Phoenix Wright Kink Meme [Part Twenty One]
PHOENIX WRIGHT KINK MEME!
ANONYMOUSLY post a pairing and a kink. This meme is open to ALL pairings and ALL kinks. Yaoi, Yuri and het is welcome here. Fluffy kinks, gory kinks, gross kinks what have you. It's all welcome here. It. Doesn't. Matter. Just post it, Anons!
After that, your request will be filled out by ANONYMOUSIf you make a request, ( Read more... )
ANONYMOUSLY post a pairing and a kink. This meme is open to ALL pairings and ALL kinks. Yaoi, Yuri and het is welcome here. Fluffy kinks, gory kinks, gross kinks what have you. It's all welcome here. It. Doesn't. Matter. Just post it, Anons!
After that, your request will be filled out by ANONYMOUSIf you make a request, ( Read more... )
~*~
A week or two passed after that fateful talk. Edgeworth had been working late on a Friday-what else was he supposed to do in the middle of a trial?-and the phone had run. He’d looked down at the display: it was Wright’s work number. Edgeworth sighed in annoyance, but picked it up. “Yes? Please keep it brief, Wright, I’m busy.””
“So, um,” said Wright’s voice, sounding nervous as hell. “Edgeworth. I didn’t really know who else to call.”
This was already starting off badly: it sounded like the beginning of a long confession about a screwup at trial, or something personal about missing Maya. He raised a hand to his temples, sighing. “About what?”
“Well, you see, there’s a guy here...” Edgeworth heard Wright swallowing on the other end of the line. “He wanted me to call someone who could help him. And I know you could, right?”
“Help him with what?” Edgeworth asked irritably. “Wright, I don’t have time for this.”
There was a silence. He heard Wright talking to someone else; then there was a whisper. “Miles... Miles, he’s got a gun.” Then, in a louder voice, “I really want to trust this guy, he seems like he’s really in trouble. He got arrested, he’s on the run, but he didn’t do it. That’s why I let him into the office. And he needs your help, he said I could have one phone call.”
That was enough. Edgeworth had been working for fifteen hours straight, and had a pre-trial hearing in the morning for which he still had to finish paperwork. “Wright,” he snapped, “this isn’t funny. I remember it being hilarious when Maya said it at the pizza parlor, but this late at night while I’m at work, I’m not amused.”
“But I’m not joking,” said Wright’s voice, pleadingly. Edgeworth detected a tremor, and mistakenly thought it was laughter.
Furiously, he answered, “Then tell him you trust him. That you know he didn’t do it. But guess what, Wright? I don’t trust him. Nor do I trust your judgment, calling me like this.”
“Wait!” Wright protested. “Please, please don’t hang up, Miles!” Edgeworth was already reaching out to replace the receiver, and the sound of his name being called over the line was faint.
Just before it reached the cradle, a loud crack rang out from the receiver. It clattered to the desk.
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That was the worst part.
“Sir?” came a light voice. He turned to see one of the ICU nurses. “Sir, I know we said no visitors, but...” She smiled. “Well, let’s just say we admire you, for all the work you do in our city, Mr. Edgeworth. And you won’t disturb anything, right?”
Edgeworth felt the breath catch in his throat. “No,” he said quietly. “No, of course not.”
She didn’t say anything else, just extended a hand toward the room. Edgeworth stepped forward; it had been a long time since anyone he’d known had been in the hospital, and just being in the place made his skin crawl.
“I’ll come back soon,” the nurse said, and left him alone. The glass door hissed shut behind her.
There was almost no one else in the hospital; it was almost three in the morning. Wright had made it alive through the surgery, but the doctor had said his ever seeing dawn was questionable. Edgeworth wanted to cry, but there was nothing: nothing but the heavy guilt.
He suddenly felt as if he had to say something: that if the silence of the room, interrupted only by soft beeping and hissing, went on any longer, he would go mad. “I-I’m so sorry,” he blurted out softly.
Wright’s hand was lying at his side, one finger clipped to the heart monitor. Edgeworth reached out and took it. “We made fun of you for trusting everyone. And now you’re here, because I didn’t trust you.” They had held hands before, and Wright’s fingers had never been so cold.
