A/N: So, you guys probably didn't know this unless you know my tumblr (wingsonghalo), but... I lost the document that had the entirety of both Project: Matchmakers AND the whole of Project: Matrimony in it.
It was... not a good time. I have had deaths in the family that were less upsetting. I thought I was going to die. I screamed until there were spots in front of my eyes, and I cried so much my eyes were raw and hurt to touch the entire next day. I still feel like I'm grieving. I keep wanting to just tab over to it, but it's just... gone. I feel like it's a phantom limb: I can still feel it. I just can't do anything with it.
But today is my birthday, and posting a chapter is the best part of my week, so hell if I was going to miss posting on my birthday.
I rewrote everything from memory, so I don't think it's as good, frankly, but I hope you'll like it anyway. The other chapters are slowly coming along as well. I've scrawled out every important dialogue I remembered verbatim into a notepad doc so I can rewrite it all. I haven't given up and I never will! Thank you so much to everyone who offered their encouragement, and to everyone who is reading this now! I hope this rewrite will end up even better!
Phoenix was almost positive there was something wrong with Miles.
He'd seemed a little off for weeks, but it had been particularly noticeable the past few days. Phoenix would catch him looking off into the distance, his brow furrowed, and he always seemed taken aback when Phoenix asked what was wrong. He'd even seemed a little distant with Trucy, answering noncommittally to her questions and acting anxious. Phoenix was beginning to suspect that he was keeping something big from them. But it was easy to let his worries fade into blissful contentment when they laid together side by side at night. He trusted Miles. They were happy. Surely if something was truly wrong, he would tell him, right?
So why had he seen a lock across his chest when he'd claimed to be fine at lunch today?
Was Miles hiding something from him? He frowned at the thought as he dumped some raw spaghetti noodles into a pot of boiling water. It wasn't a totally unsubstantiated idea. Miles had indeed hidden things from him before. But that had been years ago, and every time Miles had let him down had been a source of deep shame and regret for the prosecutor. Miles had been trying so hard to make up for everything he'd ever done wrong, even if Phoenix had forgiven him years ago. They were different people now, more honest with each other.
So why was he being so difficult now? Phoenix had been trying to be patient, to wait for Miles to talk to him when he was ready. He had been patient with him before, after all. For years, even. But in recent months, Phoenix had become quite used to getting what he wanted, so his boyfriend's sudden reticence was frustrating. Phoenix's puppy dog eyes had unearthed quite a few secrets from Miles, but he felt reasonably sure that this wouldn't be one of them. And if he pressed the issue, Miles might clam up or withdraw completely, and Phoenix adamantly refused to let that happen. They had come too far now to take such a huge step backwards.
So perhaps waiting really was the best course of action. Of course, that didn't mean he couldn't also ask the occasional gently probing question...
He was roused from his thoughts by the sound of the door opening. "I'm home!" Trucy called out. He heard her footsteps approaching, and then she was standing next to him at the stove. "Spaghetti tonight, huh?" she said, looking up at him. She had gone without her hat today, allowing her shiny brown hair to show, but the rest of her magician outfit was intact. The two little cowlicks at the top of her head always reminded Phoenix of Apollo, her half-brother.
Phoenix offered a somewhat apologetic smile. "Yeah, I uh… kind of forgot to go grocery shopping today. Hope this is all right."
"Sure, I love spaghetti!" she said brightly, turning towards the kitchen table and pulling out her chair.
"So, how was Jinxie?" he asked as he swirled the noodles, which had already started to soften.
"Oh, she's great!" responded Trucy with a grin as she sat down. "We spent all day tracking an Ippondatara." She giggled. "Turns out, it was just someone who had been dragging their bag behind them in the snow!"
Phoenix knew better than to ask what an Ippondatara was. "Well, I'm glad you solved the mystery," he said instead.
"Mmhmm!" said Trucy, resting her elbows on the table, which was full-sized and solid wood and could probably seat twelve people if you really squeezed together. Phoenix still had trouble believing he had a full-size kitchen now. It kind of blew him away. "Speaking of mysteries," his daughter continued, looking over her shoulder at him, "Where's Papa?"
There was another thing that blew him away. Phoenix's stomach filled with hyperactive butterflies, and he couldn't help the stupid grin that spread across his face. "H-He should be home any second now," he answered, knowing that even though he was turned away from Trucy, she would probably still hear the embarrassingly large smile in his voice.
As if waiting for his cue, the door opened and Miles Edgeworth himself swept in, donning his winter coat as per usual.
Phoenix looked over at Trucy and grinned. "Man, I'm good." Trucy giggled.
Miles stood there looking between Trucy and Phoenix for a moment, but then seemed to decide that Phoenix's non sequitur was not worth thinking too hard about. "Didn't we have spaghetti last week?" he said to Phoenix instead, hanging up his coat.
"Oh, hush," Phoenix said mildly, giving the noodles another stir. "Spaghetti is a great, easy meal which is also delicious."
Miles sighed. "I'll make the sauce," he decided, and made his way across the kitchen to retrieve a jar from the pantry.
