Disclaimer: If I get sued, I want Miles Edgeworth as the prosecutor and Phoenix Wright as my defense attorney.

A Reason to Smile

Chapter 7

Miles was mildly surprised that the evening turned out more pleasant than he had imagined. Far used to being a man with few words outside of work, he found himself uncharacteristically carrying a conversation between himself and a friend he thought he would never find again. He was also intrigued that the other person could just sit there quietly and listen to his every words with utmost attention, a far cry from the chaotic energy he usually dealt with in court. Which goes to show how little he understood the man he called his friend.

When he had finished telling Wright of his past, he took a drink. His mouth had gone dry from the amount of talking. As the martini slowly slid down his throat, a part of his mind vaguely wondered what people would say about his seemingly out-of-character behaviour. Another part of his mind decided he would just blame it on the alcohol.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see that the defense attorney was still looking at him eagerly. He was reminded of the time when they were still children, when Wright would often beg to listen to stories of his father in court. How had the grown man retained much of his innocence well past childhood was beyond him, but he did see a striking contrast between themselves.

When the prosecutor finally put the glass down, the other man had turned his attention to the beer in front of him, and was playing with the ear of the mug.

"Miles..."

The sound of his given name surprised him a little. Only his closest family members would address him that way. Coming from Wright, it sounded foreign and familiar at the same time.

The defense attorney tilted his head towards him and managed a small smile, "Can I call you Miles? You know, like old times?"

"...You called me Edgeworth when we were children."

"Well, yeah..." Wright's quirky eyebrows scrunched together, making its shape more absurb than it already was, "You made us call you Edgeworth. In my mind you were always Miles."

He was brought back to innocent times, when 'work' meant school assignments and 'responsibility' meant being an honour student. Times he could never go back to.

"You know, Larry only called you 'Edgey' because he thought your name's a mouthful. Have some pity on the poor guy."

"Need I remind you that this same Larry also called you 'Nick' out of laziness? He would butcher any names regardless," he countered.

Wright laughed heartily, "Got me there. But there's something else I've been meaning to ask. You always call me 'Wright', but you call him 'Larry'. What's up with that? Does he rate higher than me in your heart?"

Miles backed off a bit as his friend leant closer while wearing a silly grin on his face. The man ought to be taught the virtues of 'personal space'.

"Don't spout nonsense, although you seem to have the knack for it. No one in their right mind would find pleasure in calling out his last name."

Wright's eyebrows scrunched together again, "What's wrong with Bu-...Oh," then they were raised high, "Oh."

Has the man always have such ridiculous eyebrows? Why is it only now that I've noticed it?

Miles muttered darkly, "Especially in public. Took you long enough to figure it out."

The defense attorney laughed again. Even his whole frame was shaking from mirth. Although he was not used to seeing the man laughing in front of him, his memories of a young Wright was almost identical. The same way he would throw his body, and the same hitch in breath at the same place, they were all still there. Wright laughing was a strangely pleasant thing to watch. The man was moping around so much those few days that he had thought he would not have the chance to experience it again before leaving.

"Oh, Miles..." the defense attorney called out his name again, as his laugh slowly died down, "You're a riot."

Miles scoffed at that remark, "No one has ever associated that with me before."

His laughter may have died down, but a satisfying smile still hung around his face. "That's because no one knows you better than I do."

The prosecutor was sure his martini was to blame. His face was burning. He felt so uncomfortable, that he decided to blurt out the first thing that came to mind.

"About Sister Iris..."

No, that didn't work as well as he thought. He could still feel his ears burning. And worse, it made Wright drop the smile on his face. Probably not the best thing to say, with hindsight.

"Yeah?"

Even Wright's tone had turned wary. Now he regretted saying her name. Though, a graceful save is what Miles Edgeworth does best.

"I heard from Detective Gumshoe that she hasn't appointed herself a defense attorney yet."

Wright frowned as his downed the last bit of his beer and ordered another. "She wasn't planning to, if that's what you're trying to ask."

"But, why? I thought she would have asked for your service."

Wright let his head sink into the fold of his arms on the table, his previous joyous mood completely evaporated.

"Nothing I said could change her mind. She's always been a stubborn woman..."

Miles waited for the bartender to put down Wright's beer and leave, vaguely recalling that that was his third while he was still on his first. He'd have to stop his friend from drinking anymore at some point, if he kept the pace on. Regardless if the person is an experienced drinker or not, drowning themselves with alcohol in times of sorrow is never a good idea.

"You seem to know her very well," Miles commented.

They have a history between them. Should I press him on?

He knew the secret that Sister Iris was harbouring. It was evident from the way she talked about Wright. At the same time, Wright was someone who wears his heart on his sleeve, so he could just as well make out the relationship between them. In his mind was a flurry of connecting info, each leading to an obvious conclusion. Perfect logic, if you will. What was left was only the confirmation...

Wright was deep in thought.

Miles realised that if he had wanted to know more about his friend's history, that was the perfect time to raise the question. If they were in court, he knew he would not have that moment of hesitation, and would press for more information relentlessly. However, tactfulness might be the proper option. Phoenix Wright was not a witness in court. He was a friend.

Phoenix is…a friend.

To learn the truth and break the man in the process, or to be a friend and learn to back off?

"Phoenix, if you are feeling uncomfortable with this topic, then let us talk about something else."

There was a sudden change in the other's demeanour. He seemed to be elated by something, but whatever it was eluded Miles. It couldn't be that he was offering to change the topic. It would be silly to think that that would prompt a big reaction from the defense attorney, however easily amused the man is. He unconciously ran a hand over his face to check if there was something on his face.

