yaz☆

A sleepy Miles and Phoenix to accompany my fic (you can read it here!)

Summary:

He pulls Miles closer, rolling the word husband in his mind. It doesn't light something possessive in his chest like he thought it would, nor make him flinch. The word doesn't feel new either; there's no need to make space for it in his head— he realizes the idea's been living there a while now.

Marriage. He's been afraid to think about it if anything.

Phoenix and Miles contemplate their relationship, with Miles having a harder time asking for what he really wants. 

A random WIP snippet that I'll probably never finish but oh well. Also, happy year of Apollo Justice ;)

Phoenix falls ill on his last day of his London trip. Miles is left to entertain Trucy for the rest of the day.

"Please? It's our last day here before we head back to LA. She shouldn't spend it watching me throw up my guts," Wright pleads

Miles sighs, "I'm no good with children."

"Oh," Wright leans away from him, "okay, sure Edgeworth. It was a big ask anyway, I know," he attempts a smiles but the disappointment is evident in his tone.

Miles swallows thickly, "Ah um, well," he peers over Wright's shoulder, startled to find a curious pair of blue eyes staring at him. To be fair, She has behaved herself over the week, causing no trouble whatsoever. He thinks about how she grew increasingly starry eyed as Wright had helped with their investigation— that quick wit, dulled after his unjust disbarment, on full display. That sharp mind Miles had fallen head over heals for all those years ago awakening once more. Even if it was only for a week, Miles hopes he gave his friend some reprieve from his Borscht Bowl Club induced blues. Miles resolves to keep bringing Wright back to him, remind him there are people who believe in him. Being the love of Miles' life probably factors into this somewhere too.

Trucy was glued to Wright's side the entire time, in awe at this facet of her father unfamilar to her.

That is what ties him and Trucy together, perhaps. Neither putting up resistance when pulled into Wright's orbit.

Miles is suddenly desperate to settle the guilt forming in his gut, steeling his resolve as his eyes trace the dejected hunch of his friend's shoulders.

God these Wrights will be the death of me.

"Miss Wright," Miles straightens up gazing down at the child. Trucy tilts her head in his direction in response, "I was thinking of heading out, would you like to join me?"

Trucy rises a little to get a better view of Edgeworth. She sweeps an oddly calculating gaze over him and her father. Wright cranes his neck around to smile at her in encouragement.

"What if Daddy needs help?" Trucy mumbles.

"You don't need to worry about me, peanut. Your uncle Edgeworth-" Miles wants to scoff at the title, but finds himself frustratingly endeared instead "- he'll look after you while I get better."

Trucy looks unconvinced. Wright frowns, glancing at Miles with a pleading expression.

Miles clears his throat, "Perhaps we could bring back something to make your father feel better?" Trucy perks up at this suggestion, her undivided attention on Miles. She seems to mull over his words.

"Can we go on the tube?" She asks shyly, fiddling with the bed covers.

Miles tries to suppress his grimace. He's managed to avoid the underground the entire trip to London, opting for taxis or his rented car for all of his travel. He doesn't do well with all those people pressed together in an enclosed rickety space. He avoids public transport as a whole. But, he feels a wrong word will have Trucy burying herself back into her father's side.

Her eyes bore into him expectantly, weakening Miles' resolve. He sighs, raking a hand through his hair, "I suppose we could. A treat for your last day perhaps?"

Trucy grins, scrambling over her father in her haste to get out of bed. Wright grunts as she elbows his chest, pulling her into a brief hug to mutter something into her hair. She squirms in his grip, giggling and kicking her short legs. Miles feels like an intruder once again and takes a step back, fussing with the bottles on the nightstand.

Once Wright releases her, she bounds out of the room to get ready for the day.

Miles crosses his arms, "are you certain you're comfortable with me taking care of her?"

"You know I trust you with my life. Of course I trust you with my daughter," Wright says with gentle sincerity, "Thanks for this. I know I've already asked so much of you the last few years and I-"

"Please, stop your posturing. This is the least I could do. Besides, I'm the one who dragged you across the globe for my case. You're doing me a favor."

"You're ridiculous," Wright narrows his eyes accusingly, "I may have lost my badge but I'm not an idiot."

Miles frowns, "excuse me?"

Wright smirks, rolling onto his side, white sheets tangled around his torso as he props his face up with a fist, "you're seriously telling me there's no one in London you could have as a legal consult? That, when you turned your attention to the States, out of everyone there, you needed me? A disbarred defense attorney? Come on Edgeworth."

"I don't know what you're insinuating," Miles glowers, shoulders tensing defensively.

Wright's expression softens, "at first I was hesitant on taking you up on your offer—thought you were taking pity on me. But then you offered to bring Trucy along and I couldn't find it in me to say no," he sinks back into the mattress, gaze distant but achingly tender, "I'm glad I decided to come."

This is new territory, Edgeworth senses something open and raw in the air; something to be handled with care. He glances down at his friend, "I would never take pity on you," Miles draws closer to the bed, finding his hands move of their own accord as he tugs at the bed cover to drape it uniformly over Wright's frame, "I truly couldn't think of anyone more competent to help me, that's all."

"Aw you think I'm competent?" Wright croons, "that's flattering and all, but, I know the real reason you brought me here."

"Oh? Enlighten me," Miles retorts dryly.

"I think you missed me," Wright says with a shrug.

Miles' heart is in his throat. Surely he can't be that transparent. How mortifying. He wants to run. It would be so easy— bolt out the room, down the hall and into the streets below all the way to the airport. Germany, perhaps. France?

But then Wright fixes him with a blinding smile, chapped lips stretched wide, rooting Miles to the ground.

"For the record I missed you too."

Miles can only gawk at the sickly man in his guest bed.

"I was joking before, about the delirium, but I think you well and truly are now," Miles knows he's broken whatever fragile moment they were having by the furrow of Wright's brows. He bats away the part of his mind that wants to press a kiss to the skin there, smoothing the tension away, "hydrate and sleep. I'll be back for dinner."