"Temperatures will remain in the upper nineties this afternoon. The heat index will continue to rise–"

Edgeworth lowered the volume on his vehicle's radio, an exasperated huff passing his lips, and tuned out the remainder of the forecast. What was the point? Summer had engulfed the city, blistering and humid, magnified by all the surrounding steel and concrete. It was the kind of hot that made the air shimmer, that left the tongue parched and the skin sticky, that sapped the strength out of every man, woman, and child.

If there was one thing Edgeworth had not missed when he moved to Germany, it was the Los Angeles midsummer heat.

Fortunately, modern conveniences made the season more bearable. At last the stoplight turned green, and as he accelerated he was rewarded with a stronger blast from the vehicle's air conditioning, cooling him through his many layers of clothing. Even in the midst of a heatwave, he refused to alter his work attire beyond omitting his jacket. After all, a sloppy appearance was the enemy of professionalism.

Then again, 'professionalism' was not a high ranking priority at his destination. Phoenix Wright had earned a degree of respectability, enough to impress potential clientele, but the more time one spent in the attorney's company the more the façade faded. The man simply cared too much, and put too much faith in the people he represented, to maintain any semblance of personal distance. Wright's more hands-on approach was infuriating.

Infuriating, and honest, and attractive.

The last three months had introduced many changes to Edgeworth's life: a confession from Phoenix, which he had answered with a heated press of lips. A rearrangement of his schedule to allow for more open evenings. A tendency to let his attention drift during idle moments, to remember the intensity in Phoenix's expression and the feel of his skin and the warmth of his mouth, and to imagine what could happen if their time together did not end with a kiss, but with something a bit more… hands-on. Personal.

Intimate.

A blush rose high on Edgeworth's cheeks, hotter even than the temperature outside the car. As he pulled into the deserted parking lot, he shoved aside the intrusive images playing in his mind. Their relationship had not yet progressed to such activities; there was no point in dwelling on things which might or might not happen, no matter how tantalizing the fantasy.

It is only a matter of time, his traitorous logic reassured him.

The case folder he brought along made a poor fan as he swung it across his face, growing warmer with each stair up to Wright's office. Though he was certain of Wright's inevitable victory against Prosecutor Payne, enough new developments had been uncovered to warrant a visit to the defense. At least, that was as much pretext as Edgeworth could muster to justify an unplanned trip across town.

He rapped his knuckles against the opaque glass window at the entrance, watching a shadowy shape approach. Maya Fey wrenched the door open, and her face flickered through a series of baffling expressions: first eagerness, then disappointment, which morphed into resignation. Edgeworth raised an eyebrow, bemused.

"Is something the matter, Miss Fey?"

She ran her fingers across her brow, shaking her bangs loose from where they were plastered to her forehead. "Sorry, I was hoping you were the repairman. We've been waiting all day. Come on in, if you can stand it."

Inside, the air was as searing and oppressive as it was outside. A lone oscillating fan stood in the middle of the client area, pushing wide arcs of warm air in front of the leather sofa. A tiny hand poked up over the edge of the couch and flopped back in a lazy greeting.

"'llo Mister Eh-ji-werth," he heard, words muffled.

"I think Pearls has actually melted into the cushions," Maya explained. Her purple coverlet was missing, and her bare arms were coated with perspiration. Her robe molded to her body, sticking to her skin instead of flowing over it as usual.

Moisture began to bead at his own neck and at his hairline. "I gather you're having trouble with the cooling here?"

Maya flopped down next to her cousin, hair billowing out as the fan renewed its arc. "It's busted."

"Then why not move to a more comfortable location until it is repaired?"

She made a dismissive motion with her hand. "What if a client comes in? We gotta be here just in case."

"Hey, Edgeworth. What brings you over here?"

He turned, that genial voice creating a bloom of warmth in his chest. However, the sight of Wright as he emerged from the back room ignited something much more base and primal, desire flaring into bright, vivid life.

"I…" Edgeworth trailed off, his thoughts going fuzzy as he stared at Phoenix.

