(I had to edit this and insert the horizontal line breaks in the story because I forgot, lol. Sorry if anybody read it right as I uploaded and the flow didn't make sense)!

Oh! What's this? Another update so soon? And the longest one yet, at that? Oh, my.

I write too much when I'm in the mood and have time. Sorry. But for those who like long chapters... Here you go, I guess? Haha. I hope it's not boring. It's very cheesy and silly in a lot of parts but I really wanted to write a drunken follow up to the last chapter since MeganCarrot put the idea in my head, lol. NO REGRETS.

I think I may make this story around 25 chapters long, if possible. So yes, still a ridiculously long fic with way too many words, but I think 25 is a good cut off point for an already-wordy story, right? Lemme know what you think.

Idk. I'm hopeless at writing proper endings to stories. In fact I once got asked to write a two page creative writing assessment in primary school and wrote so many pages in class over the next week, that the teacher was like, "Yeah okay never mind I'll just give you your marks anyway since I don't think I'll be seeing this handed in any time soon." True story. I wish I was capable of writing engaging short stories, but looks like I'm a rambler! You know who DOES write great short stories, though? Charley the Plant (omg how do you link people on this site, it hates links so much, I swear to god). She's in the latest reviews section for this fic if you want access to her bio. :D

Anyway, here are my thanks as usual!

Luka - Hahaha I'm so glad you enjoyed! Flustered Miles is quite amusing to write. I hope your sister did too, and I hope you both love this chapter just as much even though it is long enough to printed on a double-length roll of toilet paper in size 2 font. That's how long it is. I'm sorry! But enjoy! :D xx

MeganCarrot - Hi again! Oh gosh, I can't even begin to imagine working in retail on Black Friday. I actually have a hectic day waiting for me at work tomorrow which is going to be nowhere near as intense but still! Those poor employees! Anyway, I'm truly honoured you took the time to comment on my writing ("stellar", really? Ah gosh, I'm flattered, thank you!). And I totally do what you do and learn new words from reading other fics sometimes, hahaha. *taps nose knowledgeably* A million thanks again and I hope you enjoy the first part of this fic, I wrote it just for you! :D

Charley the Plant - I am super flattered you say this because I actually love the way YOU characterise everyone, as you already know. Thank you so much and I am so happy you still took the time to read this fic even though it isn't your OTP, haha. xox You're awesome as always and much love!

Deeanna1973 - I really enjoyed reading this review, because you took the time to mention exactly what it was that you loved about that last chapter! It means a great deal to me as a writer to know which scenarios resonate with readers the most - what makes them laugh, cry, get angry at, etc. I hope this chapter meets your expectations yet again, even if it is a bit too long. I hope your further ventures into this fandom are not disappointing in any way! You should definitely check out the games if you haven't already. They are a goldmine of hilarity and feels. Thank you so much for all your support. :) xox

*~*~THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYBODY (again lol)~*~*

Disclaimer: The characters and settings created by CAPCOM that are featured in this story are solely owned by their creators. I do not claim them as mine in any way, shape or form. I am not receiving monetary profit from having written this story and no copyright infringement is intended.

JUMPING TO CONCLUSIONS

~ Chapter Twenty ~

"A Matter of Trust"

It was nearing only ten o'clock on the dashboard of the taxi by the time they had pulled into the tidy driveway. Phoenix felt his head loll away from Miles' shoulder, as if being pulled in the opposite direction by a fishing line sewn to his scalp. He blinked a few times in response and noticed how heavy his eyes felt, as if multiple beads of lead had been threaded to his eyelashes.

"We're here a'ready?" He managed to mumble, as the sound of the taxi driver's laugh met his ears. It sounded far away as if he were listening out for the sound from the end of a hallway. Miles shifted next to him, causing the weight of his own body to slump awkwardly as the support left it.

"Yes." The prosecutor responded quietly, leaning forward to swipe his American Express card to pay for the trip. After thanking the driver for his services, he leaned back slowly in his chair and unbuckled himself before reaching to loosen Phoenix's seatbelt. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I think so." The defense attorney chuckled lightly to himself, giving Miles a silly little smile.

Wow... I feel... like such a... lightweight. Have I always been this bad?

"Need a hand getting him out?" The driver asked good-naturedly, almost as if he were being paid for it. Phoenix's muddled brain wondered how large a tip Miles had given for him to ask such a question.

"That's very kind of you, but I think we should be alright," Miles said from somewhere to his right.

"I-I'm fine... I... I can get myself out...!" Phoenix twisted his body and attempted to extend what he guessed was his right leg out of the vehicle as soon as Miles had opened the door. This resulted in him kicking the other man's shin in one arduous, clumsy motion, educing a sharp yelp from the owner of said shin.

"Caaareful!" Miles said, his voice a sibilant whisper of pain from between his clenched teeth. "I would prefer to retain the functioning of both of my legs, if you... if you don't mind. One of us has to be able to walk, at least."

"Sorry... I'm stronger then I look, huh?" Phoenix's question was stretched out as if someone had pre-recorded his voice and played it back, after slowing down the audio.

"Alcohol always makes 'em powerful, somehow," the driver said, amused as he watched the pair of them attempt to stumble out of the vehicle in one piece.

"I wouldn't say "powerful"." Miles said gruffly, "More like "intolerable"."

Phoenix felt a pair of strong arms holding him steady as he swayed slightly on the spot after extracting his entire body from the confines of the back seat. The fresh air felt good in his lungs and he took a deep breath, aware of how sweaty he had become. His head swam as if filled with water and goldfish and bubbles and... who knew what else. He laughed.

What are you talking about, I AM powerful... I'm the amazing Phoenix... Wright. Yeah!

He pointed dramatically at nothing in particular, narrowly missing Miles' head. The other man let out an exasperated sigh that carried on the breeze and tickled his ears. He laughed again.

"You sure you can help him along? You look a bit out of sorts yourself, pal."

"Pal?" Detective Gumshoe? Phoenix thought amusedly, wondering if the detective had a secret second job as a cab driver on Friday nights. He stumbled forward and tried to peek in through the window of the driver's seat to confirm, before a mysterious force that turned out to be his partner's arms stopped him.

"Ah... Yes. Th-thank you. I'll manage. Have a good night, sir." Miles affirmed the driver, who guffawed again and asked something about whether Miles definitely had his keys to get into the house. The prosecutor assured him he did.

"Miles is responsible. He's soooo good at being responsible." Phoenix felt his arms lift of their own accord and he reached somewhere in the direction of where he thought the other's face was. When he had successfully located it, he stroked the angular jaw with a sloppy movement of his hand. "Look at him. Responsible written all over this handsome mug."

He grinned as he felt a cold hand slap his fingers away.

"Cut that out, Wright."

"Haha! Okie-dokie, then." The older voice of the driver answered kindly. "Well, you two gentlemen have a good night!"

The taxi reversed out of the driveway with a crackle of cement under tyres as it left, bright taillights getting smaller and smaller as it drove away.

"He was nice." Phoenix said casually, smiling like a dork.

I wish all cab drivers were cool like that guy! He was cool. Cool as a cucumber.

After a few short, awkward moments involving attempts at putting the correct feet forward, digging in pockets for keys and avoiding certain doom, the two men managed to enter Miles' house. Somehow, at some point, the prosecutor managed to lock the door behind them and followed Phoenix into the hallway as they both kicked off their shoes. Even in his tipsy state, Miles managed to make an effort of placing the footwear neatly to the side.

"Let's... let's not get this carried away next time." The small slur detectable in Miles' words greatly amused Phoenix and he cracked up laughing louder than he intended.

Oh man.

"What?" Miles asked sternly, looking embarrassed.

"I've... I've never seen you drunk! You're not even acting as weird as you could be but... It's hilarious." Phoenix broke into another fit of giggles and slumped against one of the walls, next to a small, framed painting of an old, nondescript European town.

The sound of a pet-door flapping open in the distance, followed by enthusiastic animal noises bombarded the pair of them as Pesu scampered up to her owner, paws clicking quickly on the hardwood and her tail wagging so fast it was a blur. Well, it was either that or Phoenix decided he was more inebriated than he initially thought and everything was just now starting to blend into a mess of colours.

"Hello, Pesu... Miss me?" Miles crooned, bending down and scratching her behind the ears as she attempted to unsuccessfully lick every inch of his face (he had unsteadily leant backwards to avoid the incoming paint-job of dog saliva). The snuffling noises that were heard in answer to this question was a safe indication that yes, she did indeed miss him. A lot. The defense attorney watched on with a soft gaze, finding the sight both endearing and silly.

"Heyyyy! C'mere, Princess!" He beckoned, bending down all the way in an attempted kneel before promptly losing balance instead and rocking clumsily onto his backside. He ignored Miles' annoyed exclamation at bringing up the dog's childish nickname and inwardly celebrated as the canine ambled over to him, leaving her owner staring ruefully at her retreating haunches.

Pesu forcefully sniffed Phoenix's extended hand and nudged his palm with her wet nose, before coming closer and rubbing her head against his suit jacket. Patches of white and brown fur autographed his clothing and he immediately regretted the decision to call her over. That was, until, she let out an adorable whine and gave him a look that plainly read, "head scratches, please."

He obliged, and she sat down in anticipation for more, her tail sweeping the floor as if it were a broom controlled by the most uncoordinated janitor. Miles made a "tsk-tsk" noise from the sidelines.

"She's growing fond of you. Looks like I have a competitor for her affections." He said slowly, as if talking required more effort than usual.

"Competitor"? Pleeeease, Miles. I've already won.

Phoenix paused his scratching of Pesu's furry head and gave a smug, tipsy smile towards the prosecutor. In protest to the absence of continued head rubs, the dog let out a small yap. The noise was surprisingly smaller than expected for her size.

