To Have And To Hold
forkflinger

Summary:
Edgeworth tried not to get involved in others' personal affairs. But if he let Gumshoe go to his ex's wedding alone, the man would be miserable and useless. And he was hardly going to get someone get away with humiliating his detective.

He could play pretend for one night. And that's all it was, of course. Pretend.


Some people were open books; Gumshoe was a billboard. You hardly needed to be as insightful as Edgeworth to tell when something was bothering the man, the way he moped around. The absence of his usual cheery smile and goofy laugh was as obvious as a neon sign hung around his neck.

Generally, Edgeworth was of the opinion that other people's personal problems were no business of his. He knew absolutely everything he needed to about how the detective spent his leisure time, which was to say, nothing. His work was complicated enough to keep him well occupied, and he preferred everything else to be simple. Which meant not embroiling himself in whatever petty drama a man like Gumshoe managed to stir up.

Unfortunately it didn't seem as if he had much of a choice. Gumshoe had been positively morose for the better part of a week, going about his duties with an aura of gloom. He was currently in Edgeworth's office organizing a set of old case files and issuing intermittent deep sighs. Edgeworth, seated at his desk, tried to focus on the paperwork before him but the sounds had escalated from irritating to infuriating. Finally, after what seemed like the millionth sigh, Edgeworth set down his pen and said, "Is something the matter, Detective?"

Gumshoe turned towards Edgeworth, looking surprised. "W-why - n-nothing, sir!"

Edgeworth leveled his gaze. He didn't have to say anything else. All he had to do was wait.

"It's - it's not important," said Gumshoe, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just a personal thing."

Edgeworth waited.

"It's just - " Gumshoe sighed again and set down the binder in his hands. "I got invited to somethin' this weekend and I haven't found anybody to go with."

"That's all?" Edgeworth raised an eyebrow. "Hardly seems worth all this sighing."

"It's, uh." Gumshoe looked away and mumbled something.

"I can't hear you," said Edgeworth.

Gumshoe didn't look up. A little more clearly, he repeated, "It's my ex's wedding."

That gave Edgeworth pause. He wasn't exactly an expert in exes, or weddings, but he certainly knew enough to understand that such an invitation was, at least, crass. One did not invite one's ex-lover to the wedding without a good reason. Perhaps the ex still harbored feelings and planned to cause a scene; perhaps they simply wanted to rub it in how happy they were. None of those potential reasons boded well for poor Gumshoe. "Still hung up on this ex, are you?" asked Edgeworth.

"Nah, sir, it was a long time ago." Gumshoe shook his head. "I didn't want to go alone, though."

Edgeworth frowned. "Why even accept the invitation?"

Gumshoe chuckled. "Ah, well, you know how it is, sir."

He didn't. He usually found Gumshoe easy to understand, but sometimes the man made baffling choices. "Enlighten me."

"Oh, uh." Gumshoe glanced around the room as if the answer was hidden somewhere in the carpet. "I mean, if I didn't go, that'd be rude, right? And I didn't want to look like I was hiding or something." He'd started sliding into that puppy-dog look of his, gazing up at Edgeworth past furrowed brows. "I thought I could show 'em I was doin' all right." He sighed again, his shoulders slumping. "But I couldn't even find a date."

Edgeworth nodded. He supposed he could understand the impulse that would drive Gumshoe to agree to something as seemingly innocuous as a wedding. He could also understand how humiliating it would be to show up at the celebration of your ex's true love without a companion. But to fail to attend would be to admit defeat, that one who you had parted ways with had succeeded and you had been left behind. Edgeworth could sympathize, albeit not romantically.

He did have a thought, a way to spare Gumshoe some part of that humiliation. It was a foolish plan, to be sure, and likely completely inappropriate - but, he reasoned, if he didn't do something Gumshoe was likely to be useless for weeks.

"I could go with you," he said, lightly.

Gumshoe's head snapped up. "You, sir?" he asked, gaping.

"Why not? It would be better than going alone, and I don't have any other plans for this weekend." He paused for a calculated moment. "Unless you'd rather go alone."

"N-no, sir! I, uh, I - " Gumshoe shook his head like he was trying to knock an idea loose. "I mean, if you want, then I - "

"It's settled, then." Edgeworth turned his attention away from the stammering detective and back to the file open on his desk. "You can provide me with the details later."

