A/N: Wow, that sure was one hectic NaruMitsu Week! I posted about 4 oneshots over on Ao3 for it, but once I write one more for the day I missed, I'll put them up over here too under one story! Hope everyone who likes this story will also check those out~

Anyway, thanks for sticking with me, everyone!

Miles knew he'd reached the end of his rope when he blurted out "Please help me propose to Wright" to Detective Skye the following week on Monday.

She paused from where she'd been about to exit his office, her hand on the door as she stood with one foot past the threshold. She did not turn around. "...What?"

He could have pretended he'd never said anything. He could have told her to forget it and sent her on her way, as she'd only been here to drop off some paperwork. But it was March now, and carrying a very expensive ring around in your pocket (or someone else's pocket, for that matter) for almost a month was really quite pathetic. His tentative approaches had been getting him nowhere. It was time seek other opinions. "I have been trying to find a way to propose to Wright since January," he confessed. "Nothing I've attempted thus far has worked. I'm… running out of ideas."

Ema took a step backwards, back into the room, and shut the door quietly. She always was good at respecting Miles' need for discretion. It was one of several things Miles appreciated about her. When she finally turned around to face him, her cheeks were dusted pink, but she was wearing a familiar determined expression. "What have you tried so far?" she asked him, crossing her arms and cocking her hip.

"I hardly see how recounting my failures is going to help," Miles responded. Plus they were all humiliating.

"If we approach this scientifically," she said, heralding a speech that was no doubt going to be only minimally scientific, "going through your previous experiments and identifying all the factors therein would help us to isolate the variables that could have led to undesirable outcomes, and then eliminate them."

"I'd hardly call them experiments, but your point is well taken," he sighed, resting his elbows on his desk. "Thus far, I have attempted a proposal during live orchestral music which was interrupted with news of a fire, hundreds of flowers on Valentine's Day to which Wright was deathly allergic, poetry which I ended up throwing away, and…" He cleared his throat. "Deliberately lowering my inhibitions." He didn't elaborate further on that one, and she didn't ask for details, bless her. "I think he almost asked me, once." Miles looked up at the forensic scientist, letting his hands thwap against the desk in frustration. "Why didn't I just let him ask me then? I wouldn't have to think about any of this!"

"Hmm..." Ema made her way over to the couch nearest the wall and dropped onto it, crossing one leg over the other and looking thoughtful. "Well… H-How should I say this..." She grimaced, and smoothed down her already-quite-smooth labcoat nervously.

"Please speak freely, Ms. Skye," said Miles, gesturing with his hand for her to go on. "I am asking you for advice as your friend, not your superior."

The scientist gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth. "S-Sir…!" she breathed. She looked so moved it was honestly a little embarrassing.

"You were saying?" he prompted her.

"R-Right," she said, and her face smoothed into that of the professional forensic scientist once more. "Um, well, you're the kind of person who doesn't like to leave things up to other people. You'd rather... take them into your own hands to ensure they turn out favorably. I think that's probably why you wouldn't let Mr. Wright propose to you: you wanted to make sure it was done right."

He stared. "You're calling me bossy and domineering, aren't you," he said flatly.

She cringed, hunching her shoulders and ducking her head. "M-Maybe just a little, sir..."

"Nnngh," he winced. Why did all of his acquaintances have to hit him where it hurt? "Still," he said, trying to get them back on track and away from his personality flaws, "I wonder why he didn't try again. Do you think, perhaps, that he's given up?"

Ema made a doubtful face, her eyebrows drawing together and her mouth quirking on one side. "I don't think so, sir. I may not have seen it for a long time, but after it was staring me in the face, I couldn't help but notice: He is one-hundred percent smitten with you."

"Then why would he not keep asking?" he insisted, ignoring the blush that was prickling across his face.

"Well..." She was tapping her chin in thought. "Mr. Wright is headstrong and a little reckless, but he's always been pretty patient when it comes to you, hasn't he?"

Miles rested his chin between his thumb and index finger, considering that. It was true: Phoenix had always let Miles take the lead in matters between the two of them, whether it was waiting for Miles to open up about his past, or letting him have the final say on whether their first kiss would happen or not. "God," Miles groaned, holding his head in his hands. "He really is too good for me..."

"Wh-What?" Ema bleated, sounding downright flabbergasted that he would say such a thing.

"Nothing, nothing," the prosecutor sighed, waving off her shock as he sat up again. "Anyway, you were saying something earlier about… what was it? 'Isolating variables that lead to undesired outcomes'?" He crossed his arms, regarding her. "So tell me: what variables must be isolated? Where have I gone wrong?"

"Welllll..." She drew out the word, grimacing a little.

"Speak plainly, Detective," he reminded her.

She nodded dutifully. "All right, sir. Forgive me for saying this, but… those things you mentioned didn't sound like you at all!"

He blinked, surprised. "How so?"

"Well… I mean, they're so… romantic!"

He just stared at her.

Ema flushed. "I-I mean, not that you can't be romantic, I'm sure!" she said hastily, flailing her hands around. "I just meant, well, those things all seem romantic for other people."

