Chapter Text
A little known fact about Miles Edgeworth is that he used to smile. Frequently, even. Usually when he was being smug - even in their schooldays, Miles Edgeworth was a boy who operated primarily on smugness - but he'd also smile when he said something he'd thought was funny in a critically nerdy habit of laughing at his own jokes. The problem was that sometimes nobody would realize that the incredibly dry, toneless statement was a joke in the first place except Phoenix, and then Phoenix would laugh at him for being such a dork as to laugh at his own jokes. Then Edgeworth, who truly thought even back then that he was a human calculator whose feelings could not be hurt, would go sulk until Phoenix came to pester him. Yes, another little known fact about Miles Edgeworth is that he used to sulk. Back in their schooldays, Phoenix would tease him, and Miles would get this pissy little look on his face that wouldn't go away until Phoenix apologized and admitted that it was just fun to get a reaction out of him, and then he would pull out his keychain and remind Miles that they were the Signal Samurai trio, and that meant they always had to forgive each other; it was cute, and he always said it with fondness, in lieu of words he was too young to say, such as I love you.
The night after Edgeworth disappears, Phoenix goes home and takes out his keychain and stomps on it until it snaps in half; then, less than two hours later, he picks up the pieces and holds them like the mangled corpse of his own child; then he throws them away altogether and cries; then he digs the pieces out of the trash and locks them in a box and cries again; then he pries the lock off the box and glues the pieces back together by hand. Unable to burn it and unable to throw it away, there's nothing else he can do except hold the keychain in his hands, where it’s useless and good for nothing and the sum of a friendship that’s finally over, and this is when Phoenix Wright (who cries at least once a week) learns what it means to sob: huge, all-consuming gasps that tear him from the inside out, a thick, black sludge sitting heavy in his chest until it shudders out of his lungs and crawls out of his eyes and drips down onto the floor.
He wishes afterwards, for months, that he’d held Edgeworth down that day after court and made him understand that even if it was just one person in the entire goddamn world, Phoenix wanted Edgeworth to be alive, would do anything to keep Edgeworth alive, and maybe if Edgeworth had known that - if he had listened - if Phoenix had been honest enough for both of them, then maybe -
No, Phoenix can’t go down that line of thought. Edgeworth was always going to make the choices he made, because Edgeworth is a stubborn, self-willed, self-righteous ass who doesnt give a damn about the consequences of his actions and only ever acts out of self interest. It’s all about Edgeworth and his mistakes, his crimes at the centre of the universe, his need to make up for what he’s done - as if there’s nobody else who cares.
For a long time, Phoenix decides that this is the most important thing about him now. Not the cases, not the law, not even the quiet insistence that Edgeworth must still be alive somewhere, because people like Miles Edgeworth don’t just vanish without explanation. No, the most important thing is this: For the first time in years, maybe in his whole life, Phoenix cannot and will not forgive Miles Edgeworth.
*
Edgeworth comes back from the dead a year later, and Phoenix feels absolutely no relief.
He should probably feel something. Gratitude. Joy. Anything. But those feelings are reserved for people who get what they want, and this is certainly not what Phoenix wants; in fact, a little part of him hopes that he's hallucinating, that maybe Miles Edgeworth isn't really standing in front of him in the Criminal Affairs Department right now, acting all smug and sly and cool as if he hadn't fucked off for a year and left Phoenix to grieve over nothing. Phoenix grits his teeth and stays silent and waits until they're out of the police station, follows Edgeworth around the corner and watches him pull out the keys to his car. "I tended to your grave," says Phoenix, voice careful and measured, no louder than he would announce the time of day.
Edgeworth freezes.
"But I bet Gumshoe already told you that," Phoenix finishes.
Edgeworth doesn't flinch. Doesn't even turn around at first. He just stands in the middle of the parking lot without moving, like he's going to run off at any second, like he's planning to just show up and disappear again, and Phoenix will have to live another whole year without him. When he finally turns around, his expression is utterly unreadable.
"Don't blame Gumshoe," he says at last. "I told him not to bother you."
His eyes are sharp - an image that used to haunt Phoenix's dreams (in a... variety of ways), but now those sharp eyes are restrained and distant, like a blade sheathed just before impact.
"Bother me," Phoenix repeats dully. As if it would have been a bother to know Edgeworth was alive this whole time.
"I tried to get you convicted of murder," says Edgeworth. "I've convicted dozens of innocent people. I've insulted and scorned and undermined you, both professionally and personally. What, exactly, would I assume you'd want to see me for?"