Phoenix glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as Miles poured the sauce into a pan and turned on the burner. He wanted to ask him so many things right now, but he had no idea where to start, and he didn't know how to discuss his worries without putting Miles on his guard. So he simply remained quiet as they stood together at the stove.
"I guess you guys make a good team in the kitchen, too, huh?" Trucy remarked, watching the two of them stand over the burners.
"Not exactly," said Miles, glancing at Trucy. "Much like in the courtroom, I merely take pity on your father if I see him floundering too much."
"Harsh," Phoenix said, though he smiled so Miles knew he wasn't really offended. He knew by now how to distinguish between which of Miles' comments were sardonic exaggeration and which were legitimate criticisms (they were hardly ever legitimate criticisms).
There was silence for a little while, except for the sizzling of the burners. Phoenix felt himself start to sweat, though perhaps it was the steam.
"So," said Phoenix finally, glancing at his boyfriend again. "Did you… ever figure out the unnerving thing?"
"What?" He looked startled, turning towards Phoenix as if only remembering that he was there. "Oh, um, yes. Well, part of it, anyway." Miles was staring at the spaghetti. Or, no, wait, he was staring at the spatula as it moved, following the movements of Phoenix's hand. Maybe he was really hungry?
"That's good," Phoenix answered, nodding a little as he returned his attention to the spaghetti and Miles resumed pushing around some bits of meat with his spatula. They fell quiet again as he watched the noodles. Stir, stir, stir. "Do you… want to talk about it?" he ventured.
Miles' face froze up, and his expression was uncomfortable for a moment before it smoothed out again. "No," he said, and then looked unsure. "Yes?" he revised. He sighed, shaking his head and turning back to the sauce. "Not yet. Soon. I promise." He looked a little flushed, and Phoenix wasn't sure it was because of the heat from the stove.
"Okay," said Phoenix, deciding not to push things for now. He could press Miles about it more after dinner.
"All right, mister," Phoenix said, turning to Miles on the couch after Trucy had bade them good night. "What's the deal here?"
He looked evasive already, averting his eyes and clearing his throat. "I… I don't know what you mean," he muttered, somewhat lamely.
Phoenix raised an eyebrow. "You give me a mindblowingly tender kiss before you leave this morning, but now you won't even answer questions like 'how did it go at work'?" Miles stared at the floor, his brow furrowing. He looked guilty. "Look, I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable here," Phoenix continued, "but I just want to make sure everything's okay. You've been acting kind of weird for a while now, and sometimes it even seems like you've been avoiding Trucy, and if I've done anything wr—"
"Phoenix," Miles cut him off, taking his hand and finally looking him in the face. His cool gray eyes were searching Phoenix's earnestly. "I… I'm sorry it feels like I'm keeping something from you," he said quietly. "I've just been thinking about something lately that has been… difficult for me." He squeezed Phoenix's hand before letting it go. "But there is absolutely nothing wrong between you and me, or Trucy and me. Please believe me."
Phoenix squinted at him suspiciously for a moment, reaching his hand into his pocket to touch the Magatama.
No locks.
"All right," he conceded, feeling a little more relaxed already. "I trust you."
The prosecutor's face broke into a relieved smile. "Thank you," he said sincerely. But then his expression clouded over a little again, and he looked down pensively.
"Something on your mind?" Phoenix prompted him.
"I was thinking," he said suddenly, head snapping back up. He reached over and took both of Phoenix's hands this time, stroking his thumbs over the tops of them. "Let's… let's go somewhere, some evening this week. Just the two of us."
The defense attorney blinked at him in surprise. That kind of spontaneous suggestion was not typically Miles' modus operandi. "Like… like a date?"
"Yes, like a date," he confirmed, nodding. His expression was intent, full of a new resolve. He'd decided on something, though Phoenix had no idea what.
"Okay," said Phoenix, a smile spreading across his face. "Where are we going? A restaurant?"
Miles shook his head and looked away again, muttering something like "that won't do." He thought a moment before meeting his eyes again. "I was thinking somewhere a bit nicer. Somewhere with music, perhaps?"
"Music?..." Phoenix thought a moment. "Hmmm…" He looked off to the side, up towards the ceiling. "Well, Trucy mentioned that Ariadne Stringer was going to be performing with a small strings group soon…" He shrugged, returning his attention to Miles. "It wouldn't be a black tie affair or anything, but it should be classy enough for a date, I think. I'll ask Trucy for more details tomorrow."
He nodded. "That will do," he said decisively. A smile that was half-nervous and half-anticipatory flashed across his face. He brought Phoenix's hands to his lips and kissed them gently, and then suddenly released them and rose to his feet. "Well, I think it's about time I turn in for the night," he said briskly.
"What?" Phoenix twisted in his seat to watch him start walking away. "It's only 11!" he complained. Sure, he might share a bed with Miles every night now, but he still highly valued his Couch Cuddle Time. And the mood had been getting so nice, too...
"I have some business to take care of tomorrow, and I want to be well-rested," Miles informed him, standing outside the door to their bedroom and looking back at him as he opened it. "Good night, Phoenix." He stepped in and closed the door.
After a moment, it opened again, and Miles stuck his head back out. "Are… are you going to stay out there for a while, or…?" He looked embarrassed.