"For… other people?" he echoed.

"Right!" she nodded, still a little frantic. "You need to express your feelings in a way that is meaningful to you, personally."

"Meaningful to me, you say..."

"Yes, or meaningful to you and Mr. Wright," she clarified.

"Hm..." He leaned back in his chair, thinking a moment. What was it Pearl had said? He needed to do this in a way that was "uniquely him"? "You are not the first to suggest such a thing," he told Ema.

She flashed a quick smile before stifling it with a professional expression again. "I take it I'm not the only person who knows, then?"

He laughed, but it came out more like a hmph. "Indeed, some others have discovered my intention through one method or another. Kay knows, as well as Trucy, Ms. Cykes, Pearl Fey, and Franziska."

"Wow, Pearl knows, but not Maya?" Ema wondered, tapping her chin. "She must be working really hard to keep it a secret..." Then her eyes flew open wide and her jaw dropped as she processed the rest of his words. "Wait, you told Ms. von Karma?!"

He smiled wryly. "Yes. She took it surprisingly well, considering."

"Considering what?"

"Considering she's Franziska," he replied simply.

"Hm," she said, nodding. "You have a point." She allowed another smile to break through, and this one lingered. "Well, if you've told her, surely saying what you want to say to Mr. Wright can't be all that hard!"

"You'd think that, wouldn't you," he said, a little glum. Talking to his sister was quite a bit different from confessing his feelings to his partner, after all. He looked up at her curiously. "What would you do, in my place?"

"M-Me?!" she squeaked, pointing to herself as if Miles could have been talking to anyone else. "I-I've never been in a situation like that!" Her cheeks were red again.

"Still," the prosecutor persisted, "If you were, what would you do?" He raised his eyebrows, a sudden thought occurring to him. "Unless it's not a situation you'd want to find yourself in…?" He had no idea what the woman's inclinations were, after all.

"N-No, that's not it!" she blurted, flushing even darker. She took a deep breath, and let it out in a huff, seemingly trying to get herself under control. "H-Hmm.. What would I do..." She moved the foot that was resting over her knee up and down at the ankle, considering. "I think I'd… write a letter, maybe?" she said tentatively. "Yeah!" she decided with a nod. "A letter about why that person and I would be perfect together." She returned her focus to Miles, then, and shrugged bashfully. "S-Something like that, anyway..."

"A letter..." Miles weighed the idea in his mind, resting his chin on his clasped hands. He had tried poetry, but it had been slightly (all right, quite entirely) out of his area of expertise. But without having to worry about how he arranged the words, surely it would be easier to put his feelings to paper? He had done it once before, even: the note he had given to Wright at Christmas had been well-received, though Miles had nearly died of embarrassment watching him eagerly read the handwritten lines. Miles felt his heart clench, remembering how soft Phoenix's eyes had been when he'd looked up from the paper. That expression had made his extreme discomfort almost worth it.

And that wasn't his only experience with writing out his feelings. No, far from it. Indeed, there were a great many examples of such a thing right here in this office. And Wright had already expressed interest in reading them, hadn't he?…

"I think I have something that may work," he told Ema.

Miles thumbed through another volume, his eyes moving rapidly over page after page. The handwritten books were sprawled out all over his desk, laying on top of one another, some upside-down with their covers up (which Miles did not advocate, usually, as it put stress on the book's spine). He marveled at his own ability to write so much about mostly-trivial occurrences.

The idea was to select entries from previous journals and compile them into a brand-new journal, which he had purchased for the occasion. It was proving to be quite difficult, as there were just so many entries involving Phoenix, and their history together spanned quite a long time. There were even journals from more than a decade ago, which Miles had been sure he'd thrown away, but here they were: tucked away discretely behind enormous law books, the only thing in Miles' office to be covered in dust.

His fingers briefly stilled on an entry from just a year ago:

Went to a restaurant with P and his associates after we'd finished up a case. He waited until I began eating, and then told me to smile, capturing a photo of me with his phone before I could protest. The photograph was of course intensely unflattering, and I demanded that he delete it. I do not think he did as I asked. Well, I shall have to retaliate by snapping an embarrassing photograph of him, next time.

Most of the entries from the last year were silly and lighthearted like that. But then there were those from darker days, ones that were almost difficult to read over…

The little magician girl is proving to be quite a handful for P. She vanished during a walk around the park today, on which I had joined them after they invited me. He quickly became agitated and nervous, searching for her frantically. When she reappeared with an ice cream cone and explained that she had gone to the ice cream truck, he hardly let her finish. He sank to his knees and pulled her to his chest. I saw his shoulders shake, and I heard him say, "Please don't disappear on me. You're all I have left." I wanted to reach out to them, but I had no words.

P has lost weight again. He smiles, but it is a forced smile with no warmth. He laughs, and it is an empty, bitter sound that makes my chest ache. I fear the man I know so well will never be the same, and I feel consumed by my helplessness. But I know what it is like to have everyone turn their backs on you. I will not let that happen to him. I will stay.

