Chapter Text
Phoenix hesitates a moment before he knocks. He could still leave now. This is probably really weird and nosy, and maybe it’d be better to go. But his intuition says that something is very wrong, and he’s rather be a little weird than ignore something serious. So he knocks.
He expects to hear footsteps, but he doesn’t. It sounds like someone is moving around, maybe, so he knocks again.
“Coming,” a hoarse voice says through the door. Well, at least he’s alive.
It takes longer than Phoenix would expect for Edgeworth to crack open his door. But he finally does, and then sighs, and then closes it again. Phoenix hears him undo the chain and he opens the door all the way.
Right away, he knows his instincts were entirely correct–something is very wrong. Edgeworth looks like he tried to get dressed for work but gave up halfway through. His shirt is only half tucked in, and the buttons are in the wrong holes. His hair is completely flat on one side and sticking out at odd angles on the other, like he’s been lying on the floor. He’s pale, but with dark circles under his eyes, and he seems to be biting the inside of his cheek, like he’s trying not to scream. He’s leaning on the wall, bent at the waist, with his arms wrapped around his middle. And Phoenix can’t be sure, but with how red his eyes and nose are, it almost looks like he’s been crying.
“What are you doing here?” Edgeworth snaps.
“Well, I came by to make sure you weren’t literally dying, but it sort of looks like you are.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
In lieu of answering, Edgeworth chokes, then gags, and for a moment Phoenix thinks he’s going to literally vomit right there. He doesn’t, though–instead, he dry heaves a couple of times, clutching at his stomach, which concerningly implies that he’s thrown everything up already. “It’s just a stomach bug.”
“Right. Do you have a fever?”
“Maybe.” Edgeworth is visibly shivering, so Phoenix takes that as a yes.
“What’s wrong with your stomach?”
“Just a little sore.”
“Where?”
Edgeworth gives him a confused squint. “Here,” he says, moving one hand slightly to the right of center, just above his hip.
“Okay. Cool. Great. Get your stuff, we’re going to the ER.”
“What?”
“I’m taking you to the ER.”
“It’s just food poisoning.”
Phoenix is rapidly running out of patience with Edgeworth’s bullshit. “I don’t think it is! I’m pretty sure you have appendicitis, so we’re going to the ER before you die of sepsis or whatever the hell! If you don’t get your stuff and come with me I will drag you.”
“Fine, but they’re going to say the same thing as I did.”
“Better safe than sorry.”
Edgeworth rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t come off particularly sarcastic when he’s still bracing himself against the wall and nearly doubled over with pain. He pushes off the wall, presumably to get his keys and things, but Phoenix can tell immediately that every step is excruciating.
“Stay there, I’ll get your things. Where are they?”
Edgeworth immediately collapses back against the wall. “In my briefcase. Next to the table.” He’s breathing like he’s been running, instead of walking two steps. Phoenix takes a moment to be grateful that Edgeworth is the type of person to listen to that advice about always putting his keys back in the same place. His keys, wallet, and phone are all together exactly where he said they’d be. He hands Edgeworth his phone and wallet and tries to figure out which key matches the front door.
“Gold one with the square fob,” Edgeworth says as he puts his phone and wallet in his pockets.
“Thanks. Come on.”
Still leaning on the wall, Edgeworth shuffles outside, and Phoenix locks the door behind them. How is he going to get Edgeworth down to his car? “Can you walk?” he asks.
“Obviously.”
Somehow Phoenix doubts this. “Can you even stand up straight?”
Edgeworth does, but his face goes tight and he bites the inside of his cheek again. Yeah, that’s not happening. He’s swaying slightly.
“Alright, lean on me, come on.” Almost reflexively, he wraps an arm around Edgeworth’s waist before he can fall over. He only wonders if it’s weird after he’s done it. To his relief, Edgeworth puts his arm around Phoenix’s shoulders, admitting he can’t walk on his own and also not making it weird how close they are. It’s only then that Phoenix realizes how heavily Edgeworth is leaning on him, how little of his own weight he’s apparently able to support. Something is seriously wrong.
