So, for kicks, I decided to start playing Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney... And guess what, I fell in love with the damn thing. I mean, how can you make a game about lawyers - especially one in which, at one point, you have to cross-examine a PARROT - and still have such amazing characters as Wright and Edgeworth? *-*

As for what moment in canon is this, I see it as sometime after Dual Destinies, but it's up for interpretation.

It's my first Phoenix Wright fanfic and I'm not completely acquainted with canon yet, so please tell me if you see any huge inconsistencies.

Intimacy

Getting a hold of his keys and supporting Wright's weight at the same time was quite tricky, Miles realized… and the dolt's drunken attempts at leering seductively at him truly weren't helping.

Thank God for his innate gracefulness.

"Y'know, Edgeworth – I don't know who had the idea of making the whole – the whole – floor shake like this but it really wasn't – it wasn't a good idea," Phoenix whispered to his shoulder, and Miles had to stifle a chuckle.

"Objection," he muttered, his lips twisting upward involuntarily, supporting Wright with one arm and turning the key with the other. "You are drunk and your perception cannot be trusted."

He ignored Phoenix's barb ("Do you have any proof that I'm drunk?") and opened the door with his shoulder, expertly maneuvering around the pile of dirty clothing in the entrance hallway – Miles kept forgetting to bring over a laundry basket – and stopping right in time to catch Phoenix when he inevitably tripped over it.

He heard Wright stifle laughter against his cravat. "We work well together, y'know?" And, after a pause: "We should fight crime."

"I am under the impression we already do that", Miles commented, dropping Wright as slowly as he could on the sofa. He only had to glance at the other man to realize he was in no condition of undoing his own clothes; with a sigh, he went on his knees and began working on Wright's shoelaces.

"No, no, no, no, not like that," Phoenix clarified, making grand gestures as he kicked one of his shoes off. "In a Steel Samurai kind of way, I mean."

"Oh," Miles nodded, deciding to humor him. "But how would we stop the criminals then?"

Wright gave up trying to unbutton his shirt and pointed a finger at the air. "I will stop the criminals by yelling 'Objection!'"

"I see," Miles snorted. "Just yell 'Objection', and anyone will stop."

"Yeah," Phoenix said, with a grin so bright it took Miles' breath away.

The prosecution attorney diverted his eyes to Phoenix's shirt, trying to focus on the man's shirt so as not to get distracted. He started undoing each button at a time, exposing Wright's undershirt little by little.

He barely heard himself ask: "And what would I do?"

"You? You… Your power would be to make everyone feel underdressed."

Miles just glared at Wright with an eyebrow raised.

"Seriously!" The other started waving his hands in the air. "You would be like – like – the criminal would see your neck-ruffle-thingy—"

"It's a cravat, Wright, how many times do I have to tell you—"

"—and and and the criminal would think 'My God, look at this guy, I'm so underdressed, I should have put on better clothes!' 'I mean, look at how many vests he's wearing, I should have put more layers on!'"

"…I see."

"And and they would run away to put on better clothes."

"…I see."

"And I'd be there to catch 'em when they run."

"…I see," Miles said, trying to stifle another chuckle.

Phoenix decided that was a good occasion to pout at him – yep, that was one wasted man –, even as he took off his shirt. "What you're laughing at?"

Carefully, Miles started unbuckling the other man's belt. "Oh, no, I was just thinking of the irony."

"What – irony – what?"

The clasps were easy to undo… he could even do it while sending a sultry glance up at Phoenix. "It's just that it's quite troublesome that you'd want to put on more clothes whenever we met… I would never be able to take your clothes off."

He threw Phoenix's belt aside with a nonchalant whistle.

A gulp. "Hold it."

"What?"

"Ah – eh – I have to think about this."

"As you wish," Miles smirked, pulling Wright's dark-blue pants off with one swift movement.

Pointedly, he left the other man on the sofa to gather the suit he'd dropped aside; holding the laundry with one hand and undoing the knots on his cravat clumsily with the other, he went into the kitchen – gathering the dirty clothes by the door on his way, too – and threw everything inside the washing machine. The thing was noisy and it was far too late to turn it on, so he made a note to himself to do some laundry the next morning – and to actually check whether there weren't any colorful clothes or magician capes among the batch.