Have dragged P on another excursion to Europe. He was mostly despondent on the plane, staring blankly ahead and sitting slouched in his seat. But as soon as we began our investigation, he perked up a bit, and I saw a familiar glint return to his eyes. He asks surprisingly insightful questions. I daresay I have never had a more competent partner investigative assistant. I believe he thinks I have only brought him here to keep his wits about him, however, because he tried to thank me for "keeping him occupied" at dinner tonight. "We wouldn't want you to get rusty," I replied, because how could I possibly find it in myself to tell him that I'd really brought him along because I was afraid of what he would do, were he alone? I will keep watch over him. I will not let him succumb to weakness in the way I nearly did, once.

I have been exposing the problems within the Prosecutor's Office, and slowly rising in authority. My efforts to eliminate corruption are not appreciated by most of the others there. They whisper that I am a hypocrite, or that I am biting the hand that feeds me. Expressed some of these concerns to P. He laughed, to my surprise. "Man, they're dumb," he told me. "You're the only good thing left in our legal system, Edgeworth. The rest of it can rot." I almost wanted to punch him. He sounded just like I had, a scant few years ago, before he'd come along to remind me of what was important. He was the only compass by which I could guide myself to change for the better, and now he too is gone, his own direction lost. I have… nothing. Which is a selfish thing to think, as it is he who is suffering here, not I. But I will fix this. If I accomplish anything in my time as a prosecutor, I hope that it will be making sure that an injustice such as he endured will never happen again.

Looking back on these entries, a dark cloud of gloom hung heavy around him. He remembered the despair he had felt to see Phoenix in such a state, the desperation to do something, anything, to make things better. Miles almost wanted to omit passages from such unhappy times, but it would have been wrong to ignore such a large part of their lives, wouldn't it? And the pain they had gone through, it had been important. In many ways, it had molded them into who they were today. Phoenix's wide-eyed idealism had been tempered into wisdom and experience; Miles had been motivated to work even harder and had risen to his current position. No, he wouldn't avert his eyes from this difficult time in their lives. That would mean refusing to acknowledge all they had done for one another during the Dark Age of the Law.

And then there were entries from even longer ago, ones that he hadn't thought about in years:

He is angry with me. I expected he would be. After all he gave me, I still turned my back on him. I see the betrayal, the hurt in his eyes, and I must look away because that shattered expression stabs into me like shards of broken glass. He is right: it probably would have been better if I had stayed dead. But I must confess that I want to prove him wrong. To show him the strength of my new convictions. I have no right to ask his forgiveness, but I still selfishly hope he will give it. Someday.

That one was still painful to revisit. He still marveled at Phoenix's ability to give him as many chances as Miles needed. After his return, he'd left again, after all, and a year later Miles had written:

Rushed over on a plane after receiving news that P had suffered severe injury after falling from a burning bridge into a rushing river. I was told that his life was in danger. I should have taken it into account who had delivered the news before I lost my head trying to get over here so fast. I burst into the hospital room to see him there, sitting up, his nose running a bit and his eyes red around the edges. He looked most decidedly not-dead. I intended the first thing I said to him to be some sort of greeting, but seeing him there in that hospital bed filled me with anger and sadness and happiness all at once, and what I ended up saying was "Have you completely lost your mind?" He smiled and said he hadn't, but then he gave me his attorney's badge and instructions to defend someone, so I think perhaps he has after all.

And then, a day after that…

Have met with the defendant. I only had to look at her once to understand why he was so insistent that I defend her. She seems a soft-spoken and gentle girl, but I have a persistent and inexplicable feeling that I have seen her face somewhere before. After a little prodding, she confessed that she knew him once, and had deceived him. Almost despite myself, I felt sympathy for her at that. For now, I will believe in her story, though I admit there are many things about her that I find suspicious. I do not know what to think of her or her connection with him just yet. I only know that it fills me with unease.

Well, it was quite obvious now that he'd been jealous of Sister Iris from the moment he had seen her, his misgivings based on her resemblance to her twin aside. Reading over all these old entries now, it was frustratingly clear how deep his feelings for Phoenix had always run. Even the first entry he'd written after meeting Phoenix again in the courtroom was transparent, in retrospect.

Saw someone that I have not seen since I was a child today. He stood across from me in the courtroom, his deep blue eyes filled with that fire, that unyielding tenacity, so common in rookies. His words were defiant, his gestures filled with conviction. What a fool. I almost felt sorry for him. Such naive earnestness and rampant emotionalism accounts for nothing in this profession. I will show him what I have learned in the time we have been apart. Someone must teach him what it means to oppose the law, and it might as well be me.

He may as well have written How dare he show his infuriatingly gorgeous face to me and make me question everything, because that was basically what Miles was getting from his own words now.

After quite a while, he'd finally chosen all the entries he needed. All that remained now was to write the final entry. He scrawled it onto the page and subsequently tore it out three times, but on the fourth try, he finally had something worth reading. He sat back in his chair and read it over, the ink still fresh on the page.

Phoenix,

This is but a small sampling of the many ways you have changed my life. It in no way captures all the ways in which you have saved me, or had an impact (large or small), but for now, I thought it would get my point across.