Edgeworth couldn’t go on for a moment. He looked up at the monitors, then down at Wright’s face. Half was obscured by the oxygen mask, but those long-lashed eyes and placid brows were still visible, uncaring and dreamy. Edgeworth reached out with his other hand, touched his friend’s forehead.
“And I know I could say I’ll get him, that I’ll find him guilty in court.” Edgeworth swallowed; he never would have been able to say these words to a conscious person. Alone in this darkened room, though, allowed him to say exactly what was in his heart. “But that wouldn’t make a damn difference, especially since that’s what I do for a living anyway. And if you don’t live, Phoenix... I-I know it’s my fault you’re here, that all I had to do was trust you, but please.... oh please, God...”
He saw that his fingers were trembling, and snatched them away before he could do any damage, crossing his arms tightly. Edgeworth took a deep breath, wanting to take a running jump out a high window, but there wasn’t one nearby. He wanted to kiss the man in front of him, but couldn’t even get near his lips. Wright had been shot in the chest: he wasn’t breathing on his own, and if he were awake he would be in terrible pain.
A sudden urge to kneel on the floor and pray for forgiveness raced through Edgeworth’s heart; but he resisted, standing as stiffly and awkwardly as he’d stood at the defendant’s bench in court. Oh, God, he thought miserably. It’s time to call Maya.
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Yes, you, authornon.
Write.
Moar.
NOW.
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Edgeworth heard Gumshoe’s footsteps coming down the hallway, and the detective skidded to a halt next to him. “Came as... fast as I could... Mr. Edgeworth,” he panted, and straightened up. He seemed about to add something else, but stopped as Maya shifted, talking inaudibly in the room. “Oh good, Maya’s here.”
“Yes, she hasn’t been here long,” Edgeworth murmured. He hadn’t even known an early express train came from Kurain; Maya had gotten to the hospital around six o’clock, and had barely managed to say a word to him before ducking into the room, gluing herself to the side of the bed. Edgeworth had spoken to the nurses on her behalf, saying she was Wright’s foster sister. It was more or less true, after all.
Gumshoe’s face was sunken in misery, his shoulders slumped; it was the same expression he’d worn throughout most of Edgeworth’s stint as a defendant. “Gee, poor Mr. Wright. What happened? Do you know?”
Leave it to Gumshoe to dredge up the subject Edgeworth wanted to discuss the least. He swallowed, knowing that eventually he would have to tell both the detective and Maya why Wright had been shot in the first place. “Yes. He, er... let someone into the office who was on the run from the police. The man was armed, and when he realized that Wright couldn’t help him...”
It was a cop-out, and he knew it, his stomach twisting in a knot. But Gumshoe, bless his gigantic, good-natured heart, didn’t notice, and didn’t inquire further. “Well, that’s real nice, pal,” he said, fuming at no one in particular. “Mr. Wright was probably doing his best to help, too! Have we caught the jerk yet, Mr. Edgeworth?”
Edgeworth forced himself to shake his head, calmly. “No. We have fingerprint identification, but he’s still running, armed and dangerous.”
Gumshoe made the closest noise to a snarl that Edgeworth had ever heard, and was silent. They both stood, watching Maya. She’d been talking to Wright nonstop since she’d arrived, every once in awhile reaching up to smooth his hair, or rub his shoulder encouragingly. It was enough to break your heart.
Suddenly her head bowed, her topknot drooping discernibly. Edgeworth couldn’t tell if she was still talking: but after a moment her shoulders began to shake. He couldn’t move: he should go in to comfort her, but his body had frozen.
He’d never been so happy to have the detective with him, as he was in the next moment. “Oh, no,” said Gumshoe. Without another word, the detective went into the room, and put his arm around Maya’s shoulders.
She looked up: words were exchanged that Edgeworth couldn’t make out. Gumshoe tugged her upright, and she fell against him, to be helplessly led out of the room.
Strangely enough, when Maya came through the doorway, she looked up at Edgeworth with streaming eyes, and leapt away from the detective, throwing her arms tightly around him and pressing her face to his vest. Hesitantly, he put his arms around her. After a moment, it felt right, although the guilt at being the one to comfort her was electric.