Phoenix smirked. Evidently Miles had gotten used to having Phoenix next to him when he slept. "I'll be right there, darling," he cooed.
"Ugh," Miles scoffed, but Phoenix caught the tips of his ears turning pink as he shut the door again.
Miles felt very awkward as he stepped into the jeweler's the next day. The more he tried to perform all these prerequisites to marriage, the more he had started to feel like it was all designed to humiliate him.
He had only been there for two seconds when he was ambushed by a sales lady in a smooth purple blouse and black slacks. "Hello, sir! How can I help you today?" Her smile was a little too wide.
"Well, I..." Miles trailed off, suddenly feeling embarrassed. He looked around at the surroundings, trying to gather his thoughts. Expensive-looking chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and lavish pieces of artwork adorned every wall. The jewelry itself glinted in at least a dozen long glass cases. There was some kind of waterfall running down a smooth, polished marble surface over on one wall. What was that doing here? What purpose did it serve? Was it just supposed to look elegant?
Apparently he wasn't supposed to be looking at the interior right now, however, because the sales lady stepped in front of him, blocking his line of sight. "Sir?" she said again. That wide smile was a bit frightening, on second glance. "What brings you in today?"
"I'm… uh..." He felt his face going hot. The sales lady blinked, her over-zealously applied mascara fluttering like butterfly wings, and waited. Her smile, frozen in place, was beginning to look painful. "I'm looking for an engagement ring," he finally forced out, partially because he was afraid her face would stick like that.
"Oh, how lovely!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. She'd painted her nails a sparkly gold, Miles noticed. "And what are we considering for the lucky lady?"
Miles cleared his throat. "Gentleman," he said quietly.
"Oh?" Her smile dropped a little in confusion for a moment, and her eyebrows drew together. "Oh!" she said then, her hazel eyes widening in realization. "Oh, oh! Oh. Oh!"
Miles resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead just stared. Was saying "oh" that many times strictly necessary? He was beginning to regret correcting her, although he supposed it would have most likely come up sooner or later when he revealed Phoenix's ring size.
"M-My apologies, sir," tittered the saleswoman, patting her wavy brown hair nervously. "What are we considering for the lucky gentleman?" Though she seemed embarrassed, her smile had at least smoothed into a more natural-looking one, now that she knew Miles was not just here to gawk and then leave.
"I was thinking something in gold?" he said hesitantly. "Possibly with a blue gemstone?" Those two colors did hold significance for Phoenix, after all. They also undeniably suited him. "Ring size is a 10, though I have been advised to play it safe and go with a 10.5."
"Well, we can certainly find something that fits the bill!" the woman assured him brightly, and she began to lead the way over to one of the glass cases. "Now, if you'll follow me over here, we have some gold bands..."
Miles left a while later with the ring he'd selected, feeling somewhat relieved that he could cross that particular task off the list. The sales lady had been friendly enough, but she spoke quickly and far too much, and Miles had felt exhausted just listening to her. When he had spotted the perfect ring, he'd indicated it right away. She had begun listing payment plan options, but by that time Miles was getting a bit impatient, so he had said he would pay it all up-front. Her mouth had dropped open wide like a nutcracker's. Evidently paying it all at once was not a common practice. But he had had the money ready in his account anyway, and frankly he was quite eager to leave already, so he had made his purchase and left.
The tiny velvet box felt heavy in his pocket. Perhaps it was the weight of its significance.
He pulled out his phone as he pressed the button on his keys to unlock his car. He might as well give his only confidante an update.
"Great Thief Yatagarasu and Romance Guru Kay Faraday, at your service!" she answered brightly after only one ring.
"Kay," he said, ignoring her new self-assigned moniker as he dropped into his seat. "I've bought a ring."
"What, that fast?" She sounded surprised.
Miles paused in the middle of fastening his seatbelt. "Is… is it supposed to take a long time?" he asked. Perhaps he had been a bit hasty with his purchase after all…
"Nah, I'm sure you're fine!" she assured him. "Are you gonna send me pics?"
Miles cringed. "I'd prefer the only evidence of this transaction to be the receipt in my pocket," he said. "I suppose you could stop by my office and take a look sometime, if you really want to see it."
"Oh, fine," she grumbled. "Stingy. So, what's the proposal plan?"
"I'm going to take him to a concert," Miles replied, glad that he actually had an answer to that. "Ariadne Stringer is performing with a string ensemble this Thursday. Classical music is suitably romantic, isn't it?"
"Yeah, that's plenty romantic!" she said, sounding impressed. Miles allowed himself to feel the slightest bit pleased with himself. "So what song is going to be playing while you ask the question?"
Miles blinked. "What song?" he parroted blankly.
"Well, yeah! You can't just propose in the middle of a concert. Wouldn't that be disruptive?"
"Hmm," he said thoughtfully. She had a point. "What is my alternative, here?"
"Well, you could call up the concert venue or the performers, and let them know what you plan to do, so they're not surprised when it happens at a certain point in the concert," she responded, her voice matter-of-fact like she gave this kind of advice all the time. "Ooh! You could even have them play a special song!" she said then, her tone brightening with excitement. "A spotlight shines on the two of you as you sit in the middle row, the music swelling as you get down on one knee…!"