So that's why you let me think you were dead for a whole -
No, Phoenix doesn't say that. He doesn't say anything. In fact, he keeps his jaw very, very firmly locked shut, as if the words might pop out of him if he's not careful.
"I expected that you would have done the normal thing and moved on," says Edgeworth.
Phoenix doesn't reply to that either.
It's too early in the year for snow. It's just grey and cold without sun, utterly windless. It's also too early in the afternoon for anyone else to be in the parking lot with them. For a long moment, they simply stand there staring at each other.
"I was in Europe," Edgeworth offers at last.
As if this could possibly be what Phoenix wanted to hear. "What for," Phoenix says anyway.
"To sort myself out." Edgeworth taps his finger against his arm. "After you - after the case one year ago, I came to a rather… disquieting realization. The path I had been chasing all my life was meaningless. The prosecutor in me had died, in a manner of speaking. I needed to get away and figure out what being a lawyer truly meant to me."
Oh good fucking lord, Phoenix thinks. "And?"
"It took me a long time," says Edgeworth, "and a lot of work. But I finally found the answer I was looking for."
The answer he was looking for, a sour little voice in Phoenix's head mocks. The answer to his lofty, pedantic sense of right and wrong. The answer to his stupid fucking grudge match against himself. The answer to his incredibly dramatic penchant for self-destruction, and the need to take everyone else down with him.
"You could have called," says Phoenix without any intonation whatsoever.
“I fail to see what purpose that would have served," replies Edgeworth easily. "We were not in the habit of personal correspondence. Our relationship was ninety parts professional."
Ninety parts professional, the little voice in Phoenix's head repeats. There was Maya's trial a few months ago, then the time Phoenix lost his memories, and then the circus trial and now this kidnapping, all throughout which Edgeworth not only intentionally chose to pretend he'd dropped off the face of the earth, but went out of his way to tell Gumshoe to stay silent as well -
All that time away, all that time spent in Europe doing god knows what, waking up every morning, going to bed each night - all that time, Edgeworth had decided, entirely intentionally, not to tell Phoenix he was alive. Every day. For a whole year.
"If you have nothing further to add, I suggest we part ways," Edgeworth adds with a weird note of haughtiness in his voice that kind of makes Phoenix want to strangle him and bury his body in the parking lot. "I'm sure you have a lot to do in preparation for tomorrow's trial."
He turns around and unlocks his car. Phoenix watches him climb in and fasten his seatbelt with practiced, fluid movements. Everything about him is composed - posture straight, movements precise, expression settled into something cool and distant. There's no hesitation in it, no fracture, no sign that anything here has cost him anything at all. He looks terribly distant. He looks untouchable, in a way that stings. Nothing, Phoenix thinks bitterly, could possibly hurt him now.
*
"What do you mean, he's hurt?" Phoenix asks incredulously, and louder than he means to.
Gumshoe doesn't answer right away. He gives Phoenix a pointed look and jerks his chin past him. Phoenix clears his throat and casts a discreet look over one shoulder, where three officers are discussing something heatedly. Phoenix has always had a habit of forgetting who might be eavesdropping nearby. He turns back, lowering his voice. "Hurt how, exactly?"
Gumshoe rubs the back of his neck. "I can't give you the details," he says, "but let's just say he’s not exactly in his right mind. We had to detain him for a few - "
"Detain?" Phoenix cuts in.
"He insisted," Gumshoe says quickly. "It seems like something was slipped into his drink when he wasn't looking. He's pretty out of it."
Phoenix’s gut clenches. "’Slipped into his drink’...? Like, poison?"
“Something like that,” says Gumshoe and then, seeing the panic in Phoenix’s expression, he quickly pivots: “we gave him an antidote. Hyphocelia. Miracle drug. It makes symptoms worse for twenty four hours or so, and then clears from the system.”
“I know what hyphocelia is,” says Phoenix. “But isn’t that uh. Isn’t that the thing that’s usually used for…”
Gumshoe coughs lightly.
“…for aphrodisiacs…?” Phoenix finishes.
Gumshoe shrugs. “I don’t really know how it works. But it should cure Mr. Edgeworth in a day or so, if we administered it in time.”
“Did you?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Phoenix can't believe what he's hearing. "So is he okay?!"
"I can't tell you that," says Gumshoe quietly.
Oh, god. Of course. Legal red tape.
