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It was amazing how quickly one’s perspective could change. One minute Miles Edgeworth was running late (not literally running, he would never admit that he cared enough about Phoenix Wright’s impression of him to do something so undignified, but he’d definitely pushed his engine harder than usual) for his “appointment” with Mr. Wright. He was mad at Gumshoe, the chief, anyone who’d ever committed a crime in the greater Los Angeles area, the concept of cell phones, Phoenix Wright who had gotten them into a relationship which required physical contact, and himself for letting any of these things get under his skin, and then the door opened and before he had time to add the tingling of the tired old bell on the door to the list of things which had wronged him...
“...I hope for your sake that all that smell isn’t coming from you.” Edgeworth deadpanned from the door as soon as it opened. The room was uncomfortably warm and at least as humid as it was outside, and the stench of illness hit him straight in the face like a blast of heat. It didn’t even take a look at his partner to realize the outing they had discussed over lunch break wasn’t happening tonight. Either Phoenix Wright had signed on to defend a family of ailing dogs or he was sicker than one.
The overhead lights were off, but the glaring light of late afternoon was glaring through the window, intensified by the glare from the building across the street. The defense attorney he had come to see was draped out weakly on the couch in the main room of the office with his signature blue jacket over his eyes. He responded to the noise with a long groan, straining to roll onto his side with an effort that was too melodramatic to be faked.
Phoenix managed to shift his head feebly towards the door, slipping his makeshift blindfold over his forehead. “Hey, Hot Stuff,” he said, flashing a smile that was weaker than his worst attempt at bluffing in court. “Are you implying I’m not at my best? How cruel.”
“I’ve smelled pounds that were aromatic compared to this.” Edgeworth replied nasally through a few layers of cravat. “Have you been throwing up? Of course you have.” He began to close the door and then stopped in horror. “The open sign is still up,” he noticed, “are you trying to tell me that you believe this is an acceptable way to conduct business?!”
“You sure know how to sweet talk someone when they’re down.” Phoenix croaked. “And you know how rarely I get business. I thought crashing on the couch would be better than leaving a puddle by the sign. Hello, by the way, it’s good to see you.”
“Hello, Wright. You could have just told me that dinner for two was off the table, you know,” Miles replied blandly, taking off his coat and assessing his boyfriend from a safe distance as if he were an unwanted physical activity like changing a flat tire and Miles was still trying to decide if it was worth dealing with it himself. “I had reservations.”
Phoenix bared his teeth slightly. “I was feeling vulnerable, Prosecutor Edgeworth.” His voice was angry, but there was just a hint of anxiety underneath. “I didn’t want to enter negotiations with my significant other on what it would take him to visit me, even knowing that my vile, diseased body was too wretched to put out.”
He was surprised to feel a cool hand on his forehead. “Your level of self-hatred is unhealthy, you know.” Miles soothed. “Not to mention entirely one-sided.”
“In your last email you implied that I failed preschool and have been living a dirty lie ever since, didn’t you?” Phoenix tried to give him a side-eye but thought better of it as soon as he began to turn his head. He groaned and nuzzled back into his jacket. “And yesterday you expressed doubt that I ever learned how to tie my shoes.”
“Awww…” There was genuine affection in the soft, soothing purr. “Are you feeling bullied?”
“And patronized, and rejected, and several other emotions I didn’t think could exist simultaneously.”
Miles’s thumb ran softly down his hairline and tucked a few errant strands behind his ear. “I’ve seen you in court, and I would readily believe you feel every emotion known to humanity at every second.” His hand felt more gentle than any part of Miles Edgeworth had the right to feel. “And I assumed that you realized that any true insult directed at you would only prove my own incompetence as someone who’s lost to you on multiple occasions. If you like, I can start all future emails with ‘To Phoenix Wright, my life and light and the reason I draw breath, I hope this day finds you as pleasant as the rays of sun that shine on their favored child…”
“Creepy.” Phoenix chuckled mirthlessly.
“Then I acknowledge your preschool achievements and retain my right to question your sanity.” His voice was soft and smooth and had just a hint of chuckle in it which made Phoenix wish he wasn’t in too much pain to grab the voice’s owner and kiss the snark out of him. “What happened to you, anyway?”
Phoenix closed his eyes against the memory. “Maya swore she could make burgers.” he groaned. “I don’t even know what she put in them, but I‘ve been…” he lurched like he would vomit but it only came out as a dry cough, “...Not at my best since then.”
“And where’s Maya?” Miles asked, dropping to a knee in a distance he apparently considered safe from spillage.
“On the train back to the village.” Phoenix replied. “She says I’m crazy, says she feels fine.”
“Then for the sake of the other passengers, I hope she has a second stomach specifically for the flu.” Edgeworth clucked his tongue. He stroked Phoenix’s forehead again. “Can I get you anything?”
Phoenix chuckled weakly. “Right now, nothing sounds more amazing than you whisking me off to your fancy bathroom, stripping me down in the dark, and then, slowly, sensually…” he sighed “dropping me in a cold bath and sponging me down because I’m dying here.”