"Y-yes, sir!" From the corner of his eye, he caught Gumshoe saluting, and a smile twitched at his mouth. The man was so easy to please. He could certainly spend an evening in his company for the sake of their working relationship.

The wedding was scheduled for Saturday afternoon, with a reception that would last into the evening hours. Edgeworth hadn't been to many weddings, but he'd attended his share of social events and could at least glean the general idea. He dressed himself in a magenta suit, custom tailored for his frame, accessorized with gold details and one of his simpler cravats. At first glance it wasn't very different from his daily wear, but someone with an eye for quality could note the fine details that elevated the outfit. He'd been leaning more towards elegance instead of opulence, lately.

Detective Gumshoe was scheduled to pick him up at one, and his rattling junkheap pulled up only a few minutes late. The man who stepped out was dressed a good deal better than Edgeworth would have ever thought Gumshoe could be. His suit wasn't tailored or a designer brand but it was clean, relatively new, and fit well enough. His hair was slicked back, and he'd shaved off his ever-present layer of stubble to reveal his square jawline. All in all he cleaned up nice, and Edgeworth nodded in approval as he stepped out of the door.

"Hiya, Mr. Edgeworth!" said Gumshoe, standing at attention and saluting.

Edgeworth straightened his cuffs as he walked down the drive. "I think you'd better call me Miles," he said. "Wouldn't it look strange to be referring to me as 'Mr. Edgeworth'?"

Gumshoe's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "I, uh, I guess I can try that. Uh." He cleared his throat. "M-Miles."

It would probably be a struggle for Gumshoe to call him by his given name. But he was hardly any different - even now, he was thinking of Gumshoe, not Dick. "Dick," he said out loud, giving it a try. It did feel strange, and not just because it was a ridiculous name (what was wrong with 'Richard'?). But he could hardly spend the whole evening addressing Gumshoe by his last name. He was supposed to be a companion, not a boss. He could make it work for one night.

As he approached Gumshoe, he fished his car keys out of his pocket. "We'll take mine," he said, handing them off. "We can't have you showing up in that wreck."

"Aw, it's not a bad car," said Gumshoe, but he closed his fist around the keys and followed Edgeworth to the side of his sleek silver sport car anyway. Edgeworth slid into the passenger seat without discussion. It was a mutual habit they'd developed; Gumshoe always drove, even in Edgeworth's car. During work it left Edgeworth's attention free to look through case files or answer emails on his phone. Gumshoe wouldn't wreck the car, and liked to talk while driving, and fortunately didn't seem to care all that much about getting any responses.

The venue was set in a vineyard just about an hour and a half outside the city, far enough to get a considerable distance from the lights and noise. A dirt road wound up a steep hillside to reach an unpaved parking lot, already half filled. Edgeworth and Gumshoe followed signs adorned with ribbons to a spot overlooking the rolling hills beyond, with rows of chairs arranged facing an arch made of flowers.

"This would appear to be the place," said Edgeworth, looking around.

"Wow." Gumshoe was gazing out at the vista before them. "Say, this is a real nice place! Gosh."

Edgeworth quirked an eyebrow and followed Gumshoe's gaze. It was nice enough, he supposed. Certainly not the most beautiful setting he'd ever been in, but a pleasant change from the grime and clutter of the city. He almost laughed at the rapturous look on Gumshoe's face. You'd think the man had never been outside before.

They selected a pair of seats towards the back. Gumshoe fidgeted with the hem of his jacket and looked around like he was on guard. His face bore an uncharacteristic frown of concern that didn't suit him or the occasion. Edgeworth leaned over. "Relax."

Gumshoe nodded. "Sorry, sir," he said, lowering his head. "I'm just kinda nervous, you know?"

Edgeworth raised an eyebrow. "I know. Everyone who looks at you knows. Calm down, or at least sit still."

"Right. Okay." Gumshoe took a deep breath and his hands stilled in his lap. "I wish I could be as calm as you sometimes, sir."

"I'm not always calm," Edgeworth answered. "I've simply learned to control myself."

"Yeah, I guess you'd need to! In court and all that." Gumshoe was looking a bit happier. If he couldn't act cool then at least a little distraction worked to keep him from looking outwardly miserable.

Edgeworth wondered briefly if everyone could see through Gumshoe this easily or if he had an advantage due to their relationship. Regardless, it seemed like Gumshoe was unwilling or unable to act nonchalant. If one assumed ill intent - as Edgeworth was always prone to doing - that was probably exactly what this ex wanted to see. Edgeworth didn't feel inclined to give them that satisfaction at his detective's expense, so if Gumshoe couldn't handle it, well, that's what he was here for.

