Lol I've worked on this story for soooooooooooooooooooo long now. What am I doing with my life.

Also god I keep accidentally switching between "defense attorney" and "defence attorney" because I'm trying to keep true to the spelling of the games but I'm not American and I fail. I feel like I need to go back and edit a lot of this story one day, lmao. I hope this doesn't put off anybody from reading it. *drowns self *

But yes, enjoy. This is a long one. Many emotions, much moodiness. Very PMS. If you enjoy the story, reviews are always very appreciated and I love reading each and every one! :)

Also, I will be uploading a cover image to this story with the next chapter, so keep an eye out for that. I started that picture when I was an embryo in the womb and haven't been able to finish it due to life, but hopefully soon I can have it done! :D

Thank you again all previous reviewers, and for any newer readers, hello!

Disclaimer: The characters and settings created by CAPCOM that are featured in this story are solely owned by their creators. I do not claim them as mine in any way, shape or form. I am not receiving monetary profit from having written this story and no copyright infringement is intended.

"Jumping to Conclusions"

*~Chapter Fourteen~*

Phoenix stood, stunned at how the air between them seemed to form a rift of sorts. Immediately, he could detect the crystallisation of emotions that had welled up inside of the prosecutor. Miles was blankly staring downwards now, either suddenly perplexed by the direction of wood grain on the oak floor or making a deliberate choice to avoid eye contact, as usual. Phoenix decided it was obviously the latter.

"And besides, it's probably a good idea not to date anybody, really. You don't want to get hurt in the end. It's... not worth it."

Realising the implications of his words, Phoenix took in a sharp breath and pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth in thought.

Dahlia... Damn her making me think that! Why did I say that out loud to him? That's not good advice to give to someone who already has trouble getting close to people! Idiot!

He was suddenly aware of the increased throbbing pain in his injured hand and squinted. Almost on cue, his head began to swim in a cloud of fog as the familiar light-headedness from his concussion struck him again.

Oh great, a distraction. Maybe this is a good thing.

Clammily, he reached for a tall stool next to the kitchen island and dragged it out. Luckily, there were floor protectors on the ends of the legs. That would save Miles from going insane over any possible damage to the polish later.

"Are you alright?" Miles' quiet voice crept in, delayed by a few seconds.

I've really done a number on him with what I said. He's so easily affected by sentimental things even if he doesn't like to admit it. Poor Miles.

"Yeah... Just feeling a bit woozy and sore."

Probably not great to stress myself out with nightmares and emotional issues. Not that I can really control the nightmares... unless I stay up constantly. That should go well!

As if suddenly remembering (which, Phoenix decided, was probably the case in this instance), Miles opened the freezer a few steps away and retrieved an icepack similar to the one Phoenix had been using in hospital. He grabbed a wad of paper towels from next to the fruit bowl on the island and wrapped the icepack with it, gingerly handing it over to the defense attorney without so much as a glance at his face.

Well, this is a nice atmosphere we've thrust ourselves into.

"You know." Phoenix suddenly blurted out, wincing as he applied the icepack to his hand. "I was wondering... if Maya should know about this whole situation. She has no idea where I am or what happened."

Miles still didn't look at him, instead choosing to vocalise his acknowledgement of Phoenix's statement with a monosyllabic grunt that sounded something like "mrph". He expressed this whilst occupying himself over a faint line of dust that had gathered on the bench next to the stove, cleaning it with one slow swipe of his index finger. He held said finger up to his face, lips strained thin in disapproval.

"This place needs a clean. Dust gathers so quickly when I'm away." His voice came out sounding very tired.

That's... usually how it works. The house isn't gonna clean itself, Miles. In all honestly though, this place could be spotless and he'd still find something to complain about.

"So are we gonna do something about notifying her or..."

Miles sighed and retrieved a peach-coloured microfiber cloth from one of the drawers.

"Feel free to." He stuck a hand into his pants pocket and pulled out his cell phone, thumbing in the password to unlock it before handing it to Phoenix. He then returned to making a quiet fuss over wiping down the benches. Phoenix looked at him in disbelief then down at the shiny, dark red phone clutched in his right hand.

I would have been happy to use the house phone. I don't think he's ever trusted me to even touch this thing before. Maybe he's confident I don't have the technological smarts to access his emails or texts. What an insult!

Phoenix scoffed, inwardly reminding himself that he could probably beat Miles in designing a Power Point presentation any day, amongst other tech-related activities. His thoughts uncovered a silly childhood memory of him, Miles and Larry testing out all of the different sound effects and word art designs in the program during computer lab in grade school, followed by the grumpy Mr Fenwick scolding them for not focusing on their actual assignments.