Like his assistant, Wright had stripped off his jacket, as well as his tie. His untucked dress shirt hung open, revealing a broad, enticing strip of Wright's torso, and Edgeworth's eyes slowly drew down from the hard lines of pectorals to the lightly muscled abdomen, following the trail of sparse dark hair. The exposed skin was not quite as sun-kissed as Phoenix's face, but it glistened with a sheen of sweat.

A toothy smile slid across Wright's face, friendly but with a hint of embarrassment, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. "Sorry, the air conditioning stopped working this morning. I didn't know you were coming or I would have warned you about the heat."

His mouth suddenly felt arid, and he swallowed hard. All notions of professionalism and appearance retreated, replaced with an instinctual desire to stride forward and tear the rest of the shirt away and throw Wright over the nearest horizontal surface. He became acutely aware of his skin warming and his pulse quickening. With some effort he snapped his eyes back to Phoenix's face; it may have been a trick of the light, or the heat, but for an instant he thought he saw Wright's mouth quirk up in a slight smirk.

Edgeworth cleared his throat and gestured at the folder wilting in his hands.

Wright nodded. "This way." He jerked his head, and Edgeworth followed him to his work area. The white dress shirt clung to Phoenix's back, the fabric nearly translucent in places where it had been soaked through with sweat.

He had not realized how alluring shoulder blades could be.

While Wright leafed through the case file at the desk, Edgeworth remained standing and summarized the latest information likely to impact the court arguments. He gave curt, perfunctory answers to the attorney's questions, only half-listening.

Instead, his attention was held rapt by a rivulet of sweat that began at Phoenix's temple, where dark locks of hair lingered on his forehead. It trickled past his jaw, down the strong line of his neck, and nestled in the juncture at his throat, leaving a trail on his skin like a line traced by a lithe tongue.

Edgeworth wet his lips, and Phoenix chose that moment to glance up.

"Thirsty?"

The droplet continued its descent down his chest, disappearing from sight. Edgeworth felt a flush creep across his cheeks; Wright had clearly caught on to his distraction, though he appeared ignorant as to its true cause.

"Y-Yes. Quite."

"Give me a sec, I'll get you some water."

Wright disappeared into another room and Edgeworth rebuked himself, trying to still his over-stimulated imagination. The temperature in the office truly was miserable. He unfastened the cuffs of his shirt to fold the sleeves up to his elbows. At this rate, he too would be drenched if he remained for much longer.

Wright soon returned with two clear glasses of water; he sat on the corner of the desk and slid one glass over to him. Edgeworth took a slow sip, relishing the coolness. Phoenix, however, downed his drink in one long, extended swallow, eyes closed, throat bobbing, water escaping down the side of his mouth.

Edgeworth drew in a deep breath. Clearly, his desire was leading his mind straight into the gutter. He was not an adolescent, for god's sake; he would not jeopardize his new relationship with Phoenix simply because his libido was running rampant in this heat.

…He could not recall ever having such difficulty maintaining his control.

"Was this the only reason you stopped by?" Wright tapped the edge of the case file, eyeing the prosecutor.

He scoffed. "Are you not satisfied with the possibilities this new information brings you?"

Wright chuckled, a wry sound, and his expression turned coy. "Of course I'm satisfied."

Edgeworth cursed his poor choice of words.

Phoenix rose from his perch, gaze lingering on the Edgeworth's forearms and causing a not-unpleasant twist in Edgeworth's stomach. His voice dipped low. "I appreciate the help," he said as he stepped closer, "but we both know you didn't have to bring me this file."

That deeper register sent a delicious shudder down Edgeworth's spine. He should have anticipated Wright seeing through his pretense. The man stood only inches away, and– that scent. The smell of perspiration should have disgusted him, but with Phoenix… the combination of sweat and Wright's own scent mingled into something that short-circuited his higher thought processes.

Edgeworth felt a hand on his arm, heat radiating at their point of contact.

"You don't have to make excuses to come here. I'll never turn down a chance to see you." Phoenix glanced over Edgeworth's shoulder, and Edgeworth belatedly remembered the Fey girls were still in the other room. But Phoenix curved his mouth in a soft smile, and leaned forward.