One dirty-grey cravat full of glitter was enough, thank you.

He found Phoenix looking expectantly at him in the living room – and directing his eyes especially to the now uncovered portion of his chest.

"I think I might be immune to your powers," he said, as Miles approached and tried to get him off his feet.

"Huh?" The smirk was back on. And trying to support Phoenix while he was trying to leer at him too, apparently.

"Your powers – your powers don't work on me at all. Uh-huh."

Carefully crossing the small corridor that led to Phoenix's bedroom, Miles was about to say that wasn't any fantasy – he'd long since given up on having the other man wear anything that was actually nice for a change – but Phoenix cut him off first: "Actually, your powers have the reverse effect on me!"

"…What do you mean?"

Miles was surprised as Phoenix abruptly stopped – and even more surprised that he had the coordination to make such a suave gesture as rubbing his hand against Miles' cheek, looking deeply into his eyes.

"Whenever I see you I want to take all my clothes off."

A chuckle erupted out of Miles' lips, and became actual laughter when Wright sent him an offended look – which led to the end of his moment of suaveness, as the other man tried to back away a step and had to lean against the wall to keep standing.

"You – you okay?" he asked, helping Wright to his feet again, still trying to choke the laughter – it was more difficult now that Wright was laughing himself.

"Fine, fine, just a lil' dizzy." Or a lot dizzy, as he just threw himself at Miles – and the prosecutor attorney almost let them both fall as he hurried to hold Phoenix the right way.

Before he could scold him for his recklessness, he was disarmed by the warm look on Phoenix's eyes.

"Y'know," his boyfriend said, "you're really cute when you're laughing."

For the first time that night, Miles realized he was probably a little bit drunk himself – he should be feeling insulted by that, shouldn't he, not vulnerable and warm and affectionate and like he wanted to kiss Wright's stinking mouth.

"C'mon, now," he muttered to Phoenix, opening the door to the room with his elbow and trying to hide the blush that had taken over his face.

Phoenix wasn't even hiding the fact that he was laughing at Miles, the bastard.

Miles helped Wright to the bed with care – the last thing he wanted to end the night was a round of vertigo-induced vomiting – and took his time stripping off the magenta suit, massaging his own sore muscles. He folded his pants with care and used the coat hanger he kept by the wardrobe door to hang his shirt, vest and suit.

He was about to leave the room when Phoenix spoke: "Stay here with me."

Miles sent him a puzzled look. "I'm just going to brush my teeth." And: "You should also brush your teeth."

"No one's gonna die if they don't brush their teeth one night. Come here."

"That's unhygienic, and I didn't even put on my pajamas—"

"Come here, come here," said Wright impatiently.

Releasing a long, half-amused sigh, Miles Edgeworth resigned himself to doing horrible things for Phoenix's sake. "Tomorrow I want you to brush your teeth first thing in the morning," he said tersely, fitting himself into the space beside Phoenix on the bed.

"Aye, aye, cap'n."

Miles tried his best to show he was unimpressed – which apparently translated to Phoenix as permission to put his arm around him and pull him close against his chest.

It was nice.

And as they lay there, Phoenix's fingers interlocked with his, it dawned on him; how curious it was that, after all they had gone through, after the person Miles had become, that one day they would find happiness with each other; that one day they would find themselves on that bed and everything would feel like as it should be;

"It's weird," the prosecutor said to himself, as his boyfriend yawned. "Looking back on my life, I would never have thought…"

He didn't finish the sentence, but Phoenix didn't need him to.

"I'm grateful you're here," he said, and his smile was brilliant.

The midnight kiss involved a lot of tongue, more drool than he would have liked and an awful taste of alcohol. It took Miles' breath away again.

He stayed like that against Phoenix's chest, the rise and fall of his breath lulling him to sleep.

So yeah. What I really wanted to with this one was write a story about how comfortable Miles and Phoenix are around each other without actually saying "Miles/Phoenix felt comfortable with each other." I hope I managed to do it!

Reviews are appreciated!