“Phoenix Wright, I’m prepared to sacrifice the guest room if things are as dire as you seem to think they are, but if I am to believe your previous testimony about your current physical condition, I’m not planning on any acts of intimacy with you until you have a clean bill of health.”
“You charmer you.”
“But seriously.”
“Miles, I…” he flushed slightly, “honestly, the guest room is tempting, and if it wouldn’t require an hour of traffic in sunset light, I’d probably take you up on the offer. But you know, I would love you forever if you just got me some stomach medication.” Phoenix replied. “The pink kind, with the annoying jingle. I think it goes-”
Miles cut him off a little too quickly. “I’m not sure if I should be insulted that your feelings for me apparently hinge on my ability to procure average household items, or worried about the level of commitment you seem to be offering in return for said chore.”
“Oh shit.” Phoenix actually lifted his head enough to make eye contact. “We haven’t had that conversation yet, have we? Did I make it weird? I made things weird didn’t I? Heck, I mean I don’t… that doesn’t help, does it?”
“Such a pity, too,” Miles muttered snidely, “since I had relied on this relationship’s unshakable stability. How will I ever cope with things being weird?”
“Miles, please don’t use the sarcastic, self-assured voice of superiority on me right now.” Phoenix growled.
“Feeling bullied?”
“More towards frustrated and horny, that’s like foreplay for us.”
“I assumed that was your natural state,” Miles simpered lightly. “And you’re certain you want to deal with this medical distress with over-the-counter pink chalk?”
“Do you know what my mouth tastes like now?”
“I’ve tasted so many different flavors of regret in your mouth it could hardly surprise me, but I hope you’ll forgive me for declining to check personally,” Miles replied. “You’ll get your terrible medicine. Anything else?”
“Just close the curtains,” Phoenix replied, “the light makes me want to hurl.”
“It sounds like morning sickness.”
“Well, you tell me.” Phoenix returned dryly. “Have you been doing anything different back there lately?”
“I would assume morning sickness would require more custom equipment on your part than technique on mine.” The blinds clattered across the window, and the room went delightfully shady.
“Thanks, sweetheart. You’re a doll.” Edgeworth made an uncomfortable grunt in reply. “Seriously, I know being this nice is hard for you. You may have to kick a puppy later, just to even things out.” There was no reply, but after a second there was the rough thunk of the window sliding open, and the cool breeze that was finally picking up off the sea filled the room. “That’s amazing, honey.”
“You could have easily done it yourself.” Edgeworth countered.
“If I stand up, I vomit.” he sighed. “I almost just laid down in the bathroom, so I wouldn’t have to walk to the toilet when the brown demon comes a-calling.”
“What are you, five years old?”
“No…” Phoenix replied. “Just dying.” he slipped the jacket back over his eyes. “My wallet’s in my headgear if you want some cash for the store.” he offered.
“I’m not so hard up that I need to shake a grown man down for his last pennies to afford the convenience store.” Miles replied. “You can repay me by continuing to not vomit on me.”
“I’m really grateful.” Phoenix continued. “Even if I could stand up, I don’t think I could handle public transportation like this.”
“So learn to drive,” Edgeworth countered roughly in his best I’m-not-actually-nice voice, which he only used when he was actually being nice. There was a clunk and a gag as he picked up the half-filled trash can by Phoenix’s head. Phoenix listened, half touched and half amused, as the prim young man wrestled the heavy, vomit filled can into the next room and emptied it in the toilet. “Oh god.” he choked on the wave of nauseous smell. “I’m so glad I’m not having children. This is miserable” Phoenix chuckled again as Edgeworth flushed and proceeded to wash his hands for what sounded like 5 minutes.
“Thanks.” Phoenix whispered as the empty container was left near his head. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“You’re disgusting and rancid.”
“I lo- I’m fond of you too.” Phoenix grinned into the darkness where he knew the other man was. Edgeworth coughed angrily and left without another word. Phoenix sighed and rolled over so his head was buried in the back cushions of the worn couch. The breeze was nice, and he hadn’t even asked Miles to open the window. It was times like this they almost seemed like a real couple.
He sighed and wished his current state had allowed him to give his rescuer a kiss that didn’t taste like bile, or even a grateful hug. Some time he’d have to make it up to the other man… if he could get Edgeworth to acknowledge he had been nice. He didn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep until a car alarm jerked him awake.
The room was cool now, as cool as it got this time of year in the middle of the city, and moonlight and streetlights showed through the cracks between the blinds. His shirt and pants were damp with sweat, but his body felt clear of the fever from the afternoon. His coat was lying mostly on the floor, with one sleeve draped into his vomit bucket. Eww.
He tried to focus. The light was dim, and his head was still swimming in a way that made him afraid to submit it to the harsh fluorescent lighting in the room. Blindly, he groped the floor next to him in hopes that Edgeworth had actually left him medicine.