"It's certainly important," he said, endeavoring to keep up the chat. "It serves me well enough outside the courtroom too."

"There's less call for that sorta thing as a detective. Don't need to trick the bad guys, just gotta catch 'em!"

Edgeworth wasn't sure he agreed with that assessment, but it didn't seem like it'd be worth it to push the point. "It still might do you some good to learn a bit of acting."

"Hmm. Well, I guess that's what I've got you for, Mr. Edgeworth!" Gumshoe grinned widely and Edgeworth forgot what he was going to say next. Instead he shook his head with an exaggerated sigh of exasperation. It was so difficult to be genuinely upset or even irritated at Gumshoe. He was just always so eager; Edgeworth never knew how he could keep it up.

Only a few minutes after they took their seats, the music faded out and restarted with an orchestral piece piped through the speakers. Edgeworth turned towards the aisle as the procession started. First came some elderly women, presumably the couples' parents or relatives. A series of bridesmaids in bright pink dresses marched down the aisle, escorted by groomsmen in navy suits. Then another man in a similar suit, albeit with a more elaborate corsage on his lapel, who took his place in front of the officiant and gazed expectantly down the aisle.

At last the music changed again, slipping into the traditional bridal march. The audience rose from their seats as an precocious little girl in a white tulle dress scattered white rose petals across the floor, and in her wake finally arrived the bride.

She wore an elaborate white dress with extensive lace detailing that hugged her ample form and flowed out behind her. Her brown hair was tied up in a series of braids adorned with little sparkles of crystal and a veil that cascades down her back. Her face was round and pale, with rosy cheeks and brown eyes that glimmered in the light. Edgeworth watched her pass with silent judgement. He wasn't exactly an expert in what made a woman attractive, but if he'd had to make a blind guess at what kind of woman Gumshoe would have liked he apparently wouldn't have been far off the mark. Edgeworth started to doubt his assessment of the situation. She didn't look like the type to invite her ex to her wedding for a cruel purpose. Perhaps he had misjudged. If so, all the better.

He cast a sideways glance at Gumshoe, who was following her with his eyes. He didn't look upset or embarrassed; he seemed genuinely happy for them. Infinitely forgiving, apparently.

Once the bridge had reached her destination the officiant bid them all to sit. Another of Edgeworth's talents was the ability to feign polite interest while paying absolutely no attention to what was being said. He slipped into it now; there wouldn't likely be anything said he cared about. Just the traditional nonsense about love and trust or whatever. Nothing of value. But nothing was required of him at this point, so he let his mind wander to thinking about a case from the previous week. He'd won, of course, but the defense had put out some interesting arguments and they merited consideration for the future.

Something caught his attention. It took him a moment to realize that Gumshoe was sniffling. "Are you all right?"

"It's just so beautiful," Gumshoe answered, his eyes visibly watering.

Edgeworth pulled the silk handkerchief from his suit pocket and wordlessly handed it over. It was really supposed to just be decorative, but he couldn't exactly ignore the tears. Gumshoe accepted it with a whisper of thanks and dabbed at his eyes. It wasn't really a sentiment Edgeworth could identify with, but crying at weddings seemed common enough. Idly, almost unconsciously, he patted Gumshoe on the hand to comfort him.

Eventually, the couple at the front said their vows, to have and to hold and all that, and kissed. Edgeworth joined the rest of the audience in applauding. As the bridal party started filing back down the aisle, he turned to Gumshoe, who was blubbering pretty openly now. He wanted to tell him to pull himself together, but that seemed a bit harsh, so instead he just rested a hand on his shoulder.

"She was so beautiful," Gumshoe said at last, holding Edgeworth's handkerchief out. "Don't you think?"

"Yes," Edgeworth said, eyeing the sodden wad of fabric. "You can hold on to that for now. You might need it again."

Gumshoe shoved the handkerchief into his pocket. The audience had started to filter out now. There would be a cocktail hour before dinner, but first the couple had elected for a reception line to greet their guests. Edgeworth and Gumshoe joined the line. There was enough time for Gumshoe's face to clear up before they reached the couple.

"Dick!" said the bride, smiling brightly when she spotted him. "I'm so glad you made it!"