"...is he comatose?" asks Phoenix.
Gumshoe doesn't say anything.
"Wait," says Phoenix, "he's not - he was supposed to be on prosecution tomorrow. If de Killer - "
"Pal," says Gumshoe.
"Did de Killer do something to him?" Phoenix says, hearing the edge of hysteria in his own voice. "Was he - dealt with, like Franziska? Why is he being detained? Is he - "
"Phoenix," says Gumshoe quickly. "It's, uh. It's not something I can just talk about. You get it."
Phoenix does and he doesn't. He knows this is Gumshoe's job, but it's not like Gumshoe hasn't revealed confidential information in the past; besides, Gumshoe is his friend, and if the positions were reversed, he would have just explained himself. It would be worth it for someone else's peace of mind, wouldn't it? And it's Edgeworth - Gumshoe knows they have history, so why won't he -
Ninety parts professional, a little voice in Phoenix's head says. He purses his lips.
"Just go home," says Gumshoe. "Get some rest before the trial tomorrow."
"You can't even confirm if he's alive or dead, and you want me to go home?!"
To his credit, Gumshoe looks genuinely sorry, and then Phoenix feels bad that he'd gotten upset with him in the first place. "Sorry - sorry," says Phoenix, taking a deep breath. "I know you can't. I'm not trying to get you in trouble. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. You're worried about him."
"I'm not worried about him," says Phoenix immediately. "I understand. I'll let the police handle it from here."
"Okay," says Gumshoe.
"- Is he even alive?" Phoenix blurts out. "Gumshoe, that really can't be that confidential - "
"Phoenix," says Gumshoe.
" - Fine!" says Phoenix, whirling around. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. Thanks for telling me. I'm not upset at you."
"I know," says Gumshoe.
Phoenix breathes heavily and tries to get a grip. "It's probably better this way! Now I won't have to deal with his antics in court tomorrow!" He tries to smile at Gumshoe, who is giving him a look of increasing pity. "It'll be fine! It'll be great. I won't have to worry about his stupid objections or his stupid evidence. I'll have this trial in the bag!"
*
Phoenix does not get a grip.
*
Six months after Edgeworth disappears, Phoenix gives up hope of ever seeing him again.
It’s not even that he thinks Edgeworth is dead, necessarily. It’s just that - even if he isn’t - why would he come back now? If he had any intention of returning, wouldn’t he have called? Texted, maybe? Sent some sort of sign to let Phoenix know he was alive?
Sometimes, Phoenix lets himself imagine what it might be like if Edgeworth ever did show his face again. He thinks about it before bed when he can’t sleep, or when he’s riding his bike, or when he’s cleaning up around the office, or whenever he has a spare moment to himself, really. In some versions, Phoenix yells at him. In others, he punches him in the gut without reservation or apology. And sometimes - most of the time - when he imagines Miles Edgeworth coming back from the dead, he imagines himself pulling Edgeworth close and just holding him for as long as he wants, and Edgeworth wouldn’t protest and wouldn’t get prickly and Phoenix wouldn’t get embarrassed either. Phoenix would tell him, I missed you. Edgeworth would believe him, even though Edgeworth never believes him about anything; even back in their school days, whenever Phoenix would compliment him, Edgeworth would get this look that Phoenix will never forget, like he was desperately struggling with learning a terrible fact that he desperately wished wasn’t true. Awful, that Phoenix could have said anything that day after court, and Edgeworth would have shut his eyes and closed his ears anyway. Awful, that if Phoenix thinks about it, he knows that if he’d told Edgeworth I’ll miss you that day, Edgeworth wouldn’t have believed him at all.
*
Four hours later, Phoenix is standing in the lobby of the Criminal Affairs Department long after most of the officers have clocked out, just to "take a look". This is how he justifies going out on a limb for the guy who gutted him by refusing to speak to him for a year and then told him their relationship was ninety parts professional; Phoenix is just going to take a look, and see where, perhaps, Edgeworth might have ended up. Just to make sure he's not dead. After all, Phoenix won't be able to focus on the case if he's worrying about Edgeworth's recent poisoning. It’s a matter of professionalism.
He also, coincidentally, brings along a thermos of Edgeworth's favourite tea. Jasmine, with a spoonful of honey. He figures that if - when - if - when Edgeworth eventually recovers, he'll probably be thirsty, and will probably want something to cleanse his palette a little. This is definitely proper justification for why Phoenix is lugging a thermos of tea around a government building after working hours.