"Now now, Pes -" Miles began, brow furrowed in what he probably thought looked disciplinary but was not very convincing in his current state.

"Awww. She thinks she's people!" Phoenix's voice cut through joyfully, a few pitches higher than he intended. Sniffing the air loudly, Pesu yawned; long teeth biting the air before a curled tongue swiped itself over a caramel muzzle.

"... P-people?"

"You're a good doggy. Yes you are, Princess."

"You're not going to let that go, are you."

"Nooope. Not in a million years. We'll be old and grey and you can bet your sweet buns I'll be bringing that up."

Sweet buns? Oh boy, he's gonna kill me for THAT one.

"Suh - Sweet buns?!"

It sounds so much funnier coming from him.

Phoenix slumped against the wall again and cracked up once more. He held a hand up to his face as Pesu tilted her head in confusion before walking away, now bored, down the hall - presumably back to one of her indoor beds in the living room. The defense attorney made an attempt to get to his feet again before slipping on imaginary ice, almost face-planting the wall's skirting.

"You deserved that." Miles muttered, still kneeling nearby and somehow not toppling over with the same grace Phoenix had managed to display.

"Look at you, I... I can tell you're struggling to keep that pose, Mr Perfect Prosecutor."

"Be quiet." Mr Perfect Prosecutor got to his feet again carefully, as if trying to prove a point, and moved over to the tangled pile of limbs that was his partner. "Come on." He bent over and locked his arms under Phoenix's in an endeavour to lift him up. Predictably, the motions did not go as smoothly as he had hoped, resulting in the pair of them sprawled on the floor; a clash of burgundy and blue like a circus attraction named "The Living Bruise".

"For God's sake, you're not helping!"

Uh, WRONG. I'm pretty sure I just set up the scene for us to get down and dirty. Right?

Phoenix's mental comeback snuck out in the form of a ridiculous eyebrow wiggle as Miles stared widely at him, confounded. Pale hands fumbled and pressed him away to a distance far enough so that he could eye him down with an iron stare.

"Whatever you're thinking, stop thinking it." The refined accent snapped in reply, somehow containing more sobriety than the holder's previous attempts at speaking ever since the alcohol had marked its territory.

"Why not?" Phoenix reached forward and playfully flicked one of the angular, silvery bangs that flopped over Miles' sharp cheekbones. "Y'know I can't resist you."

"Ngk!" The wide grey eyes turned into grey slits.

"Damn, you look fine. Angry, but f-i-n-e." Phoenix said in an annoying, sing-song voice as the other man sighed helplessly and almost pushed him away completely. "I'm a lucky guy, huh? Take that, Wendy Oldbag... I got him first!"

"As if... As if that wrinkled chatterbox had any chance of laying her leathery hands on me, Wright."

"Ugh, it's Phoeniiiix!" The attorney drew out the sound of his name loudly as if trying to impersonate the siren of an emergency vehicle. "I already told you."

"Sorry, Phoenix. Happy?"

"Yes."

"You're acting so... what was it? Aries? You're acting so Aries right now. Childish."

"Whoa. Low blow! You so believe in that stuff, you just don't want to admit it."

"No, I'm just stereotyping you for my amusement because you're boring me to bits by acting like a despondent infant on my hallway floor right now."

How does he still sound intelligent and stuff even after drinking? What a smart prosecutie. Hehe, "prosecutie".

"Heh. Stop makin' fun of me and help me up already..."

"What do you think I've been trying to do, exactly?" A little hiccup escaped from somewhere behind the cravat.

"You've... you've been trying t' be an ass. Well, y'don't have t' try, I guess." Phoenix cackled.

Hoo boy, I'm feeling that wine more than I want to admit.

"Joking, joking." He held up his hands defensively as Miles threatened to stand up and walk away. Not that he would have gone very far before losing balance again, if his faltering serious mask were any indication of just how tipsy he really was.

"Should we just, like... crawl? Would it be easier? Yeah. Yeah, okay." The lawyer answered his own question and started dragging his heavy limbs across the floor, slipping out of his friend's grip and wriggling towards the living room like some sort of giant, soggy blue caterpillar that had been run over a few times.

"The hell are you doing, you moron..." Miles slouched forward from his position on the floor before Phoenix had managed to get too far, and grabbed him around the waist to bring a halt to his strange method of self-transportation. "Stop."

They sprawled uncoordinatedly for what felt like minutes but was probably only seconds, before their limbs eventually cooperated in assisting them to stand. Now that they were upright, the air somehow managed to feel more humid and Phoenix's neck and forehead glistened as he tried to maintain his drunken focus on Miles, grinning sheepishly.

"Wouldja lookit that. We make a good team. Good jawb, pardner." He said with a tilt of his head, pretending to grasp the wide brim of an invisible cowboy hat in an odd pantomime of a Texan stereotype, accent and all.

"Are you trying to be Jake Marshall?"

"Maybe."

"Well, don't."

After they had managed to flop down on a sofa in the living room (an ordeal in itself, to be honest), they both reclined lazily, heads drooping behind them to rest on the back of the sofa as if exhausted from a marathon. After a few moments, however, Phoenix pushed himself into a more upright sitting position again and numbly patted down his suit jacket in multiple places before ultimately procuring his cell phone from a random pocket.

"Oh man, Miles... Y'know what?"

Miles turned his head from where it rested to look over at him, his eyes seeming to take their time in focusing properly. "What."

"Y-you know who we should call?"

"No, and I don't think I want to kn -"

"Larry! Larry would make this so much more fun... He could bring over, uh, what's-her-face? Jellybean? That girl we met today? That was... that was her name, wasn't it?"

"No, we are not calling Larry. That is the worst idea you've had all night! Give me that." With shocking accuracy, Miles skilfully whisked the phone out of Phoenix's hands, fumbling a little before pressing the button to cancel the already-made call. How the drunken attorney had managed to co-ordinate his fingers enough to select any contacts at all in the first place was some sort of miniature miracle in its own right.

"Aw... You're such a -"

Miles suddenly frowned down at the screen, squinting to read what it said. "Um. It looks like you actually tried to call "Lucky Pagoda Chinese"...?"

"Huh?"

"Th-that was what you had pressed." Miles explained with incredulity, showing him the screen. Phoenix took the phone from him and stared at it.

"Oh, shoot. Haha... I dunno, it was with the "L" contacts." He pocketed the device again. "Close enough."

Come to think of it, I'm kinda hungry again. I could go for some Chinese food. Mmmmm.

"How is that "close enough"?! One's a restaurant and the other is a man who has a borderline-illegal obsession with beautiful women!"

Phoenix shrugged. "Larry does what Larry does. Good guy, that Larry." He smiled widely, thinking of the goofball friend in passing. "You hungry, though?"

"No! I'm not!"

"You're drunk, Miles. Therefore, you are hungry. It's... the rules. The rules!"

"I'm not drunk."

"OB-jection." Phoenix almost fell over sideways.

And so, around thirty minutes later, the two lawyers were drunkenly consuming their delivered late-night servings of egg noodles and wontons from cardboard take-out boxes in the living room, all proper etiquette abandoned as the alcohol impaired their better judgement of dining arrangements.

Miles had given up on his chopsticks and had retrieved a fork after painfully walking into a bench corner approximately three times in his poor efforts to manoeuvre his own kitchen. Phoenix, despite having the current dexterity of a crippled chimp, was still using his wooden utensils, although he had taken to shovelling the food into his mouth without taking care to open or close the chopsticks at all.

"Mmm, that hit th' spot." Phoenix licked his lips, satisfied. "Those prawn crackers will still be good tomorrow, too. He-lloooo, breakfast."

"I wasn't even hungry," Miles said dejectedly, frowning at the remaining food left in his container.

Sure, Miles.

After continuing to stare at his container as if he had just committed a sin, the prosecutor slowly collected the leftovers and made his way back to the kitchen to put them in the fridge (there was another distant exclamation of pain from a second episode of failed coordination). He returned with two messily-refilled glasses of water, the liquid dripping over the sides of its vessels which threatened to slip out of the hands that carried them. "We're going to need a lot of this if you want to avoid a hangover. Or lessen it, at least." He took a long drink of his own as Phoenix did the same.

There's no way I'm not going to feel some kind of headache come tomorrow.

"I'm not looking forward to it."

"I'd be concerned if you were."

Feeling a lot better after the water and their impromptu meal, Phoenix stretched on the couch.

"Phew."

"Hm."

"How come your Princess didn't pester us for food, anyways? Don't dogs make a huge fuss when people bring out tasty things? I swear she walked into this room before..." His eyes darted around in surprise. "Where... Where is she?"

"Asleep in another room, probably." Miles answered, pretending to ignore the prod at the nickname again. "I've trained her to not bother me when eating... And most of the time, she succeeds in obeying. Also, she's getting old and less enthusiastic about anything other than greeting me when I get home... frisbees... chew toys... and investigating new people in the house." He said the last part with a raised eyebrow accompanied by a smirk, before looking away.

"I find it hard to believe a dog is not interested in food." Phoenix said lazily.

Miles looked back at him, derision etched all over his face. "I find it hard to believe that a defense attorney decided getting drunk with a prosecutor was a good idea."

Uh. You agreed to it. Don't pin this one all on me.

"I still like that it happened."

He felt that their words and actions came across as slightly more and more sober as time went on. Whether it was the water or extra food in their stomachs or something else, he was not sure, but at least it was a step up from being a tangle of lawyers on the hallway floor.

"I -" Miles searched for something to say but failed. He made to stand up, but Phoenix held out an arm to stop him.

Where do you think you're going?

"Nuh-uh." He said, wagging a finger in a mocking manner of the pose that the prosecutor himself normally displayed when about to destroy his hopes and dreams in front of the judge. Miles gawked at the admonitory motion being directed at him.

"What do you mean "nuh-uh"? I have to go to the bathroom."