Like that, slowly, Edgeworth wincing with each step, they get down to Phoenix’s car. Edgeworth sucks in a breath through his teeth as Phoenix maneuvers him into the passenger seat, squeezing his eyes shut. His whole face is screwed up in pain. Whatever this is, appendicitis or not, they need to get to the hospital yesterday. Every pothole or speed bump they go over makes Edgeworth gasp in agony, and Phoenix is losing his mind. He has to fix this.
They make it to the hospital without incident, which is a relief, since Phoenix was not exactly the most focused on the road. It’s somehow even worse getting Edgeworth back out of the car. He’s clearly trying not to let on how much it hurts, but he winces with every tiny movement, and it’s terrifying Phoenix. What if he was too late?
Somehow, they hobble into the ER together. Edgeworth makes no move to take his arm off Phoenix’s shoulders once they’re inside, so Phoenix holds him up as he gasps out answers to the receptionist’s questions. Phoenix strongly suspects that if he let go, Edgeworth would just fall over.
“Do you want to sit down?” he asks, once Edgeworth has answered all the questions.
Edgeworth shakes his head tightly.
“Really?”
“Wouldn’t be able…to get back up,” he grits out.
Fuck. “Alright, let’s at least lean on the wall, then.”
Edgeworth allows Phoenix to move him the few feet necessary to the nearest wall. He leans back, but still doesn’t take his arm off Phoenix’s shoulders. But then, he’s holding himself so tense and still that Phoenix wonders if he just can’t move his arm without it hurting. He’s breathing fast, but shallow, and his free arm is still clutching at his middle. As they’re waiting, Edgeworth dry-heaves again, and Phoenix thinks he actually sees a couple of tears squeeze out his eyes. Whatever this is, it’s really, really bad. What if it’s something worse than appendicitis? What if Edgeworth is literally, actually dying? What if Phoenix was too late?
“You can go,” Edgeworth says once he’s done gagging.
“What, and just leave you here? No way.”
“I’m at the emergency room. I’ll be fine.”
“I drove you here. I’ll at least wait until you know how long until you can go home.”
“Fine,” Edgeworth acquiesces, although Phoenix thinks it’s partially because another wave of pain seems to come over him. He fists his hand in his shirt and bites the inside of his cheek again, and Phoenix can feel the tension in the arm around his shoulders.
Phoenix is seriously considering asking the receptionist or someone if they can at least give him something for the pain when a nurse calls for Edgeworth. How long was that? Ten minutes? Fifteen? Whatever it was, it was worryingly short. You don’t want to skip the line in the ER.
“Do you want me to come with?” he asks.
Edgeworth makes a face like he’s eaten something bitter. “Just to the room…if that’s alright. Not sure…I can walk that far.”
“For sure.”
So together, they push off the wall and make their very slow way down the hall to the room the nurse indicates. It’s obvious that every step hurts, and it’s a good thing Edgeworth can’t see Phoenix wincing. Phoenix eases Edgeworth slowly off his shoulders to sit the hospital bed. At least he’s sitting now. Is that good? Well, he won’t have to walk anymore, at least.
“Should I stay?” Phoenix doesn’t want to just abandon him.
“No need,” Edgeworth says, somehow managing to sound dismissive.
“Alright. You have your phone, right?” Edgeworth nods, as if Phoenix didn’t give it to him not half an hour ago. “Text me when you know what’s up, okay? Or at least how long you’ll stay. I’m not going to ditch you here without a ride.”
Edgeworth nods again and Phoenix goes back to the waiting room. It feels wrong, but maybe he’s just projecting his own anxiety. Medical information is pretty personal–maybe he’d just rather keep that private.
It’s the worst wait of his life, including the three hours he had to wait in the ER when he broke his arm as a kid. That said, at least it’s also a short wait. About half an hour later, his phone buzzes.