I am giving you this book because I do not want there to be any more secrets between us. Many years in a legal profession have taught me that honesty truly is the best policy, and I have found this to be true in personal relationships as well. With this in mind, I must confess: I have been hiding something from you. I suspect it has caused you a great deal of undue distress, for which I must apologize. I will set your mind at ease now.

You have made me a better prosecutor, and even more than that, you have made me a better man. I have grown to rely on you, trust in you, and seek your company, so much so that I feel I would lose my way without you. I wish to do the same for you: reassure you, comfort you (though admittedly this is not my forté), and offer you all the love I possibly can, which is considerably more than I ever thought it could be.

So, I ask you: Will you let me stay by your side?

Will you marry me?

Faithfully,
Miles

His first instinct was to tear out that attempt too, but even as he grasped the page between his thumb and index finger, he sighed, and let go. There was nothing wrong with this note. What was wrong was his own inability to unreservedly show his emotions. But if he truly wanted to marry Phoenix, he would have to start doing that. It was as Kay had said: soon everyone would know how he felt about Phoenix. His heart both thrilled and quailed at the thought.

This note was satisfactory, he decided over the rush of doubtful and reluctant thoughts that ran through his head.

Now there was but one thing left to do before he took the final step.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Kay.

"Hey, what's up? Haven't heard from you much since you took back the ring," she said when she picked up.

"I apologize for that, but I really had little to report," he explained. "Anyway, I have conceived a new plan, and this time, I will not let anything stand in the way."

"Whoohoo!" she whooped enthusiastically. "What's the date? What's the plan?"

"Tomorrow," he answered, full of conviction. "Our schedules are clear. Trucy will be at school, and there will be no flowers in sight. I will invite him here to my office under the pretense of reviewing a case."

"Aw, that's the excuse you legal people always use," Kay complained. "Can't you think of anything more exciting? Ooh!" she exclaimed, voice suddenly excited. "I know! Tell him you want to make out on your desk!"

"K-Kay Faraday!" he spluttered, mortified. She only laughed in response. Miles pointedly did not tell her that what she had suggested probably would get Phoenix over to his office faster. "I will do nothing of the sort!" he barked instead.

"Relax, I was only joking, silly," she assured him. "So how are you popping the question this time? I assume you're not just taking him to your office and getting down on one knee."

"No, it's slightly more elaborate than that, although really I probably should opt for simplicity at this point," he admitted. "I've written it out. In a journal. I have compiled entries from over the years, and then added one to the end of it with the proposal in it."

"Awww," she cooed, making Miles' face heat up. "I'm glad I'm not the only one to be allowed to read some of those!"

"I never allowed you to read them," he pointed out irritably. "You read them quite against my will."

"And I kept my trap shut about them for over a decade," she reminded him, sounding amused. "I can't believe it took you guys this long to get your act together."

He sighed. "You have a point," he conceded. He hesitated a moment before speaking again. "Kay, I wanted to thank you for being my confidante these past months," he told her at last, his voice quiet. "You have risen to the occasion admirably, your little slip-up with Pearl notwithstanding."

"N-No need to be so formal, Mr. Edgeworth," she said, with a bit of an uncomfortable chuckle. "I'm glad I could do it… really." She cleared her throat. "So!" Her tone was suddenly brisk and businesslike again. "Tomorrow's the day, huh? Not that I don't appreciate the update, but why tell me? I mean, you don't have to pick up the ring from me anymore."

He was reluctant to divulge the real reason for his call, but he supposed the time for secrecy had passed. As he himself had said, honesty was the best policy. "I wanted to tell you so that if I… try to change my plans," he worded it carefully, "you could provide a… a reminder, I suppose."

"Oh, so you want me to get on your case if you try to chicken out?" she rephrased with her characteristic brutal honesty. Miles cringed, but said nothing. "Sure, no problem! If I don't get news that you're engaged by 8 PM tomorrow, expect a very loud visit to the Edgeworth-Wright residence!"

The prosecutor shuddered at the thought of the Great Thief Yatagarasu breaking in through his windows at home to demand why he hadn't proposed. That was one way to motivate him, he supposed. "I am sure such drastic measures will not be necessary," he hastened to say. "Or at least, I hope they won't."

"Me too!" said Kay brightly. "Especially since I don't know where your key is anymore!"

He rubbed the space between his eyes again. The truth was that they still hadn't moved the key, but if Kay thought they had, he'd be better off not correcting her. "Yes, well, let's keep it that way," he told her.

"All right then," Kay said, resolute. "Do your best, Mr. Edgeworth! I'm rooting for you!"

He smiled. She wouldn't be the only one cheering him on, either: Trucy and Athena and Pearl and even his sister were all in his corner. "Thank you," said Miles, feeling more confident than ever. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"You sure will!" she sang ominously, and then hung up.

Phoenix climbed into the car, wondering what case could possibly be so important that it necessitated him accompanying Miles to the Prosecutor's Building. His boyfriend was being annoyingly cryptic about the whole thing, but he also seemed full of nervous energy, so Phoenix didn't want to push him too much about it.