"Do you? Do you really?" Phoenix asked, sceptically.

Actually, maybe he does. I don't think either of us went all night.

"Yes. Are you going to deny me my basic human functions to void my bladd- "

"Yeah, okay. Stop. Yeesh." Phoenix said almost disgustedly, holding up a palm. "You wouldn't normally blurt that kind of thing out when sober... Go." He waved his fingers dramatically as if dismissing a servant.

"I'm so glad I have your permission." Miles said acerbically, rolling his eyes and moving away with a gait much unlike his usual gracefulness. After a long while, he returned, looking for all the world more dishevelled than earlier. His bangs were clinging to parts of his forehead with water as if he had decided to wash his face at some point during his visit to the bathroom.

"Wow, what happened in there? Why are you so sweaty? Did you suddenly get the ru -" Phoenix paused. "Actually, no. D-don't answer that."

Miles frowned deeply and stood with his arms folded across his chest. "I know what you were going to say, and no, I did not. Since you seemed so initially curious."

Could have fooled me. He kinda looks like Maya that time she emerged from the bathroom after eating a whole pot of super-spicy ramen.

"What happened to you, then? Did the alcohol finally make you puke?" He tried not to laugh.

"Unlike you, I'm not that much of a lightweight."

"Pfft. You know I didn't puke, silly."

"No, you didn't. Thankfully." The other man grimaced as if trying not to imagine it. "But you have been acting like a complete fool all night."

"A handsome, downright devilish fool."

"No."

"Okay, whatever. B-but honestly... Are you okay?"

Miles seemed to gnaw briefly on his tongue before resuming his seat heavily next to Phoenix. "I'm fine. I just... Never mind."

"Oh, like that's gonna work on me." Phoenix scooted closer and leaned his head on Miles' shoulder, staring up with puppy dog eyes and a pout that could have put Maya to shame.

Nobody can resist the "Feenie-Wibble".

"What on Earth are you attempting now." Miles asked in a deadpan manner, trying to move away as Phoenix clamped his arms around his dark waistcoat. "I'm perfectly alright."

"And I'm actually a woman." Phoenix retorted without thinking, his arms squeezing tighter around his captive, who let out a grunt.

Note to self: Use a less-emasculating comeback next time.

Miles seemed to look slightly put off by the reply, and looked down at Phoenix with an expression of concern. "If you really must know," he began, giving in (much to the other man's internal victory), "I feel very irresponsible at the moment."

"But... But I told Mr Taxi guy that you are responsible! Now what is he gonna think?"

N-no! What was that?! Drunk Phoenix, you've had your time, get outta here already and let me take over!

"I don't think we can have a serious conversation right now." Miles concluded, shifting in his seat as Phoenix pleaded for him to continue, not relinquishing the grip he had on his waist.

"Sorry. Sorry, go on. Please... Miles?" The attorney half-raised his head and squeezed tightly again, much to the other's annoyance. "Please."

My head's still kinda swimming but I need to know, damn it.

"I feel..." There was a pregnant pause as the prosecutor seemed to collect his thoughts in the correct order before expressing them. "I feel like it was very... er... harebrained of me to give in to this request to drink with you tonight. We should have at least waited. I mean, aside from you and I being affectionate in a public setting," he coughed and looked to the side at the memory, "You displayed symptoms of discomfort today during the movie and in the same day I oblige and allow you to consume so much alcohol - me included - that we became a figment of our... usual selves. Yes."

Is that all? Way to make it sound more dramatic than a soap opera. Oh, Miles... You're so thoughtful in your own weird way. But you're always worrying about stuff and I just don't know what to do with you.

"Sooo... You admit you're drunk."

"Is that honestly all you got from what I just explained?"

Tread carefully, Phoenix. One of his patented mood swings is incoming.

"Well, no. But I'm honestly okay. You didn't "allow" me to do anything. I'm a grown adult and I chose to. It's been a few days and my concussion was only mild. I'll be fine!" He finished his statement with a small giggle, resting his head down again on Miles' shoulder.

Let's hope, anyway. To be honest I didn't even consider that issue when we went to the bar. Oops.

Miles shifted away properly so he could stare at Phoenix with disapproval, his tired, pale face still glistening with the steadily-drying sheen of water. "You say that, but this is you we are talking about. I could place you and a... and a box of unopened cereal in a sterile room and you would somehow contract malaria from it."

What? Yeah, I'm not even going to honour that with a response, whatever that was.

"Please don't get all lecture-y on me now. We had fun, didn't we? At least I know I did... I felt like you did, too."

His hands still felt a bit numb as they moved away from Miles' waist. He propped himself up a little shakily and reached over to take another drink of water as the other man continued to stare at him, uncomfortably so.

"I... I admit I did have fun, yes. But like I said, it could have waited."

"No time like the present!" Phoenix said in a very Maya-like fashion, slapping him on the shoulder lightly and earning a stiffened pose and a glower in reply.

"How are you feeling now, then?" Miles continued to apprehend him as if he were a scientific experiment, his eyes wandering cautiously over Phoenix's face as if trying to find some sort of visual error in his genetic makeup.

Why do I get the feeling he's not gonna listen no matter what I say?

"I actually feel fine. Just tipsy." His mouth blurted out inexorably.

"Promise me." Miles insisted, folding his arms.

Bah. If he's expecting a "pinky-promise", it isn't gonna happen if his arms are crossed like that!

"Hand me a Bible and I'll declare it under oath, Mr Serious."

"I do not have a Bible, Phoenix."

"How am I supposed to prove I'm okay then, unless you happen to have a lie detector machine in your study? You wanna borrow the magatama?" Phoenix blindly patted down his suit a second time before remembering he didn't have it on him, yet again. It was almost bordering on unfortunate coincidence at this point, as if the enchanted stone did not even exist and had been a figment of his imagination this entire time, although he knew it was not the case. "N-nevermind what I said about the Magatama, hehe." Suddenly he paused and bit his lip, remembering something both he and Miles regarded very strongly about their relationship.

The prosecutor continued to stare; by this point it was more than a little unnerving.

"You... You trust me, don't you?" Phoenix's eyes swam with emotion.

Trust. We trust each other...

...Right?

Miles looked away finally, taken aback by the intimate question. He looked deep in thought, before his answer escaped him in the form of a murmur. "Yes. I trust you."

Well, that was not entirely convincing.

"Tell me properly, then." Phoenix asked impatiently.

Clearing his throat, Miles licked his lips and sat up straight with surprising obedience. He turned his upper body fully so it was facing Phoenix directly and repeated his statement. "I trust you."

Wow, that was easier than I thought it would be?

"Good. Because if I was feeling like death I'd definitely let you know." He shot his partner a cheeky expression which Miles rolled his eyes at.

"This is not something to joke about."

"Oh, I'm not joking, I would actually tell you."

"I'll hold your word to it, then." There was a defeated grimace. Then, in a startling display of affection, Miles extended an arm, his fingers twitching as he beckoned Phoenix to lean against him. "Come here."

Without needing to be told a second time, Phoenix happily wormed his way closer under the other man's outstretched limb, his own arms finding the now-familiar dip of Miles' waist as they connected around him once more. He let out a satisfied little sigh and nuzzled into the warmth, pressing his nose and the sides of his face into the crook of Miles' neck. The cravat felt very slightly damp to the touch.

"I... Er." A strange squirm. "That's... What are you doing?"

"Huh?"

"What is that you're doing with your face?" Miles twisted awkwardly to look at him again.

"Wait, y'mean this?" Phoenix repeated the nuzzling motion as Miles shifted in his seat, nodding with reddened cheeks.

"Y-yes. It... It feels odd."

I forgot this guy has two modes: "Don't touch me" and "if you touch me, don't touch me for longer than three seconds."

"I believe normal people call it "snuggling" or "nuzzling"." Phoenix answered, in disbelief. "Do you want me to stop? If it's making you uncomfortable, I will."

Miles paused for a few seconds before he muttered a quick answer. "N-no. It's alright."

I guess I'm in safe territory, then.

"What do you mean it feels "odd", though?" Phoenix asked, resisting the urge to repeat the motion.

"Er..." Miles started, looking very embarrassed now as his partner's tilted face held a steady gaze towards him, their bodies still cuddled up to one another but the heat dial had suddenly been turned up higher than it should have been for such taction, "That isn't important, I just - "

Phoenix gave in and nuzzled him again, trying not to laugh out loud as Miles let out a funny little squawk in protest.

What the heck was that?! Is he part rooster?

"S-stop! Ah-ha -!"

The small laugh finally gave it away and Phoenix withdrew his grip in awed realisation, leaning back and apprehending Miles with a stupefied stare.

Oh. My. God. He's ticklish. Miles Edgeworth is ticklish.

"You're ticklish!" He confirmed out loud, pointing as his stare got even wider. "This is the best day of my life... Oh you have no idea." He held up both of his hands, quirking his fingers threateningly as if the surrounding air had breasts and he suddenly gained the ability to see and grope them. His left hand throbbed painfully with the motions but he ignored it, knowing what power he now held over the other man.

Miles' eyes bulged. "N-no, I'm not. Don't you dare."

"Your statements contradict all the evidence, Miles." Phoenix teased, edging closer again and almost toppling over as the prosecutor hastily got to his feet, suddenly a lot more sober than before. Phoenix did not give up and stood up just as quickly, feeling the floor lurch slightly under his numbed feet. He ignored the sensation and pursued Miles, who shot him an expression bordering between irritation and fear as they both circled the coffee table in some ridiculous re-enactment of "duck-duck-goose".

"Wright, I am not in the mood to be chased around my own home like a criminal on the run!" Miles choked out exasperatedly, as Phoenix somehow managed to clumsily herd him upstairs. The defense attorney descended onto all fours on the second landing, laughing loudly.