Appendicitis. Going into surgery. Expect it to be an hour.
Fuck. He’s so glad he went to check on him.
Sorry to hear it. I’ll find out where to wait. Let me know when you know how long you’ll have to stay.
He doesn’t get a reply. Maybe he’s already in surgery. Honestly, Phoenix hopes so. If he’s had appendicitis for multiple days, things could get very bad very fast.
“My friend is getting surgery. Where should I wait?” he asks the receptionist.
“There’s a waiting room in the recovery wing. Take the elevator to the third floor and follow the signs.”
“Thank you.”
He follows the signs in a daze, trying not to completely panic. Edgeworth is getting emergency surgery, and he wasn’t even going to go to the hospital. What if he is actually, literally dying? What if his appendix did burst and he’s going to get seriously sick? What if the surgery goes wrong? Or what if they find out it’s something worse once they’re doing the surgery? He knows he’s fidgeting like crazy, and other people in the waiting room are staring at him, but he can’t stop. He feels like he’s chugged about ten cups of coffee. It’s not a great feeling.
It’s two hours and forty-three minutes before he finally hears his phone buzz.
Everything went fine. Have to stay overnight. You can go home.
Phoenix bites his lip. He doesn’t want to just…leave.
Can I get you anything?
No thank you.
I’ll come back to pick you up tomorrow, he texts back, mostly to calm his own nerves.
There’s no reply. Maybe he’s asleep. He probably needs it, if those dark circles under his eyes are any indication. Phoenix strongly suspects that Edgeworth doesn’t sleep enough and relies too heavily on coffee even when he’s not very sick.
So Phoenix goes home and tries to sleep himself. It doesn’t go all that well. He’s too tired to stay awake, but too anxious to fall asleep. He manages to drift off only to have the tiniest noise jerk him awake. He finally gives up around six AM, when it feels like it’s late enough in the morning that he can stop pretending. He fortifies himself with coffee and goes to work. Maybe working will take his mind off of this.
“What’s wrong?” Maya asks the moment she arrives. “You look terrible! Oooh, are you hung over?”
“No, Maya.” His head is aching, but that’s probably from his horrible night’s sleep, or possibly the excess of caffeine.
“Then what is it?”
“I just had a bad night’s sleep. I was up late.”
“How come?”
“I had to take Edgeworth to the hospital.”
“What!?”
“He had appendicitis. He’s supposed to let me know when he’s getting discharged so I can drive him home.”
“Wow. Did he call you or something?”
“Um. No. No one had heard from him in a few days, so I went to go check on him and make sure he wasn’t dead.”
“Is he okay?"
“He will be. He had to get surgery, but that should solve the problem.”
“Jeez. How late were you up?”
“Um, about midnight, I think? I waited until the surgery was over, and that was about three hours.”
“You waited three hours for him?”
“Um. Yeah.”
“Aw, so cute,” Maya teases, poking him.
“Not the time.” This was only partially motivated by his huge and very embarrassing crush. Edgeworth is also his friend, and he worries about his friends when they drop out of touch for days at a time.
“Oh, come on, that’s really sweet of you. I bet you’re gonna try to take care of him after he’s out, right?”
“Well, someone’s got to.”
“And you’re going to be that someone!”
“If he asks.”
“Yeah right! You know he’ll never ask. You’re going to do it anyways.”
“Well, sure, I guess. I’d do that for any of my friends. I’d do it for you.”
Maya laughs. “Yeah, but you wouldn’t look at them like a sad puppy.”
“I do not do that.”
“You definitely do.”
One of these days she’s going to give him a real migraine. He rubs his temples and says, “Look, he’s seriously sick, and I’m not going to let him–or anyone–do something as stupid as try to recover from major surgery without help. Can we please focus on work now? Our client is still relying on us.”
“Oh, fine. Tell him get well soon from me.”
