AN- Okay, I'm really hoping I'll actually have the attention span to finish this one. Critiques are wanted, I'd love to improve this. Future chapters will be Pheeny/Edgey, but this first one is just silly and comical. Also, I'm underage, so if there's something strange about the bar scene please tell me. I'm pretty sure I didn't make it detailed enough for too many mistakes, but just in case. Thanks for reading!

I don't own any of these characters, only the story I'm throwing them in is mine.

Miles Edgeworth was serious about his job as a prosecutor. He didn't believe it was worth his time to do pointless things for amusement, and he saw no real benefit from being social. Besides, he was raised to think that affection was a sign of weakness. He was independent. Lately, however, he's been allowing a few people get a little close to him for the first time in… well, years. He didn't return any of their displays of friendliness, but just letting anyone into his life, even a little, was a big step for him. These 'friends', if you could call them that, were on his mind more and more often, even if he never showed it. Especially one in particular, he noted. He didn't understand why, but ever since the trial against him and the conclusion of the DL-6 incident, he's been woken up at night with a racing pulse from something other than nightmares…

Miles was in his office, staring out the window and drinking a cup of freshly brewed English tea. The view of the evening sky from the eleventh story was beautiful, but he wasn't really focusing on it. He let his tired eyes relax as he inhaled the rich smell of his drink and let his mind wander. After a few minutes his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening and a familiar voice grating on his ears.

"Yo, Miles!" Larry Butz said in an unnecessarily loud voice. Phoenix Wright and Dick Gumshoe followed him into the well-furnished room. All three of them were wearing casual clothes- this wasn't a business visit. "You aren't busy, right?"

Miles hesitated, collecting his thoughts and stopping himself from getting angry at the unwelcome intrusion. He took a slow breath and set his cup down on the windowsill. "Don't call me that, and no. Why?"

"Well," Phoenix started, "We three were just thinking-"

"-Since, you know, you're always so busy, and we've never really hung out-" Dick continued.

"-That you're coming with us tonight!" Larry finished.

The prosecutor stared blankly at the three morons standing in front of him for an uncomfortable moment. "…Coming with you to where, exactly?"

"To the Joint!" Larry said with a large smile, as though that answered everything.

Phoenix stepped forward to explain. "He means the place we always hang out at. It's a little bar downtown."

Miles shook his head and turned back toward the window. "And you thought I'd want to go to a place like that with you three because…?" The room was silent; then Dick suddenly appeared next to him, grinning.

"Sorry, Mr. Edgeworth, but we insist."

The shorter man's heart skipped a little, purely out of the natural reaction of having someone so big towering over him, but he quickly remembered who he was talking to. His eyes narrowed into a glare and he crossed his arms over his chest. "The answer is no, detective."

"Actually," said Phoenix, who was suddenly on his other side, "It was more of a statement than a question."

Larry came and stood between Dick and Phoenix, essentially cornering the now nervous man. "It's like we said, you're coming with us."

Miles tried to keep his cool the best he could, but his ever-stoic expression twitched a little at the effort. "What are you going to do, force me?"

"We'd rather not, pal," Dick beamed, laying a large hand on his shoulder. "That's up to you, isn't it?"

"That would be kidnapping, which is against the law, detective."

"Then," Larry said, smiling, "I guess we're kidnappers!"

Miles couldn't believe what he was hearing. The men had him blocked on all sides, and there was a window to his back- this was obviously planned, which is quite a feat considering those three. He willed his face to hold its usual unruffled frown even though his heart was pounding and his thoughts racing. "You… can't just abduct me out of my own office!" No one responded. "…..Wright, help me out here!" His spiky-haired rival just smiled and didn't move. "You- Wright, you can't be serious!"

At that moment Dick grabbed Miles' other shoulder and began pushing him toward the door. Of course the poor guy tried to struggle and protested quite loudly with intricate threats peppered with swears, but it was to no avail. Dick was simply much bigger and stronger than he was, and Phoenix and Larry weren't doing anything to help. What's worse is the fact that nobody in the building offered any assistance, even though the whole block could probably hear him.

After much fuss, including a few bruises and more curses than should ever be said in one sitting, they managed to get him down to the basement parking lot and into Dick's car. By that point Miles was tired and panting heavily and was just about out of insults.

"Come on, Miles," Phoenix said as he joined him in the backseat. "When was the last time you took a break from work?"

"Yeah man!" Larry pitched in, jumping in the front as Dick took the driver's seat and started the car. "This is for your own good!"

"'My own good'?" He spat venomously. "'My own good'?? Since when is forcefully abducting someone against their will for their 'own good'?? If I needed a break I'd spend it at home with some tea and a book, not with you imbeciles!!"

They tried to calm him down and explain, but he simply wasn't having it. During almost the whole ride the conversation stayed the same; everything his kidnappers would say Miles would only respond with more verbal abuse. He eventually regained his composure, but another argument broke out when they told him he should take off his cravat and suit jacket- the place they were going wasn't exactly high-class. He refused, at first, but agreed when they arrived and he saw what they meant. The Joint was an Irish-esque pub with a hint of classic American sports bar. The actual bar along with two large TVs was on one side of the wide room, and there were a few arcade games and pool tables on the other. The walls were lined with booths raised a foot off the ground. It had a warm atmosphere, and there was a clatter of voices loud enough to challenge the volume of the music from the jukebox.

Miles considered running, but he was coerced inside before he knew what happened. The four took a seat in one of the booths and a waitress quickly came over to them. Her uniform was simply a sleeveless black shirt with a matching pleated skirt, a frilled apron, and a beret over her bobbed black hair.