He looked over at Miles as he fastened his seatbelt. "Can you at least tell me which year this case is from?" So far most of his questions had been answered with "We'll see when we get there," but it couldn't hurt to try.

"It's… well. Let's just say it is something that has been relevant for the last decade, really," was his only answer, and then he shot him the barest hint of a teasing smile as they began to move. Oh, sure. The only actual answer he gave him, and it was deliberately mystifying.

"Wow," said Phoenix, surprised that Miles was even capable of that mischievous look. "You're actually excited about this, aren't you?"

"That's one word for it," Miles answered, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

"Why bring me in now, though?" Phoenix asked next. "I mean, you were at your office pretty late yesterday, and when I asked about the case then, you wouldn't tell me a thing. Now it's so important you've gotta bring me there in person?"

Miles glanced at him fleetingly as they approached a traffic light. "Perhaps I just had a feeling you would evoke a breakthrough today."

"Well, I do like being evocative," he quipped with a grin.

Miles heaved a long-suffering sigh. "You're lucky I need to be focused on the road, or else I'd shove you for that one."

"You love it," Phoenix goaded him. They fell quiet, then, so Phoenix took it upon himself to start them off again. "So, I forgot to ask recently: do you still have that certain present from me in your desk drawer?"

Miles' cheeks went pink, as was Phoenix's intention. Ah, there it was, the face that used to be Phoenix's favorite of all Miles' expressions: that slightly-furrowed brow, the mouth set into a taciturn line. Nowadays, he much preferred the faces Miles made when he said something particularly romantic. It was a rare and beautiful thing. "It's not like it belongs anywhere else," Miles muttered in response to the defense attorney's question, flicking his turn signal irritably.

"I mean, you could always bring it home," Phoenix pointed out.

"I'm keeping it in the desk," he said quickly, with an air of finality. He'd never come out and say it, but Phoenix suspected he secretly liked having the unicorn there. Perhaps because it meant there was a reminder of Phoenix always tucked away there? His heart stuttered. That was a cute thought.

"Speaking of your desk," Phoenix started again, not wanting to let the playful atmosphere drop, "you've never used it for its intended purpose."

The prosecutor shot him a confused look. "No, I'm quite certain I've been using it to store my supplies and to do work."

"Yeah, but you've never used it to… do work..." He leaned over closer and stared at him meaningfully, just in case his intention did not come across.

Since they were stopped at another light, Miles took the opportunity to stare at him impassively. "Are you soliciting me for sex? In my workplace? On my desk?"

Phoenix felt abashed, suddenly, retreating to his side of the car. "I-I mean… I don't have to be," he mumbled, slumping a little. He looked out the window to save face, but unfortunately there wasn't much to look at—the sky was cloudy gray. In fact, it looked as though they might get an unseasonable thunderstorm later, if those towering clouds were any indication. Phoenix hoped he hadn't just invited a storm into the car as well.

"I don't understand what the fascination is with that damn desk,"Miles commented, and to Phoenix's relief he sounded more amused than exasperated. The defense attorney looked up in time to catch the slight smile on his partner's face before it flitted away again.

"Hey, the desk is obviously important to you," he fired back, letting a smile return to his face. "You spend a lot of time with that desk. Heck, you probably spend more time with that desk than you do with me. Maybe I just want to show the desk who's boss."

"Wright, don't be ridiculous," Miles said, shaking his head. "We live together. Obviously you are the clear winner as far as how much time is spent around you."

"Psh, whatever," said Phoenix, teasing. "You're totally still married to your job." The car jolted forward abruptly, making them both lurch forward and then fall back against their seats. Miles had laid his foot on the accelerator a little too hard. "Y-You okay?" he asked the prosecutor, a bit startled.

His face was slightly flushed again. "J-Just fine," he said, but his voice sounded unsteady.

By the time they'd reached the Prosecutor's Building, the rain had started. They jogged lightly to the entrance, since neither had brought an umbrella. "I thought you were always prepared, Miles?" Phoenix said. The prosecutor just rolled his eyes as they finally made it through the doors.

"You know," Phoenix said as they stepped into the elevator, "This reminds me of when I took this elevator in November to come yell at you for breaking up with me."

"Oh?" Miles responded, one half of his mouth quirking up. Even just a couple months ago, he would have blustered something about how he couldn't have been breaking up with Phoenix because they hadn't been together, but Miles seemed to have understood now that Phoenix was only being facetious. "I seem to recall something like that. You burst into my office shouting about how much it 'sucked' that we could no longer 'hang out.'"

Phoenix laughed. "Glad you remember too." He marveled again at how fancy even the elevators were here at the Prosecutor's Building, just as he had back then. The walls were polished panels of wood, and the floor was tile. Even the fluorescent lights seemed high-class when they were in a solid line all around the top of the interior. Phoenix leaned against the back wall, watching Miles press the buttons that would send them to the twelfth floor. "It was Athena who convinced me to do it, you know," he continued when Miles joined him at the back of the elevator. "Come talk to you, I mean. She Mood Matrixed me and found out that I was feeling conflicted about, y'know, not being involved in each others' lives. She told me if I had a problem with the distance between us, I had to tell you."