“I will.”
She lets him drag them into work mode, at least until about three in the afternoon, when his phone buzzes with a text. I can’t be discharged until someone is here to pick me up. When is convenient for you? Why does he text like he’s sending a formal email? It always throws Phoenix off. He never knows how to read it. Does Edgeworth text like an old man on purpose or is it just that he’s a little out of touch?
I’ll be there asap, he replies. Luckily this isn’t one of those cases where he has all of half a day before the trial starts.
“Who was that?” Maya asks.
“That’s Edgeworth. I have to go pick him up. I probably won’t be back before the end of the workday. Are you alright to get home from here?”
“Yeah, duh.”
“I’ll let you know if we have work tomorrow by sometime tonight. Oh, and if you start having agonizing stomach pain, please tell me before it’s been multiple days.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Bye!”
“Bye.”
At the hospital, he follows another receptionist’s directions through a maze of white hallways to Edgeworth’s room. The door’s open and the TV is on, but the volume is down and Edgeworth looks like he’s sleeping. Phoenix knocks on the doorframe–he doesn’t want to startle Edgeworth.
Apparently he wasn’t sleeping, though, because he opens his eyes and looks pretty alert, all thigs considered. “Oh, good. They’ll let me out of here now.”
“Hello to you too.”
“Hello.”
“How did it go?”
“As well as can be expected. I’m told if I’d waited any longer it likely would have ruptured, which would’ve made this more complicated.”
Fuck, that’s way too close for comfort. Phoenix is suddenly incredibly relieved that it didn’t burst while they were driving. “How are you feeling?”
“Rather like I was stabbed three times in the stomach.”
“Yeah, fair enough. Can we just go, or…?"
“No, but the discharge planner is supposed to be back in a few minutes.”
“Are you going to need any drugs or anything?”
“Yes. It’s somewhere in here…” He flips through a packet of papers Phoenix assumes are recovery instructions. “Prophylactic antibiotics and an analgesic.” How does he talk like that not a full day after getting major surgery? Phoenix didn’t talk like a normal person for a few days after getting his wisdom teeth out.
“Alright, we can get those on the way home. What about food?” There’s probably some sort of dietary restriction for something like this, right?
Before Edgeworth can answer, someone else knocks on the doorframe. “Hello! You must be Phoenix.”
“I am.” He takes her offered hand to shake.
“Great! I’m Betty, the discharge planner for this ward.” She gives him a bright but bland smile and turns to Edgeworth. “I think we’ve gone over everything, Miles. While the anesthesia should be completely worn off, I still strongly recommend having someone with you for twenty-four hours, forty-eight if possible.”
Edgeworth nods. “I understand.”
“Good. My information is on the last page of your discharge packet. Don’t hesitate to get in touch if you need anything. You either, Phoenix. I can sign off on your discharge now, and we’ll get you out of here.”
Betty insists on pushing Edgeworth in a wheelchair out to the parking lot. It’s clearly driving Edgeworth crazy, but Phoenix saw his face when he had to get up from the hospital bed. Getting him up to his apartment is not going to be fun.
“Alright,” Phoenix says once they’re in the car. “I can drop you off at home and then go get the drugs you need.”
Edgeworth shakes his head. “I have to come with.”
“How come? You need rest.”
“Controlled substance. I’ll need to show ID.”
“Damn.” He didn’t think about that, but yeah, the painkiller probably is an opiate. “Alright. Which pharmacy?”
Edgeworth tells him begrudgingly, and then tries to get out of the car by himself. He gets as far as having one foot out of the car before Phoenix makes it around to the passenger seat to help him out. It’s awkward and tricky, but once Edgeworth is standing, he can walk without needing support. Or, more accurately, he refuses help even though every step clearly costs him. Phoenix is very glad that they’re picking up a painkiller. He’s going to make sure Edgeworth takes it as soon as he’s back home.
