[DAY TWO: INVESTIGATION - PART TWO]
-xxx-
"I can't believe you're still in here," Wright said by way of greeting. He stepped inside and let the door to the Business Center fall shut with a clang behind him. "You do realize it's almost six, right?"
"This is an excellent library," Miles replied. He looked up, placing a piece of paper into his book as a makeshift bookmark.
The Beast had shifted his weight onto one foot, resting a hip against the closest desk as he used his free foot to scratch at his other leg. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, arms extended and tugging it down, exposing the neckline of his gray t-shirt underneath, as well as a gold necklace chain. As Miles watched, he brought one hand up to scratch at his stubbled jaw, yawning slightly.
"I s'pose," he spoke through the yawn, "but food is still a necessity, you know. The bellboy snitched that you never came back for lunch."
"Like I said, it's an excellent library. I was otherwise occupied."
"Huh." Wright lazily surveyed the room, taking in the evidence of Miles' studying: books stacked on a desk, the pen and notepad right in front of him. He dropped his foot to the ground and strode forward solidly, to pick up the second notepad on the table, the empty one. "Funny, he also said you took tea in the lobby again."
Miles' heart beat harder as he watched the Beast idly rifle through the notepad he'd used to write his thoughts on the investigation. Of course, the paper was safely in his pocket, and nothing he'd written was particularly incriminating of anything other than the fact that he was curious, but – Wright had spotted the one out-of-place detail immediately. Combined with his sly tone and his inviting words, it was obvious he knew Miles had left the room and wanted to know why or where… although, perhaps he already knew that too, and was just waiting for Miles to admit it. Maybe he wanted to talk about it.
Falling in love.
"I did stretch my legs for a few minutes," Miles conceded, and stood from his chair, heading for the door but unable to get very far. The Beast stood still, blocking his way, head down as he continued to fiddle with the second notepad. Miles waited, tension building, feeling uncomfortably like he was on the witness stand.
It was very hard to resist the urge to say something.
Finally, Wright huffed a sigh and dropped the pad back onto the desk.
"Guess I should've shown you the Exercise Room too, huh?" He turned around and began to lead the way into the hall, talking over his shoulder. Miles caught a glimpse of a wry grin on his face which… really didn't help ease the tension thrumming through his body at all.
"In this suit?"
Wright's laugh took a half-second; it sounded quite frankly startled out of him. It was a very warm sound, lively and infectious and a little bit rough around the edges. Miles felt flushed, wished that he could see the expression to accompany the sound; was simultaneously grateful that it had subsided to a low chuckle by the time they stepped fully into the hallway and Wright turned around.
"Hey, I thought we weren't commenting on fashion choices anymore," he grinned. "Anyway, I'm hungry, let's do an early dinner."
They fell into step together, heading for the stairs. Luckily, the business center was only on the second floor, and Wright hadn't tried to head towards the elevators yet, so they avoided that awkward moment at least.
"So here's the plan," Wright spoke up as they descended. "You distract the girls with a stupid question – where they recharge or something – and I'll make sure we aren't stuck with a five-course meal by candlelight. Neither of us want that."
There was an especially dark, Beastly cadence to that last sentence. Miles spared a look at his host as they turned into the service hall leading to the kitchen. Wright held the door open for him, a gentlemanly gesture that seemed vaguely sarcastic given the context of the conversation and his quirked eyebrow, his smirk.
"So, you're still not interested in loving me?" he inquired, trying to sound mild. It was strange – Wright so easily and consistently claimed to believe in magic, in this curse of his. But if that was the case, he ought to be the most eager to push the romance. It was strangely disappointing to see him still so standoffish.
…Well, not that strangely. But foolishly, and illogically, and not even entirely honestly. Miles certainly wasn't invested in falling in love with a stranger on a ridiculously short deadline. It should be relieving that Wright wasn't coming on so strong – and it was, obviously it was, or he wouldn't be hesitating to discuss the matter more openly – but. He'd still come to like the man, in his better moments at least. Hearing him make such bitter jokes about the prospect of loving Miles was…
"Don't tell me you're disappointed," the Beast scoffed.
"Of course not," Miles huffed, offended. "I'm not interested at all."