"Hm," Miles said thoughtfully as the elevator doors slowly closed. "It would seem we owe Ms. Cykes a debt of gratitude, in that case."

Phoenix had gotten Athena a fruit basket for her help in that instance, but it probably hadn't been enough. "We owe all of them, really," Phoenix replied, grinning.

"Too right," Miles agreed, returning the smile.

It was true—Pearls with her terribly unskilled stalking, Trucy with her constant attempts to get them to spend time with one another, Maya with her patience and advice (however ill-conceived) over the past decade or so, Athena with her Mood Matrixing, even Kay with her spying and Ema with keeping their secret—they had all contributed. Well, all except Apollo. Apollo, bless him, had made good on his promise to stay out of it.

Phoenix peeked over at Miles surreptitiously, only to find Miles' eyes gazing back at him. Having been caught staring, the prosecutor turned his head away hastily.

"Haven't I said it's okay if you look at me?" said Phoenix, a little bashful. He was kind of still blown away by the fact that Miles found him worth staring at.

"Maybe I was just thinking about how ridiculous that hair of yours is," Miles grumbled.

"Aww, but it looks good on me," Phoenix goaded him. He nudged his shoulder against partner's. "Everything looks good on me, remember?"

Miles sighed. "It astounds me, the amount of pointless things you can remember."

"Hey, it wasn't pointless to me," Phoenix informed him. When the other man didn't respond, he spoke again. "Listen, I know that voicemail embarrasses you, but—"

"I don't regret it," Miles cut him off. "Leaving the voicemail." Phoenix's mouth snapped closed, and the other man went on. "It was intensely humiliating because of its content, but… I don't regret it."

Phoenix looked at him in amazement. "You don't?" he said, a smile spreading slowly across his face.

Miles took his hand, his face flushed but his expression gentle. "No, I don't."

The defense attorney simply beamed at him, wrapping his hand around Miles' in return.

Several things then happened at once.

There was a great crackling, buzzing noise, and their surroundings lurched, both of them stumbling with the force of it. The lights above their heads flickered and died abruptly. And then, silence.

Safety lights blinked to life around the top of the elevator, but it was still quite dim. "Aw, man," Phoenix groaned. "Power outage? Must have been that storm, I guess." He sighed, exasperated. "Well, no worries. We'll be out of—" His words died on his lips when he glanced over and saw how pale Miles had gotten. "M-Miles…?"

"What is this," the prosecutor murmured, his voice faint. He dropped Phoenix's hand. "What the hell is this…?!"

Phoenix suddenly remembered something very important about Miles: he was terrified of elevators. Anyone would be, if they had gone through what Miles had. His fear was quite well disguised, as he rode an elevator every day at work since his office was on the twelfth floor, but he avoided them everywhere else by always taking the stairs. This was the absolute worst place for the power to go out.

"Of course this would happen today, right now," he seethed, gritting his teeth and balling his fists. "Of course! Over and over…!" Miles' voice sounded shaky now, and he began pacing the elevator, agitated.

The defense attorney was a little confused at that statement. As far as Phoenix knew, Miles had only been trapped in an elevator once before. Not that once hadn't been more than enough. "H-Hey, it's okay, Miles," he tried, placating. "This building is so important, the power will probably be back on in no time."

The other man was shaking his head slowly, staring at the ground. "No," he said. He looked dazed. "No. Generator's faulty. Building maintenance budget's tight. No power for a while." He clutched his elbows, like he was hugging himself.

"Wh-What?"

"I said we're trapped, Phoenix!" he snarled, and then closed his mouth, a look of regret clear on his face. "Sorry," he murmured then. He slid down the length of the wall, sitting on the floor and holding his knees. His breaths were starting to come quicker, more shallowly, and his shoulders had started quivering. He stared blankly ahead at nothing, his face pallid.

It was a painful sight, to see him like this. I have to do something, Phoenix thought quickly. I can't let him just sit there scared to death! "I'm… I'm gonna press the emergency button, okay?" he said, and then stepped over to the other side of the elevator to do so. Hopefully it would still work with the power out. He briefly wondered if he could call someone on his phone, but what could anyone do? They were probably mid-floor, which would make escaping difficult, as it would risk one of them falling down the shaft. Unless the power was going to be out for hours, it would be better to wait for it to come back on than to damage the elevator. And if they were going to escape the elevator, it would be prudent to wait for someone who was trained to handle this kind of thing.

His list of options having come to an end, he simply sank to the ground at Miles' side, keeping a safe distance apart just in case Miles didn't want to be touched at the moment. Fear, not for their situation, but for the man next to him, curled in his chest. What in the world was he supposed to say to him? "We'll get out of this, Miles." His voice was soft. "It's not like before."

"No, no, no," the prosecutor breathed, almost more to himself than to Phoenix, hugging his knees tighter. "Trapped. Can't get out now. Feels like… going to die..." His tremors were getting worse, and his mouth had dropped half-open to suck in gasps of air.

