"How long will you be gone?"
Edgeworth has to think about it, not because he doesn't know the answer but because he does, and he has to determine the best way to present it for Phoenix's sake. He must wait too long, because there's a humorless laugh from the head currently pressed into his shoulder.
"Yeah. That's what I was afraid of."
It's easier than it should be. There should be some sort of hesitation, Phoenix feels, some delay or awkwardness from the years apart, some rift of time and experience that can't be so easily bridged. He can see the difference in his own face, the lines of maturity that shape his expression into something different than it once was. They're there for Edgeworth too, a shift in his jawline and an edge to his cheekbones that didn't used to be there, the hint of a line at the corner of his mouth that softens his usually stern expression into almost-a-smirk.
It's not hard at all. There's no hesitation at all once they're alone, no desperation, just a careful rediscovery of what has always been there, no matter what's laid over it.
"Months?"
Edgeworth doesn't answer. He can feel Phoenix swallow even though the other man tries to cover the reaction. "Years?"
"Probably." He can't soak his words with the emotion they deserve, can't bring up the tears that he wants to cry. His voice has gone as cold as his expression, icing over with the discomfort he always feels when he tries to express strong feeling.
Phoenix doesn't lift his head to look. There is a lot that Phoenix doesn't understand but Edgeworth is one of the few things he seems to comprehend perfectly. He keeps his head down, reaches out to drape his arm over the other's hip, and when Edgeworth drops an awkward hand on his shoulder he sighs like it carries more comfort than the prosecutor believes it can.
"I like the glasses," Phoenix says as he slides them free. "It's a good look for you, makes you look very mature."
Edgeworth raises an eyebrow at him, the expression dropping backwards into history until Phoenix can see the haughty child underneath the years of experience laid over it. "I like the daughter," he retorts. "Makes you seem very responsible."
"Ah, well," Phoenix grins, and when he leans in to kiss the corner of Edgeworth's mouth the other man is smiling, fitting his expression to the promise of those lines. "It's all a big charade, but I'm always been good at bluffing."
That makes Edgeworth laugh, the sound low and purring in his chest, before he turns his head to kiss Phoenix properly.
"It'll be okay."
Phoenix sounds almost asleep, drowsy with the lateness of the hour. Edgeworth envies him and is grateful for the other's exhaustion at the same time. The impending loneliness is easier to bear alone, easier when he knows he's not dragging Phoenix down with him.
"How can you know?" he asks the dark, and his tone is plaintive as a child's, a desperate bid for comfort that he can't ask for, would never ask for in the daylight.
"It's what I do." Phoenix turns his head slightly, presses his lips gently against Edgeworth's shoulder. "I trust in people. And I trust you. You'll be back and I'll be here and it'll be okay."
"Did you miss me?"
It's Phoenix who asks, putting the words to the question he can see lurking in Edgeworth's eyes. The prosecutor smiles again, the expression easy and fluid as it never used to be, rolls over onto Phoenix so he can dig his chin into the other's shoulder.
"Yes. Is that what you want me to say?" Even when his smile is absent and his eyebrow is raised in a high arc of irony pleasure is soft in his eyes, affection written in every one of the lines of his face as if he's been writing letters to Phoenix across his skin to be read now that they're together.
Phoenix reaches out, traces his fingertips against the faint web of lines at the corner of Edgeworth's eyes, watches the way the prosecutor's mouth pulls into the threat of a smile at the contact. "Yes." He pauses. "I missed you too."
Edgeworth looks away, shuts his eyes and leans down to bump his forehead against Phoenix's shoulder. "I know."
"You'll have the best stories to tell me," Phoenix goes on. Edgeworth can feel his smile, can feel the other shifting to get more comfortable, and the tug of his hand on Edgeworth's hip pulls the other man into relaxation in spite of himself. "You'll have to come back, we'll spend an entire day and you can just talk to me about Europe. I know how you love to hear yourself talk."
"Shut up," Edgeworth snaps, but the hit he tries to aim at Phoenix's head turns into a caress, and Phoenix's grin softens into another kiss at his shoulder. There's a pause, the only sound their offset breathing. "I'll be back. I promise."
Phoenix's mouth curves into a smile again. "I know."
"When will I get those stories?" Phoenix asks later, when Edgeworth is starting to relax into sleep against his shoulder.
"Not right now," the other mumbles. "I was asleep, you know."
"You weren't." Phoenix ruffles Edgeworth's hair out of place and the other doesn't protest, just huffs a laugh over his chest. "I know you, you weren't asleep just yet."
"I nearly was." Edgeworth yawns. "I can tell you tomorrow."
Phoenix smiles even at this reminder of the future, the possibility of a future gone bright and warm like evening sunshine. "That's true."
"Now will you let me sleep?" the other man grumbles.
Phoenix laughs, turns onto his side so he can wrap an arm around Miles and pull him in closer. "Yeah."