Edgeworth eyed the pizza in its box, wary.

"C'mon, big guy, you've taken down murderers before. You can do this."

Little pools of grease ran menacingly atop the melted cheese like varicose veins, glistening in the yellow overhead light. His fingertips twitched, unsure of where to begin as he searched for the piece that was at least most of the way cut through. Twice he lifted his hands to approach it, and twice he lowered clenched fists at his sides. How embarrassing.

"Here, I'll show you."

Stubborn pride burned white hot in his chest at the teasing tone. It was only a pizza, for God's sakes, but he never expected it to be so…sloppy. Images of the grease staining his shirt or the toppings sliding off or sauce flying everywhere peppered his thoughts while Phoenix reached across the counter and selected a pizza cutter from the various utensils shoved into an old plastic pitcher under the microwave. His hands made quick work of the pie, going over the haphazard cuts in the dough until the individual pieces could be neatly slid from their confines. Edgeworth was surprised to see how long the pieces were as two of them were placed onto a plate and handed to him.

"Go have a seat on the couch; I'll be right over. I'm just going to grab myself a few slices and some napkins." The prosecutor watched idly as the attorney piled a few pieces onto his own plate and ripped several paper towels from the dispenser. His feet seemed to be rooted to the kitchen floor while Phoenix turned, paused, and then reached behind him to select a tall glass from the cupboard. As blue eyes lit upon gray and Phoenix noticed that Edgeworth hadn't moved yet, he chuckled to himself and placed a hand at the prosecutor's lower back, urging him back toward the couch. Between the pizza, the sudden contact, and the foreignness of the entire situation, he found himself still noticing that his childhood friend did not grab any silverware.

Phoenix made a show of flopping back into the squishy cushions and throwing his crossed feet up on the table, haphazardly sliding his plate of pizza next to his feet. Edgeworth, on the other hand, eyed the man's graceless gesture with envious distaste as he delicately placed his own meal down next to the attorney's. Just as he was about to ask how, exactly, he was to begin eating this…mess, Phoenix turned to him, suddenly serious.

"Now, there's a whole proper way of doing this, you know. Normally people learn this stuff in college, but I'm willing to bet that you probably didn't go to a place like Ivy U."

"I went to Y—"

"Doesn't matter." Phoenix held up a finger. "Wherever that was, they let you down. You obviously missed out on some serious formative experiences. So, step one," he grinned boyishly, "is to let that pizza sit there for a minute, or you'll fry the roof of your mouth off. Nothing will taste good for days. It's a nightmare."

Edgeworth tongued the roof of his own mouth instinctively, wincing.

"Step two is to use that minute to scroll through the television channels complaining that you pay for hundreds of channels, but there's never anything to watch." The attorney swiped the remote off of the table and leaned back, close enough that the prosecutor could feel the body heat emanating from his side. Edgeworth watched out of his peripheral vision as the blue-eyed man scrolled aimlessly through the channels, uncaring as to what was selected. Suddenly, Phoenix turned to him, his face a mere inches from his own. "You…you do own a television, right?"

He snorted. "Yes, Wright, I own a television." He didn't exactly watch it all that often, but he did own one…

The whirlwind of activity had served as a decent distraction from his true purpose there that evening, but it was becoming increasingly difficult not to take advantage of the other man's proximity. He could agree that it was odd to be around his friend without some sort of mission or case to be concerned about, and certainly not in such an informal setting. He had been pleased to note, however, that Phoenix was the same warm, genuine person outside of the courtroom as he was when he was slamming his hands on the table across from the prosecutor, whipping up another ridiculous rabbit hole for them to explore. He wondered if it would be appreciated, or even appropriate, to put an arm around the other man. Once again, he found himself seriously regretting his lack of dating experience.

Patience, Miles. You had an entire year to yourself to figure this out… He's had less than 72 hours…Nothing needs to happen tonight. Not unless he says so.