He smiled a little, before keying in Maya's cell phone number and waiting for the other end to pick up. He observed Miles' unexpected immersion in dusting the kitchen and his smile turned into a frown, before deciding it was probably wise to just not talk to him for a bit.

I feel bad for what I said before, but maybe he really does just want to clean? I never know what's going on in his head. Maybe he's secretly on crack.

The thought greatly amused him as he continued to listen for his assistant picking up. A beep and a message notified him that the call could not get through.

That's odd. She is usually attached to that phone at all times. Oh, wait a sec...

Everything that had happened in the last two days had made him forget that the spirit medium and her cousin had returned to Kurain not too long ago. He shook his head at himself, and pulled the phone away from his ear before keying in the landline.

"Um... Maya speaking?"

Did I call at a bad time?

"It's Phoenix, Maya." He turned to face the window, which was now filtering afternoon sunlight through the cracked blinds, looking deceivingly warm despite the chilly air outside.

"Oh, Nick! Hi!" The girl's voice on the other end instantly switched from tentative to chirpy enthusiasm, although not as loud as usual. "I was wondering whose number this is! What happened to your phone? Did you break it again? Everything going good with you? How is it back at the office? Or do you need your amazing assistant to take care of stuff as usual?" She fired all of this at him in the span of a few seconds, allowing no time for the other party to digest the words. Phoenix noted how much she sounded like an annoying journalist. Following this inundation of questions, she was heard snickering lightly, obviously trying to keep her voice down but still managing to jokingly feed her ego.

Ignoring most of the questions and choosing to focus on the most important matter, Phoenix managed to murmur a reply.

"Uh, not exactly going good." He looked to the side, catching a glimpse of Miles who was now wiping dust from the spice rack, although he had slowed his movements considerably in what Phoenix deduced to be a subtle attempt at eavesdropping.

"What's wrong?" Maya whispered, sounding concerned now.

"I got into a bit of uh... accident, you could say."

What else would it be called, really.

"An ACCIDENT?!" All endeavour towards quiet conversation completely lost as Maya's shrill response pierced Phoenix's eardrum.

"I-I'm okay, jeez! I just can't work for a week or so. A car hit me..." Phoenix cowered a little in his seat, bracing himself for the inevitable lecture that would follow.

"WHAT?! How are you okay?! Just... what?! Nick! I can't believe you got yourself hit by a car, I'm heading back there right now!"

I didn't throw myself in front of it on purpose!

Phoenix felt a bead of nervous sweat trickle down his temple, and listened as Maya's voice seemed to project away from the phone as she addressed someone in the distance.

"Hey, PEARLY! We have to go back to L.A.!"

This call was a mistake. It could have waited, come to think of it.

Phoenix sighed in defeat.

Miles stood up straight by this point, clearly disturbed by all of the yelling that Maya was making, loud enough to be heard from where he stood.

A shuffling sound distorted the other end of the call, along with some indecipherable words exchanged between Maya and Pearl. Soon, after what sounded like a few moments of bickering, the younger spirit medium's small voice cut in.

"Mr Nick! ARE YOU OKAY? Why did you jump in front of a car?!"

Phoenix's eyes widened.

Maya, what lies did you feed her?!

"Pearls, I didn't jump in front of a car." Phoenix reassured in confusion, noting how Miles was openly frowning now.

"B-but Mystic Maya said - "

"She's getting it mixed up, Pearls. It was an accident, mostly because of the weather conditions." Phoenix didn't particularly feel like repeating the story, mostly because he preferred to keep it as a blur in his mind for now. "I'm okay! Just a few scrapes but I won't be working for a little while. Please don't worry, okay?" His voice softened in concern for the child.

Poor Pearls is going to get wrinkles before she becomes a teenager if Maya keeps being so dramatic about everything.

"Nick, I don't know what you're saying right now, but stay put and we will be on our way!" Maya's voice interjected in the near background.

Why is she making it sound like I'm still lying on the road bleeding out and just casually calling her to let her know I only just got hit by a car?

"I'm fine! I was just calling you to let you both know that I won't be in the office for a while so if you call that number, I won't pick u -"

"Hang on Mr Nick, Mystic Maya wants to speak to you again!" Pearls interrupted.

Oh boy.

"Nick, where are you now?!"

"I'm..." Phoenix paused, looking over at Miles who was now feigning interest in an area he had already gone over with the microfiber cloth at least four times. "I'm at Edgeworth's."

He smirked upon seeing Miles' brief flinch.

It took Maya a few seconds on the other end to express a reply.