Out of the car, back up the stairs, and finally (finally) Phoenix gets Edgeworth lying on his couch, half sitting so he can drink water if he needs it. Edgeworth lets out a tiny, relieved sigh as he lays down, and his face relaxes just a little. Phoenix puts a glass of water on the coffee table next to him and says, “Take your pills. I’m going for groceries.”
“I have food.”
“Is it good for after surgery?”
“I…maybe.”
Why is he so stubborn? Phoenix could scream. “Can I see the discharge papers?”
“Why?”
“So I can see what kinds of food you’re allowed to eat.”
Edgeworth makes a face, but hands them over. Phoenix flips through and skims the dietary restrictions. “Hm. Alright, I can work with this. I’ll be back in an hour. Do you have everything you need?”
“You don’t have to do this. I’ll manage.”
“The lady said twenty-four hours. If something goes wrong I don’t want to find out about it because no one hears from you for days.” Why is he making this so difficult?
Edgeworth presses his lips together in an annoyed line, but says, “Fine.”
“Good. Call me if you need anything, okay?”
Edgeworth nods reluctantly.
Phoenix is not the shopping list type. He just grabs allowed foods and throws them in the cart, assembling approximate recipes in his head. Soup is probably a good idea. Rice with something. Pasta and sauce. Crackers and popcorn. Definitely no caffeine. Plenty of desserts. (Phoenix is a little worried he’ll drop weight with the meds messing up his appetite.) It’s a pretty quick trip, because Phoenix doesn’t want to live Edgeworth alone for too long. Just in case.
Edgeworth has taken his first dose of painkiller when Phoenix gets back. He knows that because Edgeworth blinks at him very slowly and says, rather dreamily, “Hello.”
“Hi.”
“You…went grocery shopping.”
“Yeah?”
“Right.” He yawns hugely. “I think I’m going to take a nap.”
“Probably a good idea. I’ll cook something.”
“Make sure to clean up,” Edgeworth says, which reassures Phoenix that he’s not completely off his rocker.
“I will. Get some sleep.”
“Hm,” Edgeworth says vaguely as his eyes close. In less than two minutes, his breathing deepens and his face relaxes, and Phoenix knows he’s asleep. To Phoenix’s mild dismay, he’s very cute when he’s asleep. Because what he really needs right now are more things to like about Edgeworth.
So Phoenix makes soup. It’s an ideal dish for him because you can mostly just throw anything in a pot, so you don’t really need a recipe. He didn’t think to pick up any spices at the store, but the second cabinet he opens has plenty. Spicy foods are on the not-allowed list, but he’s pretty sure that doesn’t include salt or pepper, and he’s not going to make gross bland soup for anyone, much less someone he’d really like to like him.
He dithers a little about waking Edgeworth up. On the one hand, he needs the sleep. On the other, Phoenix remembers watching his friend Hannah lose about twenty pounds in two weeks after oral surgery in college, and he does not want to let that happen.
He’s just about convinced himself to say Edgeworth’s name aloud and see what happens when Edgeworth solves the problem by waking up.
“Oh, good, you’re up. Here, I made soup.”
“Thank you,” Edgeworth says distantly. He yawns again, but he doesn’t seem at risk of falling asleep with a bowl of hot soup in his lap. He all but devours it, as fast as Phoenix has ever seen anyone eat. Is that normal for him? Phoenix is only half-done with his by the time Edgeworth puts his bowl back on the table. “This is very good.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s…nice of you to do this.”
“Oh, any time. You’re my friend, it’s what friends do.”
Edgeworth stares at him for a very long moment, apparently thinking. It’s a little unnerving. He has an intense stare. “Thank you,” he finally decides on.
Phoenix nods and turns back to his soup. He’d rather not make eye contact with Edgeworth staring like that, thanks.
He collects the dishes and washes them while Edgeworth stares off into space. Or, not quite off into space–he’s looking at his bookshelf, Phoenix thinks. Is he too tired to get up and get a book? Too sore?