"Hahahaha... You're so cute when you run all drunk and stuff."

"Urgh! For the last time, I am not drunk! W-well, not so much anymore, anyway." He leant against a nearby wall and glared at Phoenix's crumpled form in front of him. "Now give up and let's shower and go to bed, already."

"Aw, you wanna shower together?" Phoenix stumbled to his feet, scratching the nape of his neck.

"Tsk, no. I meant we both shower in our respective bathrooms, you dolt." Nevertheless, Miles' ears reddened at what was no doubt an imagined version of the suggestion.

"Your loss." There was a shrug as Phoenix tried to play off his disappointment. "I could scrub your back, you could scrub mine... How's that saying go again?"

"What the heck are you on about?"

Phoenix dipped his head and chuckled. "You're right, it's been a long night. A fun one, but a long one..." He sneakily looked off to the side, and pointed in the direction of a door nearby, feigning a look of shock at nothing in particular.

Bluff-master strikes back in three... two... one...

"When did you get THAT thing?!" He interrogated loudly, causing Miles to turn his head in the direction of the false whatever-it-was.

"What thin - AGHHH!"

As soon as he had even barely responded to the bluff, did Phoenix descend upon his form like an eagle swooping to pluck an unsuspecting hyrax off the ground. He pressed the body of the other man tight up against the wall and pinned him there with a well-placed knee between his awkwardly-parted thighs, causing another yelp of disapproval to escape the prosecutor.

"HAHA! I win! I win!" The defense attorney's nimble fingers prodded anywhere they could reach, under ribs and arms and slithering under the blazer with an almost rehearsed dexterity, defying the clumsy movements he had displayed earlier whilst eating.

"Wright! Stuh - STOP IT! I... AHAHA! STOP!" Miles fought back uselessly, his limbs struggling to push away his intruder as every shift of his upper body threatened to expose his underarms even more to the horrible, tickling digits. "Get away! I... ahahahaha! I object to this! I object! WRIGHT!" His laughter continued, almost painfully and bordering on exhaustion as Phoenix relentlessly continued the attack.

My hand is going to take even longer to heal after this, and God damn does it hurt but THIS IS WORTH IIIIITTTT!

He heard himself laughing loudly again in response to his partner's endless chuckles.

"WR-WRIGHT...!" The loud protest went unheard as it was drowned in another fit of giggles from the prosecutor, whose eyes now looked as if they were struggling to contain the drops of mirth gathering at the tear ducts.

"You are so..." Phoenix curled the fingers of his right hand just over Miles' hips and groped around to elicit another hilarious response, which came without trouble. "Cute!"

"I... I... Ahahaha! I refuse to be called "cute", especially under - BAHAHA - these circumstances!"

"Oh, okay. My mistake. You're so tough, Mr Prosecutor." Phoenix taunted. The reply to his remark came in the form of a flustered attempt at a glare that held no threat whatsoever.

Man, if only I had found out about this weakness earlier!

He stood there, still for a few seconds, his face warm with endearment as he looked at Miles wriggling hopelessly; letting out a few leftover gasps and chuckles with his head tilted down and his hair falling over his eyes. Even if the loud laughter had been forced (for lack of a better word) out of him, the sound was still something Phoenix felt he rarely, if ever got the chance to hear. It was a strange thing, seeing Miles Edgeworth laugh with such openness. Strange and magical.

He was snapped out of his brief trance as Miles took advantage of the lapse in tickling and pushed him away a little too roughly.

"I - ah. I'm sorry." Miles said hurriedly as Phoenix stumbled back. "Actually, no. No I'm not sorry! Why in all the seven circles of hell did you do that?!" He folded his arms over himself protectively and edged sideways down the wall as if afraid the other man would rush over and assault him again.

I guess I owe him an explanation.

"Because." Phoenix said simply.

That'll do.

"Bed. Now." Miles said warningly, pointing at the guest room.

"Well, okay, but you should really treat me to dinner first." The defense attorney shrugged and slumped over to the room in question, fighting the temptation to crack up again.

"We did have dinner together, you moron, in case you've alr - N-no wait...!" The sarcastic statement finally caught up with him and he shook his head sharply, bangs fluttering to-and-fro like a couple of wispy, greying curtains. "That's NOT what I meant, and you know it!"

"Uh-huh. By the way, didn't you want me to shower first?" Phoenix turned around back towards him, eyebrows raised. "Or are you too impatient for that?" The raised eyebrows did a little dance on his forehead.

"Ngghhh...!" Miles stared, pale face reddening again. He looked borderline furious. "Grr. Y-yes. I meant shower then bed. Oh, I don't care anymore. Just -"

"Calm down." Phoenix moved back over to him and pulled him in for a hug, which Miles immediately tried to resist by bracing himself, thinking another horrible tickle-attack was imminent. "Gosh, you'd think I had stripped down to leather thong in front of you or something." He scoffed, as Miles tensed again in his arms. "I'm kidding." He pulled back slightly, and surveyed the other's bewildered expression before planting a firm kiss on Miles' left cheek, then right, then finally on his firmly-closed mouth.

"Y-You're incorrigible."

"You've already said that. I'm sorry, but you've used up your quota of big words for tonight." Phoenix pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes, holding them together for a long moment. Eventually their breathing fell in-sync with one another, and the blissful sensation of affection overrode the concern and annoyance from earlier.

"Can you just... be serious for once?" Miles asked softly, leaning in more to the hug.

I am serious. Seriously charming.

Luckily Miles had not heard his thoughts, otherwise he would not have given up on rigidly pinning his arms to his sides and instead letting them encircle Phoenix's waist, squeezing softly. Phoenix made a small noise.

"Careful, still a tiny bit sore."

"As much as I would like to continue pressing that sore spot, I won't sink to your level and continue prodding at your weaknesses." The prosecutor smirked, and Phoenix shivered a little as he felt the lips quirk up against the skin of his neck.

If I didn't like you so much I'd fight you right now.

"Well, if we're going to stand here and be snarky all night, are you sure you don't want to join me in the shower?" He pulled back and smiled charmingly at Miles, who shot him a long look of irritation.

Is that a "no"?

"We are barely a week into our relationship. What exactly makes you think I will just agree to a steamy shower with you?!"

Wow... It's only been that long? It feels way longer, somehow.

"I didn't mention it would be "steamy", Miles. But if you're already anticipating that, then - "

"Gck! I-I meant the actual steam of the shower itself! Please stop insinuating such lewd things! I did not think it was possible for you to become even more annoying but I was wrong. You and alcohol are a terrible combination."

"Haha...Okay okay. Stop getting your frills in a knot." Phoenix planted one more kiss on Miles' face, squarely between his eyes, which blinked a few times in surprise at the action. "If you're in bed by the time I get out of the shower, then goodnight."

He takes way longer in the shower than I do, though. He'll probably still be conditioning his hair by the time I've dried off and fallen asleep.

"G-goodnight." Miles muttered, embarrassed at the random stamps of affection being planted on him like stickers from a children's colouring book.

Phoenix did not let go, and looked at Miles softly for a prolonged moment before leaning in for another kiss on the lips. He held it there, closing his eyes and waiting for the other to reciprocate. It took more than a few seconds before the second pair of lips finally parted, welcoming the kiss hesitantly.

"Mm." One of the attorney's hands reached up around the back of his partner's neck and pulled him in further, and he felt his own breath escape him against Miles' mouth. He felt a careful pair of hands hovering somewhere over his sides, as if unsure where they should rest now, but ultimately they found a comfortable position in the small of his back, pulling him forward ever so slightly. The taste of syrah and Chinese food combined over his tongue in some sort of oddly appealing swirl of flavours that made him smile. The curve of his lips seemed to startle his companion, who pulled back and frowned, a flipped image of his own expression.

"What's so funny this time?" The question came out breathily as Miles apprehended him with a raised brow, although his eyes held an unusually amatory gaze.

"N-nothing."

I just still can't believe I get to kiss you.

The next morning was surprisingly tolerable; the dull ache of the hangover was much kinder to him than the ones he had experienced during his college days, which surprised him since hangovers usually got worse with age if he were to listen to any of Larry or Gumshoe's complaints over the years.

He inwardly thanked Miles for making him drink enough water the night before as thankfully, little to no nausea gripped at his stomach this time around. He headed downstairs with slow steps, expecting Pesu to bowl him over on the first floor, except she was nowhere in sight. The sound of dog biscuits being crunched from just beyond the pet-door gave indication to her current whereabouts and he sighed in relief at her distraction from bothering him.

He wandered around, searching for a familiar head of grey hair, only to find the place empty. He wondered briefly if Miles was still asleep - maybe his hangover had not been as considerate? But on further investigation of his surroundings, he discovered a note left on the kitchen countertop - one written in the familiar, beautiful script that was the prosecutor's fluid handwriting. The initial visual of a note being left by the other man stirred up an instinctual flinch of apprehension as Phoenix lifted it warily, remembering a similar scenario in which Miles had abandoned a note for someone to find. He shook his head to erase the bad memory and looked down to read the written words with bleary eyes. There seemed to be quite a lot written, for some reason.

"Phoenix,

I did not want to wake you this morning since you looked quite comatose - "

Phoenix made a face at this.

Aren't you supposed to worry if people look "comatose"?!

" - and dare I admit it, quite endearing buried in the quilts the way you were - "

Phoenix's frown turned into a look of delayed affection, bordering on confusion.

A-Awww. I think.

" - so I left to collect my car. Hopefully it is still in one piece and does not have any unexpected baggage hiding in the trunk or anything else of an unwanted nature, for that matter. The parking lot security at the office has been improved greatly since that incident, so fingers crossed."

Another brief, painful flashback to a previous case raced through his mind, exacerbating his mild headache.

Yikes. Who knew he had a dark sense of humour?