"Edgeworth's?! Did he find you half-dead on the road or something?"

Phoenix made a face. "Maya, no. He picked me up from hospital." His eyebrows knitted together at his assistant's ridiculous assumption.

"Is he going to be taking care of you?! He better!"

Phoenix laughed sheepishly, mentally comparing Maya's current attitude to that of his mother.

"Who's gonna buy me burgers if you suddenly die, huh?"

The motherly comparison vanished.

Well, at least I'll be remembered for something.

"Why were you trying to keep your voice all hush-hush earlier anyway? What's going on over there?" Phoenix asked, trying to change the subject. This, of course, proved mostly unsuccessful.

"Oh, there was novice training going on in the next hall. I didn't want to disturb their meditation!"

"I see."

Yet she ended up yelling anyway. She could rival my volume in court easily.

"Yeah, so, don't change the subject... Who cares about what's going on here, just usual spirit medium duties! But Maya and Pearl Fey have got it under control!" Phoenix heard the younger medium's voice agree in the background at this confident statement. "You, on the other hand, don't have anything under control! When will you be all better again so you can get back to work? Like the office's rent is gonna pay itself, Nick! We need clients soon!"

Phoenix gripped the phone nervously, the reminder of unpaid rent suddenly shooting a stress arrow into his brain.

She's right. Yikes.

As if the dizzying side-effects of his accident were not enough to make him feel like crap, this financial problem caused him to feel even worse. He closed his eyes, feeling a headache looming on the horizon.

His eyes opened again as he felt warmth radiating from something to the side of him, and sat stunned as Miles leaned in, gently prying the phone out of his fingers and separating it from where it was held at Phoenix's ear.

Eh?

"Miss Fey, this is Miles Edgeworth speaking." The prosecutor's low voice spoke into the phone, his face an unreadable slate yet again. Finally, he had put down the cloth that seemed to be of great importance to him only seconds ago. "Wright is not feeling too well, he needed to lie down for a few minutes."

Phoenix watched on as Miles took control of the conversation.

Not sure if he's saving me or if he's just annoyed that I'm using up his call time.

"Yes, he is fine for the most part." Miles stared straight ahead, ignoring Phoenix who just raised his squiggled eyebrows in surprise.

I tried telling her that already, but she wouldn't hear it.

There was a pause, and Maya's voice could be heard explaining some concern from the other end.

"You needn't worry, Miss Fey." Pallid fingers ran themselves through argent strands as Miles listened to the frantic words of the young acolyte, his eyes softening but still refusing to look at Phoenix.

I don't have an oozing growth on my face, do I?

Miles nodded as he continued listening to Maya's rambling. "I've taken him under my care for the time being, so he will be alright. I'll be sure he doesn't get into any more accidents." A pause. "Please try not to make a fuss, we want to keep this low key, if possible." Another pause. "Wright is fine but not exactly in the mood to have the entire city bombard him with "get well soon" calls. As famous as he is these days."

Phoenix stared at him, frowning.

If you really want to turn this into a high school clique situation, I'd say you're the more popular one. But okay sure, we wouldn't want me to get carried away with people's well wishes or anything!

"That's fine, Miss Fey. Please don't let us distract from your responsibilities. As I suggested earlier, I have everything under control. Wright will be taken care of and I'll make sure he feels better as soon as possible, I assure you."

There was a small silence in which Phoenix could hear Maya exclaim something that sounded like, "Okay, I trust you! Thank you so much, Mr Edgeworth! Give Nick a hug for us!"

The defense attorney blanched.

Maya, you know I have feelings for him, why would you say that? Are you trying to give me an aneurysm?

"I'll be sure to pass on the sentiments. Although I can't imagine Wright would appreciate a hug right now. He's quite bruised up."

Phoenix rolled his eyes, feeling a little hurt.

I don't think I'm ready to be hugged by someone who keeps avoiding my gaze as if I have a visually contagious case of smallpox, anyway.

"Yes, of course. Alright, Miss Fey. I should really let you and your cousin get back to your duties now. Please give my kind regards to young Pearl."

The call was ended and Miles placed the phone back into his pocket after locking it again. Finally, he managed to look at Phoenix, although the mental effort required on his behalf to do so looked almost painful.

"Uh, thanks for taking ove -"

Miles had suddenly leaned forward and embraced Phoenix lightly, lingering for approximately three seconds. Immediately after pulling away, he turned his face to the side, almost in synchronicity with Phoenix who had done the same. The pair of them were both slightly red.

"That's from Miss Fey." Miles said quietly, before walking away.

