Work Text:
Phoenix accepted another drink from one of the waiters spiraling through the crowd. He caught the man’s eye before he disappeared, recognizing him vaguely as a face he’d seen around the courthouse. Moonlighting, probably, for the money. Phoenix wanted to tell him been there but he just said, “Hey. Have you seen Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth around?”
The man nodded, looking apologetic. “He’s on the balcony. He—seemed pretty drunk.”
Phoenix raised his eyebrows. “Thanks,” he said, and downed the drink before he went outside. It only seemed fair.
Edgeworth had his back to him. He was leaning against the railing, staring out across the city, his shoulders hunched miserably. Phoenix stepped onto the balcony as quietly as he could, watching him. There was an empty wineglass between his hands, dangling absently, like Edgeworth might drop it at any moment. Phoenix could see his profile—the flush in his cheeks, the closed, stony set of his mouth.
He tucked his hands in his pockets to keep himself from doing anything stupid. “Hi, Miles.”
Edgeworth spun to face him, his whole face shifting into a kind of relieved panic. “Wright—Phoenix, I. I thought you’d left.”
Phoenix regarded him cautiously, curiously. “I did,” he said, “but I came back.”
“Good,” said Edgeworth. “Good, it’s—good you’re here.” He was drunk, drunk and nervous in a way that Phoenix wasn’t used to seeing him. Usually Edgeworth got drunk slowly, silently, the only indication of his intoxication the fact that he was much more likely to openly enjoy being touched.
“Is it?” Phoenix asked, keeping his voice cool. “Why?”
Edgeworth’s fingers flexed. “I owe you an apology,” he said seriously.
Phenix took a step toward him. “Several,” he said, “by my count.”
Edgeworth’s eyebrows twitched, but he nodded. “I have been avoiding you, and for that I am sorry.”
Phoenix regarded him sideways, feeling suddenly like he was drawing out a witness on the stand. It wasn’t often he had to lead Edgeworth like this. “And why were you avoiding me?”
Edgeworth took a breath. “Because you were—” he stopped, his eyes flickering over Phoenix, his face shifting one shade sadder. “Are,” he corrected. “You are furious with me.”
Phoenix sighed. “Not furious,” he said. “Not anymore. Frustrated, yes,” he continued, shifting his jaw against his bitterness. “Hurt—very much. Do you even know why?”
Edgeworth took a step toward him, and Phoenix fought to remain where he was rather than step forward, letting Edgeworth off the hook and giving in to his own temptations, or back, cutting the conversation short and putting them back where they’d been for weeks.
Edgeworth swallowed. “You reacted badly because I still couched it in financial terms, I understand that—”
“No,” Phoenix cut in, harsher than he meant to. “I reacted badly—which, by the way, implying that there was something wrong with my reaction rather than your action is a shitty way to apologize—I reacted badly because I couldn’t believe that you ever thought I was just asking for money. Did you even think about me, Miles? Who I am?”
Edgeworth drew back a little. “Phoenix, I—”
“I didn’t want money, Miles,” Phoenix insisted. “I wanted you. In my life, in a real way, in my daughter’s life. And your inability to see that, to consider that as an option for yourself—”
“I do see it,” Edgeworth cut him off. “I have considered it, I—I want—” He made a frustrated noise and fumbled in the breast pocket of his jacket. Before Phoenix could ask him what he was doing, he’d slid ungracefully to one knee and flipped open a little black box. “Phoenix Wright,” he said, his cheeks flushed with wine and embarrassment but his eyes filled with stupid, heart-wrenching hope. “Will you marry me?”
Phoenix stared at him, and then shoved the heel of his hand against his eye, half to give himself a minute to work past the sudden lump in his throat and half to keep Edgeworth from seeing how close he was to hysterical laughter. “I—did you just drunkenly propose to me?”
“I’m only drunk because you disappeared on me,” Edgeworth snapped. “And the—the moment might be drunken but I had to plan it sober, didn’t I, I decided to do it sober, I bought the ring sober, this isn’t—”
“For God’s sake, Miles,” Phoenix said, and maybe he wasn’t laughing but he wasn’t doing a very good job of not letting himself cry. “Get up before someone sees you.”
Edgeworth stared up at him, the lights from the party reflected in his grey eyes. “Is that a no?” he asked, and the depth of hurt in his voice pulled Phoenix’s heart down into his toes.
He took a shaky breath. “No,” he said. He stepped back to lean against the balcony, watching Miles as he slowly stood. “But—it’s not a yes, either.”
Edgeworth was still holding the ring box like he wasn’t sure what to do with it, and Phoenix reached out to take it, looking at the ring. It was a plain gold band, but when the light moved over it it shone a little red, a sunset shine woven into the metal. It was beautiful. Phoenix sniffed at it pathetically.
“You don’t trust me,” Edgeworth said, looking down at him. He left the ring box in Phoenix’s hands and lifted his own, cupping Phoenix’s chin, his thumbs slipping over Phoenix’s cheekbones to catch his traitor tears.