"Anyway, I shall see you soon, given nothing suddenly warrants my immediate attention at the office as I will be checking up on a few things before heading back. On the off-chance you will be awake by then, I shall send you a text if I am delayed. Please feel free to help yourself to anything in the fridge or pantry if you feel like breakfast. Hopefully you know how to use a coffee machine because I do not anticipate arriving to the charred remains of my home later in case you actually have no idea how to use one.

Yours,

Miles Edgeworth."

Phoenix read the last three words over and over again, the note grasped in his hand as if it were suddenly a treasure he had to keep safe. He was torn between three feelings. One: offended at the fact that Miles was worried he would set his place on fire. Two: amused at the fact that Miles had signed it using both his first and last name, and three: feeling touched at the fact that the formality still sounded so... intimate.

"Yours..."?

The attorney felt his cheeks grow warm.

I mean, I'm sure he says that in all of his letters to everyone. Well, actually. I'm not sure. Does he?

He made a mental note to ask the prosecutor at some point if this was indeed the case.

It turned out that Miles had indeed been held back at the office, as a chime from Phoenix's phone alerted him a couple of hours later. He had just been starting to question if Miles' key would turn in the lock any second, before realising just how much he probably came across as an eager puppy waiting for its owner. He looked down at Pesu, who had since come back inside the house and was now lying at his ankles, her tail flopping lazily every few minutes as if swatting at the ghosts of flies.

Is this what you go through every time he leaves home, Princess?

Minutes drifted by as the canine continued to lie on his toes, blissfully unaware of anything else but Phoenix's companionship and the sounds coming from the television. The current show ended, followed by several long advertisements before the midday news header flashed on the screen with a familiar, short but dramatic soundtrack. It was followed by the appearance of two news anchors seated at their desks, white smiles plastered on their faces a little too expectantly. They rambled off their standardised introductions before leading into the first proper story; the voice of the male anchor carrying over and supplying the transition from the studio's backdrop to the replayed footage of a recent report.

An acquittal had been achieved by a new defense attorney only the day before - one Esmond Buckler. The attorney stood at the base of the courthouse steps, reporters standing around his small form like eager vultures. The lawyer looked much shorter than Phoenix, and a little older than most of the greenhorns he had seen. It looked as if Mr Buckler had taken the Bar Exam a little later than his fellow attorneys, but despite this, his face (which looked to be in its late thirties), beamed with smile after smile as he tugged at his dark, jade-toned lapels. The telltale sparkle of a freshly-minted gold badge glinted in the camera flashes.

"I have to admit, I knew that my client was innocent from our first conversation. It's hard to explain, but I just knew! So I continued to believe in him all the way -"

Phoenix felt himself nodding in understanding as he watched the interview.

And another hero is born... Wait, did I just make myself sound presumptuous? Erk.

As he continued to watch, the cameras were directed to the prosecutor of the case, none other than Winston Payne. The man looked almost pitiful, with his large glasses sitting askew on the bridge of his glistening nose. His thin mouth was twisted into a scowl that was a clone of the same expression he had shown Phoenix a mere three years ago when they first faced each other from their respective benches on either side of the courtroom.

"Prosecutor Payne, I believe this has been but another loss for you in such a short amount of time. How are you feeling about the situation? Has justice been served, in your opinion?"

Phoenix could almost see the conflicting sentiments flicker one-by-one across Payne's face as the man seemed to think of the best way to answer without having a full-blown mental breakdown in front of the reporters. Before he had a chance to see or hear just how much emotional pain the old prosecutor was about to abdicate to the cameras, Pesu suddenly scrambled up, ears flicking forwards. It was only then that he had heard the sound of a sports car rumbling to a standstill and he flicked the television off as the collie made a beeline for the front door faster than Phoenix could give her credit for, granted how lazy she had been acting only moments before.

"Hey! Wait up, girl!"

The sound of keys jingling and turning in the door made Phoenix sit bolt upright in a very Pesu-like manner as he too got to his feet and headed in the direction of the sound, following the animal.

Wait, what am I doing? Since when did I become a dog? Ack!

He found himself frantically preening his messy bed head into some semblance of its regular appearance, just as Miles stepped over the threshold of the front door. He was wearing a slim-fitting, pale grey sweater and a pair of dark jeans that hugged his legs in all the right ways. It looked positively alien for some reason. Alien, but good. Very good.

Phoenix suddenly forgot how to breathe properly, instead gulping once as if air was meant to be swallowed and not inhaled.

He went into the office like that?! Even if it was only for a couple of hours, I thought he might have dressed to the nines as always. Not that this simple outfit doesn't look great either, but. Oh boy. Um. I-Is the heater on, or something?

"Ah, you're awake. A reply to my text message would have been nice." The prosecutor said in greeting, supposedly choosing to ignore his guest's discomposure.

I thought I did send a reply?

Phoenix checked his own phone and frowned. "Damn it, I forgot to press "send". I'm sorry."

Miles let out a small, sharp exhalation through his nose in what Phoenix assumed was quiet laughter, before slipping off his shoes. He bent down briefly to scratch Pesu's ears, then making his way down the hall and past Phoenix he muttered, "I'm not surprised." His words trailed behind him as he made his way into the kitchen. "How are you feeling?" There was a muffled clatter as the briefcase was placed onto the countertop.

"Good, actually. A bit of a headache but it's starting to go away." Phoenix followed him and accepted the glass of water Miles had dispensed from the fridge door and was now holding up to his chest. "Uh, thanks." He sipped obediently.

"You don't realise just how much you need the water at first, but you do. Have you eaten?" Miles said nonchalantly, dispensing his own glass. "And I have aspirin if you need some." He gulped down a few mouthfuls of his beverage whilst leaning against the countertop in a way that was almost too laid back for him. Phoenix found himself staring at the Adam's apple that bobbed up and down as Miles swallowed, his pale neck looking somewhat naked without the trademark cravat covering it.

"Y-yeah, I had toast. So, uh..." The attorney turned away, clutching his own glass with suddenly shaky fingers.

What the heck? You'd think I'd never seen his neck before. Well, come to think of it, I rarely do. Hmm...

"Yes?" Miles asked, putting his glass down and moving over to unlock the briefcase. He quietly removed a few stapled sheafs of important-looking papers and tapped them on the countertop a few times to neaten the pile with what seemed to be an important and authoritative action - but at the same time one that looked as if it were pointless and merely stalling for time in anticipation of Phoenix's words.

"What happened at the office?" It sounded more like a demand than an actual question and he inwardly scolded himself for his tone.

Miles looked him over curiously. "I was stopped by Prosecutor Payne on the way out."

Payne?

"Funnily enough, I was just watching the news report about his last case... The one that wrapped up yesterday?"

"Ah. Yes, that was what he wanted to speak about, actually."

"Oh. Is... Is he okay?"

And I suddenly care why, exactly?

Miles placed the papers down and outstretched his hands, shaking his head matter-of-factly. "Prosecutor Payne does not take defeat well, as I'm sure you're all too familiar with. He had come in to the office to search for the nearest colleague to vent to, which unfortunately, happened to be me. I advised he bring the matter up with the acting Chief Prosecutor but he refused."

Probably because the acting Chief Prosecutor, whoever that may be, will most likely rebuke him for his loss. Then again I have no idea what goes on at that office.

"That's... Not very professional of him, if that's what he spends his time doing on weekends after losing cases."

"He does it no matter what day of the week it is."

"Oh."

"Anyway," Miles sighed, picking up the pile of neatened papers again and flicking over the corners in search of some sort of important number or heading that Phoenix had no clue about, "Why aren't you dressed yet? How long have you been awake?"

"Um..." Phoenix scratched his head, his mouth a lopsided grin. "I kind of got sidetracked watching television? I've been up for a while." He bit his lip as Miles looked up from his documents with a serious stare, his light-coloured eyes reflecting the glow of the sun that streamed in through the windows.

Whoa. I'd be scared right now if he weren't so handsome in this lighting.

"If you're done staring at me like I have a growth on my face... I think you should freshen up and put on something other than boxer shorts and that oversized t-shirt."

The only thing I see growing on your face is your amazingly good looks. It's not fair, save some attractiveness for the rest of us.

... Argh, what is WITH me today? Have I always been this weird after a night drinking?

"How are you not hungover?" Phoenix huffed out unexpectedly, his question muffled as he started to pull the shirt off himself in one fumbling motion. He heard Miles let out a choked noise from somewhere beyond the material being pulled over his head.

"I - I did have a small headache when I awoke, but - Oh for heaven's sake, can't you do that somewhere more private?!"

"Do what? Take my shirt off?" Phoenix grinned, his exposed torso now bathed in sunlight and the fading bruises staining his skin with less intensity than they had on his first night back from hospital. They were now starting to turn a sickly green colour and he looked down and made a disgusted face at the appearance of his injuries. "Whoa. Look at these. Kinda looks like Poison Ivy tried to give me hickies."

Miles stood in stunned silence before clearing his throat loudly. "If you're done entertaining your fantasies of comic villains giving you love bites, could you please go upstairs and get changed into something presentable?!"

Phoenix threw back his head with a laugh.

I shouldn't. Oh, wait. Yes, I should.

"Oh, my dearest Miles..." He said wistfully, sashaying up to the prosecutor. He trailed his fingertips over the other's shoulders with a playful slowness, throwing a wink in his direction as he walked away again and made his way out of the kitchen. Before turning the corner, he looked over his shoulder and sent Miles a fox-like smile. "You're the only one I want doing that kind of thing to me."

It was worth it just to see the absolutely thunderstruck expression on the other man's face.

"Why am I trying these on, again?" The tailored, dark suit felt luxurious under his fingers as he ran his hands over the material, inwardly fretting over the price tag. He had stepped out of his changing room for the fourth time that afternoon, having taken to awkwardly parading outfit after outfit in front of Miles. The prosecutor sat on a waiting bench, apprehending each outfit with expressions that were too difficult for Phoenix to make head or tail of.

