mention that although I’ve had many complaints about nearly every aspect of my personality, I’ve never had a single partner criticize my abilities.  In fact, response has been overwhelmingly positive.” He maintained the confident eye contact until Phoenix finally looked away with a blush.  “Of course I’m always open to suggestions for improvement.”  His eyes narrowed.  “And it will improve in case you were worried about that.  I’m afraid I was a bit off my game today.  I’d normally prefer advance warning, but as they say, fortune favors the bold.”

“Are you kidding?” Phoenix chuckled nervously.  “You were amazing, ten out of ten stars. Twelve out of ten.  I’m pretty easy to satisfy anyway.” he coughed.  “I mean, not to say it was great because I have low standards, I’m pretty sure it would be good by any standards…” he let the thought die there, a few sentences after it probably should have.

Miles smiled forgivingly.  “As I said, I value your feedback.  You should know, as long as you can make the argument that it can be done safely and hygienically, there’s little I won’t consent to at least try. I consider condoms indispensable from a hygienic standpoint, but if you’re willing to risk a urinary track infection to forego them I’m willing to accommodate your interests. Things like restraints and pain within reason don’t bother me.” He noted Phoenix looking a little distressed at the turn the conversation had taken.  “I don’t mean to imply anything about your personal tastes, only to show that you needn’t worry about offending me.  I’m no delicate flower.”

“I’m not upset! It’s just…” he trailed off awkwardly.

“Are you disappointed that I’m not more virginal?”  There was an edge to his voice that might have been challenging or just tense.  “As I’ve said, I believe honesty is the best way to begin this.”

“No! No, of course not, it’s your life, I’m glad you’ve been enjoying it.  It’s just so different from what I expected.  Not in a bad way!” he scratched the back of his neck.  “I feel like you’re spoiling me.”  He realized suddenly that Miles had gone very quiet, that his face seemed apprehensive.  “There’s got to be some bad news, right?”

“I’m getting to that.”  He replied, just a bit of edge in his voice.  “I’m confident in my ability to be a qualified sexual partner.  I can make no such claims about my emotional abilities.  I realize you must be aware of at least some of my emotional shortcomings, but know none of that will clear up simply because we’re occasionally sharing a bed.  If anything I expect it to get worse.  Please, give me space when I need it, and promise me you won’t be put off by my inability to speak about commitment.  In this particular case, it really isn’t you.  I assure you it’s me.”

“I’ve known you for a long time, Miles.”  Phoenix assured him.  “I wasn’t expecting roses and flowing poetry.  Seriously, I’ve already gotten more than I ever could have expected out of today.”

“So you say… but you’ve mentioned, you didn’t come here with any specific hope of forming a sexual relationship, isn’t that right?”

“Yes…”

“…In fact, you didn’t think I would be interested in something like that, right?”

He was beginning to think that he knew where this was headed.  “Yes, but-”

“So, what were you hoping to gain from putting your heart on the line like that?” Phoenix cringed as sure as if he’d been caught on the stand.  “A relationship?”

“That’s not fair-”

“I don’t play fair, and I want you to understand that from the beginning.”  he rapped the desk with his palm for emphasis.  “You sacrificed everything because your heart told you there was a chance of something between us.  I waited until there was no possibility of me getting rejected and then took things in directly the way I wanted them to go.  I’m a hurt people because they listen to their emotions and I calculate risks.  What were you thinking when we kissed?”

“I was thinking that it was perfect.” he admitted.