Phoenix smiled against his palms. “You have to understand,” he said softly. “It’s not just me anymore.” He swallowed, and Miles moved his hands down to his throat, his palms broad and warm against the autumn cold. “I trust you to be you, Miles,” he continued. “I trust you to be the smartest man in the room, no matter the room. I trust you to find the truth and uphold it with every fiber of your being.” He shifted, lowered his head so he could press a kiss to the heel of Miles’ hand. “I trust you to love me,” he said, and his voice wobbled a little.
“Yes,” said Edgeworth fervently. “More than anyone in the world.”
Phoenix looked up at him sideways and took a breath. “But I don’t trust you not to leave again, and I won’t have Trucy losing another father.”
Edgeworth flinched like he’d been struck, and his hands faltered a little. Phoenix quickly tucked the ring box into his pocket and caught them between his own, steadying him, talking over him before he could protest, or apologize, or anything. “Prove me wrong,” he said fiercely. “Be here, with me, with her. Stay. But do it without the ring and without the promise, so if I’m right—” he raised a shoulder in a jerky shrug. “Well. Fewer things will be broken.”
“Phoenix,” Edgeworth breathed.
Phoenix stepped back from him, keeping their hands laced. “If you’d asked me a few years ago,” he said, “I would have said yes in a heartbeat.”
Edgeworth's lips twitched miserably. "I always thought you would end up marrying a woman, and this would, we'd." He licked his lips. "It never occurred to me that you would want me forever."
Phoenix smiled, biting down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself together. “Stupid,” he said weakly. “I decided I was gonna marry you when I was nine.”
Edgeworth’s eyes were huge, luminous. “I’ll be worthy of it,” he said. “I will. I’ll stay. I’ll prove you wrong.”
Phoenix tangled his hands in Edgeworth’s cravat. “No one does it better than you,” he said wryly. The edge of Edgeworth’s mouth curled up, and Phoenix laughed wetly. “Ah, god,” he muttered, scrubbing at his face with the back of his hand. “Look at me, you can’t expect me to go back in there like this.”
Edgeworth tilted their foreheads together. “Don’t, then,” he said. “I have had far too much of this party anyway.”
Phoenix sighed, letting his eyes slip closed, and for a long few minutes they just breathed together. Edgeworth’s hands were settled familiarly on Phoenix’s waist, and his own were flat on Edgeworth’s chest. “Someone will see us,” he said after a while, without opening his eyes. “And I know that’s mostly not a problem, but they wouldn’t let us work opposite each other in court anymore.”
Edgeworth sighed and shifted so his lips brushed Phoenix’s cheek when he spoke. “I almost don’t care.”
Phoenix grinned and opened his eyes, stepping back. “Almost,” he agreed. “We’re almost there. But I think this city needs us a while longer.” He went to shove his hands in his pockets, and came up against the ring box. “Oh,” he said. He held it out. “Your ring—”
Edgeworth shook his head. “Keep it,” he said. “And when the city doesn’t need us—when you decide you can trust me—” He swallowed. “Wear it?”
Phoenix bit his lip. “What if you decide you want to offer it to someone else?”
Edgeworth just watched him, silent, eyebrows raised. His cravat was rumpled from Phoenix’ hands and his cheeks were flushed but he still managed to be the absolute picture of disbelieving condescension.
“I’m just saying,” Phoenix protested. “It’s not really fair to make you wait around for me to stop being a paranoid ass, and it’s possible—”
Edgeworth blinked slow at him. “No,” he said. “It’s not.”
Phoenix swallowed hard. He nodded a couple times, inane. “Okay,” he said, shoving the box into his pocket again. “Just remember, it’s too late now, you can’t take it back.” He took a breath. “I guess you could just buy another ring anyway, it’s not like you don’t have the money—”
“Phoenix,” Edgeworth said, and there was something in his voice that made Phoenix’s weepy, tipsy brain fall all over itself to shut him up. He fell silent, staring at his rival (friend, lover, presumptive goddamn fiancee) and Edgeworth stared back. Phoenix had learned to read a lot in those eyes—signals that he was on the right or the wrong track, pride, reassurance, love, cries for help and gratitude when it was given. Now they were calm—steady beneath Edgeworth’s brows—and so full of certainty that Phoenix struggled to breathe. “No one else,” Edgeworth said quietly, “has ever mattered.”
Phoenix shivered, the wind shifting around him, and then Edgeworth’s eyes softened. He scowled to cover it up, and Phoenix grinned despite himself.
“You know,” he said as Edgeworth stepped up to him, pulling him in. “You’ve still got a bit of that old Demon Prosecutor in you. No one else has ever mattered, jesus, sound more diabolical—”
“Shut up,” Edgeworth grumbled, knocking his nose into Phoenix’s temple. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” said Phoenix. “I do.” He tilted his head sideways to press a kiss to the corner of Miles’ mouth, felt him smile. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Edgeworth’s hands flexed against his back. “Happily.”
He led Phoenix through the crowd and out into the night on the other side. Phoenix slid unsteadily onto seat of the cab next to him and closed his eyes. His fingers found the little box in his pocket. Happily, he thought, and smiled.