"Didn't you say you weren't going to hug me?!" By this point Phoenix looked thoroughly puzzled, watching the retreating back of his fellow attorney as Miles made his way to the pantry.

"I said nothing of the sort". Miles muttered, looking back slightly, "I said you might not appreciate it."

You've always got some sort of snide comeback, don't you?

"Well, uh. Thanks." Phoenix said ashamedly, fumbling with a loose button on his shirt. He promptly remembered a previous unresolved issue. "By the way, you didn't answer my question earlier."

"What question?" Miles replied in annoyance, opening the pantry and casually collecting ingredients he would no doubt be using for dinner. Since they hadn't settled on an agreed recipe, it looked as if he would be improvising tonight. He backed out and placed a bag of lentils and some chicken stock on a bench, before collecting some bay leaves, nutmeg and caraway seeds from the spice rack.

"You know," Phoenix said nervously.

"I don't, actually." Miles strode over to the fridge again and checked for ingredients that hadn't spoiled in the two weeks he had been away. "You can't expect me to remember all the nonsense that tumbles out of that big mouth of yours."

But of course you can remember that time I poked fun at your cowlick when we were nine.

"I'll just say it again, then." Phoenix stood up, staring at the other man's back, his hands falling limp at his sides, icepack forgotten. He gulped. "Are you actually gay or not?"

Rest in peace, Phoenix. May you forever be remembered.

The prosecuting attorney bristled but did not turn around to face him. Phoenix grimaced, wondering if he had gone too far, waiting for what would inevitably be a clipped reply followed by an order to go home.

"You didn't ask that." Miles replied, a bottle of Worcestershire sauce in his hands. His knuckles had gone even whiter than the surrounding skin as his grip tightened around the glass in repressed anger. His voice however, was surprisingly calm.

Phoenix hesitated. "W-well no, not exactly worded like that, but same thing?"

Letting out a held breath, Miles turned around and almost slammed the bottle of sauce on the bench.

"What does it matter what my sexual preference is?!" His eyes glimmered, causing Phoenix to step back. "That has no bearing on anything!"

Well, he may as well have a giant "I'm gay" sign hanging off his neck right now.

"Hey," Phoenix held out his hands defensively, "I'm not gonna tell anybody."

"Adding insult to injury, I see." Miles spat. "First, you try to find answers with stereotypes and now you're just jumping to conclusions and labelling me as homosexual."

As he said this, his voice got quieter and he looked down at the sauce bottle, suddenly interested in the nutritional information at the back. "Why do you even want to know...?" He added, looking slightly hurt.

"I want..." Phoenix fumbled in his mind for the correct words to use in this situation, and when none were found, he took a deep breath and hoped for the best with what he had. "I want to know more about you... Even if it's something as personal as that. Sorry if I touched a nerve. I'll leave it."

It feels like I have to break those Psyche-Locks around him all over again. If only I had that stupid magatama, I'd be able to see just how many barriers he has up right now.

He made a mental note to remember to pocket it at all times once he had gotten better, but then decided that if Miles found out he had used it on him without knowing, their trust would be broken.

Or whatever trust they had before it had been tarnished by the current situation, anyway.

Miles looked up and stared at him intently, looking momentarily lost. He opened his mouth to say something, but it was quickly closed and he swallowed. "I'm going to pick up some groceries. Won't be too long... There are just a few things I need for dinner tonight. Is there anything you want me to pick up from your apartment?"

His ability to avoid topics is pretty remarkable.

"Uh. Maybe my toothbrush, deodorant and some spare clothes?" Phoenix said, deciding to go along with Miles' topic change and looking up in thought, "My wallet, keys and phone are already here in my briefcase. Maybe the phone charger, if you can find it. It should be under the bed but if you can't see it, maybe check the bottom drawer of my bedside table, but there's a whole bunch of cables in there from stuff around the apartment."

"As tidy as I expected you to be." Miles said dryly. "I'll grab your keys, pick up your things then head to the store." He left the kitchen for a moment and returned with a pen and sticky notes, proceeding to scrawl something on one sheet before tearing it off. "In case you don't have my number memorised, which I can't imagine you would, here it is if you need to call. The phone is in the hallway next to the Chinese vase. If you knock that vase over I'll kill you."

Phoenix took the paper and nodded.

That would look good on my autopsy report. "Killed by angry prosecutor for knocking over a Chinese vase."

"See you soon, then? I think I'll just watch some T.V." He pointed at the living room.

Miles shrugged. "As long as you don't set the place on fire, I trust that you will keep everything in order." His eyes seemed to say, "or else".

