(( A/N: I love the Bellboy, haha. So…yeah. I don't quite know if this is a comedy or angst, my bad. xD And no, there's no intentional yaoi in this, but I guess if you squint your eyes you can see it? Anyway, enjoy!

And… it's a two-shot. ;D))

Tea Bags

A fanfiction by: Mr.Trite

He stood in front of the Gatewater Hotel like a statue, the only movement coming from him the tears, slowly falling from his big brown eyes silently, his lower lip trembling slightly. Fired. He had worked at the hotel for as long as he could remember- Ten years? Eleven? - and this was what he got? It wasn't fair!

As he was an honest man, he could easily say that this wasn't what he was expecting. Although, he had known that there was going to be trouble the first time he saw that defense attorney, who had asked him about Miss April May- Nobody could have hair that spiky and not be a potential threat to society. But, speaking of Miss May…She had defiantly been a beautiful young woman, her soft giggling bouncing around whenever he looked at her. He blushed whenever he thought of the young woman- Who would have guessed that she would have cost him his job- Nay, his life?

"I'm sorry", the hotel manager had told him with regret in his voice, "But we can't have somebody involved in the investigation of Miss Mia Fey's murder here. We have to fire you." The world had had stopped as the very words came out of the manager's mouth, and the bellboy- Well, ex-bellboy- still had the ringing of those final five words ringing in his years. He found himself bursting into a new batch of tears as he starting shaking, his knees beginning to become wobbly and Jello-like. Now what was he going to do with his life?! What kind of horrible job would somebody take over being a bellboy?

Suddenly, a hand clasped on to his shoulder and he gasped, turning sharply- Was he being attacked?! Was this how his day was going to be?!

No. he found himself staring up at a young silver-haired man, his face pale and already marked with-premature stress wrinkles, which were especially presented with his eyebrows bunched up like that. The lids of his eyes were half closed, giving him an air of importance. It was the fierce intelligence burning in his eyes that allowed the ex-bellboy to pinpoint a name to the face. "Sir…Mr. Edgeworth?"

Mister Miles Egdeworth was rooted to the spot, his hand slowly sliding off of the shoulder of the ex-bellboy that stood before him, like a great king standing before a squire. After a long while he spoke, his voice strung with foreign accent- it was British, he decided.

"You. You work there, right?" He pointed to the hotel that the young, ex-bellboy had just been fired from, causing him to frown. "Well," He started with a shaking voice, "I did…" With that, he burst into another set of tears, clinging onto the prosecutor for dear life. "It was the best job ever, Mr. Edgeworth! It was my destiny to work there!" He continued to sob, leaving large stains on the man's pinkish suit, causing Miles to sigh. "But…You're still wearing that uniform. If you were fired, why do you still own that…thing?" Edgeworth wrinkled his nose at the crème colored uniform with its rose trimmings- Why anybody would want to walk around in that, he didn't know and couldn't guess. It was crazy, thought Edgeworth, especially compared to what he wore- Why walk around in that God-awful outfit compared to his luxurious, normal courtroom attire? It was simply stupid.

The ex-bellboy looked down at the outfit, sighing sadly. "They let me keep it for memory purposes…Because I just loved working there! I mean- Who doesn't grow up wanting to be the bellboy?!" It seemed as though the older man was going to go through another mini-breakdown, so the prosecutor patted him on the back, letting him sulk in his own misery, comforting him as best as he knew how. "There, there…" Ugh. Are people watching?!

"Look, sir. I have a…proposition for you." At these words, the ex-bellboy looked up at the well-dressed prosecutor, who in return looked away as he adjusted his fluffy white cravat, clearing his throat. "Listen…I know you lost your job- You were a witness to a murder investigation, after all." Before the man had a chance to question Edgeworth, he answered. "Why I asked you if you worked there? For clarification, of course. Anyway, I thought that you might want to come work for me." The ex-bellboy looked up, sniffling. "But…" he trailed off, "I don't have a law degree, sir!"