"Sure," the Beast agreed, lips curled disbelievingly up at the edges. "That's why you brought it up."
"I was making conversation," Miles retorted, dander fully up now. "You were the one who mentioned candlelight."
"And you're the one who got all offended about it." That Beast still sounded so amused. "What, are you really that big a fan of candles?"
"No." Why did every single conversation with this man have to go off the rails? Something about his attitude just got Miles so worked up – "Candles are an antiquated and inadequate light source and I already experience eyestrain so eating in near-darkness is less than appealing. Being mocked for my undesirability by a man who can't be bothered to expend effort on anything from personal hygiene to common courtesy is even less appealing."
Wright stopped walking; turned wide, mismatched eyes on Miles and just stared. He glared back, panting slightly and feeling more foolish with each second that passed, but unwilling to back down.
"If you dislike me, that's fine. If you don't believe in love, fine. But if that's the case, stop being an asshole about it." Shaking his head, Miles turned to keep walking.
"You're wrong."
He sighed audibly. Behind him, he heard Wright startle in response.
"I mean – you're right, I know, I. Am sorry. I'm just… angry, but it's not your fault. I shouldn't take it out on – Maya already scolded me for this, look." Wright scrubbed a hand over his beanie roughly, undoubtedly giving himself awful hat hair. Miles turned halfway to watch, because the man sounded completely genuine once more, and like always it looked so good on him. Even when he was biting his lip and mumbling cut-off self-reproaches, wrinkling up his face in an entirely undignified manner as he did so, it was so much less irritating than that blank mask of snide amusement had been. "You're wrong because – you're not undesirable, at all. Okay?"
"…Pardon?"
"I wasn't mocking you. I was just – it's ridiculous, right? I mean, you said it yourself – I'm a lazy jerk, why'd a guy like you even bother?"
"A guy like me," Miles repeated, stupidly.
"A – yeah, you know, all – funny, smart, hands– " Wright waved a hand in a gesture that seemed to encompass all of Miles, reddening with every word. "And stuff. A-anyway, it's not that I don't believe in love or whatever, it's just – it's not realistic, with us. I don't like everyone getting all worked up about it when it's a lost cause anyway."
Miles took a moment to process all of this.
Then another to experience it, to fully absorb that warm giddy feeling fluttering in his stomach at Wright's words. To look at him, bright red and stuttering and flailing about a little, so far removed from the detached Beast of a minute ago. This Wright was inelegant, clumsily charming, and a little too self-effacing.
"In that case, I apologize for overreacting," Miles responded.
"N-no, it's –" Wright gave a great sigh. "Let's just forget about it."
I have no plans to do that.
He wasn't exactly skilled at interpersonal relationships, much less romantic ones. Miles knew others found him attractive physically (he'd be hard-pressed to miss that much, given Wendy) but someone genuinely wanting any kind of relationship with him was rare. He was awkward, and something of a workaholic, and he couldn't recall anyone ever calling him 'funny' before. Sure, he'd made Wright laugh a few times by now, but not exactly intentionally, so he wouldn't have thought… In any case, it was easy to read between the lines of the ex-attorney's flustered speech, and the subtext definitely spoke of interest. He didn't think it would be returned, and so he made no real effort to show it, but he liked Miles. Not love, of course, but perhaps at least the same level of infatuation Miles currently was struggling to contain.
"As you like," he said, ducking his head to hide his smile. "Wright."
His companion made a slightly strangled noise. Then he burst into motion, swiftly leading the way down the rest of the short hall to the kitchen. He stopped just before the doors, clearing his throat.
"One more thing, Edgeworth." Wright put a hand on the doorknob, but didn't twist it. His voice and demeanor were firm. Miles suspected it was a bluff, that Wright's heart was hammering too, but he couldn't tell by looking at all; the mask was back up. The only difference was in his eyes – they looked warmer than before.
"Yes?"
"I know they're teenagers now, but." He pinned him with a stern look: "Don't swear around Truce or Pearls. I don't want them picking it up."