"Because that cheap, blue abomination you call a suit does you no favours in terms of professionalism."

"And yet you were still attracted to me anyway," Phoenix said smugly, as Miles turned away, slightly pink.

"Th-the suit had nothing to do with that," the other hissed, looking around as if hoping nobody had heard them.

"Relax, nobody is hanging around to listen to us talk - "

"How are you gentlemen going?" A smooth voice cut in, completely contradicting Phoenix's attempted reassurance of his partner's fretting.

Oh whoops. Hopefully Salesman McGee didn't hear too much.

Miles stiffened in his seat as the tall, elegantly-dressed young man sauntered up to Phoenix, looking down his pointed nose as the defense attorney stared back intensely. The man was quite personable, Phoenix noted, with cleanly-styled brown hair and deep-set hazel eyes. He observed a strong jaw line framed well by very neatly-trimmed, dark facial hair. A pair of delicate silver studs adorned smallish earlobes and Phoenix suddenly found himself growing oddly curious for some reason.

Um. Am I supposed to do a little spin for him, or something?

"How is the fit, sir? If it is too long in the arms, we do have a size lower if you'd like to try that on instead." The man indicated to the lawyer's wrists, where the ends of the sleeves draped over a little too much, concealing most of his hands. He smiled as Phoenix continued to meet his eyes. "Or... perhaps some other suits might be to your liking?"

Okay, I get it, you're handsome. No need to use that to persuade me to spend more than I have to.

"Yes, th-that would be pertinent." Miles agreed instantly, and Phoenix found his attention snapping back over to his partner, noticing just how uncharacteristically fidgety the prosecutor suddenly looked.

Is he okay?

"If you need to go to the bathroom or something, I can wait, it's fine." He suggested with a concerned frown. Miles paled even more than his complexion permitted and glowered.

"I do not need to go to the bathroom." He hissed, as if the salesman were not in the same general vicinity.

"O-kay, just saying." Phoenix responded, confused.

"In case you do, sir, the bathrooms are just to the left if you exit into the mall. Past the fountain."

"I don't - "

The salesman quietly dismissed Miles' argument and beckoned Phoenix to lift his arms and took some measurements, holding the professional poise he had obviously practiced well over the years. "My my, you have strong arms, apart from this splint here. What exactly did you do?"

"Long story," Phoenix said bluntly, not wanting to explain yet again only to have it recounted incorrectly back to him a few moments later as if he had never taken the time to go into detail.

"He's clumsy, let's just put it that way." Miles huffed, folding his arms in front of him and crossing one denim leg over the other.

Thanks, Miles.

"Hm, well. These things happen. I once injured myself chasing my younger sister's bullies away a while back. My sister is still in high school but she is a meek little thing, can't stick up for herself in the slightest. But I guess that's what her big brother is for, no?" He smiled briefly, "I mean, even if I wasn't her big brother I would have still given chase. Imagine the scene: a tall man in a suit like me chasing after a group of teenagers and scolding them." He chuckled in a way that sounded considerably musical. Phoenix felt his ears perk up at the sound.

"That's so brave of you," He provided sympathetically, as the salesman pocketed his measuring tape, giving a self-effacing shake of his head.

"Not to toot my own horn, but I've always believed people in need of help should always have someone to turn to."

This guy speaks my language. More people like you need to exist, buddy.

"I - I agree," Phoenix stammered, nodding enthusiastically. He heard Miles exhale sharply through his nose somewhere in the background.

"Well, I'm glad." The salesman made eye contact again and his lips curved up slowly, his face looking more open and friendly than before. The defense attorney suddenly felt more than a little nervous as he watched the man now walking around him - the distance both close yet a little too far, almost like a tiger stalking in circles downwind from its quarry. Hazel eyes looked him up and down and narrowed at parts of the suit that did not fit as well as they should have. "Hm... The shoulders are not sitting very well..."

"Should I try on something else, then?"

"That depends. Do you like this style, or would you prefer a different design?" The salesman asked silkily. "If you like, I can lead you to some other suits that might cater to your tastes?"

"I - um." Phoenix blushed at the words for reasons unknown to him, and he swallowed.

This guy is a smooth-talker, alright. At this rate, I'll be walking out of here with considerably less money than I started with.

"If you'd excuse us for a moment, sir..." Miles interjected, getting to his feet carefully and raising a hand politely, although his facial expression looked stonier than a brick wall. "I need to discuss something important with my colleague first." He allowed one of his eyebrows to quirk up to punctuate his point. "We will call you back shortly, if that's alright?"

"Colleague?" Still afraid to reveal our relationship? Sigh.

"Ah, yes. Of course." The salesman looked momentarily affronted but nodded professionally, excusing himself. He strode away, leaving a trail of faint sandalwood cologne drifting after him.

When Miles had triple-checked that nobody else was eavesdropping, he immediately approached Phoenix and stood before him, arms folded tightly across his chest again.

"Uh - "

"What exactly are you getting at, here?" Miles asked in a low tone, looking - what was that written on his face all of a sudden -?

Hurt?

"M-Miles, are you alright?"

"Spare me the platitudes, Wright." The prosecutor said calculatedly, his face impassive. Suddenly, a flicker of something raced over his expression, tripping up the severity of his stare. "As if you don't know."

Uh-oh. Whatever it was I did, can I undo it?

"I... I actually don't know. Please enlighten me because trying to read you is like trying to read a blank scrapbook, sometimes. N-no offence." He tried to pass off his last statement with a small grin but was immediately given a visual scolding from the other.

"If I must spell it out for you..." Miles swallowed and turned back to stare at him angrily, although his arms had repositioned themselves to the typical, singular-arm-grabbing pose they frequently assumed when the man was under particular levels of stress, "I... I can tell he likes you."

"Well, it's nice to be liked for once instead of attacked or whatever," Phoenix replied abashedly, remembering previous incidences of old men throwing bird seeds at him; old women screaming at him in fast-paced, garbled spewing of distrustful statements; prosecutors throwing coffee at his head or electrocuting him... or whipping him.

"No, Wright. He likes you." Miles rolled his eyes as if trying to insert sense into the mind of a disobedient preschooler. "As in, the way I like you." He looked away bitterly. "I'm... I'm sure of it."

HUH?

Wait. Miles has "gaydar"?

...Wait. Why am I surprised?

"What. But aren't you usually the one turning heads?"

Unless this salesman doesn't have a thing for princely prosecutors with silver hair and eyes like moonlight... Hehe, wow I'm poetic.

"I'm not annoyed because of that," Miles said through gritted teeth. "I am perfectly happy not having any extra attention directed towards me. I just... I don't particularly feel comfortable with you being all..." He paused, biting his tongue. "Er - "

"Me being what?"

"F-flirty."

Wait, WHAAAAAAAT?!

"Flirty?!" Phoenix gawked, his eyes glazing over in shock. "Wait, how?! I'm sorry, but what?"

"Oh, don't act stupid. There's a brain in there, you've proven enough times when it matters. Why pretend now, of all times?"

"Miles, I actually don't know what you mean? How was I being "flirty"?" Phoenix felt his chest bubble with panic at the idea that he had hurt Miles without knowing. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't realise, I just wanted to be friendly...?" He gulped and looked at the carpet, feeling ashamed.

God, am I that dense when it comes to these things?

Miles simply sighed and turned away.

"Honestly!" Phoenix pulled him back around and grabbed both of his shoulders and stared imploringly. "Please. I thought you said you trusted me."

You do, don't you?

"I..." Miles' expression suddenly softened. "I do. I just - "

"There's no "just" when it comes to trust. Not if you truly trust me like you say you do. Why would I try to flirt with someone when I have you?" His voice lowered on the last part and he pulled Miles closer (much to the other's stiffened protest) and held him against his chest, planting a kiss against his hair. "Do you think I'm stupid to risk losing someone I've been chasing for over fifteen years, you... you dork?" He struggled to fight back the emotions pricking at his eyes. "You're worrying about nothing."

"Wr - Phoenix. I - N-not here." Miles made a movement to edge away, although the attorney could tell it was half-hearted.

"No. I'm hugging you and you can't do anything about it."

"Agh. Please stop. That... that guy could come back at any moment." He said the word "guy" as if it tasted awful on his tongue.

"You said you would call him back if you needed him, right?" Phoenix suddenly tugged Miles into the changing room he had been using earlier and drew the thick black curtains shut, just as the prosecutor's face changed into an expression of alarm.

"What the heck do you think you're - "

"Shut up." Phoenix murmured, silencing him with a deft kiss to his lips and pinning him against the wall - narrowly avoiding one of the curved hooks that stuck out near the mirror.

If I have to prove stuff like this to you by being bold, so be it.

"Mmmpfgh..." Miles turned his head away from the attempted deepening of the kiss and stared at Phoenix's confused face with enough intensity to provide energy to an entire village in some remote part of the world.

Wha - Did I do something wrong?

Phoenix sensed the exact moment his eyes betrayed his thoughts as they narrowed into blue slits and he ducked back in for another kiss, ignoring the fingers of Miles' weak, clumsy grasping of failed disapproval from somewhere around his upper back.

The air in the small space of the changing room suddenly felt heavy, weighed down by the unrestrained possessiveness both parties currently felt towards one another.

The pristine, spruce-coloured suit Phoenix had tried on earlier was in danger of being wrinkled quite thoroughly, as Miles gave up on his moratorium of the attorney's actions and succumbed to the feeling of Phoenix's lips exploring his; his pale fingers tugging at the shoulders of the suit and drifting down to form loose fists over the lapels. There was a small noise of contentment as Phoenix took Miles' bottom lip gently between his teeth, their bodies pressed flush together. The sound of classical music carried lightly through the store from distant speakers, and Phoenix released Miles' lip and exhaled a breath that was shaky with renewed anticipation as he felt warm hands tenderly slide up his sides from where they had ventured beneath the suit blazer in the meantime.