"I-I never wanted it to be as public as all that!" he said hastily, his face flushing a little. "I'll get a box seat and do it in private, thank you very much!"
"Fiiiine," she said, as if Miles was very unexciting.
"And that aside, why on earth would I want that many people looking at us?" Miles pointed out, reaching his free hand up to adjust his rearview mirror. "I don't want him to feel pressured into saying yes just to please a crowd!"
He heard her snort. "Oh, please. Pressure him? I have seen the way he looks at you. He's going to be jumping up to say yes!" Miles' cheeks burned, but Kay continued before he could say anything. "And from what I know about Mr. Wright, he eats up big romantic gestures with a spoon."
"Well, you may be right in that regard, at least," he admitted with a sigh. He let his head fall back against the headrest.
"I can understand why you wouldn't want to draw that much attention, though," Kay admitted.
"Thank you for your empathy," he told her flatly.
"I still think you should find a special song," she said next. "I mean, having a song played just for you..." She sighed dreamily. "Anyone's heart would melt."
Privately, Miles had to agree that it wasn't a terrible idea. But all he told her was "I'll think about it."
"You'd better!" she said. "And for goodness sake, hide that thing well! If Trucy or Mr. Wright find it, it's all over!"
Miles grimaced. She was right. He had no plan in place for hiding the ring. He supposed he had mostly been planning on keeping it in his suit jacket pocket, but that probably wouldn't be practical. "Actually," he said, striking upon a sudden idea, "Could I give it to you to hold onto?"
"Why, Mistah Edgeworth," Kay said, suddenly with a breathy Southern accent. "Ah do declayuh, Ah never expected you ta offer me a ring!"
Miles didn't dignify that with a response. "Will you hang onto it?" he reiterated.
"You know, when someone makes a joke, you really gotta learn to just go with it," she grumbled under her breath before returning to her usual cheerful tone. "Sure, I can do that! I'll swing by your office around noon?"
"All right. Thank you, Kay."
"Anytime!" she replied graciously. "All right, I'll see you tomorrow at noon. Have a good night, Mr. Edgeworth!"
"You as well, Kay," Miles returned, and then clicked off the phone.
Contact the concert venue or the musicians, eh? It wasn't the worst idea in the world, Miles thought the next day as he took a walk around People Park. He knew Ariadne Stringer from the kidnapping case, after all, and the girl was quite pleasant and agreeable. No, indeed, that was the part of this that Miles was least dreading.
But a special song? He couldn't think of a single one that was special to the two of them. Sure, Miles might think of Phoenix every time he heard Elgar's Salut d'Amour or Mascagni's Cavalleria Rusticana Intermezzo, but he highly doubted that Phoenix would recognize either of those just by hearing them, and they could hardly be considered special to both of them.
He tucked his hands into his pockets and made his way down the footpath. The late January air was cool, but moisture still hung in the atmosphere like a shroud. The trees on either side of the path were still bare, and the sky was endless gray, so there wasn't much for Miles to look at. Phoenix had gone to visit the Feys in Kurain for the day, and he had taken Trucy with him. Miles had been invited too, of course, but he had claimed to have some paperwork that he needed to finish (which had actually been true). He had needed to be at his office to give Kay the ring, after all.
But his paperwork hadn't taken much time at all, and the ring was now safely in Kay's possession, so Miles found himself with time on his hands to walk and brood.
What kind of music did Wright even enjoy? He realized with a bit of a shock that he had never learned. Did he even have any CDs? Surely he had to at least have a few… but then why had Miles never seen them? They lived together!
It was probably force of habit and the close proximity to the park, but he soon found himself staring at the door to the Wright Anything Agency. His feet had taken him here before he'd realized. Well, being in a familiar environment didn't sound bad at the moment. Just because he was lost in thought didn't mean he had to be physically lost as well.
He made up his mind, and turned the doorknob to the Agency.
"Music… Music..." he muttered, sitting on the sofa and holding his head in his hands as he thought. "What kind of music would Wright enjoy?..."
"I'm pretty sure he likes musicals," said a voice from right behind him.
"Waaaaah!" he squawked, tumbling off the couch in a most undignified fashion. He scrambled to his feet and straightened his glasses, which had fallen halfway down his face. Athena Cykes' surprised expression came into view.
"Whoa, are you okay?" she said, hurrying towards the front of the couch.
"M-Ms. Cykes!" he sputtered, sitting back down and smoothing his lapels. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"
She tilted her head, her ginger ponytail spilling over one shoulder. "Um, but you're the one who started the conversation when you wandered in and asked me how things were at the Agency."
"Did… Did I do that?" Miles asked weakly. He sort of remembered passing something vaguely human-shaped on his way to the sofas. He must have muttered out pleasantries without even noticing. He really ought to have realized it when the Agency wasn't locked. "I-I apologize… I'm quite preoccupied."
"Yeah, I noticed," she told him, smiling a little wryly. She looked at him a moment, and bit her lip, her expression becoming nervous. Or perhaps it was concerned? "Mr. Edgeworth, I hope you'll forgive me for saying this, but… your emotions are a mess right now. What's wrong?"