Miles snorted.  “Do you know what I was thinking?  I was wondering what you’d prefer, a shy, demure Edgeworth or a sexual beast.  Should I take the initiative or wait for you?  When you hesitated, I had already concocted a scenario in which you allowed yourself to be convinced to confess your feelings to Edgeworth.  Maybe Larry, perhaps Maya.  An immature but harmless prank.  You knew there was no chance of the feelings being reciprocated. Perhaps you agreed to film his reaction. But what’s this? He’s kissed you.  What now?  You’re fine with a joke perhaps, but Edgeworth is a dear friend.  How can you protect his feelings? Your brain races, but even as you scramble to find a way to limit the damage, he continues to debase himself like a dog in heat.  You’re feeling sick, he wants to fuck.  How will you ever look him in the eye again?  Yet you realize how depraved his longing must be for him to go this far, practically rolling at your feet, begging for your cock like the Whore of Babylon, so fear or pity moves you to-”

“Stop it!” his voice was already raw and he was sure he looked like a child on the edge of a tantrum.  Miles looked up with vague spite through silver bangs.

“That’s what you’ve opted to enter into a relationship with, Wright.  A seething mass of issues with a sex drive and a hair-trigger temper.  I cannot stress that enough.  Whatever you were expecting to gain today, I know it wasn’t that.  Yet you’d already go so far as to say perfect-”

“Shut up!” Phoenix yelled, and Edgeworth indeed shut up, it was obviously not the response he was expecting.  “Wait, Okay? Just listen.  First of all, you don’t hold a monopoly on overthinking things.  You really think I just waltzed in here hoping you’d swoon into my arms if I hit on you? I’ve known you for twenty years, Miles. I’ve seen you be a condescending asshole.  I’ve been there every single time you’ve torn into me in court.  I know can be an absolute prick.  I know almost everything about you.  Remember?  That’s how you responded when I asked about dating, right?  We know each other too well to waste time on something like that, right?  I took all of that and more into account, and I decided it was worth it.  Not because I thought you’d become some perfect human if said I liked you, but because I was already satisfied with you exactly the way you were.”

He took a deep breath to center himself.  “Don’t think that’s just being nice, either, I’ve spent years trying to find some reason why you just existing is my kryptonite.  I told you, I came here to get these feelings off my chest.  It was worth risking everything we’ve been and had the potential to be because I couldn’t cope with what being around you did to my insides.  Do you realize how fucked I was when you learned you could smile?  Even your glasses do it for me.  You are my best friend on this planet, and I get a new complex every time you change anything.  I told you I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I knew it was a possibility.  I rush into things without thinking because I already know I can’t talk myself out of them.  I’ve tried.”  Despite his best attempts to hide it, his next breath was a genuine sniffle. “I hurt people too, you know.  You left that goddamn note, and I told you you should have stayed dead.  I wouldn’t wish that on an enemy.  How do I have any right to ask you on a date after I spoke to you like that?  But I did.”

“You must realize I’ve never blamed you for your reaction.” Miles replied tensely.  “I had already informed Gumshoe not to intervene if it became physical.”

Like that helped.  Somehow the idea of Miles strutting back into his life with that condescending smirk, knowing he could be triggering a full assault, twisted the defense attorney’s stomach. How much thought the other man must have put into how to reveal his presence.  He must have chosen the flippant attitude, either because his pride wouldn’t let him admit his own fear or simply because he felt an arrogant target would allow Phoenix a more cathartic release of his anger.  “You over-calculate, I let my emotions run away with me. Neither of us is perfect, no one is perfect.  You’re getting into a relationship with a sniveling, depraved, emotionally stunted idiot who wants to be a good lawyer and a good dad, but can’t get his mind out of your pants the minute access becomes even a remote possibility.  But you knew all that, right?  I’m sure you’ve tried to talk yourself out of… whatever you feel for me.”  He spread his hands in surrender.  “And I’m sure it hasn’t worked.”

That line, at least, got a nearly wicked grin in response.  “Thank god we agree that this is a terrible idea.” he responded warmly. “I supposed a little sex won’t damage things any more than we’ve done over the years.”  He stood, crossing the space of his desk, and rested his hands on the other man’s hips.

Phoenix pouted.  “I think you’ve promised me more than just a little sex at this point.” His voice was intentionally sulky, and got a smug grin in response.