Phoenix soon settled on an old classic that was only a few minutes in to the program. "Perfect," he murmured, then turned to the prosecutor with a grin. "You pick something terrible but still enjoyable, something easy to make fun of. This one is a classic for drinking games, but we'll get to that at a later time. Speaking of which," he finally set the glass on the table and reached for a beer, "I know it must be a stretch for you to use paper towels as napkins and eat without silverware, so I figured you'd at least appreciate not having to drink from a bottle. Gotta take it easy on you, you know."

Edgeworth smirked, despite the jab. "I'm hardly so delicate, Wright. It will take a great deal more work polishing you into something that doesn't make it seem like I've been paired with the Make A Wish Foundation to bring a young man's dream of eating coq au vin to life."

Phoenix gasped loudly in mock-offense as he handed Edgeworth his drink and then opened one for himself. "Challenge accepted, Edgeworth. May the best man win." He held his bottle of beer up for a toast and fixed the prosecutor with a devilish grin. "Need I remind you, though, I do my best work under pressure."

Edgeworth returned the gesture, the gentle clink of glass on glass nearly swallowed by the sounds emanating from the television. "How could I forget? Phoenix Wright: Master of the Cold Sweat…"

The defense attorney choked on the sip he was taking and glared mildly, though there was no feeling behind it. "Alright, big shot, grab your plate." Phoenix pulled his own meal into his lap and grabbed his first piece, folding it in half lengthwise. "You gotta fold it like this, or all your cheese will fall off."

As Edgeworth grabbed his pizza and folded it in kind, he was impressed by its sudden physical integrity. Figuring it was now or never, he lifted the piece to his mouth and took a bite. His eyebrows rose for a moment while he chewed, swallowed, took a second bite, chewed, and then placed his pizza back down on the plate. "It's…quite good," he remarked, "I'm surprised."

Phoenix beamed at him. "See? There's a hundred different possibilities for toppings, too, at least from this place. I'm glad you like it. There's plenty more."

The two sat and ate in comfortable silence for a small while, both watching in abject disinterest as the movie scurried along through its plot. It was an older slasher film that was rife with stereotypes and clichés, but still exciting enough to hold interest. The coffee table was soon littered with greasy paper towels, empty beer bottles, and pizza crusts that Edgeworth requested to take home for his dog. As soon as Phoenix got over the fact that Edgeworth even had a dog, he turned to him in preparation of interrogating the man about his pet, but was stopped cold.

"What?"

"You have a, uh," Phoenix faltered for a moment, and Edgeworth was curious to find a deep blush spreading across the bridge of the other man's nose, "just here, it's…" The attorney reached out and gently smoothed his thumb just below the prosecutor's bottom lip. The touch left fire in its wake, and Edgeworth wasn't quite sure if it was the alcohol, the proximity, or simply the comfortable atmosphere, but he was tired of being patient and playing it safe. Unable to stop himself, he turned his head just slightly and caught Phoenix's thumb in a chaste kiss, catching the taste of a small amount of pizza sauce that had just been wiped up.

"Is this what typically follows dinner and a movie, Wright?" He lifted a hand to hold the attorney's close to his mouth, disallowing him to pull away.

"Sure, if you played your cards right." It was the old familiar feeling that Phoenix had found himself strangely accustomed to as of late: Edgeworth on the chase, with Phoenix scrambling to keep up. This time, however, Phoenix marveled briefly at the insinuation that he was the one being chased, not the verdict. His hand shook lightly in the prosecutor's grasp as he fumbled for words, trying desperately to maintain his cool façade. Distantly, he was tempted to roll his eyes at himself. Some things never change.

They held each other's gaze for a moment longer before the spell broke and Phoenix turned, clearing his throat, to fuss over clearing the table. As he carried the various items back to the kitchen, Edgeworth sat back with a sigh, wondering what just went wrong and how to proceed. Was he doing this incorrectly? Should he have taken the other man out to a nice place, after all? He thought that they'd both been enjoying themselves up to that point, but now it was strange and he couldn't quite place why. A glance toward the kitchen revealed that Phoenix was deliberately taking his time cleaning things up, and it spurred Edgeworth to take a chance.

