aviss
in
springkink
Upping the Ante (Phoenix Wright, Phoenix/Miles)
Title: Upping the Ante
Author: aviss
Pairing: Phoenix/Miles
Rating: PG
Prompt: rivalry; "the cravat has to go"
Word Count: 474
A/N: Late fic for the 3rd. Sorry, my muse went on holiday, it seems.
Upping the Ante
Miles had no idea how in seven hells he got himself in that position. Well, he had an idea, but he wasn't willing to admit it was entirely his fault.
He should have known better than to bet anything against Phoenix Wright, especially when it was outside the courtroom.
Damn Wright to hell for being able to get a rise out of him every single time. And damn him for being unable to back down once he'd opened his mouth.
Poker, Wright? Do you even know how to play? You need more than dumb luck to win at poker.
He should have seen the signs. He knew Wright well enough and had faced him enough times to recognize them: the way his mouth curled up slightly on the right when he was amused, the way his eyes crinkled and sparkled when he had someone trapped, how he would put his left hand instead of the right one behind his head when he was just pretending to be nervous or embarrassed.
Is not that difficult Edgeworth, I know how to read people in court, this can't be too different.
Miles had walked right into the trap, he was aware of that now. But still he wasn't going to back down and give Wright an excuse to look down on him.
That shows just how little you know, Wright. Forget about this foolishness, you can't even win against me.
And he had been ready to give Wright a lesson and make him forget, once and for all, that stupid plan of his of earning a living just with poker. What he had to do was fight to get back his badge. Or better, let Miles get it back for him if necessary.
Miles needed his rival facing him in court, not just his lover moping back at home.
Come on Edgeworth, put your money where your mouth is. What good are your words if you don't back them with facts? You're a Prosecutor, you know that.
He looked at the cards in his hands again and then at the ones of the table and sighed, dropping them face down with a much put upon sigh. Wright smiled smugly.
"I win again," he said and Miles glared at him, pressing his lips into a tight line.
His jacket was hanging on the back of a chair, both his cufflinks were on top of the table and his shoes and socks were under the table. He stared at Wright mutinously before unbuttoning his shirt.
"The cravat has to go first, Edgeworth," Wright said and Miles huffed and removed the requested item, tossing it to the floor.
"Fine, deal the next hand," he said sulkily crossing his arms over his chest.
Wright looked him up and down, a predatory smile on his face. "As you wish."
Miles shuddered.
…
Author: aviss
Pairing: Phoenix/Miles
Rating: PG
Prompt: rivalry; "the cravat has to go"
Word Count: 474
A/N: Late fic for the 3rd. Sorry, my muse went on holiday, it seems.
Upping the Ante
Miles had no idea how in seven hells he got himself in that position. Well, he had an idea, but he wasn't willing to admit it was entirely his fault.
He should have known better than to bet anything against Phoenix Wright, especially when it was outside the courtroom.
Damn Wright to hell for being able to get a rise out of him every single time. And damn him for being unable to back down once he'd opened his mouth.
Poker, Wright? Do you even know how to play? You need more than dumb luck to win at poker.
He should have seen the signs. He knew Wright well enough and had faced him enough times to recognize them: the way his mouth curled up slightly on the right when he was amused, the way his eyes crinkled and sparkled when he had someone trapped, how he would put his left hand instead of the right one behind his head when he was just pretending to be nervous or embarrassed.
Is not that difficult Edgeworth, I know how to read people in court, this can't be too different.
Miles had walked right into the trap, he was aware of that now. But still he wasn't going to back down and give Wright an excuse to look down on him.
That shows just how little you know, Wright. Forget about this foolishness, you can't even win against me.
And he had been ready to give Wright a lesson and make him forget, once and for all, that stupid plan of his of earning a living just with poker. What he had to do was fight to get back his badge. Or better, let Miles get it back for him if necessary.
Miles needed his rival facing him in court, not just his lover moping back at home.
Come on Edgeworth, put your money where your mouth is. What good are your words if you don't back them with facts? You're a Prosecutor, you know that.
He looked at the cards in his hands again and then at the ones of the table and sighed, dropping them face down with a much put upon sigh. Wright smiled smugly.
"I win again," he said and Miles glared at him, pressing his lips into a tight line.
His jacket was hanging on the back of a chair, both his cufflinks were on top of the table and his shoes and socks were under the table. He stared at Wright mutinously before unbuttoning his shirt.
"The cravat has to go first, Edgeworth," Wright said and Miles huffed and removed the requested item, tossing it to the floor.
"Fine, deal the next hand," he said sulkily crossing his arms over his chest.
Wright looked him up and down, a predatory smile on his face. "As you wish."
Miles shuddered.
…