"What can I get y'all today?" She asked cutely with a thick southern drawl. Dick immediately declared that he wanted the hardest whiskey they had. Larry ordered something cheap off the tap, and Phoenix got some sort of cream ale. Then everyone turned to Miles, making him feel even more uncomfortable than he already was.

He shifted a bit, but kept his ever-perfect posture. "…I don't normally drink liquor…" It was mostly true- the only true liquor he's had before was wine, and he always drank that slowly enough to avoid the effects of the alcohol.

The waitress smiled understandingly. "Well, we got other-"

"Hey," Larry cut in, "We didn't bring him here to keep him sober! Just get him whatever you bring me, cutie."

"Alrighty then." She was apparently used to being hit on, since she just smiled and calmly turned to go behind the bar.

Miles looked questioningly at the blond across the table and sort of off-handedly mentioned that he thought he had a girlfriend. Larry started fumbling and put on his nervous smile, trying to laugh it off. He was terrible at keeping secrets, or hiding his emotions in general. Phoenix rolled his eyes and interpreted for everyone else- she dumped him. Of course this made Larry mad, and he denied it and tried to explain that she didn't dump him, per say, she just wasn't talking to him at the moment… And was seeing other guys. Miles gave him a 'are you really that stupid?' glare while Phoenix and Dick tried not to laugh. The intelligence of the discussion didn't improve until they were interrupted by the return of the waitress with their drinks, carefully balanced on a large saucer. She skillfully passed out each one in a flashy manner, somehow managing not to spill. When she got to Miles, though, she subtly hesitated, winked at him, then twirled to leave in a way that ruffled her short skirt suggestively.

Dick and Larry immediately started downing their drinks, and Phoenix was going to join them when he noticed Miles had that spacey, thoughtful look on his face he gets when there's something on his mind.

"Miles? What's wrong?" He asked, genuinely concerned.

The prosecutor blinked and looked up. "What? Oh, nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing," Larry said, setting his now half-empty glass down.

Miles' cheeks pinkened. "It's nothing, really… I mean, the waitress just…"

Dick slammed his mug down with a snicker. "What, you've never been hit on before?"

"Of course I have," he snapped back. "They just aren't usually so… casually blatant."

Now Larry started snickering. "'Usually'? You mean it happens often?"

"What're you talking about, pal?" Gumshoe said, furrowing his fuzzy eyebrows. "Mr. Edgeworth here is a lady killer!"

Phoenix nodded and held his drink to his lips. "Yeah, your type seems to be what women like today," he agreed.

The blush on Miles' face deepened. "'My type'?"

"Face it, pal," Dick said, playfully elbowing him in the side. "You're a pretty boy. Girls love that sort of thing."

"I am not a 'pretty boy'!" He insisted, thoroughly embarrassed. This was a mistake. He should have bolted for the door a long time ago.

"Come on, you've got the pretty, well-kept hair," Larry pointed out.

"And the pretty face and good fashion sense," added Dick.

"And the pretty eyes that are icy and piercing," Phoenix finished. By this point poor Miles' face almost matched the deep reddish-mauve color of his suit pants. He turned his head away angrily and grabbed one of his arms, pushing his shoulders slightly out of posture but not quite slouching. He always made this defensive pose when he was being particularly emotional or dramatic, or both. It actually bothered him, but it was a nervous habit, and was therefore hard to break. He glanced back and paused when he noticed Larry was staring straight at him.

"Whoa, you're right about the eyes. Never noticed that before."

"Could we please talk about something else?" Miles said through clenched teeth, one eyebrow twitching in annoyance.

"All right, all right, calm down," Phoenix advised, wearing that goofy grin of his. "We're sorry. Just have a drink and relax."

Of course, he dreaded the thought of consuming whatever it was that sat in front of him, but he really didn't want to continue the conversation either. Taking a deep breath, he reluctantly picked up the mug in front of him and brought it to his lips. He had almost mentally prepared himself for what he was about to do when Dick cut in.

"No, no, you gotta take a big swig, all at once!" the detective said loudly, grinning. Again, Miles didn't want to bother arguing, so he just held his breath and threw his head back. He immediately regretted it, and had to put his hand to his mouth to keep from coughing it back up. The rest of the table simultaneously burst out laughing.

"That-(cough)-was disgusting," he spat.

Phoenix held back another snigger. "Yeah, nobody likes it at first."

"Then why in the hell does anybody do it in the first place?" he said, glowering.

"Lots of reasons, pal," Dick answered. "Lots of reasons."

"We just need to find a drink you like," Larry said as he claimed Miles' current drink. He let out a long, regretful breath but didn't protest. This was going to be a long, long night.

Miles ended up trying five or six different drinks, all of which he tasted once and refused to touch again. The alcohol sooner or later had an effect, however, because he eventually managed to relax a little. After a while he had forgotten how much he had drunk, and he couldn't figure out why he couldn't focus on anything or talk right, but fuck it- he felt good. Time seemed to blur together into a big, fuzzy mess, leaving just random bits and pieces-

Larry hitting on all the waitresses and some random girls, and getting a lot of phone numbers;

Dick pressuring him to chug some of his whiskey;

Phoenix getting just as drunk as he was and the two of them attempting, but not succeeding, to sing something;

And all four of them laughing at something, which, although he had no idea what the joke was, was apparently hilarious.

He almost hated to admit it, but he actually enjoyed himself that night. That is, in the parts he could remember he seemed to be happy enough. It didn't occur to him at the time that he would wake up the next morning confused, with the worst headache of his life, and all memory of night lost in his drunken stupor.