"N-Nothing is wrong," he said quickly. Denial was always the easiest line of defense.
"Hmm..." She was scanning him with those blue eyes of hers, her mouth quirked up on one side. "Well, you were muttering about Mr. Wright, so I'm assuming whatever you're worried about has to do with him."
He winced. "Never you mind," he said. He cleared his throat, and looked around the Agency to avoid her keen eyes. "That aside," he started, hoping he was making his voice as casual as possible, "...O-on what do you base your claim that Wright enjoys musicals?..."
"On the fact that I catch him singing songs from Les Miserables and Wicked all the time, mostly," she answered, resting a hand on her hip. "He really gets into it when he's cleaning this place and thinks no one can hear him." She grimaced a little. "But he doesn't realize that with ears like mine, I can definitely still hear him… even from outside the Agency."
"Hmm… I see..." Miles put his chin on top of his clasped hands as he rested his elbows on his knees and thought. He had heard of both of those shows, and even knew the story behind the former. Perhaps he could find something from one of those that would work? But what if there wasn't anything that suited them? What if the performers didn't know the song, or couldn't learn it in time? Worst of all, what if he couldn't get up the courage to ask him anyway even with the song playing? And how in the world had Miles known Phoenix for so long without knowing something this simple about him? Did someone as unobservant as him even deserve to get married?
"Mr. Edgeworth… please…" He returned his attention to Athena, who was looking at him with misty eyes, her face a little twisted in pain as her robot companion glowed dull blue. "The doubt and sadness I'm hearing from you… it's unbearable…!"
Miles felt his face go hot. "Then don't listen to it!" he snapped, embarrassed.
"Hey, you're the one in my office!" she retorted, and then gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. "I-I'm so sorry, Chief Prosecutor… please forgive my rudeness..."
He waved her off. "You needn't kowtow to me. We are friends, are we not?"
Her eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open. "R-really? Wow… thanks!" She sounded moved. The robot around her neck shone bright green now.
"I apologize for intruding and then ignoring you," he said with an incline of his head. "It was thoughtless of me."
"It's okay," she said quickly, sitting down on the other couch and watching him closely, her hands in her lap. "You know, if there's anything you want to get off your chest…" She hesitated and began to pet her ponytail a little nervously. "I-I'm a professional..."
He sighed. "I know you are..."
He allowed himself to consider it. Maybe he should just tell her? She was a bright young woman, if a bit foolhardy and impulsive. She knew Phoenix well, and could probably answer some of Miles' questions, even. Still, she was quite as headstrong and opinionated as Kay was. If he told her, would he not then have to contend with the harebrained schemes of two women rather than just one?...
"I'm getting a lot of uncertainty," said Athena, her posture alert like a hound on the scent.
Miles frowned, frustrated that he couldn't even think without having his feelings analyzed, but when he met Athena's eyes, they were intent and full of earnestness. They reminded Miles of her mentor's.
He sighed, and made his decision. "If I tell you, you must promise to never breathe a word to anyone else, even if you think they may already know the secret." He gave her his best icy glare, the one that had been intimidating people in the courtroom for decades, and narrowed his eyes. "Am I clear?"
She gulped and shrank back into the couch a little, but tenaciously did not break eye contact. "Crystal," she said, her voice a bit strained.
He nodded, and took a breath, his gaze darting away as he forced the words out. "I… I have been trying to ask Wright to marry me."
There was a sharp intake of breath, and glanced back over at her to see that her eyes were suddenly swimming with tears as she covered her mouth. "That's… that's wonderful!" Her voice was shaky, and she sniffled. "You guys… you guys are going to be… so happyyyyyy!" she wailed, her tears finally spilling over.
"M-Ms. Cykes!" he sputtered in a panic, grabbing the box of tissues off the coffee table and holding it out to her. "Please, calm yourself!"
"I'b sorry," she warbled, accepting a tissue and blowing her nose with a loud honk. "It's just… I've never actually seen anyone I know get married before… It's going to be so beautiful…!"
Miles scoffed. "Not if I never manage to ask him," he grumbled.
Abruptly, her eyebrows angled down and her tearfulness seemed to vanish. "Mr. Edgeworth, you've got to have some confidence in yourself!" she told him firmly. "Of course you can ask him!"
"Even if I do, there's no guarantee you'll see a wedding," Miles pointed out. "He could say no."
"No he couldn't," she responded immediately. "He's totally crazy about you." Her eyes were dancing with a kind of ardent enthusiasm that made Miles a little uncomfortable. "You should hear the way his heart starts pounding a mile a minute whenever anyone so much as mentions your name!"
Frankly, that sounded a little worrisome to Miles. Perhaps Wright should see a cardiologist? "Still," he said, trying to keep his blushing under control, "My proposal could fall through for any number of reasons. Perhaps I'll take too long to ask, and Wright will get tired of waiting. Or perhaps he won't feel ready for such a commitment. Or maybe the manner in which I choose to propose will be so utterly unromantic that—"
She held up a hand to stop him, and for some reason, Miles obeyed the nonverbal signal. It was probably because she looked so stern right now. "Mr. Edgeworth, please, don't make excuses," she said. Miles couldn't help feeling a little offended by that. He wasn't trying to make excuses. These were his honest insecurities. He opened his mouth to say so, but she held up her hand for silence again, and again his mouth closed on its own. "Mr. Wright would wait for you forever, I'm pretty sure he's been ready to marry you since you've been together, and he would say yes even if you asked him while you were watching TV." She crossed her arms decisively.