The defense attorney scoffed.

Well, at least he still has some trust left for me.

The wait was not as long as Phoenix had thought, and it was less than an hour before the sound of a sports car pulling into the garage outside signalled Miles' return. Immersed in an episode of Judge Julie, Phoenix turned to the sound of a door opening, and stood up to help Miles carry in everything from the hallway.

"Hey, let me help you," he muttered, taking some shopping bags from the other man's hand, before quickly dropping them. "OW!"

He had forgotten to use his good hand and was now nursing the injured one, tears pricking his eyes.

Damn it!

Miles just stood there, groceries still clutched in his fists, looking annoyed. "If I needed help I would have asked for it, Phoenix."

Guess that's his way of saying "please go lie down and rest, dear"?

Without missing a beat, Miles bent down to pick up the dropped bags. "You're lucky these bags have the lighter items in them."

Not light enough for my poor hand!

"By the way," he added, "Your apartment is as ghastly as ever. Your spare clothes, toothbrush, deodorant and phone charger are in that bag over there." He nodded towards a canvas bag that he had placed down behind him earlier. "You should invest in something other than Axe, by the way. That abomination is a smell I only expect to find in public high school gym lockers."

It's not THAT messy in my apartment. And Axe was on special this week! Cut me some slack!

"Thanks, Miles." Phoenix replied, choosing to conceal his thoughts regarding the insults. Taking the bag (carefully, in his good hand), and moving to place it in next to his briefcase in the living room, he noticed the afternoon was now blending into night and the temperature had dropped slightly, making him shiver in the chill. He reached into a bag and pulled out a cherished, baggy indigo sweater Miles had kindly collected for him in anticipation of the recent weather, and held it in front of him awkwardly in an attempt to figure out where to start with pulling it on.

Miles had by now moved into the kitchen to unpack the groceries, but as if able to sense the other's predicament, quickly moved into the living room and had taken hold of the awkwardly positioned garment.

"Here." He murmured gently, motioning Phoenix to move his arms above his head. He stepped closer, tenderly pulling the loose sweater over his friend, being very careful around the splint.

"Ah," Phoenix hissed, as the movements brushed against a particularly sore bruise.

"Sorry," Miles muttered, pausing. "Are you alright?"

"Never better," Phoenix breathed, looking more sheepish than usual.

I kind of like this TLC, even though I really shouldn't. Argh.

"Like I said," Miles stated quietly, making sure the sweater was on comfortably, "I'm going to take care of you." He seemed to hide a blush as he turned away. "Just don't worry too much." He noticed the television and smirked.

"Okay... Thanks again, I don't know how to repay y -"

"Are you watching Judge Julie?"

"Um. Yes? Well, I was."

Miles almost let out a snicker, except it came out sounding awkward and strained. "Tell me, is she as scary as I am?"

Phoenix laughed. "Why? Have you aspired to be her?"

Miles shook his head. "No. I'm sure she's extremely intelligent," he said earnestly, "But I find courtroom "reality" shows are a complete mockery of the judicial system. Besides... I'm far classier with my anger." As if to prove his point, he tapped a finger against his temple, smugly.

I've never heard of anger being "classy" but okay, Miles. Whatever helps you sleep at night, I guess.

With the prosecutor's mood mellowed in comparison to earlier, Phoenix inwardly celebrated. A part of him was curious as to how many more mood swings he would have to put up with during his stay, and the celebration faltered, resulting in an awkward silence again.

"So, um..."

"I'll go start dinner," Miles swiftly turned and headed back to the kitchen, leaving Phoenix alone in the living room to continue watching what now looked to be Judge Julie berating both litigants for talking over each other without permission. The plaintiff looked flustered by this point, his gravelly voice attempting to explain himself and why he was so angry. Judge Julie repeatedly cut him off each time, her voice growing more annoyed by the second.

Ooh, this is getting good.

Around an hour later, Miles had stepped back into the living room, pulling off what looked like pink oven mitts.

Mmm, something smells delicious!

Phoenix's mouth watered as the aroma of cooked food seemed to follow the prosecutor-turned-chef into the same room, like some sort of culinary cologne.

"Dinner is ready, if you'd like to eat." Miles said, prompting Phoenix to turn around from an infomercial that looked cheesier than a wheel of Pecorino Romano.

"Ever found yourself unable to brush your hair with confidence?"

A man in a houndstooth shirt, with ridiculously fake blonde hair popped up on the screen, holding a comically-oversized plastic hair brush which he ran over his locks once before exaggeratedly dropping it. He looked at his hands in horror as if they had suddenly melted, before looking at the screen with the same expression.