“I’m so sorry, Maya,” he finally said, as she sobbed uncontrollably. “But you know he’ll be all right. Remember Eagle River? He fell off a forty-foot cliff and emerged with nothing but a cold.”
It was hard to tell, but Edgeworth thought that between the sobs, Maya managed to say, “I know.” And of course she knew. Even if Edgeworth had been slowly building a relationship of sorts with Wright, Maya would always have the upper hand. Except for when she was in Kurain, the two of them were inseparable: she even stayed in his apartment, exactly as a little sister would.
“Maya,” he said suddenly, knowing he had to tell her. “Maya, I need to say something. Can you listen for a minute?”
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It didn’t escape him that he wasn’t upset or nervous so much as abjectly frightened. He knew Maya would be angry, and was past the point of trying to convince her not to hate him, but the thought of it still sickened him. “This...” he faltered for a moment, then plunged in. “He called me, Maya. That’s how the police and the ambulance got there so fast. The shooter let him have one phone call, and he called me for help. I thought it was a joke until I heard the gunshot.”
There was nothing else: nothing she couldn’t infer from what he’d already said, anyway. Edgeworth looked through the window at Wright, his chest rising and falling regularly, but not of his own accord. He added softly, “If he dies, I murdered him myself.”
There was a long silence. He finally glanced over at Maya; her face was turned down to the floor, her eyes squeezed shut in what looked like pain. Gumshoe was just staring, his mouth actually hanging open.
Just when Edgeworth thought he might actually have to say something to break the stillness, Maya spoke. “But-but you didn’t do it on purpose,” she said tearfully. “Right?”
“G-good God, of course not!” Edgeworth said, gasping a little. “I can’t-I can’t say it wasn’t my fault, but... it was a mistake.” He swallowed. “It was a stupid, irresponsible mistake that no good friend would make. But it was mine.”
To his astonishment, Maya reached out and grasped his hand in both of hers, trembling and doe-eyed. “And you’re here now,” she said softly. “Don’t blame yourself just because-”
Now it was her turn to stare into the room at Wright, brown eyes filling with tears again. She bit her lip, started to say something, then hesitated again. Eventually she said, “You can’t blame all of this on yourself just because Nick trusts everyone. It’s no wonder you thought he was joking, Miles.”
It was such a serious statement that, coming from Maya, it almost sounded precocious. Especially since she’d called him Miles: she always seemed hesitant to do so, probably because he and Wright consistently referred to one another by their surnames. But worst of all, it was exactly the thought Edgeworth had been trying to repress for the last several hours: the horrible wish to let Wright shoulder at least some of the blame.
At the same time, he moved forward to embrace her as she put her arms around him again; Edgeworth put his cheek to the top of her head, a rush of pity and sickness washing over him again. For a few minutes, the three of them just stood there, stricken with grief. Then Edgeworth glanced into the room, and almost jumped out of his skin.
“What? What is it?” Maya asked immediately. Then she followed his gaze and sucked in a breath of shock. In tandem, they broke apart and hurried into the room.
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Wright’s eyes opened ever so slightly, just enough to show the glint of irises. He looked up at them, and Edgeworth felt the dread in his heart lessening somewhat as Wright recognized them. “Hey, Nick,” Maya said softly, almost sobbing out the words. “Please don’t worry about talking or anything, we just wanted to come in and say Hi.” Her small hand rose up again, laid itself softly on his forehead.
Edgeworth thought he was mistaken: the oxygen mask and breathing hoses underneath obscured Wright’s face. But when Maya giggled a little hysterically he knew he wasn’t just imagining it. Wright had smiled, ever so faintly, his eyes closed again.
“Go ahead and go back to sleep if you can, Nick,” Maya said finally, sniffling back the last of her tears. “We’ll be here.”
There was a hiss as the door opened behind them, and a nurse came in. “Hey,” he said angrily, “we only let you guys in because you pulled rank, but three people is too much. Out. Now.” He came forward and began fiddling with the instruments, and whipped out a clipboard. Pausing, he looked at them again. “Out!”