"But… I don't want to ask him while we're watching television," he confessed. "I've… I've picked out a ring and everything." He stared at his knees, tapping his fingers together in a gesture that was more like Phoenix than himself. "There's a concert soon, and… I wanted to find a special song for them to play..."
He heard another sniffle, and looked up. Athena's eyes were glistening again. Miles hoped she didn't start crying again. Once had been awkward enough. "That's… so sweet…!" she said emotionally.
"Nngh..." He flushed as he stared at the wall and pointedly not at her. Athena Cykes was now the third person to call any of his actions "sweet." Was he, as Phoenix would no doubt have quipped, losing his edge?… "I assure you, there are a great number of individuals who would say otherwise," he blustered, crossing his arms.
She smiled. "I'm so happy for you guys," she said. "I know you'll keep each other happy."
"Thank you," he said, embarrassed, "but please, reserve your blessings for after I've actually asked him."
Athena nodded. "Well, in that case, I wish you luck in your daring and noble quest!"
He raised his eyebrows at her. "I'm proposing marriage, not slaying a dragon."
She shook her head and grinned. "I have a feeling that in your case, this requires just as much bravery."
He frowned at her, annoyed that he couldn't refute that.
Phoenix groaned in frustration and stuck his tongue between his teeth as he attempted to re-tie his tie for the fourth time.
He wasn't sure why Miles had insisted on dressing up a little for this occasion—the theater wasn't even that large, from what he'd heard, and it was a Thursday night, so there probably wouldn't even be that many people there. But Trucy was practicing her act down at the Penrose, so they had the evening to themselves. Ordinarily Phoenix would be happy to spend a night alone with Miles at home in pajamas (or nothing), but the fact was that he hardly ever got to go out with Miles anymore for things that weren't crime scene-related. And so he had agreed to wear this dumb cobalt blue tie, and the dark-gray waistcoat, and the navy suit jacket and pants ("I didn't even know you had other formal clothes!" Miles had exclaimed in amazement when they'd searched the closet. "Why do you only wear the blue suit?" Phoenix had weakly replied that he liked the blue suit, and then countered by asking why Miles only wore the maroon one. "It's my trademark," he had said stuffily. What, like the blue suit wasn't Phoenix's?).
He swore this tie was a million times harder to tie than the pink one. For one thing, it was so unused that the silky material kept slipping through his fingers, and for another, he wasn't exactly an expert at tying a necktie in the first place. Sometimes, at the end of a long day, he would simply loosen the pink one and slip it off his neck, and tighten it again the next day. No one had to know, right?
"Are you still trying to tie that?" came Miles' voice as he emerged from the bathroom. He looked fantastic in a white dress shirt, dark red waistcoat, charcoal gray suit jacket and pants, and...
"Whoa!" said Phoenix, reeling back a little. "You're actually wearing a tie!"
Miles flushed a little. "You've seen me without the cravat before," he pointed out. Well, that was true. Miles didn't wear the damn thing to bed after all.
"Still, though... a tie!" It was a nice one, too: stripes of black and ivory and the same dark red as the waistcoat. He had tied it in a perfect Windsor knot, of course. Phoenix looked down at his own attempt lamely.
"I can't believe you," Miles sighed, striding over to him and swatting Phoenix's hands away from the necktie. He looped his meager efforts over his head to start from scratch. "Don't you wear a tie on a daily basis? How is this that difficult for you?"
He gave him a sheepish smile. At least this gave him the opportunity to be close to Miles and watch him work. Perhaps it was love that was making his vision of the other man rosier, but Phoenix was almost certain that in recent months, the furrow between his brows had all but disappeared. Well, unless he was worried or angry. Then it reappeared. "I mean," he said in answer to Miles' question, "Just because I wear one most days doesn't mean I tie one most days…"
Miles raised an eyebrow at him before returning his attention to the tie, looping and crossing the fabric expertly. "What do you mean?"
"Well," he said hesitantly, a little afraid of how Mr. Fancy Dresser would react. "Sometimes I... leave it tied?" He'd ended on a reluctant squeak.
As expected, Miles gave a scandalized gasp and looked at him in horror. "You what?!"
"Trucy ties it for me sometimes! I can do it myself occasionally!" he defended himself. He slumped his shoulders a little. "I just... never got very good at it..."
Miles tsked and shook his head. "Honestly, I don't know how you've survived this long with such a rudimentary understanding of something so basic."
"Well, uh..." He rubbed the back of his head, a little embarrassed. "For a long time I wore clip-on ties, before I learned how to tie the knot."
"T-Tie th..." Suddenly Phoenix's neck was being constricted. Miles' fingers had frozen, pulling the tie tight around Phoenix's neck, and the prosecutor had gone pale, staring at nothing.