“Did you want to read something?”
Edgeworth startles mildly, like he forgot Phoenix was there. “What?”
“You’re staring at your bookshelf. Do you want to read something? I could get you a book.”
“No, it’s alright, I can get one.” Before Phoenix can even try to stop him, he braces one hand on the arm of the couch and starts to push himself more upright. He gets about two inches before he gasps and falls back, clutching at his stomach. He heaves a couple of pained breaths, but then moves his arm to try again.
“Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself,” Phoenix says. “I’ll get one, don’t worry about it.”
“I can get up.”
“You’re going to burst your stitches like that! Let me get you the book, alright?”
Edgeworth has worked himself up back to two inches off the couch while Phoenix has been talking, and he’s on his way to two and a half when he gasps and falls back again. “Fine,” he concedes. “‘Stiff’, by Mary Roach. Bottom shelf. It’s alphabetical by author.”
Of course it is. Phoenix pulls it off the shelf and is immediately distracted by the cover, which is a pair of feet with a toe tag on them. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s about the science of the dead body.”
“Jeez, alright.”
“It’s interesting. Would you…” He moves a little and winces again, cutting himself off. “The book of…crosswords. Top shelf, on the right.”
“Yeah, of course.” Of course Edgeworth does crosswords. Phoenix is a little surprised he’s trying to do one right now, but then, he’s either unwilling to acknowledge how messed up he is or too drugged up to realize. Probably some of both. “Where are your pens?”
“Cup on the desk.”
Phoenix hands him the books and pen, and Edgeworth opens the book to read. He manages for all of an hour while Phoenix plays phone games until he’s blinking slowly and yawning again.
“I think…” He’s cut off by a huge yawn. “I think I’m going to go to bed.”
“Alright.” Phoenix puts his phone down and goes to help Edgeworth stand.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to help you get up?"
“Why?”
“Did you already forget not being able to stand up an hour ago?”
“I’m sure I’m better now.”
“I’m sure you’re not.”
“I’m fine.”
Phoenix’s patience is wearing thin. “Okay, fine. Stand up.”
This time, Edgeworth uses both arms to try to push himself up, and gets a little further. Then he tries to move one of his legs, too, and his arms give out and he falls back down. He tries one more time before he stares up and ceiling, sighs, and says, “Fine.”
“How can I help?"
“If you could…push, I guess?”
“Alright.”
It’s not easy. What he ends up doing is crouching down to get an arm under Edgeworth’s shoulders and pushing him approximately upright, then sitting next to him on the couch so they can stand up together. It’s…a lot of touching. Phoenix is trying not to think about it. He is not going to be a creep or make Edgeworth uncomfortable. The man just had major surgery, he doesn’t need the person helping him to make it weird.
None of this changes the fact that he now knows that Edgeworth’s hair is very soft, which he has long suspected and also sucks.
Once he’s up, though, he’s up, and he doesn’t seem to need any help walking. “I really do mean it about staying at least a day,” he says. “Is it alright if I sleep on your couch?”
Edgeworth gives him another one of those long, intense stares, but finally says, “Of course.”
“Wake me up if you need anything, okay? Seriously, if something goes wrong, you should deal with it sooner rather than later.”
“Yes, yes, I know. Right now I just need sleep.”
“Well, have a good night, then. Wait, don’t forget your pills.”
Edgeworth nods and takes another dose, then walks very slowly over to his room. Once he’s out of sight, Phoenix sits on the couch and texts Maya to tell her to stay home tomorrow. Then he buries his face in his hands and screams silently for several moments. This whole mess has been so unreasonably stressful. It would’ve been bad enough if it had been any other friend, but it just had to be the hot one he’s head-over-heels for. Just his luck.
At least he’s so tired from it all that he crashes hard on Edgeworth’s couch and sleeps the night through with no trouble. He just barely manages to set an alarm for eight the next morning before he’s out.