Then Miles leaned forward a little, letting his forehead rest on Phoenix’s.  “I have to kick you out now, you know.”  he said reluctantly.

“No getting out of it?”

“This county is hardly a well-oiled machine, but if even one part of the process breaks down, it takes weeks to get it moving again.”  he sighed.  “If only you knew how much I hate this job.”

“I thought it was your dream.”

“My current dream is to book a cruise with no internet connection, get Trucy a separate suite on a different level where she doesn’t have to hear or think about what I’m doing to her beloved father, and not let you out of the room for nine days.”  Again, there wasn’t any real attempt at seduction in the words, like the revelation was perfectly normal.  “Do you think that would bother her?  We could send her on an entirely different cruise to be safe, but that seems like the old “sending the child off to boarding school” routine.  I really do like her, you understand, I just don’t think she should have to see someone attempt to seduce her father.  Of course, this is all strictly academic since it could take months for me to get a vacation…”

Not at all the direction he expected the conversation to turn. “I’ve never been on a cruise.”

“It’s mostly just so they can’t call you back in for an emergency.  There’s always emergencies here.  It’s ocean, no matter how long you look at it, it’s ocean in every direction.  A floating hotel room with decent room service.”  His phone made two short chirps.  “Goddamn it, he’s finally on time for once… Listen.”  He snapped Phoenix’s attention back to him with a renewed grip on his hips, pulling him in so fast Phoenix had to grab his arm for support.  “One last thing, perhaps the most important thing.  Besides Trucy, but we don’t have time to get into that now.”  He took a deep uncertain breath.  “It’s a little late for deal-breakers at this point, but…”

Phoenix braced himself for the worst.

“…I’ve become attached to what we have.  The friendly visits, the magic shows.  The phone calls.  I don’t have a large network of friends, and being part of your inner circle is fulfilling to me in ways I can hardly describe.  When this ends…”  he stopped.  “If?”  He didn’t seem to like that wording any better.  Phoenix waited with his heart in his throat.  “Whatever.” Miles was the sort of person who hated being at a loss for words, and his frustration was showing.  “Whatever happens… we do our best.  We both try, that’s all we can hope for.  Afterwards…” He shook his head, angry at his own thought process.  “We agree there’s no bad guy.  We both admit the other did their best.  As I’ve said, we don’t want to hurt each other, but that in itself doesn’t ensure that no one will be hurt.  Obviously, we can’t tell what the future holds, but…”  Another long breath.  “We do our best to remain friends.  Agreed?”  He released one hip to offer his hand.

Phoenix looked down at it.  The offered promise was everything he wanted, and more, but…

“Is there a problem?”

Now Phoenix let out an unsteady breath.  “You can’t just run.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not saying you’re not allowed out of the relationship if you want to go.”  he clarified.  “But no vague notes, no disappearing with no word.  If you can’t say it, text it.  ‘It’s over.’  Give me that.”  He was aware of the waver in his voice and ignored it.  “Please, I don’t know how hard what I’m asking is for you, but I can’t go through that again.  I’m getting too old for that kind of emotional strain.  Can you do that for me?”  He offered his hand.

Miles stared down at it for several seconds.  “It’s over.” he repeated quietly, like he was testing the words out to see how difficult it was.  It seemed to leave a bitter aftertaste. “I can’t promise much, but…”  Hands haltingly met.  “I owe you that.”  He agreed grimly.  Both men stared at their joined hands, mulling over what they’d gotten themselves into..

There was a knock on the door.  “Shit.”  Edgeworth breathed.

“When can I see you again?”  Phoenix asked hopefully.

“You and your curfew.”  he grumbled.  “If you can be here a little after eight, I can offer you a ride wherever you need to go.” He smoothed a blue lapel with distracted affection.  “And still make it worth your while.”  He leaned in closer.  “If there are any specific parts of you that you were hoping to insert into any specific parts of me, I’d appreciate if you made sure they were freshly cleaned.  Again, I will make it worthwhile to you.”