He threw the door open and stepped into the kitchen, not looking back, before Miles could do more than open his mouth – which was fortunate, because he really had nothing to say. After a speechless moment spent reviewing all conversations they'd had so far, Miles came up blank: not once had Wright said anything worse than an emphatic 'shoot'. The only exception was that time he found Miles snooping in his room, holding what was clearly his most prized (non-robotic) possession.
All because he was concerned for the vocabulary of his robot daughter and her friend.
It was very fortunate that Wright didn't look back. Miles had a horrible feeling that his grin verged dangerously close to besotted.
He tugged it down to something close-mouthed, more respectable. Followed the Beast into the warm and noisy kitchen.
-xxx-
"Mr. Edgeworth!" Pearl quite literally bounced over to meet him. "You guys are here together?"
"Well done, Daddy!" Trucy exclaimed, banging an arm into Wright's in a way that definitely looked painful. He didn't wince or shy away though, just rolled his eyes and moved to put his arm around her in a quick squeeze instead. He made eye contact with Miles as he did so, raising both eyebrows pointedly.
"Have you been together all day? Oh, oh my – did you just return from a romantic stroll?" Pearl was still firing off eager questions, getting a little closer with each excited bounce. "Did you walk arm in arm?"
"N-No! And kindly back away!" Miles exclaimed, very flustered. "Haven't you heard of personal space?!"
Pearl quieted instantly, falling limply to the ground and rolling backwards several feet until she bumped into Trucy's stand. The hatstand pulled away from her father to lean forward protectively.
"Hey! She was just excited!" Her tone took on a sly edge: "There's no need to be shy, Mr. Edgeworth. True love is a beautiful thing!"
Miles spluttered incoherently. He made great effort not to look Wright's way; he had a feeling the man was smirking again. Knowing now that much of that expression was self-mockery didn't mean it made him feel any less embarrassed.
"I'm sure it is," he finally got out, trying to speak kindly, "but that's not what's happening here."
Pearl sighed: deep, more than a little fawning, and long enough that she really should be looking deflated by the end.
"The lordy doeth protest too much, methinks," she whispered sweetly at the end of it, still clearly audible to all. Trucy giggled. Wright abruptly stepped away, clearing his throat.
"Gonna check on the chow," he mumbled, beating a quick escape further into the kitchen. Miles watched him go, more than a little enviously. Finally, he turned back to the task at hand… the two robots eagerly watching him.
"You love to watch him leave, huh?" Trucy asked boldly.
"Wh- I do not!" Maybe, in something other than sweatpants, she wouldn't be wrong - No! What was he thinking?!
"Oh," Pearl said, as innocent as her friend's comment wasn't: "you hate to be parted? You really are Special Someones."
"That's not what I –"
"Look at him blushing, he's the color of Polly's suit."
"It's so sweet…"
"L-Ladies, please. Stop." Miles hung his head, gripping hard at his arm. He felt completely overwhelmed by their chatter; definitely a little ashamed. He was a renowned prosecutor, for god's sake, he ought to be able to outtalk a pair of children!
But they weren't children. They were teenagers, a far deadlier breed.
"Sorry, Mr. Edgeworth," Trucy said after a brief pause. "We didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
She sounded genuinely contrite, but he couldn't quite bring himself to believe her. There was no way her comments hadn't been intended to unsettle his equilibrium, they'd been too clearly provocative. The question was rather why she'd do it…
And then it all settled into place. The familiar feeling of puzzling out a motivation left Miles smiling, embarrassment dissipated by understanding. It helped that he had some prior experience with this phenomena – though at the time, Franziska's resentment had been rather more blatant.
"It's alright," he shrugged. "I'm sure it must be difficult to see your father spending time with someone new."
"N- That's not-" Trucy drooped a little. "I want Daddy to spend time with you. I want you guys to fall in love and break the curse."
"Of course you do." How could she not, when it was so obviously a defining bit of code? However, these AIs really seemed to have developed personalities of their own, and the hatstand in particular was an adoring daughter. "But that doesn't mean it won't feel strange, to suddenly have someone new in your lives. I perfectly understand why you might resent me, all the more if it feels like you must accept me regardless. A little teasing is only natural – but that doesn't make it all right."
She started to protest again, then subsided into troubled silence.