Rising from the couch, he padded quietly toward the man, wanting his approach to be as much of a surprise as possible. The only way he was going to crack this shell is if he maintained the upper hand and kept Phoenix guessing. He already had an "in", he supposed, now he simply had to unravel the yarn that had led him here. Grabbing the attorney by the waist, he turned his date and pinned him up against the kitchen counter. Instinctively, Phoenix reached up and braced himself against the prosecutor's forearms and found himself motionless under the predatory gaze of Miles Edgeworth.

"Phoenix," he kept his tone low, but gentle, and knew that the rare use of his rival's first name would push him further into turmoil, "what's really on your mind?"

"I—" blue eyes darted back and forth, searching for the words to string together, "this is all just so…weird," he began, and Edgeworth moved to let go in that moment, disappointed. Phoenix held tight on the man's arms, holding him in place, and continued at a frantic pace, insistent on explaining himself. "I mean, a few days ago, you were dead. I mourned for you for months, and yet now you're here in my kitchen and there's this…thing between us, and I don't… I don't really know what to do. People don't just get second chances like this, and I want to take it, but…" His gaze lowered to the floor, but his grip did not let up. "I guess I'm just…scared."

"Scared? Of me?"

Phoenix barked out a humorless laugh. "In almost every other conceivable situation, yes, of you, but not this time." He shook his head and only then did he soften the vice-like grip on the prosecutor's arms, opting instead to simply rest his hands on the burgundy cloth. It had a light, satin-like feel to it and shimmered slightly where the folds shifted back and forth. The attorney chose to focus on that while he continued, nervous. "I feel like every time things start going right they fall apart again, and I'm not just talking about the courtroom. I want this, but I'm scared of it, too. If I screw this up, I don't get you back a third time, you know? I still feel like I'm waiting to wake up from this alone to find you still gone and have to go through it all over again."

"Wright—"

"I know you said you would warn me next time you need to leave, and I really appreciate that," Phoenix was on a roll now, words tumbling out of his mouth like a stream, "but I can't even convince myself that you'll still feel this way tomorrow morning, much less through your next trip to Borginia."

"Germany—"

"And what's this going to look like at work, anyway? I mean, you're famous, and we usually square up against each other in high profile cases so by proxy, people even sort of know who I am now, so how is it going to look when word starts getting out that the prosecution and the defense are actually a thing? Is that even legal?"

"Yes—"

"I guess what I'm trying to say, is—"

Edgeworth leaned forward and kissed the other man, effectively silencing him. He didn't have the words to explain to the attorney how he felt or what his intentions were; not yet, anyway. But he could try to show him. It had worked the last time, and he had been in much more seemingly unsalvageable situations. As he drew across the other man's bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, he could feel the barest amount of tension begin to ease out of the brunette's body. When their lips parted, he took a breath to finally have his say, but Phoenix interrupted him yet again.

"Stay with me."

Edgeworth looked up, confused. "I intend to."

"Tonight, I mean. I want you to stay with me." Phoenix turned a darker shade of pink and turned his gaze to the floor. "I know it's kind of sudden, but…"

The prosecutor leveled his gaze and fought to keep his face neutral, despite the fact that his heart had kicked into overdrive at the suggestion. Still, he wanted to tread lightly. He wanted to be absolutely sure that he wasn't misinterpreting any signals put out by his partner. The prosecutor shifted his hands slightly, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops on his rival's jeans. As he pulled the man against his body, he tilted his head and caught the man's earlobe between his teeth, dizzy with the sudden rush of finally, after all those months of turmoil, having the attorney all to himself. "Are you certain?" He kept his tone as gentle as he could, hoping that Phoenix wouldn't feel pressured into accepting him no matter how badly he wanted it.

The brunette's breath hitched in his throat at the contact and he slid his hands up the prosecutor's arms to clutch gently at his biceps. The proximity of the other man's body was as intimidating as it was comforting, but Edgeworth's actions were certainly assuaging the fears that had unexpectedly surfaced after he'd subjected the other man to greasy pizza and awkward conversation. Miles still wanted him even after he'd gone home and thought about it and worked and come back and saw the real version of Phoenix's world, of what he was truly inviting into his lavish, cultured life… He squeezed gently at the muscles under his palms and ducked his head, smoothing his forehead against the bared neck in front of him. "I don't know what you really want out of all of this, out of me," he murmured, comforted by the scent of the same expensive cologne that Edgeworth had worn the first time they'd encountered each other this way, "but I want to try, anyway." He paused as he felt a gentle, seeking kiss press against his throat, encouraging him.

