I had intended not to break my anonymity until I was done, but... I think this story is going to be in for the long haul. By which I mean, the updates will probably be quite rare. They will come, but infrequently. Given that, I decided to just go ahead and post it now.

I am following the basic idea of the prompt, but executing it a little differently. Also, have no fear, I plan a happy ending.

Prompt: Edgeworth finally proposes to Phoenix. Unfortunately, he's nervous, and deals with discomfort through snark and sarcasm, so when Phoenix asks if he's serious he makes some jerky comment like, "We may as well, the sex has gotten too vanilla for it to be a love affair."

Phoenix hasn't really seen the softer side of Edgeworth, and is suspicious that this is all a poor joke from the beginning, so when Edgeworth snarks at him he assumes the whole thing was just a rather mean-spirited way to comment on his sexual capabilities. He chews Edgeworth out, and makes some overblown comment about how they're through.

Edgeworth's never been too good at picking up on relationship cues, and thinks he was just rejected and dumped.

Miles stared at the television, pulse rushing, fingers clenching. This was what he had been waiting for. Not even just waiting for, in fact; he'd been using all his influence amongst various highly-placed city officials to discreetly push for exactly this. He'd been at the very core of the effort. And yet somehow, it still took him by surprise to see his success so clearly scrolling across the screen before him.

'Japanifornia legalizes gay marriage...' slowly slid across the news bar underneath the current broadcast. Only when it disappeared entirely could Miles seem to breathe again. He tensed up as Phoenix straightened next to him.

"Oh – see that, Miles?" He only sounded mildly interested. "Looks like gay marriage is finally official. Took 'em long enough."

"Well," Miles said, then paused. He wet his lips. "It's not so much a lack of acceptance that delayed this so much as a lack of initiative. Of course, there are people who still oppose it, but... If any gay celebrity couple publicized news of their engagement, I'm quite certain they would be met with very little hostility."

"Celebrities..." Phoenix mused, falling back into the couch. He hooked one arm around Miles's shoulder, and pulled him down as well, chuckling. "What, like us?"

"...Yes, like us," Miles agreed. He turned slightly and met Phoenix's eyes. "Shall we then?"

Phoenix stared blankly back. "Shall we what?"

Miles attempted to chuckle confidently. It came out as more of a scornful snort. "Marry, of course."

The arm around his shoulders was snatched back. Phoenix physically reeled backward in shock. "Y-you can't be serious," he whispered.

That was not a promising reaction. Miles felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck. "Of course I am," he sneered. "We may as well do our duty to the public."

Phoenix looked bewildered at first... but soon that expression morphed into hurt. "This is about that interview, isn't it?"

Miles couldn't contain a flinch at the mention. "Of course not."

"HOLD IT!" Phoenix slammed a hand down on the coffee table, pointing accusingly. "Don't lie to me! If you didn't want me to reveal our relationship, you should have told me it was supposed to be a secret!"

"I don't care if the world knows!" Miles snapped back. He was well aware that the conversation was getting off track, but this had been a touchy subject for nearly two months now, and besides, his nerves typically manifested in harshness or snarking. "That doesn't mean I appreciate you complaining about my bedroom habits to the whole city!"

"It was NOT a complaint," Phoenix said through gritted teeth. "I just said that biting might not be everyone's –"

"Every time I had a conversation in public for the next month, people would examine me for hickeys!" Miles shouted, slamming his own hands down on the coffee table. He had to turn sideways to do so, but habit demanded the gesture. "For a month."

Phoenix took a deep breath, visibly controlling himself. "I said I was sorry. It was the first time anyone ever interviewed me; I didn't know what to say."

"Oh yes," Miles scoffed. "So of course the solution is to blather on about how 'clinical' I am in this relationship."

"I said I was so–"

"I am not 'clinical'. I am anything but 'clinical'."

"Well, 'anything but' is kind of stro-"

"And it's not as though you are exactly a dynamo in bed."

"What?"

Miles shrugged, looking away. "Face it, Wright, the sex isn't really what anyone would call adventurous. There's another reason to get married – you're much too vanilla for me to call this a love affair. And since you seem so eager to involve the media–"

Phoenix jumped to his feet. "OBJECTION!" he bellowed.

Miles raised a sardonic eyebrow. "We aren't in court, Wright."

"Shut up!" Phoenix flushed bright red but didn't stop yelling. "I think I get what you're saying, Edgeworth. I really do. And you know what? I agree!"