Also, if Phoenix has to think about the possibility of Edgeworth being dead for even one more hour, he will actually eat his own badge. But in a normal way. Very calm and unattached, even. Like he doesn't even care.
There's still quite a few people milling around despite the late hour. Phoenix tries not to think too hard about it; they all look busy at the very least, so Phoenix just holds his head up and tries to walk with purpose. People will let you go just about anywhere if you act like you belong. With enough confidence, he'll probably get out of this entire thing without being stopped onc -
"Excuse me," says an officer.
"Hi! Yes! Hey," says Phoenix, totally calmly. "Hahahaha! I'm, um, looking for Mr. Edgeworth?"
The officer gives him a once-over, eyeing the thermos. "Is this a personal call or a professional one?"
"Personal! He’s - an old friend. Just wanted to check in on him."
"Hm," says the officer. "Well, nobody's seen Mr. Edgeworth since he was brought in. I don’t think he’s accepting visitors, either.” he pauses, and Phoenix briefly wonders how many years of jail he’ll get if this guy finds out he came here just to snoop. “Say. You’re Phoenix Wright the attorney, aren’t you?”
”Oh,” says Phoenix. “That’s. Yes.”
"See, my best friend graduated from law school recently, and he won't stop talking about how you're the genius of our generation," says the officer. “He says that solving the DL-6 incident was the single greatest feat in legal history.”
"Aha," says Phoenix, who doesn't really have a good way of explaining that solving the DL-6 incident had been less of a "feat" and more the result of his sheer unwillingness to let things go. He also doesn't have a way to explain that despite solving the case, Edgeworth had still left, and Phoenix will never be able to remember it without feeling like he hadn't really solved anything at all. But that doesn't make for a very good story, so.
"He'd really get a kick out of knowing I met you, you know?" says the officer. "So, um - hoping this isn't too awkward of an ask - "
"No, not at all," says Phoenix on reflex.
" - but do you think I could get your autograph? Sorry, I know that's weird to ask of a lawyer, but - "
"No, no, I'm flattered," says Phoenix.
" - just, he never stops talking about what an inspiration you are, believing in your clients no matter what - "
" - that's really sweet of your friend - "
" - really an inspiration to everyone in the law industry - "
"Ahahahaha," says Phoenix.
" - honestly sometimes I'm a little jealous of the way he talks about you!" Says the officer. "Ahaha!”
"Ahahahahahahaha," says Phoenix. "Wow."
"Yeah."
"Okay," says Phoenix.
So the officer holds the thermos while Phoenix signs the back of the guy's paystub because it's the only piece of paper he has on him (and Phoenix has to reckon with exactly how much the government is paying the people who carry guns for a living), and then the guy says, “so you’re here to visit Mr. Edgeworth, huh?”
”I heard he was being held here,” says Phoenix, very extremely calmly.
”Well, like I said, I don’t think he’s accepting visitors. But…” the officer grimaces, evidently feeling bad for taking an autograph without offering anything in return. “…I guess I can show you where we’re keeping him. Is that okay?”
"Sure," says Phoenix, in a voice that is truly the epitome of calm. "Thank you. It's really very kind of you."
So they walk down the hallway together and the officer shows Phoenix to one of the detainment rooms, which Phoenix doesn’t even bother to check before nodding and smiling, and then they walk all the way back and the guy shows him to the exit and waves and leaves. Phoenix smiles brightly until the officer is out of sight and then ducks into the nearest bathroom to splash cold water on his face.
Anyway. Where was he?
Right.
Phoenix proceeds to sit in that bathroom stall for five hours. The cleaning staff come and go twice ("Occupied!" Phoenix calls out both times, followed immediately by "sorry!" because he knows he's making their jobs harder), and then by the time it's past midnight, nobody is out in the halls anymore. Phoenix rehearses a variety of excuses for how this happened ("Sorry, sir, I was in the bathroom because of intestinal issues, so sorry, so embarrassing, it wasn't on purpose - yes it really did last for five hours it just couldn't be helped) as he bolts down the nearest hallway before he can find out where the night guard is stationed.
God, he's going to be so pissed if Edgeworth was dead this whole time and he's doing all this for nothing.
Phoenix will probably feel some other things if he finds out Edgeworth is dead, but he'll cross that bridge when and if he gets to it.
