Disclaimer: Sadly, none of this belongs to me. Feenie, Edgey, Maya, Pearls, Gumshoe, and Laurice all belong to the god that is Capcom.

This is my very first fanfiction, and I'd love to get some feedback though it's not completely finished. As they say: R&R, please!

--

Monday, December 23, 20XX

RINGA-LINGA-LING!

Phoenix Wright wrinkled his nose, snorting in his sleep.

RINGA-LINGA-LING!

Half-conscious now, he attempted in vain to swat the cell phone from his bedside table. It was a miserable failure.

RINGA-LINGA-LING!

"Fine." He muttered angrily, sitting up and blinking stupidly into the dark that enveloped his bedroom. Grumbling, he felt around for the blinking contraption and stared at the screen. The incoming call was an unknown number. Angrily flipping open the phone, he nearly shouted into the receiver.

"What?!"

A diffident voice, familiar yet foreign, spoke his name on the other line. "…Wright?"

Phoenix recognized the caller instantly. "Edgeworth?!"

There was an uncomfortable pause before the prosecutor broke the silence.

"…Yes." Another suspension, then the voice continued. "Wright, I need to talk to you. I know you're on vacation-"

"Damn straight."

"…I know you're on vacation, but I need to speak with you."

"Um…aren't we speaking right now?" He furrowed his brow in confusion, still somewhat muddled.

"In person, Wright."

"Oh."

"Wright, were you sleeping?"

"Yeah."

"It's two in the afternoon, Wright."

"I'm on vacation!" Phoenix thundered into the phone, rubbing his eyelids. "I'll do what I want to on my days off!"

A sigh sounded from the other side of the line.

"Point taken. Can we talk, please?"

It was the please that caught his attention. Miles Edgeworth had never used the word 'please' in any sentence having to do with Phoenix before. Suddenly wide awake, he replied quickly.

"Yeah, sure. Where and when?"

"The café by the park. As soon as possible."

"Like…twenty minutes?"

"It'll do. Good-"

"Hey, wait a minute! How'd you get my number?"

"I asked Ms. Fey. It was a matter of utmost importance. The café by the park, twenty minutes. Be there, Wright. Goodbye."

There was a click, and Phoenix stared blankly at his cell phone for a moment. Had that conversation actually happened? Did Miles Edgeworth need to speak with him that desperately? Giving a resigned shrug to no one in particular, Phoenix slid out of bed, took a brief shower and got dressed quickly, not bothering for his usual impeccable attire. Ties were severely overrated, anyway. The only people who thought they looked good had obviously never worn them for a full twenty-four hours straight. Throwing a scarf carelessly around his neck - it was winter, after all - Phoenix left his apartment.

Around twenty-five minutes later, Wright sauntered leisurely into the café. A red-hot car was parked just outside - Edgeworth was always on time. Still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Phoenix meandered aimlessly to the hostess, inquiring as to the whereabouts of a man in a pink suit. Miles had claimed it was fuchsia, but it was pink. So blatantly, painfully pink. The woman gestured to a small table under the veranda, and the ace attorney made his way past several other customers before reaching the infamous Miles Edgeworth.

The prosecutor was fastidiously dressed as per usual, his cravat neatly-tied, his shirt stiff-collared, his shoes well-polished. A coal-black winter overcoat completed the ensemble. Phoenix, on the other hand, was the definition of negligence. He was unshaven with creased clothes and unkempt hair. He hadn't had enough time to use gel.

Without looking at his visitor, Miles indicated that he take the seat opposite him. Relaxing into the chair, Phoenix peered expectantly at the man across from him. There was no immediate response - Edgeworth was absorbed in the Monday paper with his usual air of aplomb. There was a loud crinkling sound, and the prosecutor folded his news to look up at Phoenix. His expression was that of surprise.

"What the hell happened to your hair?"

Phoenix pulled at one of the dark, wet strands, inspecting it. "What do you mean?"

"It's usually…spiky, and almost ironed-back."

"I use gel."

"Ah."

An awkward silence.

Edgeworth shook his head, setting his newspaper aside and glancing at his wristwatch. "And you're late, as usual. Our appointment was for 2:20, not 2:30."

"Well, excuse me. Have you been waiting long?"

"No, I've only just arrived, as you can see," He picked up a small china cup of hot tea - it was full - and delicately took a sip before replacing it.

"In that case, I don't feel so bad, if you've only just…"

"It's different with me. I don't like waiting; I've no time to waste. And as you're never on time, I come late on purpose - at a time when I presume you'll be there."