"Trucy isn't mean," Pearl piped up firmly, just as Miles opened his mouth. "She just likes to have fun, but she doesn't ever really hurt peoples' feelings. You shouldn't talk to her like that! You're making her sad!"
He blinked.
"Th-that was hardly my – she was making me feel s-" he caught himself just in time, cleared his throat. "Uncomfortable."
Pearl seemed to puff larger indignantly, but Trucy swung an arm to block her before she could spring into Miles' face (he still flinched; once her dander was up the unassuming bouncy ball became strangely intimidating).
"Wait, it's okay," she said. "I… I've figured it out!"
Miles raised an eyebrow.
"I've decided I like you, Mr. Edgeworth," she said decisively. "You seem really smart and nicer than you look."
That stung a little, but Pearl's protest hardly helped matters:
"I think you look very nice, though," she said, with some odd combination of kind and vaguely threatening, still. Like she'd left unsaid both that he reminded her of an old friend, and that she wouldn't hesitate to make sure he stopped looking nice if he hurt Trucy's feelings again.
"Anyway! I'm okay with you joining the family! I don't mind having a third dad, and to prove it I'll perform a special magic show for you once my body comes back!" She hesitated. "I'd do it sooner, but… most of my tricks are really hard like this…"
"I'm sorry – third dad? Is Wright… married?"
"No way," both girls instantly denied.
"Dad is my biological father," Trucy explained, "and Daddy adopted me! It's been almost seven years now… and I was only eight then, so if you get married in a year it'll be a perfect pattern!"
Miles tuned her out as she began to ramble about finding another variation of dad to call him, sharing suggestions with Pearl. He was far more interested in a different emerging pattern: things that happened seven years ago.
Apollo joining (what must be) Wright's law firm. Wright adopting Trucy. And the so-called curse, stripping him of his badge and his friends and family of their humanity. There was no way this latest piece was unrelated to the other two; the only question was how.
"Trucy, could you tell me the circumstances under which you were adopted?" he asked, halting the discussion, which appeared to be settling on 'Papa' anyway.
"Well… okay. It might actually help," she said thoughtfully. "Y'see, it was right after we lost Dad's murder trial, and Mr. K-"
She stuttered to a halt, consistent with the curse. Miles took note of the first syllable, berating himself for not paying attention to them anytime before now. He'd been too skeptical of the supposed magic blocking the words to pay attention to what little had gotten through.
"Mr. K?" he asked. It was either that, or a hard 'C' – but Trucy's upper half bobbed forward and down in what could only be translated as a nod. "What did this Mr. K do?"
"He – he tried to take away Daddy's –"
Across the kitchen, something smashed. Trucy spun around to see, bumping into Pearl mid-bounce and sending her sailing across the countertop. She collided with a rack of hanging metal spoons, which clattered noisily to the ground. As Trucy dashed off to check on her friend, ignoring Miles' protests, three more robots pushed their way into the room: Maya and Apollo trailing behind a furious teapot already shouting about the state of his kitchen. As the (probable) lawyer-turned-clock tried to intercede on the girls' behalf, a chase commenced about the room: shrieking and giggling girls, furious teapot sloshing over at the edges, and an exasperated clock bringing up the rear. The ladder just stood back and laughed, raising the noise level even more. In short… chaos.
"Wow," Wright murmured into his ear, making Miles jump, "well done. This is way better than I expected. It's crazy in here."
Miles tilted his head to make eye contact over his shoulder.
"I did nothing," he deadpanned. The you lot are the crazy went unsaid but definitely not unnoticed; Wright's mouth twitched and he huffed slightly.
"Hey, shut up," he said warmly. He tugged at Miles' elbow. "Let's go quick, before they notice."
Any chance at further investigating had been put paid to by the current pandemonium – and he had a feeling Trucy wouldn't have been able to finish that sentence anyway. At least he had part of a name, now. And he really would like to avoid a 'romantic meal' observed by a bunch of nosy furniture convinced his amorous feelings were the key to their future happiness.
"Oh, fine," he replied, and let Wright tug him out the door.
The ladder now propping it open with a foot wobbled at them in a clear wave as they rushed down the hall.
"Enjoy!" she stage-whispered after them. And – logically it was impossible – but Miles could hear the wink.