Edgeworth's senses were alight with the smell of Phoenix and he was briefly overwhelmed with memories of their first awkward kiss on the beachside bench, memory as vivid as if it had just happened moments ago. "I don't have the way with words that you do," he whispered, "but I'll stay with you. I'll show you that I mean this, that I'm a different man, now. Whatever it takes."

Phoenix let out a shuddering breath and their lips clashed once more, rough and anxious and seeking. It was as if all of the tension of the last year and particularly the last week was suddenly shattered like glass and they clutched at each other, desperate to get closer, to communicate the rest of what neither were able to say out loud. As Edgeworth broke from their kiss and instead pressed his mouth against the attorney's throat, Phoenix reached up with clumsy hands, frantic to undo the shirt that held the prosecutor captive. His thoughts flitted briefly to his fantasy from the previous night and he was eager to discover how accurate it was. His fingers shaking, he managed to pop each button from its confines, occasionally distracted as the other man's searing mouth spread delicious heat under his jawline.

Finally he reached the last button and threw the shirt open, breathless as he took in the sight of Edgeworth's bare chest and abdomen. It was just as he had envisioned it the previous night, pale and hairless, toned, warm, forbidden. His hands pressed themselves flat against the prosecutor's pectorals, drinking in the rapid heartbeat that fluttered beneath the lightly muscled chest. Never picked him as one to do pushups in his office… Damn, Edgeworth. He pushed further at the fabric to reveal broad shoulders and ultimately slid the shirt down along the man's arms, catching it before it fell to the floor. Desperate to continue but not wanting to disrespect the prosecutor's undoubtedly expensive garments, he tore his eyes away from his rival for a split second to hang the shirt haphazardly on a cabinet knob.

Edgeworth was a sight to behold. If he were honest with himself, the image of the man standing shirtless and flushed before him filled him with as much irritation as it did desire—it figured, he mused, that a man who strived for perfection in all aspects would have won the genetic lottery, to boot. He had been half hoping to get the shirt off to reveal something like a disfiguring scar, a birth mark, a tattoo… anything to crack the polished appearance of the prodigy before him. Deciding to file that under "a tomorrow problem," Phoenix went back to work, digging his fingers into the musculature along the other man's back.

Edgeworth, on the other hand, was acting as a man possessed. Having pinned the attorney against the counter, the man had no choice but to largely surrender to his ministrations and he took his sweet time, memorizing every inch of the tanned flesh before him as he moved along. He savored every gasp, every throaty attempt to cry out as he worked his way up one side of his rival's neck, along his jaw, and down the other. This wasn't quite like his other partners, he reflected, as he absentmindedly stroked his thumbs ever closer to the attorney's groin while he worked. They had been all about getting rid of distractions as quickly and efficiently as possible... This time, he would focus on being thorough, on discovering what drove the other man wild, on having fun with it and making up for lost time. The thought caused him to pause for a split second.

He was having fun, for the first time in a very long time.

He could feel his shirt being undone and subsequently removed and he fought a blush, never having grown accustomed to being so vulnerable in front of another. His body shivered lightly as he could feel Phoenix's gaze raking over his bare chest and he wondered briefly if the man was pleased with what he saw. He'd always seen himself as remaining on the scrawnier side of things, had never developed into a particularly masculine man… he scoffed. More of von Karma's lecturing, coming back to haunt him now, of all times. Judging by the way the attorney kneaded into his lower back, it certainly didn't seem to bother him any…

He pulled back on Phoenix's hips, then, and noted with no small amount of pleasure that the other man was equally as taken with desire as he was, judging by the clash of hardened heat between them. He clawed at the collared shirt holding his partner hostage, undoing only enough buttons so that he was able to pull both shirts up and over the brunette's head. Their tongues met at the same time as their chests and he swayed, intoxicated with the feeling of being so swept up in another. The bit of roughness at his chest and belly told him that Phoenix was dappled with just a bit of hair and he clutched at him, desperate to map out every inch of the man's body before he was through.