"Hm... Even though I like how you look with that cravat thing, you look so good without it... Just wanted to let you know." He let the words drift over Miles' mouth airily, each spirant sparking the atoms between their lips. Miles shivered beneath his body, the thin jacket he had thrown on over his sweater was brushing up against the wall with every small movement; the friction causing tiny static noises to crackle behind him.

"I-is that so?" He seemed to struggle asking, his face a canvas of dark pink by this point as Phoenix offered a tiny, lascivious smile. Their faces were close enough that they could practically hear each other's pulses.

"Yes." The answer came out quietly; a deep desire suffusing the entirety of such a simple word.

They stood together for what felt like minutes on end but in reality was only seconds, before Miles tensed and tried to gently pry himself out of Phoenix's firm hold. Regretfully, the defense attorney let him and they both slinked out of the booth, co-ordinately flustered. Phoenix looked sideways at his companion knowingly, and brushed his fingers through his spikes in what could have passed off as confidence. That was, until Miles neatened up his own hair and clothes and cleared his throat before peeking around the corner and calling out for the salesman.

Oh boy.

A long while later, after trying on several more suits and engaging in clipped, awkward conversation with the now embarrassed and suddenly less-intrusive salesman (whom Phoenix figured knew just as much as Miles did that he had been overstepping a boundary earlier), did they leave the store.

"What exactly was the point of that?" The lawyer asked, feeling foolish as Miles directed him to sit down on a bench in front of an ice cream parlour. "I didn't feel the need to buy anything in the end."

More like, couldn't afford to.

"Well, no. But was there anything that caught your eye?" The prosecutor asked gently, waiting patiently for a response as Phoenix ruminated over the various designs he had tried on earlier.

"Yeah, actually. Hmm... I liked that slate grey one. It went really nicely with that black shirt and indigo tie you made me try on it with it. What do you think?"

"I think that one looked very nice on you." Miles agreed, a little shyly. He turned away quickly and occupied himself with a sign in the distance that said something about discounted shoe repairs.

"Why do you ask? Are you hating on my blue suit all of a sudden? You know I'm not giving it up."

Again, more like I can't afford to.

"I am not "hating" on your blue suit, Phoenix. I just thought it would be... er... fun... to try out some other colours."

"Oh, look at you, trying to have "fun" all of a sudden." Phoenix said teasingly, as a few kids ran past with soft-serve cones and an exasperated father at their heels. "While you're at it, want to get a sundae? Or we could share a milkshake with two straws like they do in the Archie comics."

Will he even get that reference?

"Perhaps "fun" was not the correct word to use in this instance. And as tempting as your childish offer is, I request that you wait here for a moment. There's something I forgot to pick up back in the direction we came." Miles made a point of insisting Phoenix remain seated by shooting him a serious frown as the lawyer made to get up.

"Can't I come with?"

"I- I'm just picking up my shoes that I had repaired the other day. There's usually a long line. No doubt you'd find it tiresome."

Is he telling me that his careful, elegant way of walking somehow failed him and damaged those Sharoscos-or-whatever?

"You underestimate me. I once spent three hours in line with Maya for some autograph signing thing at a movie premiere and obviously lived to tell the tale."

"Must you be so difficult? Miss Maya Fey did not give you the choice to avoid such a situation, am I right in guessing? You may entertain yourself however you wish whilst I am gone."

Phoenix blew a raspberry, although it came out sounding quite pathetic. "Thanks, Dad."

Miles' wrinkled his nose at the title. "Please do not refer to me as your father."

"But yeah, fine. Good point. A long line for shoe repairs, huh? I guess that's the place to be these days."

Bo-ring. I'm sure he'll be fine on his own, then.

"Okay," he yawned, deciding after all to give in to the beckoning of the surprisingly comfortable bench, "but don't keep me waiting too long, who knows how long I can sit here staring at that ice-cream menu before giving in." He stretched out his legs, wiggling his toes inside his loafers tightly and sliding his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans.

"Won't be long. I promise."

Phoenix nodded dismissively as his partner turned on his heel back in the other direction.

Didn't he just say the line would be long? Oh well, he's cute when he makes promises like that. Ack. I said it again. "Cute!" He'd kill me if I mentioned it aloud.

He watched fondly as Miles' retreating back disappeared within the crowd of other mall-goers.

No sooner than ten minutes later did he return. Phoenix got to his feet and approached him, noticing a bag clutched gingerly in other mans' hand. The bag was mostly concealed by the thin jacket the prosecutor had removed from his person and had draped over the arm carrying it.

"Line wasn't so long after all?" Phoenix asked, failing to mask the curiosity in his voice.

"Not as long as I thought it would be today, no." There was a hint of a stiff smile. "Let's get back to the car."

They quietly walked together back to where Miles had parked on the second level of the undercover car park, his vehicle sticking out like a sore thumb amongst its surroundings, as always. Once unlocked, the pair slid into their respective seats and Miles gave a sideways glance at Phoenix as his hand hesitated over the ignition, keys clasped a little too tightly. The bag (still with the jacket over the top) had been gently placed behind the driver's seat even after Phoenix had offered to hold it.

"Hey. Everything okay?" The attorney asked, puzzled at the strange mannerisms his companion had begun showing.

"Yes." Miles had managed, after a painful few seconds. "J-just thinking." He looked mildly nervous.

"You do that a lot." Phoenix said gently, offering a friendly grin which was unfortunately not noticed. "Anything in particular this time? Did the shoe repair guy rip you off or something?"

The prosecutor sighed and started up the car, peering in the rear-vision mirror then over his shoulder before reversing. "No, nothing of the sort. Please stop fretting." His nervousness seemed to escalate, but not dangerously so.

Well, you should know by now that if you suddenly act like you just remembered that you left the oven on back at home, I AM gonna fret over you.

"You sure?"

"Positive." Miles outstretched an arm, unexpectedly laying a slightly clammy but gentle hand over Phoenix's.

"O-okay. If you say so."

The drive away from the shopping mall was devoid of conversation, with only the purr of the engine and the light buzz of traffic acting as white noise between them.

They were barely back through the front door (and Pesu's enthusiastic greetings) when Miles gently directed Phoenix to a small side room that looked rarely used. The door was pushed open to reveal that it was very tidy, with an expectedly fancy light fixture above them and a soft-looking throw rug spread on the floor. A single, dark blue armchair sat by the window, looking as lonely and aged as the last remaining war veteran at a memorial parade. The curtains were of a faded floral variety; one that looked more fitting in the home of somebody's grandmother than in the home of a young prosecutor. However, this was Miles, and Phoenix had learned by now not to question the man's unusually decorative tastes.

"How often do you open the door to this room?" Was all he managed, stepping in and looking around as a smell reminiscent of old libraries suddenly assaulted him. His eyes rested on a narrow shelf of dusty-looking books in the corner.

How old are those?!

Miles moved over to the antiquated curtains and parted them, allowing a stream of afternoon sunbeams to peek through. "This room..." The prosecutor began, swallowing, "... Is where I like to come whenever I feel like I have to mull over important decisions." He looked momentarily uncomfortable, as if he had just revealed something improper at a confessional.

"I see," Phoenix replied, "um... It's nice?"

Why do I feel like I'm being shown something really personal?

"This home is quite large for only one person to live in, as I'm sure you've wondered at some point." Miles cleared his throat faintly.

Actually, yeah. Phoenix mused. Why live here when he could live in one of those swanky modern apartments? This place is big enough for a whole family. Must get lonely.

"I don't believe I have mentioned it previously," Miles continued, with an unusual sentimentality creeping out of his voice, "but this house... It used to belong to my father. He had purchased it as the market was lucrative at the time and planned on using it as an investment property." He walked slowly over to the bookshelf, trailing his fingertips over the spine of a thick volume before sliding it out of its nook between two narrower books. He idly flicked through the pages, his eyes glazing over the words as if they held no meaning, but Phoenix sensed they meant the world to him.

"It did?" The lawyer looked at his companion, chest suddenly hollow as if empathy had captured his heart and whisked it away into his stomach where it stewed, giving him an odd feeling of sadness and butterflies. "I don't think you told me, no." He bit his lip and found comfort fiddling with the lint balls sticking to the edges inside his pockets, not knowing what else to say.

Miles slid the book back into its place and shrugged, although the movement was so miniscule one could have missed it if they had not been watching carefully enough. "After he passed away, this estate was uninhabited for a long time. I was the sole inheritor, but I had been too young to do anything with it. A relative of mine - my aunt, who I was sadly not too familiar with back then, nor now - periodically maintained the property for some while before she passed away around eight or so years ago. I regret not forming a more familial bond with her, but as a child she barely visited me as she was always travelling interstate for work."

The sound of birds chirping broke the small silence that followed. "She could not take me in after my father had passed away due to the demands of her job... Or so I was told. So, as you know, von Karma took me under his wing. Although after finding out his motives for killing my father, I am led to believe he would have done all in his power to adopt me, nonetheless." He took a breath, looking as if he had realised he had elucidated way more than necessary, and held his arm. He shifted so he had his back turned to Phoenix and his head turned to the open window.

Phoenix held onto the silence that followed, feeling his chest ache sympathetically.

Manfred von Karma wanted the ultimate revenge on his rival... To raise the man's child as his own and turn him into a monster that would defy anything Gregory had ever taught him growing up. All the morals that encompassed being a compassionate human being... All of that, he wanted to beat out of Miles... To crush him with an iron fist so that Gregory would be spinning in his grave.

There was a refreshed anger within Phoenix now, who wished he could have done something at the time... anything.