Gumshoe obediently followed orders, but Maya leaned forward and kissed Wright’s forehead. “We’ll be here,” she told him, and left the room holding Edgeworth’s hand.
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“Mr. Edgeworth?” The voice was high, gleeful, and female. He felt his nerves begin singing like live wires at the sound of it. “It’s me, M... Miles. I said I’d call you when we got him home.”
The papers spilled from his hands, scattering out of their folder across the desk. “Yes?” Edgeworth asked, breathlessly, half-rising. “Yes, can I...?”
“Yeah!” said Maya cheerfully. “Yeah, we’re just kind of hanging out watching TV, so anytime you want to come over is fine.”
It took him five minutes to get to his car, another agonizing twenty minutes to cross town. Edgeworth rarely rushed anywhere-in fact, he considered it unprofessional to do anything hurriedly. But now he clenched his fists on the steering wheel, glaring daggers at the traffic: why were they all moving so slowly?!
The door to Wright’s apartment was unlocked, but Edgeworth knocked, the door swinging open to the tap of his knuckles. “Hello?” he called out, stomach roiling.
“Come on in,” was the answer-but not in Maya’s voice. Edgeworth froze momentarily, then took a deep breath and walked into the living room.
Wright looked up from the sofa, and in the friendly, open expression that always made Edgeworth’s knees go a little weak, smiled. “Hey, Miles. It was nice of you to come over. I’m sure you’re really busy.”
There had been no emphasis, no sarcasm in the words: but they bit into Edgeworth’s heart, throwing him back to the memory of that disastrous phone conversation. “Yes. But... but I had to come.” That wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all, and Edgeworth amended, “Er... rather... work is... work is unimportant. In comparison.”
He’d reached Wright’s side. The TV was turned to mute, but Edgeworth could see what was playing: the Steel Samurai. Natch. “Thanks,” said Wright, simply. “Sit down and join. That is, if you’re going to stay awhile.”
Edgeworth did as instructed, sitting on the edge of the sofa, as far away as seemed inoffensive; the apartment, as usual, was a wreck. He looked around wildly, searching for something, anything to dispel the silence. Wright’s eyes were absently fixed on the television: obviously he was too tired to talk much. He was stretched out, skinny legs up on the ottoman and eyes half-glazed in what seemed like exhaustion.
“Er... where’s Maya?” Edgeworth finally ventured.
“She ran out to get some food, I think,” was the answer. Wright yawned cavernously, and rubbed a hand over his stubbled face, glancing over with a smile. “I’m sort of out of it, in case you haven’t noticed,” he admitted. “I’m sure she told me where she was going, but... I suppose we’re alone, for now.”
Edgeworth kept himself from wincing; probably his friend wasn’t tired, so much as heavily medicated for the pain. Nevertheless, this time there had been emphasis in his words. And now Wright was looking at him, guileless blue eyes holding some kind of question. So many words trembled on the tip of his tongue: to blurt out the apology he’d already given when Wright was unconscious? To start out with something easier?
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“Well, me too,” was the response, accompanied by the same faint smile as before. “Thanks, though.”
It hadn’t been accusatory in the least, but Edgeworth felt something curling up inside him. At last, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said it. “Phoenix, I’m... I’m so sorry.”
There. It was out. He opened his eyes, and saw Wright watching him very seriously. The words spilled forth, and he shifted closer on the sofa: perhaps it was just as well that Maya wasn’t there. “I should have listened, should have trusted you. You-you could have died...”
Wright reached out and took his hand gently: not to stop him, though. Edgeworth took another breath to regain his composure, and finished. “Anyway... I just... I just can’t further express my shame. I don’t know if there is any way I can ever earn your trust again.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Wright said, but with a laugh. “I still trust you, Miles. It was half my stupid fault, anyway, right? If I’d just been like you and Maya said, if I hadn’t let that guy into the office in the first place...”
“No one should ever have to pay for having faith in the goodness of people,” Edgeworth said stiffly. “But for my impatience and distrust, your pain could have been avoided.”
