Lawyerbox

[Phoenix sighs contentedly. Something about tonight is especially nice, he thinks, though he can't say exactly why. It isn't as though it's the first time they've spent their nights like this: him lying on the couch, head cushioned against Edgeworth's thigh, and Edgeworth silently reading a book above him; the TV on, just loud enough for him to make out some words; Sigi happily curled on the floor at his master's feet.

It isn't the first time they've spent their nights like this, no, but it is rare, now that he thinks about it. Too often Edgeworth spends his nights in his study, working on something or another that can't possibly wait until morning to finish. Every once in a while, though, he'll venture out to join Phoenix for a quiet night like this, and as much as Phoenix likes to complain about the man's workaholic tendencies, he supposes it does make these rare moments special.

Smiling, he idly reaches a hand down to gently (and maybe a bit hesitantly) pet Sigi's fur, satisfied when the dog doesn't flinch or move away.

Tonight is especially nice, he concludes, and his happiness inspires an urge he's found himself shying away from for far too long. Without giving himself a chance to think or doubt, he quietly, boldly says:]

I love you, you know.

Who: Phoenix, Edgeworth
What: Edgeworth comes home from work late. Phoenix is waiting. Just a random little scene.
Where: Edgeworth's apartment
When: Some random date, nighttime.
Warnings: Possibly gratuitous sex?

[it's getting late; Phoenix used the key Edgeworth entrusted to him to get into the apartment, his trial having let out early. With nothing better to do, he made some dinner (enough for two, one plate stowed in the microwave as it got later), thumbed through some law magazines on the ottoman, and then settled on the couch to watch some mindless television. This is where Edgeworth will find him when he returns: slouched on the sofa, half asleep, with a dog curled up by his legs.]

[The image of domestic bliss.]

Who: Phoenix Wright, Miles Edgeworth
What: Non-canon AU; Edgeworth mourns the loss of his friend, Phoenix Wright, who died several weeks ago. (OR DID HE?)
Where: Edgeworth's home, deep in the south
When: Night time, late 19th Century

- - -

Phoenix was well aware that he shouldn't be there. He'd been told several times--warned, even--to forget the life he'd had before, that even if he sought the people who once knew him, nothing would or could ever be the same. What they didn't understand, however, was that Miles Edgeworth was not a man one could so easily forget.

It started three nights ago. Phoenix had stood outside the other man's window, trying to drum up the courage to face him, even at the risk of being reviled, possibly pursued. Such a gamble, he reasoned, was as much for Edgeworth's benefit as Phoenix's own, selfish desire to see his old friend again. Edgeworth had had one too many people unexpectedly ripped from his life with little to no closure; Phoenix decided he would not be another.

So it was now, on the fourth night, that the once defense attorney stood outside Edgworth's window, staring at the drawn curtains on the other side of the glass. He didn't know if the window was locked, and he didn't intend to find out through any underhanded means. Instead, he lifted his hand and knocked four times at a very practiced, specific tempo. Hopefully, Edgeworth would remember the code from their younger days.