His hand closed around a cool, textured glass bottle. Confused, he pulled it to his face to find it was a bottle of some expensive looking health drink. Some sort of tea flavor. Surprisingly thoughtful of Edgeworth, but not what he was looking for. He tried again.
This time his hand closed on a two-liter of soda, his favorite brand as of fourth grade. He didn’t even realize Edgeworth remembered things like that. Surprised, he reached down again.
He did eventually find his pink bottle of chalky medicine, nestled in with a candy bar, two bananas, some crackers, a thermometer branded for young children, a gallon of apple juice, a container of cotton candy, two different brands of bottled water, a prepackaged sandwich that didn’t look too terrible, a pack of baby wipes advertised as being for successful men who didn’t want to associate with baby wipes, and a hideous fleece blanket shrink-wrapped with a sad looking pink cow plush themed for Mother’s Day.. Thoroughly perplexed and nowhere approaching coherent, he retrieved his jacket and dug into the pocket for his cell phone. Almost from memory, he accessed his boyfriend’s number. It rang seven times.
“Do you know what time it is?” the tired voice that finally answered growled dangerously.
Phoenix was taken aback. “No, actually.” he apologized. “I didn’t turn the light on.”
“I’m sure your phone could tell you.” Edgeworth grumbled amid the sound of shuffling sheets. “It is 3:46 in the morning, Wright. I have court tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry.” Phoenix replied honestly. “It’s just, I… I didn’t… You bought all this for me…?”
“I stole it.” Edgeworth replied. “At gunpoint. That’s why I have court. I don’t need a lawyer, before you ask.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” Phoenix tongue tripped over his still-wakening mind. “I just… I know you didn’t have to do any of this. Thank you.”
“…You were sick.” Edgeworth finally answered. “I couldn’t very well keep bothering you with phone calls. I merely got the things I thought a dying man with the maturity level of a five year old would find comforting.” there was an uncomfortable pause. “I would like to get back to sleep.” he admitted.
Phoenix shook his head in content disbelief. “Of course.” he soothed. “But I wanted to thank you. I owe you one.”
“If we’re keeping track, I believe it’s more than one.”
“I’m sure,” Phoenix smiled. “Listen, I know we’re not at a point where I can tell you how much I appreciate all this without making things weird...er, but...” his voice cracked slightly. “I like you so, so much, and as soon as I’m better, I want to make the sweetest, most passionate, sappy love to you, because I don’t deserve you in my life.”
There was another long, foreboding pause. “I…thanks.” the other man finally responded. “I appreciate you, as well.” there was a long enough pause to sound like the thought had ended, and then, “Neither of us deserve each other for a variety of reasons, but I am genuinely glad I could ease your suffering. And…” Phoenix could almost hear the shy smile with the eyes cast to one side, “The next time you’re worried that I think too little of you, I want you to remember that Miles Edgeworth stood in a crowded supermarket with a cart full of frivolities, committed to purchasing an unforgivably ugly stuffed animal in hopes it might divert you for a moment.”
“That is legitimately the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
“Now get back to sleep.”
“You too.”
“Get well.”
“Thanks.”
“That’s not a request.”
“Yeah, I know. Take care.”
The phone call ended, and Phoenix settled down into the couch. He was probably feeling well enough he could (and should, from a professional standpoint) probably make it home and take care of himself properly. Instead, he reached down and picked up the bottle of tea. “Dinner reservations provided by Miles Edgeworth,” he laughed weakly, and took a swig. “Not bad.”
---
Maya found him the next morning next to a tub of half-eaten cotton candy, Juice dribbled down his front, using his coat as a pillow and cuddling a still-wrapped blanket with a hideous cow plush attached. He looked like he’d been dragged through a sewer by his hair, but he had a small smile on his face.
“Hey, Nick?” she poked his cheek, sinking in to the first joint. “Are you alive?”
Phoenix groaned. “No thanks to you.”
“I still feel fine.” she informed him cheekily. “You’re crazy.”
“A little bit, yeah,” he smiled weakly.
“You look like you just got dumped.” Maya noted. “All you need is a tub of ice cream and a comfort movie. Is that what happened?”
“Actually, no,” Phoenix replied, “I found out that Miles Edgeworth likes me.”
She cocked her head. “You just figured that out now, did you?” she asked, her voice lightly teasing.
Phoenix smiled to himself and clutched his weird blanket closer. “Yeah, I did.”
“I guess we’re not getting much work done today, are we?”
“Prob’ly not.”
“Well, as long as you’re fine with that…”
“Right now, I think I am,” Phoenix answered.
Two days and seventeen hours of investigation later, on his third witness and staring down Miles goddamn Edgeworth with nothing in his stomach but an old sandwich that definitely had looked more terrible than when it had ended up in his briefcase, he may not have felt quite as optimistic.
But as Miles drew attention to the fact that he’d missed a literal billboard clearly shown in the case files next to the body which answered his question he was sure was about to pull an epic turnabout, he thought about the pink cow with the eternal look of apparent depression and a seam that was already coming loose, and he knew he could do this.
Regardless of whether or not Miles would accept that he wasn’t legally blind.