The childish grin made its way back on his friend's face again, accompanied by a blush that slowly spread across from one ear to another. The grin slowly grew into a string of quiet laughter, and Phoenix was muttering between laughs, how the alcohol had gone up his head.

None of it made sense to Miles. None at all. There was definitely something off about the man.

"Are you drunk?"

Said man took a few seconds longer than needed to answer his question. "...Maybe?"

What was more off than the drunken attorney, was that he, the stoic prosecutor himself, was beginning to feel the upward pull of both sides of his lips. Franziska might be right. Phoenix's foolishness might be contagious.

Phoenix was staring at him with half a lopped grin on his face.

"What is it now?" Miles asked, as he attempted to curb his own growing smile.

"Don't do that," the man started to scrunch his eyebrows again, but the half-grin remained.

Speaking in riddles now, Phoenix?

"Don't do what?"

Phoenix seemed really upset by whatever Miles did, which for the life of him, couldn't find out what it was exactly.

The defense attorney straightened himself up, and with all seriousness, asked, "How many lawyers does it take to change a lightbulb?"

The sudden swerve of topic confused Miles greatly. "…Excuse me?"

"Two. One to change it and one to keep interrupting by standing up and shouting "Objection!"

Miles stared at Phoenix blankly.

Unperturbed, his companion continued, "How many lawyers does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

"I hope you're getting somewhere with this…" Because I sure don't know where you're driving at.

"None, lawyers only screw us…I mean, we only screw people…wait, that sounds wrong…"

Miles cocked an eyebrow at the man, who was busy fumbling around with his thoughts.

"What on earth are you trying to do?"

Phoenix took a sip of his beer before waving a hand, eyes averted, "Nothing. I was just trying to tell a few jokes."

"Jokes? Whatever for?" Sometimes I just don't understand this man...

Phoenix looked up at Miles, face blushing, before mumbling into his beer. Miles could hardly hear a word he was saying, and his weird antics, however charming they might be in the beginning, was beginning to tear at his patience.

"Wright, if you're that embarrassed about whatever stupidity that came out of your mouth, then don't -"

"Just thought that I haven't seen your smile in ages, that's all," Phoenix snapped back loudly, before returning to his safe haven in a beer glass, irritation written all over his face.

"-say it in the first...What?"

What?

The simple question had Phoenix set into an unstoppable rant about how Miles would always carry himself.

"You've always been a prude ever since we were kids..."

No, I wasn't...

"...you have this really short fuse..."

No, I don't!

"Wright-" Miles tried to interject, but Wright wasn't finished. In that aspect, Phoenix Wright was like a runaway train, never stopping until he hit a brick wall or ran out of tracks and catapult off a cliff.

"...your emails are way too formal between us..."

It's called 'professionalism', look the word up in a dictionary.

"...and damn it, if you would just put down all those burdens you've been carrying around for all these years..."

Miles couldn't find a retort for that. When some things, even nightmares and self-loathing, have been a part of someone for more than seventeen years, it's hard to just let go and move on. It simply wasn't that easy to remove the parts that practically grew into him through all those years.

When he got no response from the silver-haired man, Phoenix sighed audibly as he ran a hand over his hair, with much of his earlier steam seemingly run out.

"You're taking your life too seriously. You should learn from Maya. The girl can find happiness in a hamburger and the ridiculous Steel Samurai."

Edgeworth could feel his left eyebrow twitch on its own.

"There's not much reason for me to, perhaps," he retorted hotly.

The man lacked the fine eye to appreciate the noble values that have been endlessly praised for centuries and sung in songs, and found in every episode of the series – well, except for that strange episode where the writers must have written while smoking on trip-inducing substances. I hope every member on the team had read my letter regarding that episode - How dare he mock the Steel Samurai!

As he seethed through the inner monologue, he finished his glass of martini in a gulp and slammed the glass on the counter. Almost immediately, he felt a pang of guilty by his childish behaviour. The night was turning out to be as dreadful as he feared it would.

He turned his head to the direction of his companion, only to be met by a pair of sorrowful blue eyes looking straight at him.

"Miles, I'm...I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me...I...", the man drew in breath and continued in a calmer voice, "This was supposed to be an enjoyable night out with one of my closest friends. I didn't mean to lose temper."

Miles let out his breath shakily. He couldn't have his friend blame himself entirely for the night. God knows he was responsible for their predicament as well, but he wasn't up for an apologizing session.

"It's...late. My flight is early tomorrow, so maybe we should just call it a night."

I can't deal with this any longer. Let's just go our separate ways and give some time to clear our heads.

"Yeah..." Phoenix replied distractedly, eyes trained to a spot.

Miles paused for a second, as his friend seemed to be contemplating something, but Phoenix didn't look as though he was going to share. Mildly annoyed, Miles got out of his seat, "I think I may need to use the restroom for a second. I'll be right back, and then we can leave."

As he made his way towards the restroom, and turned his head around, he saw that Phoenix was still looking at the same particular spot.

Author's note: I think I lied when I said this chapter would be up soon. Well actually it was almost done, but I didn't have time for proof-reading. I think I should have my own apologizing session too. I'm sorry!

I purposefully made some things vague in this chapter, because it is from Miles's point of view and he's not exactly the sharpest person in relationship stuff regarding himself. I mean, if someone can fail to notice the frothing female masses that worship the ground he walks on, then I have no faith in his social skills. Oh, Miles, you blissfully ignorant idiot.

But then again, I hope it's not because I have sucky story-telling skills.