The good news is that he doesn't actually have to enter the room to check on Edgeworth; the detainment cells have nice little viewing windows for Phoenix's convenience. He flips up the pane and yes, there's Edgeworth, lying facedown on a mattress and surrounded by books in various states of disarray. There's three plates of food set aside in the corner, all uneaten, a collection of half-drunk water bottles, and a stripped down toilet.
"So he's alive," says Phoenix to himself. "Great. Now we know."
Phoenix turns to leave.
"-is he okay in there?" says Phoenix. "No, no. Let the police do their job."
Phoenix turns to leave.
"Edgeworth!" Phoenix calls through the door. "Hey! Are you listening?! - I'm going to leave you here!"
Phoenix turns to leave.
"Edgeworth are you dead," Phoenix says, pressing his face against the window. Edgeworth just lies face down, looking vaguely dead. "Edgeworth. Hey, Edgeworth. This isn't funny. Look up. Pick your head up. Look at me. Or I really will just leave you here!"
Phoenix turns to leave.
"Edgeworth, you're going to make me commit a national security breach," says Phoenix. "Which I won't do! Because that would be illegal! And I am a normal, law-abiding citizen, so I'm going to do the normal, law-abiding thing and walk away now!"
Phoenix turns to leave.
"God dammit," Phoenix says, and starts punching four digit codes into the door at random. The door beeps angrily at him whenever he gets it wrong. "Edgeworth!" Phoenix calls through the door. "What's the code?" But Edgeworth doesn't even move, doing an excellent impression of a corpse. "Ffffuck me," Phoenix mutters, and in a fit of desperation plugs in 1228 (the date of the DL-6 incident) and then 0302 (Edgeworth's birthday) and then 1011 (which Phoenix used to use for his own dorm room back in law school). Surprisingly, the door unlocks, and Phoenix just stands there, vaguely floored that that actually worked.
Edgeworth used Phoenix's birthday for the lock code? What the hell? How does he even remember it? The only time Phoenix ever told Edgeworth his birthday was when they were children - is it a coincidence? Edgeworth doesn't use this code for his office, too, does he? Has Edgeworth been locking up classified evidence with Phoenix's birthday? Is this Edgeworth's idea of a sick joke?
Whatever. This is no time to question providence.
Gingerly, Phoenix opens the door and pokes his head in. "Edgeworth," Phoenix whispers. No response. "Edgeworth!"
Nothing. A pit of dread twists low in Phoenix’s stomach.
"I brought you tea," he tries again, a little louder. "And it's the kind you like, too. It'll be good for you to get something in your system."
Still nothing.
Phoenix can't take this. He lets himself into the room and creeps closer to the mattress, feeling acutely every step he takes in this room where he is not supposed to be. "Hey! Wake up!"
When he gets close enough, Phoenix gently turns Edgeworth over onto his back. His eyes are closed. Rationally, Phoenix knows Edgeworth is breathing - actually quite fast and shallow - and his entire face is flushed, so he can't be dead. If anything, he looks like he has a fever, which only serves to alarm Phoenix further.
"Edgeworth!" Phoenix says, sharper now. "Oh god, open your eyes, c'mon..." Edgeworth's expression tightens as if in pain. There's a horrible, constricting feeling in Phoenix's chest, like it's trying to close around empty space. "I can't do this right now, I can't, because I - "
Even Phoenix doesn't know how that sentence is going to end, because Edgeworth really does open his eyes. Phoenix could have kissed him just then, but he catches himself just in time. "Oh god. Oh thank god. I knew you were fine. I'm fine! It was a stupid thought."
Edgeworth blinks dazedly at him, clearly disoriented.
"I knew you were fine the entire time and I wasn't worried at all. Great. Okay! That's that. You were just sleeping. Sorry for waking you u - "
"Wright," says Edgeworth, and this is the only warning Phoenix gets before Edgeworth pulls him down and licks into his mouth.
Not even a little lick - full tongue, making Phoenix open his mouth for a single second to gasp before Edgeworth pries open his jaw to lick inside. He pushes Phoenix down like he's trying to devour him whole, and he's heavy, pinning Phoenix like he weighs nothing, pushing and taking from Phoenix until all Phoenix can do is open his mouth and pray he's let go before he suffocates.
Not that he's trying particularly hard to get away. Edgeworth's tongue is hot and insistent and Phoenix has thought about Edgeworth's hands on him for only the last fourteen years, every time he brought someone to bed that wasn't Edgeworth. Even back in their school days, he used to imagine it, in a lighter, more innocent way; now, Edgeworth's hands are rough and exploratory, prying Phoenix's mouth open so he can taste him as he likes.