"We're not going to die," Phoenix said firmly. "The elevator isn't airtight. There's no one here who can hurt us. We're going to get through this." When the other man only let his eyes fall closed, shuddering and burying his forehead into his knees, Phoenix decided he couldn't take it anymore. He reached out an arm cautiously to wrap around Miles' shoulders.

Thankfully, he did not pull away. Instead, he seemed to relax a little at the contact, letting some of his weight fall against him. But if anything, his quivering only seemed to worsen. Phoenix's heart felt like it was getting squeezed. "Hey, when we get out of here, let's go across the street for lunch, all right? My treat," he said evenly, taking Miles' hand with his free one.

Miles only made a faint whimpering sound in response, but Phoenix thought he saw his head jerk in a nod against his knees, and his hold on Phoenix's hand tightened momentarily. His breaths were coming so quickly that Phoenix was starting to worry he'd pass out if he kept hyperventilating.

"Let's take a deep breath, okay, Miles?" He breathed in deeply to set an example, and after a few unsuccessful choked gasps, Miles followed suit. "Now let it out," Phoenix instructed, demonstrating. The other man's breath shuddered out of him in short bursts of air. "Good," the defense attorney said. "Again, together this time. Ready?" He breathed in again slowly, and the prosecutor sat up a little to do the same. "And then out." They exhaled once more. "Again."

After a few more repetitions, Miles' trembling slowed, and he was breathing more effectively. "You're doing great," Phoenix praised him. "Do, um… Do you want me to keep holding onto you?" he asked then, wondering if he'd been smothering him with unwanted contact.

Miles nodded, so Phoenix kept holding him around the shoulders, but then the other man spoke for the first time in a while: "Other arm."

He blinked, nonplussed. "Huh?"

"Around me. Your other arm."

His brow furrowed in confusion for a moment longer before he realized what Miles was trying to say. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "O-Okay." He let go of his partner's hand, and wrapped his now-free arm around Miles' shoulders, too, holding him against his chest. The prosecutor melted against him, relaxing in his arms as the shaking slowed even more. "Keep breathing," Phoenix reminded him gently. Miles did, timing his breathing to match Phoenix's own.

Eventually, the trembling stopped entirely, and his breathing had returned to normal. "See?" Phoenix whispered, relieved. "You're okay. We're okay."

"Marry me," Miles choked out suddenly, voice quiet.

Phoenix stilled. "Wh… what... did you just say?"

"I want you to marry me, Phoenix Wright," he repeated. He sounded a little unsteady yet, but he also sounded quite sure of what he was saying. "I, I can't imagine the rest of my life without you. I want to be by your side always."

Time stood still. Phoenix's breath froze in his lungs. "Wh… what?"

"Will you?" Miles prompted, shifting out of his arms and grasping both of Phoenix's hands. His eyes were searching. "I've been trying to ask you for months, but… it never seemed to work out," he confessed. "It's… maybe it's just the adrenaline left over from a few minutes ago, but… while we've got the time here… I figured I might as well ask as plainly as possible."

Phoenix stared. Was this yet another cruel dream?

"Oh, I'm an idiot," Miles said, bringing a hand to his forehead. "I forgot the most important part." He dug into his pocket a minute, and then brought out a small red box. He fumbled it open. Phoenix's eyes dropped down. A thin gold ring with a white stone bracketed by two blue ones sat in the middle of the velvet, glinting under the dim safety lights. "This isn't the most romantic of circumstances, especially considering the state I've just been in," the prosecutor continued, "but… Phoenix Wright, will you marry me?"

"Is… is this real?" Phoenix breathed. "Is this… another dream?..." He didn't know if he could take being disappointed like that again.

"It's real," said Miles, a soft smile lighting up his face. "I'm here. I love you so much."

Phoenix's vision blurred at the familiar words. He blinked, and felt wetness on his cheeks. "Holy shit," he said, covering his mouth. "This… this is really happening..." He wiped his eyes, a little embarrassed. "I-I thought you didn't want to get married!"

"That was before I even dared to hope I'd get to be with you," Miles said dismissively. He was starting to look a little frantic again, and a flush was spreading across his face. "Ph-Phoenix, you still haven't answered me..."

"Oh!" Phoenix exclaimed. He laughed a little. "Sorry. Yes. With all of my heart, yes."

"Thank goodness," Miles muttered, shaking his head. "I've already felt like I was going to die once today; I really didn't need to die of shame too." He raised his eyebrows at Phoenix. "Well, ah… aren't you going to let me…?" He gestured to Phoenix's hand, and then to the ring box in his own.

"S-Sorry!" Phoenix blurted, holding out his hand. "I've never, been, um, proposed to before..."

Miles snorted as he slid the ring onto his finger. "That's what you think."

Phoenix stared down at the ring now sitting on his hand. It fit perfectly, because of course it did. Everything about Miles always fit perfectly together with Phoenix. "What do you mean?" he asked in response to Miles' last comment.

Miles sighed as he shuffled back over to sit next to him again, and rested his head back on the elevator wall. "I've tried to propose to you four times in the past three months," he confessed, and then paused. "Well, four and a half, if you count the fact that I was calling you here to my office today to propose."