Gumshoe hugged the bride, wrapping her in his massive arms. "You look so beautiful, Patty!" he said. Then he turned to the groom and extended a hand. "Hey Chris, long time no see!"

"Dick." The groom took his hand between both of his in an enveloping handshake. "So good to see you." Edgeworth picked up on a strange edge to his smile. He glanced at Gumshoe, whose grin had fallen just a little, and where their hands met and lingered longer than necessary. And Edgeworth realized he'd made some very incorrect assumptions about Gumshoe's relationship with this couple - namely, which one was the ex.

He cast a suddenly much more critical eye over the groom. The man was solidly built, not quite as large as Gumshoe and perhaps a bit flabbier. His hair looked coarse and roughly cut, and his jawline was a bit too round. Worst of all, though, was the way he was looking at Gumshoe, his eyes bearing a combination of pity and smug superiority. This man had discarded Gumshoe, then invited him to his wedding, and he dared to look at Edgeworth's detective with such contempt?

Then he turned his gaze on Edgeworth, glancing up and down as if evaluating him. "And who's this?" he asked, the faintest tone of judgement in his voice. Edgeworth made a very quick decision regarding his role at this wedding.

He stood a bit straighter and swapped his look of polite interest for a well-practiced charming smile. "Miles Edgeworth," he said warmly, taking the groom's hand in a perfectly firm handshake. "It's such a pleasure to meet you. Dick has told me so much about you."

"Oh, has he?" answered the groom, glancing back at Gumshoe. A note of doubt had crept into his voice. Perfect. Edgeworth shifted his stance just slightly to stand barely closer to Gumshoe. "So you're…?"

Gumshoe opened his mouth to respond, but Edgeworth cut him off to answer, "Yes."

The bride grinned. "Oh, Dick, that's so great!" She threw her arms around Edgeworth for a quick hug, and he didn't even flinch. "See?" she said, withdrawing and addressing her new husband. "I told you he'd have someone."

"Hey, good for you," replied the groom, not sounding terribly pleased about it. "Glad to see you're doing well. Thanks for coming."

"So nice to meet you," said Edgeworth, gently taking Gumshoe's arm. "Congratulations again." He guided Gumshoe away.

Gumshoe, showing a level of tact Edgeworth wouldn't have expected, waited until they were well out of earshot to say, "Uh, what just happened?"

"I didn't appreciate the way he was treating you," Edgeworth answered.

"Yeah, but you said - I mean you made it sound like - "

"Yes," Edgeworth interrupted. "As far as this evening is concerned, I am your date."

"Oh." Gumshoe paused to consider this. "But, Mr. Edgeworth, isn't that - "

"You should call me Miles."

Gumshoe froze. Edgeworth waited, trying not to show a hint of irritation as he watched the gears grind. "M-Miles," Gumshoe finally said, stumbling over the word. "Isn't that - I mean you don't have to - um." He rubbed the back of his head. "Is this weird?"

"Just relax," Edgeworth answered. "I'm on your side here. We'll have a nice night and demonstrate to your dreadful ex that you're doing perfectly fine without him."

"But that's like lying! I'm not - I mean, I am fine, I'm just - I don't - just because I'm not dating anyone doesn't mean - "

Gumshoe was building to a shout, so Edgeworth motioned downward with his hand, bringing the tirade to an end. "Trust me, I know perfectly well that one doesn't need to be romantically involved to be happy. But I also know that the groom would be delighted to think of you as alone and miserable without him, and I don't feel inclined to give him the satisfaction." He looked sideways at Gumshoe. "Unless that's a problem?"

"No, I… it's fine," Gumshoe answered, his face slipping dangerously close to a puppy-dog pout. "I mean I don't want him to think I'm miserable. I'm not! I guess if you think it's a good idea, Mr. Edge - Miles."

Edgeworth nodded. "Now then, Dick," oh that did still feel weird, actually, "the cocktail hour is well under way, and I'm feeling inclined towards a glass of wine."

"Ah, yeah." Gumshoe sighed. "I think I could use a beer."

Edgeworth soon had his hands around a glass of mediocre Chardonnay. He took delicate sips, mostly to keep himself occupied while he and Gumshoe loitered at the edge of the crowd. Occasionally someone would come up to Gumshoe and shake his hand, exchange a few words. Edgeworth hung back and allowed people to assume what they would.

