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... )
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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(And I really would like some more Fluff if you don't mind... OP!Anon is a sucker for Fluff. ^^)
And I can't say it enough, anon: I fucking love you!
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This was a great read. There doesn't seem to be enough fluff lately.
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