All the anger left Miles in an instant. Hope wrenched at his gut - but the fury on Phoenix's face made him pause. "You… do?"

"Yes. Yes, I do." Phoenix's voice was shaking. That... was not happiness. "So you think I'm boring in bed? Fine. I don't think that, the way you shout my name certainly doesn't indicate that, but FINE. I won't argue about that."

Miles stared up at his boyfriend. He wanted to deny the allegation, but he couldn't seem to move.

"What gets me," Phoenix continued, stomping over to the coat-stand and yanking his jacket back on, "is that you are so goddamn ashamed of our relationship that you would actually joke about doing something like this just to give me a hard time about that DAMN interview." He disappeared out of sight around the corner. Numbly, Miles stood and followed.

"Yeah, I told the reporter we were dating!" Phoenix shouted. "Gee, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you wanted me just to be some – some secret booty call!"

As bewildered and horrified he was at the turn this conversation had taken, Miles couldn't help but laugh at that. "Phoenix – you're no booty call."

"No," Phoenix agreed, shoving his feet into his shoes and yanking the front door open. "No I am not. Not anymore. Because we are OVER."

All sound seemed to cut out. Miles clutched at the doorframe for balance. "What?"

"You heard me," Phoenix snarled, and began stomping away down the hall. "You and I are through. Congratulations! Alert the presses!"

Miles stumbled out into the hallway after him. Without shoes. "What? No. Why would –"

He jerked to a halt before the closing elevator doors. Phoenix stood on the other side, hand slamming again and again on the 'close doors' button. The glare on his face was absolutely livid. Not a trace of confusion remained; just pure fury.

He knew Miles would never follow him onto an elevator. He knew why, as well, and usually made it a point never to use the damned things. This wasn't some tantrum; if Phoenix was actually getting on an elevator to escape from Miles, he meant it.

Miles, rejected thoroughly, froze – and let him leave.

-xxx-

From the very beginning, Miles had been far more passive in this relationship than Phoenix. Oh, he had been the one to initiate that first, drunken sexual encounter one night after Larry had dragged them out to a club, but if left to his own devices he would have left without a word in the morning and pretended it had never happened. No matter how much more he wanted; Miles knew himself well enough to recognize his lack of interpersonal skills, and sustaining a relationship was well beyond his abilities. Beginning a romantic relationship was more than he could do, not when the partner in question was Phoenix Wright.

Phoenix, who he'd had his first crush on when he was nine years old. Who had defeated him and rescued him years later and would not take no for an answer until they'd rekindled some kind of friendship even after so long – despite what Miles had become. Whose ridiculous spiky hair actually was natural, as he'd discovered once he became privy to Phoenix's pathetic excuse for a morning hygiene regimen (he brushed his teeth and that was it – didn't even bother to shave unless it was a court day). Who smiled wide and naïve, took on insane clients and saved them again and again, was obsessed with keeping the toilet clean but couldn't be arsed to do the dishes until they were overflowing the sink. Who talked with his hands, looked people in the eyes, muttered sarcastic asides constantly under his breath and always seemed surprised when people responded – Phoenix Wright, who was far too important a person to lose.

Miles had been half in love with him for years.

He knew that he would ruin everything – he'd never even dated someone before, the extent of his sexual experience was a terrified snogging session with the daughter of one of Von Karma's associates at a party when he was seventeen. Terrified, because her fingernails had to be half an inch long and her lips were far too red and she looked like she wanted to eat him, not to mention Von Karma could have burst in on them at any minute (he did not, but Franziska catching them was arguably worse).

Even so, Miles hadn't been able to resist, not when he was a little drunk and Phoenix was warm and relaxed against him in the crowded bar, and he'd slid his hand into the defense lawyer's pocket with a surety that came out of nowhere and invited him back to his apartment.

Why Phoenix had accepted, and then confronted him in the morning with pancakes and the question 'would you like to go out with me?', Miles had no idea. He'd been too elated to hesitate; had tried desperately to mask the overwhelming extent of his feelings with nonchalance, as though he did this all the time; luckily, Phoenix seemed fooled. Ever since that first morning after, he had allowed Phoenix to call all the shots in advancing their relationship, partly because he didn't want to mess things up by being too serious too soon, and partly because he had no idea what relationships involved anyway.

For almost six months now, Miles had been passive. The absolute extent of his bravery so far had been when, after a month and a half of dating, he'd confessed his love.

Even then, Phoenix had spoken first. They were spending a lazy afternoon at Miles' home, the prosecutor recovering from an extremely busy week with a Steel Samurai marathon – it had just happened to be on TV, he told Phoenix, who nodded wisely.