When Edgeworth finally lets up, Phoenix gasps wetly and holds Edgeworth closer on instinct. "Wright," says Edgeworth, just as hoarse as before, his face so close that his hair keeps falling into Phoenix's eyes. Phoenix should probably say something, but his rational thoughts keep getting rearranged by the way that Edgeworth's nose brushes his cheek, the way Edgeworth breathes out his name like it's something precious to him. "I need you. I need... please..."
Phoenix's dick likes the word please in Edgeworth's mouth. God knows Edgeworth has never begged for anything before, ever. "Edgeworth, what...?"
Edgeworth's expression is intense to the point of fear. If Phoenix didn't know better, he'd think that Edgeworth was about to cry, but Phoenix doesn't know what that looks like or sounds like; even back in their school days, Phoenix never once saw Miles Edgeworth cry. "You have to stop me. You have to get away. I can't..."
He buries his face in Phoenix's neck, and for a moment Phoenix thinks Edgeworth is going to sink his teeth into his skin (not an entirely unpleasant idea, if he's being totally honest), but the bite never comes; only soft touches, like Edgeworth can't get enough of him, can't stop tasting him, can only keep coming back again and again and again, and the soft feeling of Edgeworth's tongue and teeth and warm breath make it hard to comprehend the idea of having to get away.
"Wait," says Phoenix. Edgeworth makes such a desperate noise; Phoenix has never heard him make a noise like that before in his life. "Wait, Edgeworth - what - "
Then Phoenix's brain jerks back into motion. "What do you think you're doing," he hisses, smacking Edgeworth hard in the chest. This doesn't do anything except make Edgeworth grunt harshly against his skin. "Edgeworth! What the fuck are you doing?! Have you completely lost your - " Edgeworth's thigh shoves itself between Phoenix's legs, grinding perfectly against his cock, which unfortunately is starting to take a keen interest in the proceedings. "... lost y-your - "
"Stop me now," Edgeworth whispers. The man's knee is currently dragging itself across Phoenix's dick. "There's - restraints on the bed - there's a gag - "
Phoenix considers the possibility that he's been transported to an alternate universe where nothing makes sense. Edgeworth chooses this moment to grab at Phoenix's dick, which makes sure Phoenix's limited brainpower doesn't consider much else. "Gag me so that I don't say anything," Edgeworth says again, more frantically.
"What? Why?"
"It was - truth serum," Edgeworth hisses. "de Killer must have - must have put a concentrated dose of it in my drink… it makes it so you can’t tell any lies, but it’s - it’s too strong - " he shudders as if in pain. "Phoenix come closer I need to feel you so badly, I've only been able to think about you, I got off thinking about you, I - " Edgeworth clamps a hand over his own mouth.
Phoenix stares. "Was that true?" he asks softly.
"Yes, it's true, everything I say is true - I need your fingers in me please let me," Edgeworth blurts out, and then both he and Phoenix's faces darken at the implication: everything Edgeworth says under the truth serum must be true, and is not an exaggeration, and is not just dirty talk. Edgeworth grits his teeth. "Get out."
"And the aphrodisiacs hit you too," says Phoenix, putting it together. “They must have given you a lot to match the dosage.”
"Get out," Edgeworth says again, harsher this time. "Or I'll do something we both regret."
"Do you want me to get out?" Phoenix asks.
"No," says Edgeworth, and then grits his teeth and tries again: "Please stay," he says, when he clearly meant to lie and say something else, and he looks furious for a single second before another wave of - something - washes over him. "No - I don't need your pity - please touch me again Wright god I need - I don't want to guilt you into staying - "
Please stay hits Phoenix in the gut like its own aphrodisiac. Edgeworth is probably the last person in the world Phoenix has any business sleeping with, and yet the sheer mention that Edgeworth - who seems to spend ninety percent of his time personally disagreeing with Phoenix's life choices - would think of Phoenix specifically when shot up with an extremely concentrated dose of truth serum and a ton of aphrodisiacs - some stupid little part of Phoenix craves the idea that maybe Edgeworth had missed him one fraction of how much Phoenix missed him, that Edgeworth regretted what happened between them for even one second. And the sight of Edgeworth so vulnerable, so open, has his heart clenching painfully in his chest.
"Does it hurt?" Phoenix asks.