They stumbled their way across the kitchen, never stopping to look behind them or to turn out the lights, eventually coming to a halt in the hallway as Edgeworth again pinned Phoenix against the wall, determined to taste the man's collarbones and unwilling to wait. In turn, the attorney sunk his fingers into the prosecutor's hair, delighting in how soft it was and how easily he could grasp at it to pull him back up into another endless kiss. They tumbled along the hallway, each fighting for dominance over the other. Where Edgeworth lacked Phoenix's size, Phoenix lacked Edgeworth's grace, but somehow they seemed to balance out until one of their backs slammed into the bedroom door, blasting it open in a flurry of passion.

It was Phoenix who hit the bed first, thrown down by his rival and bouncing lightly upon contact. He allowed his arms to splay out at his sides as he gazed up into a pair of stormy gray eyes. Both men took the opportunity to catch their breath for a moment and Edgeworth stared down upon his bounty, awe-struck. Of the thousands of scenarios that had run through his mind over the years, never did he imagine that the fates would allow for any of them to come true, and yet here they were against all odds. It was real. He reached down and gently ran his fingertips along his rival's heaving chest, marveling at the perfectly imperfect beauty marks that punctuated the glistening flesh. "You have no idea how long I've thought about this."

Phoenix's expression softened and he cocked his head, curious. "Really? About me?"

Edgeworth allowed his touch to continue further at a devastatingly slow pace, silently triumphant when the body beneath him arched into it, desperate for more. He paused to trace a circle around the man's navel, disturbing the dark strands that mottled the skin there, beckoning him further down... "I tried to tell myself that I was being foolish, that it would never happen… That we were too different, you and I."

A fresh sheen of sweat broke out across Phoenix's chest as Edgeworth worked his way lower, beginning to toy with the button on his jeans. He wasn't afraid, necessarily, but he was definitely out of his territory… Still, he could feel himself straining within the confines of his remaining clothing and he couldn't help but thrust toward the other man's touch, craving release. "Guess that would make two of us… And yet, here we are."

A velvety chuckle peppered the air as Edgeworth deftly popped the button open and let his hand hover above it, knowing that he was being a tease. "I hadn't quite expected things to turn out this way, exactly," instead of opting for the zipper, he reached up and slid his fingers into the hem, grabbing a fistful of both boxers and jeans. He made it a point to hold the other man's hips steady as he leaned down over top of him, fixing him in place with a stare that had made lesser men cry in the courtroom. As expected, Phoenix returned it in all its intensity, and the unspoken challenge lit a fire in his loins. "But then again, things never do go quite as planned when you're involved, do they?"

Edgeworth's fingers were so close, so close, and yet so far away from where Phoenix desperately needed them. Deciding to default to his usual plan of attack—act first, think later—he reached down and grabbed a handful of the prosecutor's throbbing manhood through his slacks, one-upping the other man's grip and delighting in the hiss of shock and pleasure that escaped the man's teeth. Leaning up onto his free arm, he brushed his lips against the hollow behind the man's jawline and whispered, "Perfect is boring, Mr. Edgeworth. It's about time we shake things up a bit, wouldn't you agree?" He punctuated his comment by squeezing ever so lightly, hoping—knowing—that it would drive the man wild. It thrilled him to be able to witness such a loss of control from the stoic prosecutor, but he wasn't about to surrender to the other man without a fight.

Edgeworth growled low in his throat at the contact, surprised by his partner's candor. Pretty confident for a man who's never done this before... Time to knock him back down a peg or two. "Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Wright," he returned the other man's taunt as quietly and dangerously as the challenge had been issued, "you just might get it."

With that, the zzzzip of Phoenix's jeans being undone could be heard over the silence. The gauntlet had been thrown.