"Of course it was," he said with a straight face but amused affection in his eyes, then – "I am so in love with you."

His voice had been matter-of-fact but soft nonetheless, and so honest it burned. Miles was caught off guard, and didn't even pause.

"I love you too," he replied, equally matter-of-fact.

Phoenix nodded, turned the television off, and spent the next several hours unraveling Miles with slow, sweet kisses and low murmurs of affection.

This proposal was going to be different. Miles was determined to do this on his own, to finally prove how much Phoenix meant to him. He wanted to be the one to take this step, to trust in their relationship that Phoenix would not let him ruin things. He'd finally begun to believe this was something that might last, and – he wanted that to be tangible. He wanted to wake up next to Phoenix every single morning, not just occasionally. To eat breakfast together in the morning and scold Phoenix on the disaster that was his suit and sit at the kitchen table doing paperwork together and buy bathroom cleaner every other week to appease Phoenix's strange hobby and watch Steel Samurai reruns every Saturday morning with Phoenix's arms wrapped around him. To face each other in court after riding together to the courthouse in his sports car, matching rings on their fingers, and to go home together after unveiling the truth and fall into each other's arms and sleep on their designated sides of the bed after the daily argument about Phoenix hogging the blankets and Miles stealing pillows. And then to wake up and do it all over again.

Miles had hoped – no, he'd actually begun to believe that would happen. For the first time, he'd pushed himself to step out on a limb and take a risk in the name of future happiness.

Standing barefoot and cold in the hallway of his apartment building, he watched the numbers above the elevator light up, one after another, counting down to 1. That number stayed lit; Miles pictured Phoenix stomping away, angry and hurt and never coming back… and something went cold deep in his chest.

He had grown far too complacent. He never should have done anything. He should have taken only what he'd been given, and stayed satisfied with that. He should have – he should not have trusted Phoenix to feel the same. He should have known this was too fragile for any such – Phoenix had thought he was joking, he must've been so wrong about this relationship if Phoenix could think that.

Miles turned around, and walked back to his apartment. He locked the door behind him, turned off the television, and curled up very small in bed. He didn't cry; just breathed slowly with his eyes shut, cataloguing one by one all the ways that he had been wrong, that he had finally driven away the one person he'd wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

He could not keep that up forever, though, and the cold numbness spreading through him took on a harsher bite by the time Miles arrived for work the next day. He shoved his way into the courthouse, ignoring the flash of cameras and babble from various reporters – the victim in his next case had been a wealthy politician, and the defendant was his illegitimate son. Not to mention Phoenix was defending, and he'd garnered a lot of media attention of late for his stellar record and high-profile cases. With Miles prosecuting, it was a given the courthouse steps would be packed with more reporters than legal personnel – and although there were still two days till the first court day, they all seemed eager for an early start.

The reporters shouting questions outside the entrance wasn't anything new, and Miles had never bothered answering them – unlike Phoenix's flustered admissions the first time he'd been ambushed two months ago. But today, a certain question made him halt in his tracks.

Lotta Hart repeated herself, voice loud and excited. "Mr. Edgeworth, are ya gonna find it difficult to face off against Mr. Wright in court – seein' as you're dating and all?"

Miles stood still for a long moment. All the self-recriminations and despair of the night before slowly faded, replaced by Phoenix's harsh words, his flinch away, his angry expression as the elevator doors closed.

Miles felt dizzy, and not altogether present. It finally dawned on him that, however awful his phrasing, all he had done was propose. It had been Phoenix who reacted so harshly. It had been Phoenix who thought the whole thing was some sort of cruel joke. It had been Phoenix who accused Miles of not valuing their relationship.

It had been Phoenix who walked away.

A slow, cold rage began to condense in Miles' chest. This wasn't his fault, he realized; far from it, Phoenix was the one who did not trust or value him. The fact that he could ever believe Miles would joke about something like this, or be honestly ashamed of their relationship, or use him for sex – where the hell had he been this past half a year? How could he even know Miles at all, if he actually believed such things?

"Mr. Edgeworth?" Lotta prompted. Miles took a deep breath.

"No," he told her coldly, looking straight into her camera. "Wright and I are no longer involved in any relationship other than court rivalry, so I anticipate no conflict of interest whatsoever."

Lotta blinked, and snapped a few pictures. "Huh?"

Miles smiled thinly, raging inside, and hoped Phoenix was watching. "We've broken up."

He strode inside without another word.