No, really? Instead, Edgeworth shook his head. "No, no. Not like that. How would you like to come work in my office- become my bellboy, in a sense? Does that sound promising enough for you, or do you wish to stay here and sob your life away?" The ex-bellboy looked up at Edgeworth as if he were God. "Are you…"

"Serious?" He finished up his sentence perfectly as he narrowed his eyes. "Yes- I never kid, Mister Bellboy." Before Edgeworth could ask the man for his real name, the prosecutor found himself plummeted to the ground by the ex-bellboy- Well, not so much anymore-, his brown eyes shining like light bulbs. "Urk!" It would appear that the bellboy was stronger than he looked.

The twenty-six year old, in return, couldn't stop smiling. "Really?! Wow!" He said this joyously, and Edgeworth imagined him as a dog, his tail wagging with excitement. "Thank you!" he cried, "Thank you so much, Mr. Edgeworth!"

"Gah! S…Stop it! People are watching!"

xxx

"Mr. Edgeworth?"

It had been exactly one year since the bellboy had been hired by the great prosecutor Miles Edgeworth, and he couldn't be much happier. Despite what the newspapers said about the young, silver-haired man, the twenty-four year old was a great boss- He even got paid.

No, Miles Edgeworth certainly was no demon, simply a hard worker; one could even say that he was misunderstood. The young bellboy, now twenty-seven, had often found his boss working the graveyard shift, staying up as late as three o' clock in the morning to finish the job at hand. Mr.Edgeworth was just a workaholic, and simply that alone. He just had no time to get up and make his own tea.

And that's where the bellboy came in. As a matter of fact, that's what he was doing this fateful morning- Serving tea to his beloved Mr. Edgeworth. However, it had been…different this time. He knew that Mr.Edgeworth was always tense after a case, but this time it seemed especially so. Down at the lobby, he had heard that the case had something to do with Damon Gant, the current Chief of Police, along with Lana Skye, Chief Prosecutor.

The bellboy liked Mr. Gant. Often, the man came to visit Mr.Edgeworth to drop off a piece of evidence concerning a case, and the bellboy found himself in causal conversation with the Chief of Police. The twenty-seven year old had always kept it in mind to take up that offering on a swim some day.

"Uhm, Mr.Edgeworth? I brought you your tea…" Where did he go? Had Mr.Edgeworth gone looking for him? The bellboy realized with a sinking heart that he must have been taking too long. He gulped nervously, pulling at his collar with a free hand. Ooh…This was going to cost him…

Huh?

His eyes moved to the desk of his employer, looking as perfect and as clean as always. The large bay window that lay behind it almost made the wooden desk seem to glow, most likely due to the polish used on it. However, something stood out against the shine, something white. It appeared to be an envelope of some sort. There was no name on it, no addressee.

Hmm… This was defiantly unusual. Normally, Mr. Edgeworth would only have a blank envelope on his desk if it contained a letter from Mr. Gant, or the bellboy brought it to him directly. Well, he most certainly didn't give Mr. Edgeworth anything that day, and Mr. Gant hadn't come by the office today- He'd know. A dark feeling came over the bellboy, and he shifted uncomfortably. "Hmm..." He wondered again, this time out loud. "A letter? I wonder who it's from..." He found himself placing down the silver tray that held Mr.Edgeworth's tea and taking the envelope off of his employer's desk with shaking hands.

This…This was an invasion of privacy! What of Mr.Edgeworth came in while he was opening the letter? He would lose his job for sure!

However, before he could stop himself, the envelope was opened and he held a letter in his hands. The paper it was composed of was thick; the type you knew was expensive by simply touching it. It was a crème color, although darker than the bellboy's Gatewater Hotel uniform. The edges of the letter were delicately designed with some pre-made reddish colored decoration, close to the tone of pink matching Miles Edgeworth's suit color. There were six words in the upper right corner. This was a style of lettering that the bellboy, after just a year, knew all to well.

From The Desk of Miles Edgeworth:

The Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death.