Chapter Text
The events of the Misty Fey murder trial had finally come to a close.
Maya and Pearl had returned to Kurain to calm the frantic people of Medium Valley, Godot and Iris had been jailed, and Dahlia and her vengeful spirit were gone for good (and it seemed, unfortunately, that Mia Fey had left this world with her). The effects of the case were spiraling throughout the country like shockwaves, and familiar names were constantly in the headlines. Phoenix himself found that he had to avoid paparazzi and reporters from time to time.
Everything had peaked, had exploded in a way he never could have anticipated, and winding back down from it was downright surreal. And so Phoenix ended up more or less in hiding, trying to evade reporters and questions from people he hardly knew. He needed time to process it all.
He was not alone in this sentiment. Miles Edgeworth delayed his travels for a short while in favor of staying in LA to tie up loose ends— he'd gotten himself in a bit of trouble for taking Phoenix's place in the courtroom and was now suffering the consequences, something that racked Phoenix with guilt every time he thought on it.
Edgeworth had dropped everything, had chartered a private jet and flown back all the way from Europe. He'd acted as a defense attorney in an effort to save Iris, and had faced his greatest fear head-on in trying to help solve the case. He'd watched from the gallery, and congratulated Phoenix when it was finally over. He'd done more than enough.
And yet, here the prosecutor was, standing awkwardly at the door to Phoenix's apartment.
"...Edgeworth? What are you doing here?"
The question sounded accusatory somehow, and Phoenix wished he could take it back. He always ended up wishing he could rephrase half of what he said to Edgeworth. Sometimes conversations with the man were agonizing, like pulling teeth or defusing a bomb, if only because he was so unaccustomed to having people openly care for him. When Phoenix remembered that— remembered what they had been through together and all that Edgeworth had suffered— he couldn't feel any anger towards him.
"I can't check on my colleagues?" Edgeworth said without looking him in the eye, and Phoenix scoffed and felt his nose scrunch up.
Colleagues. How sweet.
"Didja mean friends?" He gestured at himself.
There was a long silence.
"Yes," Edgeworth grumbled, and Phoenix felt his mild annoyance dissipate. He managed a smile, and only then noticed the bags under the other man's eyes and the slightly crooked slant of his signature cravat.
"...Why don't you come in? You look tired. I can make you some tea. I only have the stuff Maya drinks, though."
"I suppose it will have to do," Edgeworth responded. He seemed off somehow, like his voice was far away and his thoughts accompanied it, but he stepped past Phoenix into the tiny apartment and made his way to the couch.
Edgeworth had been there a few times before, usually to discuss a case or give him something he had forgotten in the prosecutor's offices, and each time he visited he looked less impressed. It was like he had expected the place to improve itself somehow to become more presentable the next time he saw it, but it was instead always in the same state of disarray. It was not messy, but it was cluttered. This only meant that it wasn't gross, but that it still wasn't exactly appealing. Phoenix felt a blush rise to his cheeks as he hurriedly cleared a space on the couch and moved the miscellaneous items to the closet he shoved everything in.
This time, Edgeworth did not comment on it, and took a seat without inspecting it for crumbs the way he usually did.
Phoenix brewed the tea, and Edgeworth sat and said nothing, though he did remove his coat and his cravat and lean back into the couch to rub his temples, and Phoenix heard his bones creak occasionally when he stretched. He set the cups down on the coffee table and took a seat on the couch beside the other man. There was another stretch of silence, and Edgeworth rubbed the space where his eyes met the bridge of his nose and sighed.
"Long couple of days, huh?" Phoenix chuckled, and Edgeworth grimaced. "I'm glad you're here," he added somewhat quietly. Edgeworth pretended he had not heard it, or maybe he actually hadn't. Phoenix had no way of knowing, but he wasn't about to repeat that.
"I just wanted to make sure you were okay and that you weren't rushing back into work so soon after everything," Edgeworth sighed after a sip of tea. Tea always seemed to warm the man to his very soul, and he was significantly less stiff after a few long sips. Phoenix tried to imitate the movement and burned his tongue, but played it off.
"I've been hiding out here, mostly. Maya and Pearl are gone, Larry went off to who-knows-where and I probably won't see him for another two years... 'S just me. I don't know that I'm ready to jump back into things." Phoenix shrugged. Normally he'd offer a half-hearted apology for his actions, but he was sure that Edgeworth did not expect such a thing from him.