And... His aunt? There's so much I don't know about his family... Was he really that lonely, even as a child?

He suddenly found himself thinking of all the times he had seen Miles; eight years old, face buried in textbooks and sitting quietly on his own during lunchtime with knowledge as his only comrade, too shy to speak to anybody. Startlingly, he had not been shy to stand up for Phoenix that fateful day, but before they had become friends, the boy had been a mysterious grey shadow of sorts. Fleeting and delicate like wisps of smoke on a Winter's night.

This description seemed to fit him even now, Phoenix thought doubtlessly, watching on with a pensive stare.

"Occasionally, my father would take me to see this house when I was little," Miles continued, quietly, "and after we had lunch we would always head to this very same little sunlit room where he would sit on this armchair, reading the paper. I would lie on the throw rug and immerse myself in books, and we would read until the afternoon glow turned from gold to orange, just like this." He swallowed and turned his head a little more toward the window so his profile was in view. "These curtains looked much nicer back then, I have to say. I don't remember them looking this drab and outdated."

Phoenix finally stepped towards him, and reached out to circle his arms around the other's tapered waist from behind. He felt Miles' breath catch for a moment before the prosecutor relaxed into his grip, leaning back and tilting his face so their cheeks were pressed together comfortingly.

"I'm happy you showed me. This must be a pretty private niche of the house for you, huh? So... thank you."

"It's not a room I show anybody, really. I'm not quite sure why, but some part of me feels... Well. No, I'm not so sure how to put it into words. Apologies."

I think I know what he's trying to say. For him, this place holds precious memories and those memories and this house are all he has left of his father, really. And this room in particular was the room his father loved the most. Miles is such a guarded person, so for him to let me be here with him like this... He really must trust me.

Phoenix held Miles tighter and felt the other man sigh appreciatively into the embrace. A pale hand rose to gently hold the lawyer's wrist where it rested around his waistline.

Trust. See. You do trust me. More than you like to think you do.

An extended, silently emotional moment danced by on languid feet. Miles softly pried himself away and Phoenix backed up slightly to allow him to do so, watching curiously as the other man made to pick up the covered shoe bag again. It had been left at the doorway to the room, and Phoenix had admittedly not even noticed despite his initial interest in it earlier.

"I did not mean for this to turn into a walk down memory lane. I brought you in here because I felt it was fitting for me to... ah. Well." Miles turned so he was facing away, and finally removed the jacket that had been concealing the bag, letting it drape freely over his forearm. He then stuck a hand in and removed something before turning back awkwardly, an expression of uncertainty caressing his features.

What's going on?

The hand that had removed the mysterious item was pressed behind the small of Miles' back now, concealed from view. The bag, however, he presented to Phoenix, who quirked his head in confusion.

"Wait." Phoenix scratched his head. "You want me to try on your shoes?" He asked, shocked. One glance at Miles' irritated expression prompted him to look down properly at exactly what was being presented to him. He went wide-eyed as he saw the gold-printed logo of the suit store emblazoned on the smooth surface of the bag.

Hang on a second...

"No way. You - " He took the bag carefully from the hand that was offering it to him, and peered inside at the luxurious-looking crepe paper that met his eyes. A gold sticker sealed the wrappings in place, and even though he could not see exactly what it was yet, he had a pretty good idea.

"Happy - ah - belated birthday." Miles leaned in, somewhat rigid, and grasped Phoenix's upper arm as he planted a tender kiss onto his cheek. "I wanted to get you something... I feel ashamed that you had to wait this long." His other hand was still behind his back.

Phoenix was at a loss for words and he looked up at Miles with heartfelt emotion, cheek still burning pleasantly from the soft lips that had touched it only seconds ago.

"W-well, there's this, too." The prosecutor slowly moved his other arm back in front of him and presented his partner with what was, unmistakeably, a beautiful rose wrapped with decorative care. The velvety, fresh petals peeked out from the black and gold-laced cellophane like the lips of a ruby red kiss; the colour rich and deep and each petal was layered perfectly right through to the centre.

Wow. I've never been given a rose before.

"Th-thank you. Thanks, Miles. This is so sweet of you." He took the flower and smelled it, feeling a little embarrassed at the stereotypically feminine way he held it up to his nose like they did in the movies. A familiar, charming perfume wafted from the flower and spelt out romantic words that Phoenix knew he would be hard-pressed to hear directly from its giver.

"You're welcome." Miles coughed, suddenly looking uncomfortable at the revelation of his hidden soft spot for cheesy, lovey-dovey gifts. He looked about ready to race out of the room before Phoenix placed the bag down (with the rose carefully lying on top) and gripped him tightly, tilting their lips together with all of the warmth and affection he could condense into that one moment. He let his arms slide down with a slow tenderness around the prosecutor once more, pulling him in close and closing his eyes as he drew out the kiss for all that it was worth. The feeling of his knees growing weak forced him to unwillingly part, breathing deeply.

"You're a sweetheart." He mumbled adoringly, pressing their foreheads together as his cheeks reddened in time with his partner's, who also looked as if he were about to pass out from the sudden pet name.

"I - Er..."

"Sorry. I couldn't help it." Phoenix stepped back and awkwardly laughed, feeling foolish. "Spur of the moment, that kinda thing. Y-yeah."

At least he didn't walk out in a huff. Probably still in shock.

"I... I wanted to." Miles eventually muttered, and remained firmly rooted to the spot, much to Phoenix's surprise. "I feel that this room holds a lot of meaning for me and is a sanctuary of sorts... So it was only natural that I bring you here to give you such a... ah... meaningful gift. Th-the rose, I mean. I'm not even sure if you approve of the suit, yet."

Phoenix watched him fondly as he continued to stammer out his reasoning for this whole romantic, albeit kind of awkward ordeal.

"It's okay, Miles. I understand. And I appreciate that you felt the need to show me here rather than in the living room or something. Although either way, I wouldn't have minded. It's still so nice of you to do this for me." He picked up his gifts again and extended a hand to Miles, who took it tentatively. "Thank you, again."

Just when I think I know him... Just when I'm convinced he would never waste his time with the details of romance, he surprises me. In his own strange, yet wonderfully meaningful private way.

He sniffed and looked at the open door before them. "Well?" He asked, inclining his head at the bag, "Should I try it on for you?"

Miles smirked. "I already know it looks good on you." He let himself be led out of the room, closing the door behind them. The hallway suddenly looked expansive and public in comparison.

That's beside the point.

"Which colour did you pick for me, in the end? This must have cost a fortune..."

"The cost is of no matter, Phoenix. And as for the colour... I picked the one you told me you preferred. Luckily enough for you, I also happen to think that one looked the nicest." He tapped a finger against his temple as they headed upstairs where Phoenix could get changed comfortably.

Aren't I going to be the one wearing it?! Then again, knowing he likes it is definitely a plus.

"Well... I'll give you a little fashion parade in a bit, then. You'd better not invite everyone over."

"I'll call Gumshoe, Franziska and Miss Fey over as soon as possible."

"Please don't."

They stepped into Phoenix's guest room, where the messily-made bed served as a substitute table to place the gifts down on. Miles sneered at the unkempt appearance of the blankets, making a passing comment about how beds should not look like the laundry hamper of a hospital, but Phoenix just laughed it off as he unwrapped the crepe paper of his expensive gift, his fingers rustling over it gingerly.

The paper's so nice... I don't want to ruin it. But Miles is starting to look impatient.

Eventually he gave up and tore it down the middle, taking care not to damage the material underneath.

Material... material... different shades.

Waaaait a minute.

"Y-You got me the shirt and tie, too?!" He spluttered in disbelief, holding up the garments in question. "How much did this all cost?!"

Miles breathed deeply, his eyes fluttering closed in thought for a moment before he opened them and fixed Phoenix with a sincere, soft stare. "After everything you've done for me, the expenditure of these gifts is nothing."

Yeah, okay Mr Rich Guy, but seriously?!

He almost threw the items down before bowling Miles over onto the bed, lying half on top of him and planting kiss after kiss on the prosecutor's absolutely shocked face.

"WRIGHT! What is the meaning of -!"

"I can't promise anything anywhere near as extravagant for your birthday, but I'll do my best."

"For heaven's sake, I didn't even manage a cake or a card for you, please stop acting like this is - ack -" Another kiss, "P-please stop acting like I just presented you with the Statue of Liberty."

"Can't I show my gratitude?" Phoenix whined, rolling over and clasping Miles' hand as they both lay on their backs, facing the ceiling. He turned his face, grinning cheekily and looked at his companion who had a serious but beetroot red expression. "You're the best."

I sound like a kid. Oh well.

The prosecutor sighed after a long while. "You're incorrigible."

"I know."

Author's note:

TL;DR: Phoenix is a lightweight, Pesu does dog things, Miles is tickle-me-Elmo, Payne tries to avoid getting his period during a television interview, Miles gets jealous over some lanky guy trying to sell them suits, Miles has Vietnam flashbacks next to some grandma curtains, there's a rose, and Phoenix gets emotional. Again. But for a good reason this time. Also, Chinese food. Tune in next time!

I wonder how Miles handled purchasing the suit if the guy who served him was the good-looking salesman again, lol. Probably seething internally the whole time.

Welp, this was a long-ass chapter. Sorry not sorry. If you read the whole thing, yay! If you didn't, I KINDA DON'T BLAME YOU, TO BE HONEST. This could probably put an insomniac to sleep but oh well. I was in the mood to keep writing and had a bit of time to myself so here ya go.

Every single time I write kissing scenes... I kid you not - I literally sit there with my cup of coffee or whatever I'm drinking/snacking on, like: "Wtf is this, lol." *fingers stumble over keyboard like a monkey learning how to use a typewriter*

Does anybody else laugh at their own efforts to type kisses because if yes I will feel like less of a moron, kthnx. :D