"What on Earth." Miles said, judgementally. The infomercial continued, highlighting the amazing, improved lifestyle of the man after he had gotten his hands on the all-new "Grip-Eazy Brush", which was apparently available in five colours. A limited edition, purse-sized glitter version came "ABSOLUTELY FREE!" if you purchased now for only nineteen dollars and ninety-nine cents.

"That's more of a rip-off than this weird movie Larry made me see with him a few years back," Phoenix laughed, standing up and turning off the television.

"I'm not going to ask what movie that was," Miles said apathetically, as if the idea of anything Larry could suggest watching was simply not worth expending any neurotransmitters on.

Phoenix agreed that it was probably for the best, and moved to follow Miles. It was then he saw the rosy, frilled apron and pink oven mitts, which were adorned with tiny lace hearts on the hook loops attached at the cuffs. Miles quickly pulled the apron off as if he had only just realised it was still on him, and placed it on the closest bench with the oven mitts as they passed the kitchen.

I don't know what I expected, really.

"If you so much as comment on those, you can eat dinner in Pesu's kennel." Miles growled, seeing the expression on Phoenix's face change

Mood swing number four thousand and fifty-two, coming right up.

They walked together to the dining room, where the walls were lined with more paintings, although much smaller and less impressionable than the one by Alarik Lindholm in the hallway. A small crystal chandelier hung over an elaborate table, which was covered by a beautiful burgundy tablecloth. Several dishes waited temptingly, placed neatly on heatproof protectors. Even the chairs, as expected, looked just as fancy; all carved from fine walnut wood with luxurious cushioned seats. Phoenix reminded himself to make sure a single drop of food was not spilled if he wanted to stay in the prosecutor's good books.

Well, this is a welcome change from my usual microwave dinners in front of the television every night.

"Sit down," Miles said seriously, "You don't have to be so amazed by everything."

"And you expect me not to? You live in a mini palace, I swear!"

"You get used to it." Miles countered.

Says you.

A chair was pulled out for Phoenix and he was motioned and commanded to take a seat, yet again.

Phoenix took the offer, smiling up at Miles' thoughtful action. "Why thank you," he said in a silly dainty voice, "But I think I can still pull chairs out". He held up his right hand and wiggled it.

Miles rolled his eyes and spread a white napkin over the seated attorney's lap (Phoenix felt himself shift slightly in his chair at the unexpected gesture) and took a seat opposite, pouring himself a glass of well-aged Cabernet Sauvignon.

He still looks nice even when he's annoyed. How does he do that?

"There's non-alcoholic sparkling wine if you would like some?" The prosecutor pointed to Phoenix's wine glass, which had been laid out for him just in case.

Oh yeah, shouldn't drink right now.

"Water's fine." Phoenix said, looking at the dishes of food in awe as Miles proceeded to pour cold water from a jug into another glass. "What's this? It looks great!" A grin lit up his face in appreciation, to which Miles stared. He looked slightly embarrassed.

"Nothing special," he said in reply to Phoenix's amazement, "Just some comfort dishes."

"Nothing special"? This makes The Gatewater Hotel's food look like take-out!

The lid was lifted off a soup pot between them, and Miles rose from his chair again slightly to ladle out steaming servings of a hearty-looking dish into some decorative bowls. He then moved on to distributing what appeared to be crumbed slices of some sort of meat, followed by some buttered mashed potatoes seasoned with thyme and garlic. Then came the salad, a tossed mixture of shredded carrot, rocket, black olives and tomato. The last side dish was a gratuitous spoonful of sautéed white beans and roasted parsnips.

"Wow, you made so much." Phoenix stated in awe, looking down at his helpings. "I can't wait to try it!" He shot a glance at his cutlery, relieved to see that Miles had set down a basic set, as opposed to the twenty or so different varieties of spoons and forks he had expected of the man.

"It's all easy to make." Miles spread his own napkin over his lap. He held up his wine glass, "To a speedy recovery, Phoenix." He began to toast, with a small smile.

Phoenix blushed and held up his glass of water, wishing he had something nicer to toast with. "To my speedy recovery."

They both drank, and started eating. Phoenix felt a little awkward using his right hand to eat with but managed nonetheless. To his delight, the first spoonful was absolutely delicious. The warm soup pooled over his tongue and robust flavours erupted over his tastebuds in what felt like a culinary firework display.

This guy needs to stop being good at everything! It's delicious!

After swallowing a mouthful of food, Miles gave a rundown of the dishes, looking quite touched that his companion seemed to enjoy it so much.