Eventually the call came for dinner, and the crowd moved in from the stone patio to a large central room, dotted with tables, with a dance floor set up at one end and expansive windows that allowed for gorgeous views of the landscape outside. Before they could find their seats, however, someone bellowed in their direction.

"Dick! Dick Gumshoe!"

Edgeworth flinched backwards just in time to get out of the path of a large man charging at Gumshoe. The stranger tackled Gumshoe into a hug, squeezing hard. Another man was two steps behind him and threw his arms around both of them; a third appeared and couldn't quite reach all the way around, so he settled for reaching through to pat Gumshoe's shoulder. Edgeworth took another step back.

Eventually the knot broke apart. Gumshoe was grinning broadly at the men clustered around him. "Oh my gosh, you guys!"

"I was hopin' you'd be here!" replied one of the men. "Haven't seen you in ages!"

"Ah, well, you know - " Gumshoe started to reply, but he was cut off by another of the men, who hooked an arm around his neck.

"You missed us, you know it!" he said, messing up Gumshoe's already failing hairstyle.

Once the original shock wore off, Edgeworth watched the group with some amazement. Gumshoe wasn't exactly a small man, and suddenly there were four of him. They seemed to share his exuberant spirit and lack of volume control. He waited at a careful distance while the group chattered.

Eventually one of the men noticed him. "And who's this?" he asked in a meaningful tone.

"Oh! Uh." Gumshoe cleared his throat, and Edgeworth took a sip of wine to help keep his face neutral. "This is, ah, Miles. Miles, this is Jimmy and Mike and Tom. Buddies from college."

"Pleasure to meet you," said Edgeworth, extending a hand. He had no idea which name belonged to the man who took it. The man had a firm grip, and cast an appraising eye over Edgeworth.

"Well, nice to meet you too!" he said, winking for some reason Edgeworth couldn't begin to grasp. "Looks like ol' Dick is doing all right after all, eh?" The man turned his attention back to Gumshoe, sparing Edgeworth from having to come up with a response. "Not bad, buddy!"

"Hah, yeah." Gumshoe wrapped an arm protectively around Edgeworth's shoulders, and Edgeworth found the gesture strangely comforting. "He's pretty great."

The man slapped Gumshoe on the back so hard it jostled Edgeworth. "You're at our table, obviously, and we'd rearrange some seating if you weren't! C'mon!"

He led him to one of the tables at the edge of the room. Two women were already seated, chatting amicably.

"This is my girlfriend Lucy," said that same man, gesturing towards one of the women. She wasn't exceptionally petite but next to a guy that big she looked practically frail. "Lucy, this is my buddy Dick and his boyfriend Miles."

Edgeworth withheld a wince at the juvenile term as the woman extended a hand. "So nice to finally meet you, Dick," she said, shaking the detective's hand. "Jimmy's told me so many stories."

"Ah, hopefully he didn't tell you all the stories," Gumshoe replied, and they both laughed.

"And I bet you've never met Karen," Jimmy continued, indicating the other woman, "Mike's wife." He put a meaningful emphasis on the last word that drew a loud guffaw from Gumshoe at some joke Edgeworth didn't get.

"When did that happen?" he asked, turning to one of the other men (presumably Mike, which would make that one Tom).

"The jerk went and eloped!" Jimmy said as Mike went to stand bashfully by his wife. "Can you believe? Outta the blue, I get a call that he ran off to Vegas!"

"Well, if Mike was gonna get hitched, that was gonna be how, right?" Tom chimed in, elbowing Gumshoe.

"Oh, yeah. Talk about stories. Er, or maybe not," Gumshoe added with a glance at Mike's wife.

Mike groaned. "C'mon, I've tricked her into thinking I'm a good guy. Don't blow it for me."

Edgeworth watched the men banter, jostling and loud. The two women had returned whatever conversation they'd been having, so he was left largely to his own devices, which suited him just fine. He suspected he wouldn't have much in common with this crowd in regards to small talk.

In the middle of someone else's sentence, Gumshoe caught his eye and gave a little wave. Edgeworth nodded in acknowledgment. It was actually nice to see Gumshoe this lively, especially in a situation where he wasn't screwing things up for Edgeworth, and he appreciated the little check-in.

A massive hand clapped him on the back, startling him and knocking him off balance. "Gonna grab another round before they start serving," said Jimmy. "What're you drinking?"

Edgeworth glanced down at his nearly empty glass. Yes, with company like this he could certainly do with another. "Chardonnay," he answered, although he didn't hold out too much hope for actually getting it. He'd be satisfied if the man could remember "wine." He nodded, though, and took a few more orders.