"I feel like I'm going to die," says Edgeworth, and then shakes his head, trying desperately to lie despite the serum. "I'm too... I’ve tried to masturbate, but it never - "
Slowly, as if unable to stop himself, Edgeworth's hands return to Phoenix's body, thumbing his nipples, pressing him flat so Edgeworth can position him the way he likes. Edgeworth's hips start to grind against Phoenix's thigh and then, as Edgeworth finally finds some relief, he foregoes completing the rest of his sentence in favour of frotting hard against Phoenix. The edge of pleasure in Edgeworth's expression looks sharp enough to be pain.
Phoenix reaches forward to cup Edgeworth through his pants. Edgeworth gives a muffled cry that slowly dissolves into whimpers as Phoenix massages slowly, digging his palm into Edgeworth's cock.
Edgeworth grabs his wrist. "What are you doing?"
"You don't want me to?" Phoenix asks quietly.
Edgeworth grits his teeth, trying not to say anything.
"I don't want to take advantage of you," says Phoenix. He drags his palm along Edgeworth's cock, long and slow. "But you seem to want me to stay. Does it not feel good?"
"It does," Edgeworth replies. "It feels too good, I want it so, so much, I - " (Phoenix closes his eyes and tried to commit every honest word Edgeworth says to memory) " - I used to imagine this all the time when we were in court together - "
"What," says Phoenix.
Edgeworth looks mortified. Very clearly, he hadn't meant to say that. "I - I get distracted sometimes!"
"You fantasized about me in court?"
"Not just in court," Edgeworth pants. Phoenix immediately decides that he needs to blow Edgeworth until he’s in tears. "I - I can't help it, I just see you and - Wright, your hand - !"
Phoenix slides a hand into Edgeworth's pants, wondering for a single second if he's being too presumptuous before Edgeworth grinds himself into Phoenix's palm and he's so hard that Phoenix nearly chokes. "Edgeworth," Phoenix breathes out. "Have you been like this all day? How did you survive?"
"I jacked off thinking about your mouth," says Edgeworth immediately, and then swears, trying to reign in the need to compulsively admit the truth. "No, I - I - I fucked myself on my fingers and wished it was your cock - stop asking me questions!"
No, Phoenix doesn't think he will. "The truth can't hurt," he says, flipping Edgeworth onto his back.
"It can," Edgeworth says. Phoenix ignores this in favour of pulling Edgeworth’s pants down, just enough that he can see the head of his cock. Wet liquid sticks to the seam of Edgeworth's pants when he pulls them away. "It can and it does, Wright."
"Does it," says Phoenix. "How badly do you want to come in my mouth right now?"
"About as bad as I want it whenever you bite your lip during cross-examinations."
" - you think about that during - "
Edgeworth kicks him. Phoenix briefly leans down to tongue at the slit of Edgeworth's cock, and the other man hisses. Phoenix swirls his tongue around the sensitive crown, rubbing the head of Edgeworth’s cock against the roof of his his mouth for good measure before pulling away. “Tell me when it feels good," says Phoenix.
"It does," Edgeworth replies immediately. "It’s so good, I've always wondered what your mouth would feel like - stop asking me questions! - ah, ah, Wright, your tongue, please - I thought about this all day with my fingers inside me, I thought about your mouth, your cock, I thought about - " he cuts off with a muffled cry as Phoenix takes him into his mouth fully, all the way to the root.
Phoenix closes his eyes and sucks hard with intent, pausing occasionally to lick stripes and press kisses to Edgeworth's cock, imagines Edgeworth panting and shuddering and crying out I love you, and Phoenix would know it would be true because Edgeworth can't say anything that isn't. I love you, like the words were wrenched out of him, because that's the only way Phoenix can imagine someone like Edgeworth saying such a thing. "Wright," Edgeworth gasps, and digs his fingers deeper into Phoenix's hair.
Phoenix pulls off with a slick sound. "Does it feel good?"
"Yes, yes, keep going," Edgeworth gasps, and then: "stop asking me questions!"
Phoenix wipes his face. "But I want to hear how good of a job I'm doing."
"It's not fair to ask me that when I can't lie." Edgeworth glowers balefully at him. "You obviously know you're good at this."
Phoenix flushes. He didn't know that, but it's high praise that he'll accept as true only because he knows Edgeworth couldn't say anything that isn't. He starts jerking Edgeworth's cock with one hand, sliding his thumb over the tip to catch the precome there. "How about now?"
Edgeworth pauses. "It was better with your mouth."
"Excuse you?”