"Again, I'm glad you like it, but it was nothing. All I've made are just dishes I enjoyed growing up." He motioned to each dish in turn as he labelled them, "This is a traditional German lentil and vegetable soup, called... well, Linsensuppe. I've added a few extra ingredients to suit my tastes over the years."

The German word rolled off his tongue fluently, and Phoenix felt himself become mesmerised by such a foreign accent coming from Miles, who continued without noticing the other's reaction.

"This is a herbed mashed potato recipe I came up with a few years ago, based on a version I loved as a child. This..." He indicated towards the crumbed meat, "Is obviously schnitzel. I took inspiration from a veal schnitzel dish I had at a restaurant during a trip to Austria one time with Franziska, and just added more herbs and spices to the outer crumb. And of course, nothing special about the salad or beans and parsnips... Those are just extra things I put together at the last minute."

Phoenix spooned some potato into his mouth and listened interestedly, revelling in the deliciousness of it all. Swallowing, he managed another compliment. "You say it's not much, but I can't believe you made all of this so quickly!"

And most of it seems to have a story of its own, just to make it even more fancy. Even though I have some cooking skills, I would probably still burn my kitchen down if I attempted all this.

"Yes, well." Miles paused to take a sip of wine, "I'm good at multitasking." He said this in an almost sultry voice, at least that's what it sounded like after the wine had warmed his palate. He continued to eat quietly, delicately cutting up pieces of schnitzel for himself.

Phoenix blushed again at this statement, almost dropping his spoon.

What is wrong with me? He made me dinner, not ask me if I wanted a lap dance!

"By the way," Miles motioned for Phoenix's plate, "let me cut that for you." Without a moment's hesitation, he reached across to grab the plate, and sliced the meat into slivers for Phoenix's benefit. Returning the plate, he continued his meal as if nothing happened.

"Th-thanks." Phoenix switched to a fork and dug into the schnitzel, letting out an audible "Mmm!"

He's being very nice to me... Well, I knew he wasn't a complete ass, but still.

The silver-haired lawyer looked up, locking eyes with Phoenix properly. His mouth curved up into a small, kind smile, throwing the other party off.

"You're welcome, Phoenix."

Why can't you smile like that more often? It's... beautiful.

"Phoenix..." Miles continued to stare, a strange sentimentality swimming over his light irises.

"Yeah?"

"Before I left for London a couple of weeks ago, you told me something of interest." Miles placed down his cutlery, and took another slow sip of wine.

"I did?" Phoenix asked in genuine surprise, through a half-chewed mouthful of salad.

Choosing to ignore the unsightly manners, Miles swirled the wine in his glass thoughtfully. He looked to the side. "Yes. You mentioned your plans to break up with Miss Fey."

"Uhhh..."

Why is he bringing this up?

"I assume that has already happened." Miles deduced, already seeming to know the answer but wanting some sort of confirmation.

"Well, yeah. I broke up with her not too long ago, in fact. Turns out she was about to break up with me too. We both agreed we don't suit that kind of relationship, after all. Why?"

There was a slight reluctance to continue on Miles' end, and he looked at Phoenix for a few moments before turning away again. "I... was wondering." His words seemed to carefully mull over in his mind before their projection, "About this new person you're falling for."

Phoenix went pale, but managed to remain composed. "What... what about them?"

Oh man this is awkward.

"Is she nice?"

She?

The dark-haired attorney almost breathed a sigh of relief. "I guess you could say they are nice." He answered quietly, not alluding to the specific gender of his love interest, who happened to be sitting right opposite him.

"I see. Well, I hope they treat you how you deserve to be treated. Like a human being and not something disposable." Another hint at Dahlia. Miles' voice sounded bittersweet. He continued his meal without further inquisition.

Phoenix noticed the change of tone, and felt his heart beat almost erratically. "Miles?"

Silence, but not of the angry kind.

He sounded... sad. Is he that worried I'll be hurt again? Because of her? Because of what I said earlier about it being better not to date anyone?

They continued their meal in silence for the most part, Phoenix too enthralled with the tasty dishes to do anything else apart from eat as much as he could. Miles occasionally looked up to watch him with a growing mix of fondness and sadness in his eyes, all bitterness from earlier that afternoon seemingly nonexistent now. For dessert, they had a small serving of store-bought date pudding each, too full to eat anything bigger.

Once dinner was over, Miles insisted Phoenix go freshen up as he tidied the table and cleared the dishes.

"Hold it! I can't let you clean all of this yourself!" Phoenix butt in, ignoring Miles' stern look as he collected the now empty dishes. He hoped the courtroom joke would lighten the mood a little. To his delight, Miles went along with it.