-xxx-
Dinner was… food.
"Look, I'm sorry," Wright huffed, as he tugged lunchmeat out of his jacket pockets. "I was trying to be quick."
"No, it's… fine."
"If you want to go back for more, you're welcome to – "
"I don't dislike sandwiches," Miles interrupted. He examined the loaf of white bread in his hands and sighed. At least everything was still wrapped in plastic. If the salami, American cheese, pickles, and ham had been covered in lint he would have definitely walked out, matchmaking be damned. Though.
"You shoved a jar of pickles into your pants but you couldn't get any condiments?"
"I've got some grape juice and chips stashed in the TV room, we can watch a movie or something and hide away." The Beast not only refused to answer, but determinedly avoided eye contact and even began to walk away when Miles continued to just stare at him. "No one's gonna look there, we only ever use it for the same pile of DVDs so we're all kinda sick of them by now. I mean, except Maya, but she's got my back – okay, what, I said sorry already! Quit glaring at me!"
Miles sighed, and followed silently after.
The 'TV room' was no home theater. Rather, Wright simply pulled out the room key for a suite a few doors down from Miles' own. It had one queen bed, a very large television on the wall, and – a desk stacked high with Steel Samurai boxsets?!
He'd been thrown by the phone strap, but he hadn't actually expected the other man to be a fan – but this was a really nice collection, the full series and it looked like most of the movies, and Pink Princess too, even the Nickel Samurai which was never very excellent, but – he even had Iron Adult?! Steel Neo Olde Tokyo Again! The time-travel film had been something of a critical flop, and though personally he'd quite liked it, it certainly wasn't something even most fans would have…
"Gee, dial back the scorn a notch," Wright said flatly. When Miles turned quickly to protest that he was feeling anything but, he was met with a sarcastic smile much friendlier than any directed his way so far. "Guess you're a fan?"
"It may be classified as a 'children's show', but the Steel Samurai series is well-written and an enjoyable watch for all ages," Miles agreed. "I'm most partial to the original, but I'll admit the current series of a feudal warrior familial unit is highly entertaining."
"Before you get too excited," Wright drawled, "Maya's the big fan, not me. I watched a bit of the Signal Samurais when I was a kid, but… that's pretty much it."
He didn't droop, not quite.
"Oh. Well, we don't have to watch anything."
It was just a bit of a letdown, that was all.
Not a big deal.
Wright blinked at him, then groaned, dropping the food in his hands onto the bed as he reached up to drag his hands over his face.
"Would you stop," he mumbled through his hands. "Please."
"I - I'm not doing anything."
"Your face is."
"It is not!"
Wright peeked between his fingers, immediately closed his eyes, and laughed into his hands. Then he finally put them down. His cheeks were a little red.
"I really hope you don't pout like that in court," he finally said, then brushed past Miles to pick up a DVD. "It's not exactly dignified, y'know."
Pout? That was ridiculous! He wasn't so immature as to – that man was so rude, he had no idea why he felt charmed. The comment wasn't a compliment, it was an insult, calling him childish and petty, and Miles felt furious with himself for not protesting the term.
But at the same time, he couldn't say anything, because Wright was blushing again. He fumbled with the disc, nearly dropping it, and stayed right in front of the television as he turned on the power and navigated to the main menu, despite using a remote control. It was obvious that he was trying to ignore whatever attraction he felt – incredibly, stupidly obvious.
And just as stupidly charming.
Miles was very quiet for the first half of the movie. He felt he had to be, because – this whole situation was ridiculous, it was concocted as an excuse to avoid any kind of romance. But that wasn't quite true, was it? The scripted romantic dinner in front of an eager audience was something neither of them felt any interest in, particularly when there were such heavy expectations weighing on it. By leaving that behind, by sneaking out to eat plain sandwiches and watch a children's film together, all pressure was taken off.
Miles had always felt that he would like a dignified partner. Someone who knew what they were about, someone who had a way with words and was polite and respectful. His idea of a date – despite all his earlier protests – did involve a restaurant with wine and candles on the table. Tablecloths, and cloth napkins, and multiple forks. It wasn't necessarily practical but the effort put into such an event showed the dedication of the parties involved… or at least, that's what he'd always thought before.