“I do shower daily, you know.”  Phoenix informed him with a slight smile.

“I will elaborate.”  Miles replied, voice low and surprisingly husky.  “If you want my mouth on or around it, you wash it beforehand.  This is not yet optional.”  He placed a brief kiss on the man’s temple, just below his jagged hairline.  “And please, do come.  Three hours of meetings would be a strain on anyone, but now you’ve gone and distracted me…”

Phoenix waited until his rival had straightened up, then returned the kiss with a peck on the lips.  “I will be ready and waiting. Take care now.”  The phone chirped again and Phoenix turned to leave before they could get started on goodbyes again.  Walking to the door, he could feel the silvery eyes boring into his back with the same burn they’d held before he left, and realized that Miles Edgeworth was probably going to spend the next three hours resenting that he wasn’t having sex with Phoenix Wright.

His stomach flipped in a way the defense attorney entering the office half an hour ago could never have understood.

Three hours had never seemed so long.

----

Things I think should probably go:

Edgeworth’s talk about a cruise.  Mostly just there because I really don’t think Edgeworth likes to be in charge, he’s just one of those people who takes over because everyone else is an idiot.  Cruise is just to ensure that Edgeworth isn’t pretending to be subtle  If they ever get to the point where they talk reasonably,  Edgeworth’s whole angle is that he and Phoenix can’t properly discuss a relationship because they’re too busy wanting to bang.  The logical explanation is that they should hurry up and have as much sex as possible and then maybe discuss things rationally.

Hypochondriac Edgeworth is probably overdone here.  Especially the orders to get clean?  Idk, I don’t do relationships irl so... Edgeworth is really awkward a lot, treating things like a business transaction, because that’s how he is and he’s used to making things clear upfront because Ideally he won’t see people again afterwards.  Idk again.

Whore of Babylon?  I tend to think of Edgeworth as not religious at all but familiar with lore, so it’s no different from quoting Shakespeare to him?  Honestly, someone on tumblr used the term to refer to their cat trying to convince them they were starved when they had just eaten and I’m sure my laughing at that is the sole reason that exists.

Iris is mentioned better in the other one.  This is one of those fics that starts as a prompt and it seems like most of the dialogue is dedicated to trying to explain the premise.  Again, from Edgeworth-vision, it’s a good idea to have sex and then go over the details while they aren’t horny, but I think it’s a little odd to address the old flame before the daughter. (Trucy’s a can of worms Miles is avoiding because at some point I want to include a scene where Trucy calls him when Phoenix passes out drunk because she’s afraid if she calls officials it’ll involve child services and establish that they’ve had a tense “I hardly know you but we both care about Phoenix so let’s share what we can to try to save our beloved idiot from himself” relationship.

Edgeworth’s “death”:  I bring this up all the time because it comes up all the time in fanfics, but it usually focuses on Phoenix having trust issues because of it and Miles being apologetic and never Miles being a little worried about starting a relationship with a man that essentially said he wished his best friend was dead before he asked if there was possibly a reason behind writing a suicide note (Because I know my first concern would be... you know... if suicidal ideology was a part? Of a suicide note?  Just maybe?) But I don’t think it gets into my view that Miles wasn’t even slightly offended because for the better part of the year he had felt like things would be better off if he was dead too, so it’s only natural for Phoenix to feel that way.

I say idk a lot.  idk.  The whole talk is really supposed to boil down to the fact that Edgeworth doesn’t know how to do real relationships and has been waiting for years for a chance to try without coming off as the bad guy.  Phoenix is mostly scared that he’ll mess stuff up enough Miles runs out and never talk to him again.  He’s also still struggling with the idea that Miles is attracted to him at all, let alone when he was in hobo mode.  Most DD/SoJ fics have to have a long dialogue about that.