"I told you to stop asking me questions, or you'll hear something you don't want to hear," Edgeworth retorts. Angrily, Phoenix takes Edgeworth's entire cock into his mouth again, which shuts him up fast. Edgeworth grabs his head and grinds into him. "God, Wright - the way you look right now - " when Phoenix looks up, Edgeworth is staring at him with a bright-eyed intensity that Edgeworth never has about anything, not even his court victories. "You look perfect, better than I dreamed, better than I ever could have thought - you've become so beautiful that I can't stand it sometimes, I - " Phoenix's ears are ringing and he sucks harder, more insistently. " - give me the gag, don't let me say these things, I can't - !"
Edgeworth shoves his own knuckle into his mouth and bites it until Phoenix can smell the iron of Edgeworth's blood, but that's what it takes for Edgeworth to stop talking and finally fuck Phoenix's mouth until he comes. Phoenix eagerly swallows all of it, savouring the taste before pulling off with a contented sigh.
The sight of Edgeworth slouched back completely blissed out from his orgasm is trying Phoenix’s patience; he can only imagine what it would be like to have Edgeworth’s red, swollen lips around his dick. But when he lets himself act on impulse, all he does is clutch Edgeworth tightly, trying to pin down the feeling of lightness in his chest. He holds him so tight that Edgeworth winces and, surprisingly, wraps his legs around Phoenix to hold him in turn.
Phoenix turns his face upwards to look at Edgeworth, while Edgeworth blearily opens one eye to look back at him. “Edgeworth…?”
Edgeworth pants. The glassy-eyed look of the truth serum and the aphrodisiacs seem to have cleared a bit from his eyes. “…why are you here? I told Gumshoe not to tell you where I was.”
“Oh,” says Phoenix. “Um.” He casts around for a reason that isn’t I haven’t stopped thinking about you for the past fourteen years and I would rather cut off my own hands than let you die alone in the Criminal Affairs Department. “Well, he said you weren’t feeling well. So I brought you tea?”
Edgeworth sighs deeply. Phoenix can feel his chest under his chin, with all of its lean, curved muscles. “You didn’t have to help me,” says Edgeworth after a moment.
“What was I supposed to do? Just leave you like that?”
“Yes,” says Edgeworth. “The aphrodisiacs will increase arousal again soon. They only abate for about five minutes after orgasm.”
“Well, why don’t you let me stay and help you through it?”
Phoenix knows what Edgeworth would say under normal circumstances: your assistance is neither required nor desired, this is a matter of professional conduct and I insist you leave. But instead, Edgeworth says, “because I’m afraid I’ll take more than what you can offer.”
Edgeworth pauses. Phoenix pauses.
“Don’t ask me any more questions,” says Edgeworth.
“I want to hear it,” says Phoenix.
“I don’t,” says Edgeworth, “want you to hear it.”
And that has to be the truth, considering the serum.
“Edgeworth. I…” Phoenix tries to find words for the thing that he wants to say, but the only thing that comes to mind is, I always hoped that one day you would become inevitable. And that’s - too much.
“Don’t give way to sentimentality,” Edgeworth warns. “The last time you believed in me, I proved you wrong. Are you really willing to be disappointed a second time?”
This question is so unusual that it catches Phoenix flat-footed. From Edgeworth’s expression, it doesn’t seem to be something he said purely because the serum forced him to.
“Can I ask you one thing?” Says Phoenix.
Edgeworth’s eyes narrow. “If you’re asking for permission, it’s meaningless. From the way I’ve responded to just about anything you’ve said in the last hour, I’ll compulsively answer anything you say. And I can’t know what the question is before you ask it.” Edgeworth studies him. “You’re going to ask about why I left.”
Phoenix says nothing. He won’t, if Edgeworth doesn’t want him to.
Edgeworth is quiet for a long moment. Edgeworth has a way of looking back at you that feels less like openness and more like you’re a specimen out on display. No matter what, Phoenix is the vulnerable one, while Edgeworth remains inscrutable and distant. “We don’t have much time, anyway. The aphrodisiacs should be kicking back in any moment.”
Another pause.
“Ask one question,” says Edgeworth.
“Do you regret leaving me behind?” says Phoenix.
Something in Edgeworth’s expression clears. “No,” says Edgeworth easily, as if this answer means nothing to him. “I don’t. In fact, if I had to do it all over again, I would make the exact same choice. Regret is for actions that have gone against someone’s personal values. I never regretted it, and I never will.”