trace (vestiges)
"Edgeworth, where-"
He says no words in response, grip wrapped immovably around Phoenix's wrist. With a strength of will he did not know he possessed, Miles bites his tongue and rips through the courthouse, ignoring Maya as the girl runs in from the stands with Pearl to congratulate Phoenix on the win; distantly, he can hear Pearl asking where he is taking Phoenix, but Maya's delighted cackling tells him that she will ensure no curious little girls shall follow after them. For that, he is grateful; he doubts he would be able to maintain a calm demeanor when facing the two girls right now.
How could he ever be calm again with his blood boiling like this, anger tinging his world the same colour as his suit, the want in his body flooding his veins so fully he can scarcely breathe?
Finally, they arrive. He does not see Phoenix's reaction before he comes to an abrupt halt, pulling the victorious attorney into a familiar storage closet in the corner of the courthouse and following after, closing the door behind them. His fingers do not reach in desperation towards the closet light, for all he needs to know is that the west wall is shelf-free and that he and Phoenix are finally alone.
As he forces Phoenix against the wall and finally pulls those lips he's been fixated on the entire trial against his own, he realizes faintly that this place does not fill him with fear. Last time, he had been so overwhelmed by everything that he had nearly broken down, the memories of his father's passing turning this small closet into a broken elevator the moment he had closed his eyes. Now, all that matters is that his hands are far more practices than before in undoing that red tie, in pulling dark hair, in sharing oxygen with lungs that have been exhausted by proving that Miles is still not a good enough prosecutor, even with all his growth.
After all, Phoenix had been victorious that day. Miles' loss had been caused by a series of errors- missing a small piece of evidence, missing an associated testimony, missing his opportunity to end the trial after this one day because he had simply been distracted by Phoenix winking at him in the courtroom so slyly when his defenses had been vulnerable. Although the trial is simply postponed, and although Miles should be happy that Phoenix is so on-board with finding the truth rather than finding his client innocent, he cannot help but seethe at his own inadequacy, his own foolishness.
The only thing he had been able to imagine for the latter half of that day's trial had been what Phoenix would feel like in his arms again- what the man's tanned skin would look like, exposed, contrasting against the familiar wooden attorney's bench. The fact that he cannot control his desires all due to a little wink-
But he cannot confess this. So, he silences Phoenix's questions, quickly feeling the other man relenting, feeling those long, straight lashes brushing against Miles' cheeks as the attorney reciprocates with just as much wanton fervour. Fingers intertwine with his hair, heat pressing through strained slacks and sensitive skin trapped by their thin veneer of professionalism getting discarded more by the heartbeat. Once upon a time, Miles would have considered the very idea of this- of pressing someone up against a wall in the courthouse's second-floor cleaning supplies closet- as absolutely abhorrent, but in the face of Phoenix's desire and Miles' own frustration and irritation and, admittedly, pride at Phoenix's ability, Miles cannot deny his feelings.
Eventually, they pull apart once sweat has caused hair to cling to their foreheads, cravat undone and hanging by a single loop onto his opened collar, Phoenix's tie completely ruined and rumpled, blazers hanging askew and fingertips searing trails across formerly-hidden skin. Miles pants and gasps and sighs, pressing his forehead against Phoenix's shoulder; Phoenix does the same, taking a minute to slowly ground himself back into reality as they regain some semblance of awareness.
Clumsily, Phoenix chuckles, desire turning his voice low and husky and hoarse. "I have no idea what brought that on, but I'm not upset."
"Stop talking, Wright."
Phoenix pauses for a moment. "You… are you angry?"
"Yes," Miles mutters into Phoenix's neck. "At myself."
"It isn't your fault you missed that clue."
"I cannot believe you found it in the midst of that filthy-"
"So the guy had a lot of trash in his office, that's okay! What matters is we've got another chance to find out what happened tomorrow."
Groaning, Miles pulls away. In the dim light seeping in from underneath the door, he can barely see Phoenix's face; still, he can feel how Phoenix's eyes sparkle as he looks at Miles, the smile on his lips evident even in shadow as his delight drips into his voice as he speaks. "…we should get to investigating, shouldn't we?"
Sighing, Phoenix nods, pressing his forehead against Miles'. "Yeah. I've got an idea on how to get your witness' little sister to talk, so I'm going to go grab Maya. She's always good to lower peoples' guard."
"And I believe I have an idea on which records to retrieve about our suspect," Miles relents glumly, pulling away to sort out his mussed appearance.
Chuckling, Phoenix murmurs, "We'll continue at home?"
Miles wants to bite a snarky response at him. However, he pauses, words dying as he registers just what Phoenix has unwittingly stated with such eager delight in his tone; he does not know whether Phoenix means the Wright & Co. Law Offices, or whether he means Miles' home, but either way…
'Home' is with Miles.
Shivering, Miles finishes adjusting himself, then reaches out. Without a word, he helps Phoenix retie his tie, doing up the knot with movements that have long-since become practiced. Then, he leans in, kissing bruised, swollen lips lightly before pulling out his phone. "I suppose so," he muses, flushing despite himself as he realizes just how brazen the last few months with Phoenix has made him. "Now, I have a call to make."
When Detective Gumshoe bursts through the door, lamenting on the state of automatically-locking closets and worrying about Miles' well-being, Miles is proud of himself. He manages to look the terrified, confused detective in the eye and say firmly, "Yes, Wright, would you like to explain how we got here?" Phoenix chokes at the unspoken challenge, spluttering and fumbling as Miles collects himself, steps out, and nods cordially towards the two, seemingly as unaffected as ever. Miles continues, "I've got records to look for. Detective, come with me."
Baffled, Detective Gumshoe salutes and trots after him. Over his shoulder, Miles catches a glimpse of Phoenix's absolutely accosted expression; that sight fills him with a modicum of the satisfaction he had been searching for amidst this aggressive rendezvous. And that's what you get for flirting in court, you idiot.