"Mm. Franziska has returned to Germany, and Detective Gumshoe is... Well, I don't know what he's doing, but I haven't seen him. ...You don't have to drink that if it's too hot for you, you know," Miles warned, noticing that Phoenix had attempted another sip of the boiling liquid.
"Oh, god, thank you. But yeah, I'm doing alright. You don't have to worry about me. You've got enough on your plate right now, and that's kind of my fault."
"You fell off of a bridge. I think it's only natural that I should be a bit worried. And I do not mind that you asked for my assistance. I'm flattered that you trusted me with it, if anything. ...I know she's special to you."
Edgeworth never maintained eye contact at the mention of Iris, and he said her name with an acidic bitterness that Phoenix did not understand.
"...I'm not getting back with her, if that's what you were thinking. Even if I wanted to, she's in jail now. I don't think she'll be out for quite some time."
Edgeworth froze in mid-sip, and looked at Phoenix over the rim of his mug with something oddly hopeful in his eyes.
"...You aren't? I was under the impression that—"
"Well, yeah, she was special to me, and I did love her once. But... It was an immature sort of love. Blind, naive. And while she meant well, she did lie to me the entire time we were together, and she did go along with Dahlia... She's an accessory to murder. I've forgiven her, and I care about her, but we can't be together."
Phoenix looked sadly out his window, and he heard Edgeworth softly place his emptied mug down on the table.
"That's... Very mature of you. I'm surprised. You're usually so impulsive."
"...Yeah."
No one spoke for several minutes, and Phoenix studied his own hands. The calming effects of the tea on Edgeworth were short lived, and he was soon rubbing his temples again, wincing every once in a while, as if the pressure of who he was and what his job entailed was literally pressing down on his head with tangible force.
Suddenly it dawned on Phoenix why Edgeworth was acting so strange.
"There was an earthquake today, wasn't there? A little one."
The prosecutor stiffened and looked away, but not before Phoenix noticed the way that he squeezed his elbow and gritted his teeth. Phoenix sighed. He recognized the gesture and felt a pang of guilt for what it signaled.
"You don't have to talk about it, but I know it's been bothering you ever since what happened on the mountain."
"...You're right."
An idea sprouted in Phoenix's mind, half-formed and probably insane, but he had always been a bit too impulsive.
"Stay with me tonight."
Miles recoiled suddenly, knocked from the fog of his anxiety, and gave him the full force of his glare.
"I beg your pardon?"
It took Phoenix a moment to process what he'd done wrong and what Edgeworth had assumed he meant. He could have phrased that a bit better.
"Wha... Edgeworth, I just meant that you can crash on my couch. A lot went down, and I think it's pretty clear that neither of us wants to be alone right now."
"...Oh?"
"We never get to just hang out anymore, yeah? We should take the opportunity to, to... Y'know, just act like friends again. Like the good old days. You know you want to."
Miles contemplated that for a moment, looking even more stiff and uncomfortable than he usually did. His eyes darted around the room as if searching for some kind of excuse, but he knew that the attorney knew him far too well, that he would immediately see through and shut down whatever arguments he made.
"I can get you the kind of tea you like. I know what it is! It's black tea."
"..."
"It'd only be for one night. And I will thoroughly clean the couch."
"......"
"We can watch whatever movies you want to, or play board games or video games or just sit back and relax, and I'll make you a tasty dinner and lend you something more comfortable to wear, and in the morning you can just head off to work and nobody will ever have to know!"
"You talk too much," Edgeworth groaned, and he stood up.
For a moment, Phoenix felt himself panic. As unbecoming as it was, he wanted to beg, to plead, to get down on his knees and implore his friend to stay. He'd tell him that he cared about him, that he needed a voice of reason and a source of support, that he knew he felt the same way.
Then he noticed Edgeworth picking up books and stacks of papers and takeout containers and pushing them into a pile.
"What— what are you doing?"
Edgeworth frowned at him, and made that face where he narrowed his eyes and it was suddenly obvious how long and how thick his eyelashes were.
"If I'm sleeping here, I'm cleaning up this mess, and I will not hear any protests."
Phoenix broke into a slow grin, and felt a warmth settle into his belly, and put up his hands in mock surrender.
"No arguments here. I'll help."