"Overruled. You're the guest - "

"But isn't the guest supposed to help tidy u - "

"- And not only that, I promised Miss Fey I would take care of you. Besides, I have a dishwasher. It's no problem. Meanwhile, you reek of hospital. Go." Miles wrinkled his nose, before explaining the guest bathroom's exact location in the house. Phoenix eventually gave up and made his way upstairs.

The guest bathroom was just as beautiful as the rest of the place, spotless and complete with a luxurious big bathtub, a spacious shower cubicle with a wide glass door, dark tiles and a marble sink top. A pristine white toilet that put the Wright and Co. Law Offices one to shame, stood brightly against the far wall. Fluffy, clean white towels hung from the towel rack; a full length one and a smaller one for drying hands.

Well, now I can definitely tell he doesn't have guests over, apart from Franziska...

Phoenix observed his tired, bruised and scratched reflection in the mirror, feeling pathetic.

All I've amounted to is... This. I can't even make enough money to buy just one of these rooms.

Sighing, he made to take off his sweater and shirt with great difficulty (although still a little easier than actually putting them on) before looping his belt off and realising he would need help with the dreaded suit pants. Not wanting to call Miles up, he continued to struggle, hoisting the material up with one hand and moving it in awkward side-to-side motions around his sore hips in some strange, uncoordinated dance. Eventually, after many annoyed grunts, he managed to unbutton and unzip the garment, before kicking it off angrily, along with his socks.

God! I'm so done.

The battle with the clothing had made the defense attorney quite annoyed, so the pleasantly warm water felt welcoming against his battered skin, almost like a soothing cocoon.

"Ahhh..." He sighed, letting steam envelop him and the uncomfortable hospital scent wash off his skin.

Move over, cramped apartment shower box from the 1970's, this is where it's at.

There were several small bottles on the shower caddy in front of him, and after much careful selection, Phoenix chose the ones with the friendliest-looking labels (a bottle of eucalyptus and mint body wash and some ginseng and jojoba shampoo and conditioner). He slathered the first two products on and scrubbed with caution, cleaning his body and shampooing his limp spikes as well as he could with his uninjured hand.

More than fifteen minutes passed and Phoenix had not yet rinsed the conditioner out of his hair. As a young child, Phoenix had always been told off for taking long baths, and tonight was definitely no exception, except he was not in a bath playing "sink the submarine" with his bath toys, he was in a shower, deep in thought about his emotional situation.

"I see. Well, I hope they treat you how you deserve to be treated. Like a human being and not something disposable."

He really wants the best for me, even if he isn't good at showing it.

Phoenix finally turned around where he stood and let the shower droplets melt away the conditioner, inhaling deeply as the swirling mixture of steam and peppermint essential oil flooded his nares.

I need to tell him the truth, that there isn't a "she". That I'm in love with him. But what if he is actually straight and I've been deluded this whole time? What then?

He let out a little laugh.

Miles? Straight?

His short nails worked their way over his scalp one more time to break up any excess suds that happened to be left over from the clumsy shampoo job earlier.

Surely not. There's no way. If he is, then he's one heck of an illusion artist and deserves an award. Not that he doesn't have enough awards already.

"How can you simply discern my sexuality from how I look?"

Phoenix stood still under the shower jet, head bowed down. The droplets pulled towards his eyes, flooding them with warm water and creating a nebulous screen over his vision.

What if I've been wrong this whole time?

He felt a deep ache within his heart, and questioned if he was actually just chasing a wild dream. A wild dream that had been in the making for eighteen years or so. A dream which stemmed from deep-seated admiration to slowly falling in love, to tip-toeing closer and closer, goal within reach... A dream that was so close to being taken away again if he was wrong about this entire assumption.

He didn't know if it was worth the risk.

... Risk?

Suddenly, he smiled, the upturned corners of his mouth disobeying the painfully burning indecisiveness in his heart.

As if projecting an opposing emotion on the outside flicked a switch on in his head, he began to feel strangely defiant. His hand reached up to turn off the shower and he stepped out to grab a towel.

The dulled blue eyes from moments ago almost appeared to take on the same glint as sapphires being hit by sunlight as he looked at his reflection again. The injuries on his face and body were now just reminders of this opportunity he had been given to seize.

Why would I give up now, despite the odds?

He ran his hand through his wet hair, not breaking eye contact with his mirrored image as billows of fresh shower steam dissolved into the air around him. So much of it, almost looking like smoke from the flames that gave birth to the mythical bird of his namesake.

Phoenix Wright doesn't back down. No matter what.