"M-Miles..." Phoenix wheezed. "Choking me..."
"What?"Miles said, coming out of the trance. He glanced down at his fingers, and gasped, immediately loosening the noose. "I-I'm so sorry, Phoenix!"
"S'okay," he said, glad to be able to breathe again. He eyed Miles a little suspiciously. What in the world had brought that on?...
"Well, anyway," said Miles, still looking flustered as he adjusted the knot, "It's done."
Phoenix leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the mouth. "Thanks," he said, and smiled at him as they made their way towards the door. "Next time I could do without the strangulation though."
"Next time you're tying it yourself!" Miles barked.
Phoenix just grinned.
The theater was a lot bigger than Phoenix had thought it would be, and there was actually a modest crowd here. He wondered if another group besides Ariadne's was performing tonight as his eyes scanned the program he'd picked up in the hall. He couldn't look at it for very long, though, because Miles was making his way through the theater like he'd been here a hundred times, and Phoenix didn't want to lose sight of him.
He looked all around as he followed behind the prosecutor, trying to take in everything. The walls were a textured red with gold columns, the carpet was deep burgundy, and the absolutely colossal stage curtain was a dark wine red. The stage itself was polished wood, and much larger than the tiny, ramshackle stages Phoenix had occasionally performed on in college. Lavish baroque-inspired paintings adorned the ceiling in a circle. It was definitely a fancier place than Phoenix was used to. He felt a little out of his element.
Miles took his hand as Phoenix started towards the seats, tugging on it gently. "This way," he said, jerking his head towards one of the staircases off to the side. Phoenix let him pull him along without really thinking about it.
He glanced at the top of the staircase curiously as they approached it, and then back down at his boyfriend in surprise. "We got box seats?" he asked incredulously as Miles let go of his hand and started up the stairs ahead of him. "How'd you pull that off? I thought they didn't let anyone sit up there unless there were enough people in attendance."
Miles extended his hand and helped Phoenix up the last few steps. "I have my ways," he said enigmatically.
Phoenix was about to ask what he meant, but then he got a look at where they had ended up, and his mouth fell open.
There was a small table, right on this little balcony, set with two glasses of wine and illuminated with candlelight.
"Miles," he said in amazement as the prosecutor pulled out his chair for him, "did you plan this?"
He rolled his eyes as Phoenix sat down. "No, Wright, the theater prepared a balcony with candles and wine just in case anyone happened by. Of course I planned this!"
"You know, that gesture would have been a lot sweeter without the sarcasm," Phoenix teased him, his mouth lifting in a half smile as Miles took his own seat.
The other man actually looked abashed, his brow furrowing and his gaze dropping to the tablecloth. "I… I'm sorry, Phoenix," he said quietly. "You're right. I'm just… a little nervous today."
Phoenix felt his eyebrows drawing together, too. "Why?"
"I-It's not important," said Miles hastily, which of course meant it was probably very important. "Anyway, it sounds like the performers are warming up."
Indeed, the sound of string instruments playing quiet, tremulous notes had filled the air. Phoenix listened to all the different tones as they sang, weaving between low octaves and high ones. There were probably cellos and violas and everything else back there, but Phoenix had never been very good at identifying instruments by sound. They all just sounded like "strings" to him. But one of those violins was being held by the girl they had saved last month. He smiled at the thought.
"You're thinking about how we saved Ariadne, aren't you?" Miles asked him. His expression was fond, and one side of his mouth had lifted in a half-smile.
Phoenix smiled back. "Pretty good guess," he replied. "You know, if you hadn't driven that truck, she might not have made it."
"If you hadn't carried her up that cliff on your back, she might not have either," Miles pointed out.
"And if Kay hadn't tipped us off, neither of us would have gotten there." He raised his glass. "To teamwork?"
Miles' smile widened, and he clinked his glass against Phoenix's. "To teamwork," he agreed.
They sat together in companionable silence, sipping their wine occasionally, but soon enough the lights were dimming, and the murmur of the crowd died down as everyone looked towards the stage. Slowly, the curtain opened, and the performers came into view. Phoenix craned his neck to see, and his eyes finally landed on Ariadne—she was one of three violinists, the one sitting closest to the conductor in the semicircle they had formed around him. She looked even healthier than she had when he had last seen her, just before New Year's. Only weeks after she'd been rescued, a mysterious benefactor had donated a sum of money which had allowed Ariadne and her mother to move to a nicer apartment, and for her mother to begin treatment for her illness. Phoenix was 99% certain that the benefactor was across the table from him. Miles never liked to make a big deal out of it when he did something selfless or generous, and he always changed the subject if anyone brought up the Stringers' sudden financial security.
There was dead silence as the conductor raised both his arms and moved them in rhythm to establish the countdown, and then with a dip of his hands the music began.
The first song started out sweet and slow and gentle. It sounded somewhat familiar, but Phoenix couldn't put a name to it. He squinted at his program in the dim candlelight.
"Clair de Lune," Miles said softly across the table before he could find the name. "Debussy."
