Of Hot Chocolate

"Hot chocolate?"

Miles Edgeworth stood in the doorway of his office lobby and stared at the proffered drink as if its very existence mere inches from his personal space were alien in some way. Unheard of.Disturbing. And in reality it rather was. He couldn't recall touching the stuff in years, not since he was a child coming home on the last day of the term, excited for Christmas vacation and even more so upon finding his father was home unexpectedly early, waiting for his son with two mugs of homemade cocoa. Their living room floor had been littered with cardboard boxes and bins, fresh from the attic, Sharpie scrawled on the sides, "X-Mas Ornaments" in bold. His father had loved Christmas and even now, years later, the image lay imprinted in Miles' memory; untouchable and pristine.

Quite unlike the biodegradable cup now held before him, festive red and white with a standard cardboard sleeve wrapped around it. Edgeworth had a feeling the contents were most certainly not hot, nor were they "about to be enjoyed."

"Wright. This is Los Angeles. It's seventy degrees outside." He frowned slightly at the coffee chain cup before passing the defense attorney and making his way across plush carpeting and through his lobby. Maybe if he walked fast enough, he could leave Phoenix Wright behind and get some semblance of peace.

…Which was foolish, to borrow a Fran-ism. Because that idiot wouldn't leave. He would either remain standing there, two cups of hot chocolate still in hand, of he would follow him into his office – most likely the latter. Like he couldn't take the hint. Which was precisely what Edgeworth needed considering he was the only competent one in the prosecutor's office, what with the scandals and the holidays and – How had Wright gotten in there, anyway?

He considered voicing this question… then considered asking Hannah before he spotted her working furiously at the fax machine, seemingly alternating between worried glances at what was most likely a major paper jam and sipping something glorious and all too enjoyable from her very own red and white cup.

He turned to the defense attorney, leveling a cool gaze at the man as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I see you've taken to bribing my secretaries, now?"

"Th-that isn't fair!" Phoenix grinned sheepishly as he half-shrugged, no doubt careful with all that liquid chocolate. "I… thought I'd be nice and bought her one, too. It wasn't planned or anything."

"Thanks again for the gingerbread latte, Mr. Wright! It's just how I asked! ♥"

Phoenix pretended he hadn't heard.

Nope.

No all too chipper secretaries with amazing gifts of bad timing.

Miles tapped fingers impatiently against his forearm, waiting for some excuse. A reason for any of this. Something. Which he knew wouldn't come of Wright's own volition. "So you've taken a second job then, I am to assume? Delivery boy? …You do realize that's what the interns are for?"

I see you're in a pleasant mood, Phoenix thought glumly as he considered placing the two cups of hot chocolate on a shiny nearby table. He wasn't surprised in all actuality. It would be quite... unrealistic to assume Miles would smile and welcome him in with open arms. Especially now, so close to Christmas. No, his sometimes friend, sometimes rival, sometimes… unnamable special entity on strange, fumbling and awkward moments, all hands and lips and teeth was most certainly not the type for sudden surprise visits. Phoenix had come to accept that grumpiness was all part and parcel of the Miles Edgeworth package. Stubbornness as well. "Okay, that isn't why I'm here though… I guess it's kind of a delivery in a manner of sp—you have interns?"

"Of course I do. Now why are you here sullying up my afternoon?"

"Christmas cheer." He grinned brightly.

"Christmas… Cheer." Edgeworth paused in mid stride, a sour look crossing his features. He wasn't surprised – not in the least. Wright could be painfully single minded about certain things and on December 23rd… he knew for a fact there were few things that would have the defense attorney out and about, frantic and scrambling. It would be the holidays, of course. Egg nog and gingerbread and merriment for at least the next week.

And it didn't feel right.

"No, Wright," he murmured under his breath as he pushed past his childhood friend, attempting not to think of Christmases past – the unchanging scent of the family tree year after year; that puppy he got when he was five; the last Christmas with his mother.

…A brisk winter day in 2001 when he and his newfound friends attempted to assist Mr. Edgeworth in decorating their cottage style house.

The winter, years later, when Phoenix unwittingly gave him the greatest gifts of all – the truth and the option of a second chance.

The holiday still made him feel raw and uneasy. Uncomfortable.

Half tossing his briefcase unceremoniously onto the vast expanse of his mahogany desk, Miles considered his options. He could attempt to take on that waiting stack of paperwork and work his way steadily through the rest of the month. That plan held little promise, however… and really, the only way he was going to come upon that much work during the next week would be if a particularly nasty case fell into his lap.

Also, Wright was still standing in his lobby.

Edgeworth sighed, plopping onto the leather cushioned couch he rarely used. And that was when he saw it..

Evergreen and tinsel and bows and lights. Garlands lined his expensive bookshelf and blinking lights hung not so surreptitiously upon his wall of a window. Next to his Steel Samurai figurine stood a small coniferous tree of some sort – real by the smell of it, and adorned in tiny lights and cheap ornaments.

"I figured it would be terrible if you were visited by three ghosts tomorrow night, so I thought I'd bring Christmas to your office. Maybe that'd keep 'em at bay."

"A Scrooge reference. How charming." But still a small tug of amusement was evident – had to be judging from the way Phoenix crossed the hardwood floor of the prosecutor's office, now with less trepidation. Sometimes it was worrisome how good Wright had gotten in reading his friend's volatile and often changing moods. Still, Edgeworth couldn't let him feel entirely at ease. "I do hope for your sake that you didn't staple or hammer any of my walls." He paused thoughtfully, "Or furniture."

Phoenix sunk comfortably next to him, elbows and shoulders touching; still holding those two infernal cups of hot chocolate. He made a sound that Miles decided to assume meant 'of course, not' for his own blood pressure. Later he would have to inspect the walls for damage, but for now he felt strangely decent. Pressed side-by-side with Phoenix Wright and staring at his crude handiwork, it felt calming and good. It brought to mind past endeavors; made him remember his father – fondly, and with little guilt. It felt like home.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have the decorating skills of a fourth grader?" He turned to him, head nearly resting upon a blue-suited shoulder. There was no malice in his words, just underlying amusement and something more. Something open and unguarded in a half smile and tilted gaze that allowed Phoenix a brief moment to lean forward in a kiss. Edgeworth's eyes slid shut as he took in the moment – barely noticeable stubble, the brush of tongue against teeth, and the taste of cheap chocolate and peppermint.

It was almost enough to make him enjoy the holiday.

"Do your interns do that?" Phoenix grinned all too wolfishly as he pulled away, something victorious shown plainly in his eyes.

Edgeworth's smirk only broadened as he took the cup from his friend, rolling it from one hand to the other and feeling the sloshing of not so hot chocolate through thick layers of cardboard.

"At least when they bring me drinks, they're actually warm."