Phoenix frowned slightly - he hadn't expected reproach. Wasn't this meeting supposed to be about something important?

"Why are we out here anyway? It's freezing. You could have at least gotten a table inside the café. I think my hair is going to ice over." The chill was wreaking havoc on his Southern Californian weather preferences.

"I find the air rather bracing this time of year," Miles responded casually, taking a moment to steeple his fingers on the table. His eyebrows drew together in a tight 'v'.

"…Your hair is all over the place." Edgeworth pointed out, and Wright unsuccessfully ran his fingers through it. "Here, here's a comb." Miles pulled a comb from his pocket, holding it out. He looked exasperated.

"Thank you…" Phoenix replied, vaguely pulling it through his hair.

"You haven't even shaved! Look at you!"

Giving up with a huff, Phoenix tossed the comb back across the table. "It's not my fault you always look so immaculate."

Edgeworth continued his inspection of Wright, criticism unabated.

"Your clothes are all crumpled, they're a disgrace! Your shirt is downright filthy, and your shoes…"

Phoenix tried to hide his feet beneath the table. His efforts were to no avail.

"Your shoes haven't been touched. What a mess you're in. And look at your shoulders…"

"What's the matter with my shoulders?"

Edgeworth reached over the small table languidly, brushing a fine white powder from Phoenix's jacket. The dark-haired man flinched involuntarily - this seemed to amuse his fair-haired opponent, who added,

"You've got dust all over them. How did that happen? I'm ashamed to be seen in public with you."

"Then why the hell am I here, Edgeworth?"

"Because I needed to speak with you. Really, Wright. You're not even wearing a tie."

"When I do, at least it's not a frilly Victorian cravat."

"It's called a jabot, Wright."

"Whatever. Just get on with it. You said it was a matter of 'utmost importance'."

Miles Edgeworth went silent, and his reply was hardly audible. "…It is."

Phoenix Wright grimaced, rolling his eyes. This was wasting valuable sleep for him. It was Christmas break, anyway. Edgeworth was a workaholic, a machine. The man never rested. For a moment, Phoenix felt something akin to concern for his coworker. However, the feeling was quickly stifled by the irritation that he had been woken up for nothing. He prodded Edgeworth again.

"Well…?"

Miles looked up again, a startling weakness in his eyes. Taken aback by the pitiable expression, Phoenix could only blink. Clearing his throat, Edgeworth hurriedly spat out his question.

"What do you like?"

Dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open, Phoenix gaped. "Wait, what?"

"I said, what do you like?"

"Huh?"

"What are your interests?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Just answer the damn question, Wright."

"Uh…" He thought for a moment, nothing in particular coming to mind. Why was Edgeworth asking him this, anyway? After a few moments, a couple coherent words drifted into his mind. "I like…Steel Samurai, I guess - Maya introduced me to it, and it's not too bad."

Miles' mouth twitched. "Go on."

"Coffee, but only early in the mornings and late in the evenings. Hm. The color blue. Yes, blue is a good color." He paused, pursing his lips. "I like Maya and Pearls. Larry…sometimes. Depends on what model he's dating. Ramen is good, too. Miso bowls with pork. Grape juice, and lots of it. That's one of my favourites…Cheeseburgers. I like finding contradictions in testimonies. Playing the piano, albeit I do so badly. I like y- I mean, fighting against you in court…"

He drifted off quietly, mumbling to himself a little. Phoenix was rambling now. Edgeworth raised an eyebrow skeptically, a slight smirk making its way onto his face. Wright suddenly became suspicious.

"Hold it - Is this the matter of utmost importance that you were referring to earlier?"

"This isn't court, Wright. There won't be any cross-examinations here."

"That isn't fair," Phoenix protested, looking agitated. What exactly had he told Edgeworth? Nothing too valuable, really. Just what and who he liked, right?

"All's fair in love and war."

"But this is neither!" Was it really? "Well I'm leaving, then, if you haven't got any other weird questions for me," He stood defiantly, palms flat on the table. Edgeworth stood as well, grabbing Phoenix's arm just as he turned away. Astonished at the gesture, Phoenix looked down at his wrist. He felt the blood rising in his cheeks. Why was he blushing? Miles must have noticed, because he released the other quickly, stepping back a pace. "Yes…that's all. Thank you for meeting with me, Wright." He sat slowly, reaching over for his newspaper. A quizzical look upon his visage, Phoenix turned and left, trying desperately not to look back.