Phoenix glanced up at him. Miles' face had relaxed, and he had turned his head to watch the music being made. The candlelight flickering across his features was a beautiful sight. Phoenix struggled to tear his gaze away from him and back down onto the stage, his eyes focusing on Ariadne again. She was moving the bow in long, graceful sweeps and delicate plucks. He didn't have a good view of her face from here, and each musician had a music stand in front of them, but Phoenix suspected from the way she was moving that she was playing with her eyes closed, like she had when Phoenix had seen her play at the Agency on New Year's. She had let her eyes fall shut and swayed in time with the music she made, playing from memory. "My bow remembers, and my ears remember, and my heart remembers," she had said when they asked how she could possibly play those pieces by ear. Then she'd laughed. "It's actually a lot harder to play with sheet music sometimes!"
As the music came to a soft finish, Phoenix raised his hands to clap, but Miles laid a hand on his arm and shook his head. "Not yet," he murmured. "There will be applause after the entire program."
Phoenix frowned, but lowered his arms again. It seemed a little rude not to applaud after such a beautiful performance, but he supposed he was grateful to Miles for helping him to narrowly escape the humiliation of being the only one to clap.
The concert proceeded in this manner for three or four more longer songs, and each time Miles would lean across the table to whisper the name of the song to him. It was very beautiful music, but it was obviously more Miles' territory than his own, so he felt a little at a loss for how to properly enjoy it. Phoenix found that his eyes tended to drift over to Miles instead of watching the performers. At the end of each song, Miles would shift in his seat and look a little more anxious. Phoenix wanted to ask why, but he suspected that talking during the concert for more than a few moments would have been a big no-no. So he simply sipped his wine and listened to the singing of the strings. There was also a piano over to one side, which Phoenix hadn't noticed at first because of the height of their vantage point, which occasionally chimed in with accompaniment.
And then, after the fifth song or so, a piano intro started up that he definitely recognized, though it certainly wasn't anything he had ever expected to hear played by a strings section.
"Um, why are they playing 'All the Wasted Time'?" he asked quietly, leaning over the table a little. "I mean, not that I don't love Parade, but… kind of an odd choice, isn't it?"
"I-Is it?" Miles looked more tense than he'd been all evening, his eyes darting around and refusing to meet Phoenix's.
"Miles, what's the matter?" Phoenix asked, unable to ignore it any longer. "You've been on edge all evening."
"I..." He swallowed thickly. He moved his mouth a few times, but nothing came out for a moment. "Phoenix," he forced out at last. He clenched his hands into fists, and looked up to meet Phoenix's eyes. "There's… something I wanted to ask you. That's why I wanted to come to this theater, to sit in these seats, to hear this song."
Phoenix's eyebrows lifted. "You know this song too?" he asked, surprised.
"N-Not until two days ago," he said, but then shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. "But that's not the important part here." His mouth flattened into a line. He looked like he was struggling, so Phoenix reached across the table to put his hands over Miles'. Miles turned his hands over to hold his. The prosecutor's hands were clammy, and Phoenix could feel them shaking slightly. Why was he so reluctant? Was he going to deliver bad news? Did he have to go overseas for a case soon? Was this a "goodbye for now" date?…
"Phoenix," Miles started again. "You are the only one who has ever known me well enough to love me. And…" His face went pink enough to be noticeable even in the low light. "I never dreamed I could love someone as I love you." Phoenix felt his face go hot, too. He knew how Miles felt, but hearing him say it so plainly still made his head spin. He opened his mouth to respond, but Miles squeezed his hands gently. "Please, let me get this out," he said, and the defense attorney's mouth snapped closed again as he watched Miles gather his thoughts. Finally, he drew in a deep breath, his gray eyes burning into Phoenix's. "I… I want to stay by your side always," he said, his voice gaining confidence, although he'd let go of one of Phoenix's hands to nervously tuck it into his suit jacket pocket. "And so… Phoenix Wright… will—"
Suddenly, Phoenix's pocket vibrated, and he jumped in surprise. "Who could that be?" he complained, digging his phone out of his pocket. "Everybody knows I'm at a concert!" He glanced down at the phone, and his eyebrows shot up when he saw who had sent the message. "It's from Trucy!" he exclaimed in surprised, looking back up at Miles apologetically. "Can… Can I take a look…?"
Miles looked like the Steel Samurai Live Show was sold out and also canceled forever. "Y-Yes, go right ahead," he said nevertheless, letting Phoenix's other hand go and gesturing for him to continue.
"'daddy, i hope u and papa r having fun,'" he read aloud. "'i just wanted to let u know that we had a bit of a mishap with the stage curtain down here at the penrose, but everything is ok! so if u hear fire trucks, please don't worry!'" He looked back up at Miles, his eyes wide. "Oh my god… I think my daughter burned down a theater!" He started to stand up. "I-I'm sorry, Miles, but I think we should make sure everything is all right!"
"Yes… of course," he agreed, nodding and getting to his feet as well.
"But hey, what were you saying before?" Phoenix asked as they began to make their way down the stairs.
"Oh..." said Miles, still looking disappointed as he kept his gaze fixed on the floor. "...I'll tell you later."
A/N: Next time: An abundance of blooms.
Go listen to All the Wasted Time if you don't know it! Holy crap it's so them!