It was unexpectedly sweet: a gentle brush of lips, a brief, chaste moment of contact.

Phoenix pulled away. "Sorry. I know I'm kind of gross right now."

Edgeworth opened his eyes, a soft groan escaping his throat. More, he wanted to say.

However, Wright seemed to take his noise as a sign of agreement, and offered a rueful shrug. "I can't wait to go home and take a shower."

"I have a pool."

Two pairs of eyes widened.

"Really?" Wright tilted his head, intrigued.

Bewildered at the sudden failure of his thought-to-speech filter, Edgeworth felt the blood drain from his face. He had not yet invited Phoenix into his home; their dates so far consisted of public outings – museums and restaurants and the like – and ended at Wright's apartment door. But as he stared back at Wright, pulse racing, he realized that this could be an opportunity to… move things along. He was ready to allow Phoenix more room: in his home, in his life, even in his pool.

The thought of Phoenix clad only in swim trunks solidified his decision.

He glanced aside, resisting the old reflex to grip his arm, as his mind raced to salvage his hasty revelation. "I use it for exercise. But if you want to cool off in it, I can make arrangements."

A flash of something passed across Wright's face: a mixture of happiness and reassurance that ended with a certain eagerness. He directed his gaze behind Edgeworth, considering. "I'd really like that," he started, "but I don't want to abandon Maya and Pearl. They're heading back tomorrow, and I promised Maya I'd make it up to them for baking in here all day."

If he wanted Phoenix in his pool, he'd need to be more sociable.

Edgeworth spread his hands wide in invitation. "Then what better way to uphold your promise? They may join as well."

A warm smile began to tug at the corners of Phoenix's mouth. "All right. There's just two things to consider."

He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Wright held up a finger. "One: I don't think the girls brought swimsuits with them, and I'm pretty sure my old college trunks are worn out by now."

This problem was easily resolved. "A brief stop at Lordly Tailor can correct this issue. As none of you are in a condition to shop, simply tell me what to purchase." Edgeworth smirked. "I'll be sure to send you the bill."

His smug expression was met with an eyeroll. "Yeah, yeah. But there's still the second issue." Wright held up another digit. "Their train leaves first thing in the morning. That means we can't stay very long, and you'll have to bring us back to my apartment."

This time Edgeworth managed not to immediately blurt out his thoughts. There was an alternative, and he took a second to examine the implications. It would be an even greater step in their relationship. As long as neither of them had any expectations, this solution could work best for them all.

He met Wright's eye. "Or," he began, letting the words out slowly, "You could stay the night. My guest room can accommodate the Feys, and I can deliver them to their train in the morning."

Blue eyes blinked once, twice, and widened again as the pieces fell into place. A streak of red crossed the tops of Phoenix's cheeks, visible despite the heat. "O-Oh! Oh. Okay. Um. Is there– I mean, do you have a couch, or…"

"I can make up a spot for you on my sofa," he replied quickly, directing his gaze anywhere but Wright's eyes. "If that's what you wish."

For a moment, the only sound in the office was the distant hum of the oscillating fan.

"Why don't we handle that part later," Wright said, smiling sheepishly. His gaze darted down to Edgeworth's forearms again, flush deepening. "For now, well, the pool sounds fantastic."

Something warm and bright uncurled in his chest, alongside a coil of anticipation. "Perhaps you should make sure Miss Fey and her cousin want to spend their remaining time poolside."

"Hey, no getting out of this out now," Wright chastised, but there was no heat behind the rebuke. "And Miles?"

His eyes snapped back to Phoenix's at the use of his given name.

Once more Wright's mouth pressed against his, and Edgeworth deepened the kiss, fingers rising to cup the man's jawline and sliding his tongue against Phoenix's lower lip. He tasted salt, and a picture of Phoenix splayed across his mind, sweaty and disheveled and panting from exertion. He relished the shiver that shook Phoenix's shoulders as they parted.

Wright gave him a crooked smile, moved closer to the client lobby, and raised his voice.

"Hey Maya! Pearls! How would you like to go swimming?"