They were both silent for a minute; the action stars dashed and fought across the screen, as both of them sat unmoving, hands still linked. “Well,” Wright finally said with a sigh, “I disagree, but I’ll let it slide. And I really do appreciate that you’d take the blame.” He shrugged, then winced, raising a hand to his chest. “Ow.”
Edgeworth couldn’t stop himself: he reached over, placing his hand lightly over Wright’s. “Are you... are you still in much pain?”
Wright shrugged again, and winced harder this time, leaning forward. “Ow. Dammit!” He grinned wanly at Edgeworth. “No, normally, when I’m slobbing about like this, I’m just tired. Stop making me shrug.” Then he saw the expression on Edgeworth’s face and hastily added, “I’m just kidding. Seriously, I’m okay. You really feel that bad about it?”
“Of course,” Edgeworth snapped, surprised at how angry the question had made him. “I’m not the man I used to be, Wright. Thanks to me you were shot point-blank in the chest with a large-caliber pistol and could scarcely breathe or move or talk for three weeks. And I couldn’t even get to the hospital to see you more than three or four times, much less apologize, thanks to what must be the most ridiculously overloaded federal docket in the country. Yes, I genuinely felt bad about it.”
Despite his best efforts (and to his great dismay) he had to turn his head away, tears clinging to his eyelashes. He inhaled mightily, trying to control the tightness in his throat at the memories. That first visit had been the worst day in recent memory; Maya had been with Wright nonstop since returning from Kurain, so she was totally unaffected by his dropping two stone in a week. But Edgeworth hadn’t realized just how quickly ICU patients tended to lose weight. It had been like visiting a stranger: a silent, barely responsive, cadaverous stranger who had stolen his best friend’s face.
His hand was squeezed abruptly, and Edgeworth looked back at Wright. The other man looked pained, but in his usual sheepish kind of way, color flooding his cheeks. “Miles... I know there’s no winning this battle of guilt with you. I can only say ‘I forgive you’ so many times. So here’s the deal.” He raised a sly eyebrow. “Make it up to me.”
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“You have no idea,” Wright said longingly, “how much I’ve wanted to lay my head on someone’s shoulder and sleep. Really. Especially your shoulder.”
“Then do it,” Edgeworth answered, but quietly. He wondered if Maya was ever coming back. If she did right now, she might be in for a shock. He leaned over and pressed his lips gently to Wright’s. It was a short kiss, but intimate.
They sat for awhile, hands entwined, the Steel Samurai and the Evil Magistrate still silently duking it out before them onscreen. Wright did eventually lay his head on Edgeworth’s shoulder. It felt strange, considering his customary spikes had long been missing: his hair was quite soft and brushy when left to its own devices.
Edgeworth said at long last, “Do you really want to know the worst part?”
“Mm-hmm,” was the answer: sleepy, but not yet truly insensible.
“It was...” Edgeworth started, then paused for a minute to think. He would only be half-lying: the worst part had really been all the predictions made by the doctors, that Wright would spend the rest of his life on a ventilator, paralysed, or mentally impaired. Edgeworth hated doctors, especially when they made poor Maya come to his office crying twice a week. His own doctor, for the first time since von Karma’s execution, had suggested that Edgeworth go back on his antidepressants.
He shook himself, and said, “It was knowing that if you died... that you’d do it thinking you were unappreciated by everyone, including your friends. Feeling that all you ever did in life was be mocked... and... and...”
“Take shit from everyone?” Wright said, but with a hint of a laugh.
Edgeworth sighed. “Yes.”
Wright shifted a little, hips and skinny knees pressing against his. “I know this is going to be hard to believe, but... I’m a defense attorney. Have been for awhile now. I’m built to be kicked around, and I don’t even mind it anymore.”
“Even when it’s Maya and me?” Edgeworth said softly, almost ashamed to ask.
“Especially when it’s you and Maya. Miles, I would’ve thought I was joking, too. And you two wouldn’t make fun of me if you didn’t like me.”
Two words trembled on the tip of Edgeworth’s tongue: Love you, he wanted desperately to say in correction. It would be no more than the truth. He hadn’t realized it until he was standing beside Wright’s hospital bed at three in the morning: but he loved him more than anyone he’d ever loved before. More than his own father... more than Franziska.