It was hard to reconcile the appeal of this, then. They leaned back against the pillows, legs stretched along the bed, and ate simple sandwiches directly over their laps because Wright hadn't thought to grab any kind of plate or napkin. The bag of chips sat in between them, and they each had a bottle of grape juice on their bedside table. The lights weren't dimmed, the movie was a children's adventure story with zero romance. They weren't making eye contact or touching at all.
It was all so… relaxed.
Wright had chosen one of the first Steel Samurai movies – the original, his favorite. He ate without any kind of pretense at manners; nothing outright rude but it was clear he was most concerned with appeasing his hunger, not anything else. The grape juice was fizzy and Wright timed his burp to a scene when the Steel Samurai crashed through a wall so it didn't block out any dialogue. After the first twenty minutes, he adjusted himself from a seated position to lay back with only his head propped up, and it gave Miles an excellent view of the faces he made as he watched the film. He was very expressive, rolling his eyes at some lines, raising disbelieving eyebrows at the more fantastical stunts, eventually muttering to himself about how "that can't be historically accurate" or "he SAID he's a steel samurai, what'd you think punching him was gonna do?"
Miles felt a stupid urge to lean down and kiss him.
When the bag of chips was finally empty, he picked it up and dropped it off the edge of the bed. Then – he would normally never consider this, but it was clear Wright had no room to judge – he scooted down to lay next to the other man, tugging his suit jacket down beneath him. They were closer, this way, enough that Miles could feel Wright's body heat. He felt deeply comfortable, and surging with adrenaline.
Wright liked him. He was attracted to Miles, thought he was funny and good-looking and smart. He liked his pout. He didn't think Miles would like him back, and he may not believe in some all-conquering love, but he most definitely had a crush. And… there would be no point in denying that it was mutual. Maybe Wright hadn't quite realized that yet, but if Miles were to lean a little further against him, maybe he'd understand. He was clever, good at picking up on little clues.
Miles found himself wanting to drop a few more.
It wasn't wise. None of this was – the Beast was still a mystery. There were pieces, certainly. Some sort of backstory was revealing itself. He'd been a lawyer, then seven years ago had some kind of conflict with a Mr. K – most likely another defense attorney, given Apollo's work history. Somehow this had resulted in Wright adopting a daughter and then shutting himself away in a hotel, putting aside his badge and blaming it on magic. Odds were, he was being blackmailed over something. Thefts had a seven-year statute of limitations, perhaps something along those lines. All this talk of magic and true love was a smokescreen, a distraction to cover up –
But Miles didn't truly believe Wright capable of any crime heinous enough to warrant all this. The robots all believed in him so strongly… and beyond that, his own behavior wasn't that of a criminal. He was a jerk, but clearly felt guilt about his actions, and was willing to take steps to make up for them. He'd opened up to Miles far more than necessary, for all that he'd said little about his past. For all his secretiveness, he gave the impression of an honest person. Miles still wanted to figure out the full story, but that wasn't all. Not anymore.
He… wanted to get closer. He wanted to learn more about Wright himself. He wanted very much to know his first name. He wanted to know what it would feel like to hold his hand. If his stubble would be itchy when they kissed.
Miles swallowed hard. He had to remember that tomorrow was his last day here. He wouldn't have time for any of that, even assuming Wright would want it too. Attraction didn't mean he had any intention to act on it; in fact, he'd been vocally opposed to the notion. Once their three days was up, he'd have to leave whether he felt satisfied with that or not, and Wright probably wouldn't ever contact him again. Everything about this situation was ridiculous, his feelings included.
"Hey," Wright whispered when the movie ended, turning his head to meet Miles' eyes from inches away. It was a completely unnecessary intimacy. "You wanna watch another?"
"…Yes."
This time, he put in the first season of the original show, and set it to play through all the episodes automatically. He turned off the main light, leaving only the bedside lamps on, and when he got back on the bed, it was closer to the middle.
Stomach in knots, knowing better, Miles tilted slightly left.
Their shoulders touched, and he felt Wright tense, then relax. Lean a little closer too, the Steel Samurai theme the only sound in the room.