The defense attorney's jaw dropped. "What?!"

"First there was the concert we had to leave in the middle of," Miles started, counting off each event on his fingers. "Then there was the incident with all the flowers that landed you in the hospital. I attempted to express my feelings through poetry next, but that ended in disaster as well. And then, finally, I… got drunk in the hopes that I'd be as honest with you as I had on Thanksgiving..." He stared down at his hands in his lap. "...But instead I just made a fool of myself," he finished, his tone bitter.

"No you didn't," Phoenix protested, pressing their shoulders together. "I felt really close to you when you opened up about that stuff."

The prosecutor just covered his face with his hand. "I wish I could just say what I want to say without feeling like I need alcohol or a life-threatening situation to motivate me."

"Well, you're getting a lot better at that," Phoenix told him with a smile. "I certainly didn't think I'd be getting proposed to when I woke up this morning."

"And I didn't think I'd be dying with you in an elevator, but life works in mysterious ways," the other man grumbled darkly.

"We're not going to die," Phoenix said sharply.

Miles sighed again. "I know, I know. As long as you're around you'd never let me die," he rolled his head to face Phoenix, "or something like that, right?"

"You're damn right I won't," he responded intently. He grabbed Miles' hand and kissed it. "So help me, neither one of us is going to die until we've had a long, happy life together."

Miles let a smile spread over his face, and leaned over to kiss him. Phoenix stroked his hair as he returned it enthusiastically. The kiss was broken when Phoenix pulled away to smile and laugh, a little breathlessly.

"What's so funny?" Miles asked. He sounded a bit annoyed that the kiss had ended so soon.

"I'm just… I can't believe it… I'm kissing my fiancé, Miles Edgeworth, in an elevator…!" He captured Miles in another kiss, licking into his mouth giddily. Miles slid his hands down to Phoenix's sides as Phoenix rose onto his knees to kneel between his bent legs. The defense attorney shuddered and pressed closer to him, running his hands up and down Miles' chest. Why did the man always wear so many damn layers? Nevertheless, Miles must have approved of the action, because he made a helpless sound into Phoenix's mouth and pressed his fingertips into his hips. Heat was beginning to spread through Phoenix's whole body, sparks erupting behind his eyes and flames flickering low to his core. His kisses became more reckless, more desperate. He wanted to show Miles just how much he'd wanted this kind of closeness with him, how much he reciprocated Miles' feelings.

Unfortunately, Miles drew back after a while. "Ph-Phoenix," he said, and god, his name in that deepened voice made the hair on the back of Phoenix's neck stand up. "This… isn't the time or place."

Phoenix licked under the prosecutor's jaw, knowing that was a sweet spot for him. "Really?" he purred. "'Cuz it seems like the perfect place to me, and we've got plenty of time, it would seem..." He pushed down the jabot to nibble the skin of Miles' neck, and then lightly flicked his tongue over the spot.

Miles groaned and grabbed both of Phoenix's shoulders, probably to push him back, but honestly it felt more like he was pulling Phoenix closer. "Th-This place is not sanitary," he choked. "And our rescuers could be here at any moment."

Phoenix made a disappointed noise, but drew back and rested his hands on the floor on either side of the other man, leaning in to kiss Miles on the mouth again. "I guess you're right," he breathed against his lips. He pressed their foreheads together. "And see? You know our help is coming. You're not as pessimistic as you thought you were."

Miles held Phoenix's face between his hands and kissed him tenderly. "What can I say?" he said when he pulled back. "You're a bad influence."

Phoenix chuckled. "You mean a good influence," he corrected, brushing aside Miles' bangs to press his lips against his forehead.

"Yes, that," Miles sighed in contentment.

Phoenix scooted away to sit next to him again, and scooped up Miles' hand in his own. The metal of the ring felt warm between their hands. "So… what are we going to do for, um… our wedding?" He glanced over at Miles out of the corner of his eye.

"I was planning on letting you figure that out," Miles admitted. "I'm afraid I know next to nothing about weddings."

"Once Trucy sees this ring, she and the rest of Project: Matchmakers will probably do all the planning for us," Phoenix snorted.

Miles chuckled too. "I must confess that in this case, the help would not be unwelcome."

The defense attorney smiled over at him. "I feel the same. Maybe we should ask for some tips."

"Pearls will start a scrapbook again," Miles quipped.

For a moment, they both laughed. When it wound down, the elevator was quiet. Phoenix just kept holding his fiancé's hand, almost enjoying the silence with him.

After what seemed like an eternity, they heard a thud outside the elevator door. Both lawyers snapped to attention. Overhead, the fluorescent lights flickered back on.

"Sounds like help has arrived," Phoenix said, helping Miles to his feet.

Sure enough, the door finally, finally opened. "Help was here with me the whole time," Miles said quietly, squeezing Phoenix's hand.

They stepped out together, the room once again filled with light.

A/N: Next time: A party and a plan, perhaps.

Hope the wait was worth it, everyone ;)