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Edgeworth had a brief moment of somewhat melancholy satisfaction-to reflect that she had gone back to calling him by his first name-before she rounded the couch, arms loaded with paper grocery bags, and he saw her face. Maya wasn’t terribly good at hiding her emotions, and in fact had never successfully done so in his presence. The expression on her face, when she saw them cuddling together, was one of absolute and complete glee.
She noticed that he’d seen, and cleared her throat, attempting to drop an expression of great dignity over her own features. But the grin remained. “Aww, you two are so sweet you’re giving me cavities. Nick! Wake up! Burger time!”
“Maya,” Wright said, his voice vibrating against Edgeworth’s arm, “I am not taking you out for burgers. Make Edgeworth go with you.”
Maya sighed, rolling her eyes entirely for Edgeworth’s benefit. He had to smile. “Not going out, dummy! I brought the ingredients back from the grocery store. I can cook, you know. So wake up-burgers! Cheeseburgers in paradise!” She set down one of the bags on the coffee table, and whipped a bag of cheese slices from the other, waving it in their faces. “Cheese!”
The image was so cheerfully ludicrous that Wright finally lifted his head from Edgeworth’s shoulder, laughing; Edgeworth found himself chuckling, too. “Okay, okay,” Wright said, sighing dramatically. “Let’s see what the famous Maya Burger tastes like.”
~*~
“I guess we should wake him up,” Maya whispered, taking a swig of soda, her eyes on Wright.
“What for?” Edgeworth asked. Wright was dead asleep, leaned into Edgeworth’s arms, the most enviably dreamy expression on his face. Dinner had been a festive occasion: Maya had turned out to be a good grillmeister, and the remnants of sandwiches, pop cans, and a batch of cupcakes were strewn around the kitchen
Maya shrugged. “Gotta get him to bed somehow. The doctor said he’d kill me if I let Nick sleep on the sofa.”
So don’t tell him, Edgeworth was tempted to say. But instead he reached out, placing his own plate on the coffee table. “It’s his first night home. I’ll get him into the bedroom.”
Maya smiled: it wasn’t her usual over-the-top grin, but a sweet, thankful smile. She reached over and brushed hair off Wright’s forehead, and said, “I’m so happy you’re here, Miles. He needs you.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but she beat him to it. “I know. He needs me, too. But I’m always here. With you here, it’s just...” She paused, face in a moue as she pondered. Then at last she shrugged, rising from the sofa with that same sweet smile. “Better.”
Edgeworth felt his cheeks flaming, and his heart burned with the same impotent mixture of shame and guilt and embarrassment that he always felt around Maya. They never bothered fighting for Wright’s affections, but it always seemed like he won anyway. And, of course, she never noticed that he minded: just cheerfully went on her way, as she was doing now. He heard the clink of dishes as she started tidying up.
He shucked his suit jacket and carried Wright into the dark bedroom. It wasn’t that much work, considering how skinny his friend was in proportion to his height.
As he lowered Wright onto the bed, those blue eyes opened again, the familiar sheepish smile appearing. “Thanks,” he said sleepily.
Edgeworth leaned down one last time and kissed him. Wright reached up and grabbed his cravat, tried to make the kiss last longer. Edgeworth pulled away, detaching his fingers and laughing. “No. Go to sleep.”
“Yes, sir,” Wright murmured quietly. In a few moments he was lightly snoring again, face slack.
Edgeworth went back out into the kitchen, and neatly rolled up his sleeves. “You wash, I dry?” said Maya. She had stacked all the dishes, and was wiggling her eyebrows. She hated dishes, and he knew she would run off to clean something else before long.
“Exactly,” he answered with a smile, and reached for the soap.
As they stood next to each other and talked, at first about Wright but soon on other topics, Edgeworth wondered if his meager contributions would be enough. He supposed it would have to be.
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(Now off to de-anon myself by posting this to ff.net.)
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This story was just that great. You have made my year. And I thank you so much for it.
Thank you.
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Isn't P/E just the bestest? Anyway, glad you liked it.
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