"Mike, Tom, come help me carry drinks," he said. "Be right back," he added, slapping Edgeworth again. Edgeworth rubbed his shoulder as the men walked away, leaving him with Gumshoe and the two women. They were still talking to each other, so he took a seat next to Gumshoe.

"Looks like I didn't need to come after all," he remarked.

"Huh? Oh! I guess you're right!" Gumshoe smiled. "Didn't know those guys would be here. I'm still glad you came, though. I-if that's okay," he added, doubt creeping into his eyes.

Edgeworth rolled his eyes. "If I didn't want to be here, Dick, I wouldn't be."

Gumshoe perked back up. "I guess you wouldn't! Never knew somebody who could make you do anything you didn't wanna."

That wasn't, strictly speaking, true - he had met Von Karma, and Franziska, both of whom had a pretty decent grasp of how to force Edgeworth to do something. But that wasn't a topic he felt like exploring at the moment, so he just nodded.

Moments later, a glass of white wine landed on the table in front of him. He picked it up and sniffed it delicately before taking a sip. Chardonnay. Would wonders never cease.

The men passed out the round of drinks before taking their seats arrayed around the table. There was one empty seat left, next to Tom. He wasn't the only one to notice.

"So where's Lizzie?" asked Jimmy, leaning across the table.

"Aw, she wasn't feeling too good," Tom answered. Edgeworth was more than capable of spotting a lie, but there didn't seem to be much point to pointing it out. Gumshoe certainly seemed fooled.

"Hang on, Lizzie?" he asked. "Not Lizzie Adams?"

"The same!" Tom replied, beaming with pride.

"Wow, you guys are still together? Gosh, that's gotta be, what, ten years now?"

Tom nodded. "Ten years next month. Oh, and she said to make sure I tell you hello from her."

"Aw, that's sweet. Too bad she wasn't able to come. Would've liked to have seen her!" Gumshoe leaned over to Edgeworth, finally deigning to fill him in. "Lizzie and Tom've been dating since college."

"But somehow, Mike got married first!" Jimmy roared with laughter, and Edgeworth ducked another slap on the back. Jimmy got Gumshoe instead, shaking him by the shoulder, and Gumshoe responded by punching him on the arm. Edgeworth briefly wondered if he could move to the empty seat.

Dinner was starting to be served, waiters making their way around the room, so Edgeworth just sat back with his wine and allowed the others at the table to reconnect. Eventually he was served a plate of dry salmon and asparagus and busied himself with avoiding as much conversation as he could. This was easy - Gumshoe's friends were much more interested in talking to Gumshoe. Eventually, though, someone was bound to decide it would be polite to reach out.

"So," asked Jimmy, addressing Edgeworth directly, "how'd you guys meet?"

"We work together," Edgeworth answered smoothly, ignoring Gumshoe choking on a mouthful of asparagus next to him.

Jimmy didn't notice. "Oh, are you a cop too?"

"A lawyer, actually."

"Oooh, fancy." Jimmy waggled his eyebrows. "How's a fancy lawyer end up with a schlub like Dick?"

"Aw, Jimmy," Gumshoe started, but Edgeworth cut him off.

"We spent a lot of time together, and I suppose I just found him charming."

"C'mon, be real. Was it the eyes?" He adopted a pouty caricature of Gumshoe's doe-eyed mope. "Those beautiful baby blues?"

Mike snorted. Edgeworth raised an eyebrow; he had no intention of admitting that Gumshoe could, in fact, be adorable. "His eyes aren't blue."

"Oh, alright." Jimmy leaned back in his chair. "So it was his ass, then."

Mike burst out laughing as Gumshoe stood and slapped his hands on the table, his face bright red. "H-hey, Jimmy - !" The rest of the table burst into giggles; even Edgeworth couldn't help but smirk. Gumshoe looked around and sank back into his chair, pouting.

"Ah, I'm just teasing ya," Jimmy said, slapping Gumshoe on the shoulder, a gesture that he seemed very fond of. "I'll buy you a beer later to make up for it."

"It's an open bar," Gumshoe mumbled.

"Ain't that convenient?"

Edgeworth cleared his throat. "So," he said, endeavouring to change the subject, "I'm afraid Dick hasn't told me much about you all. You met in college?"

As he'd predicted, this set off Jimmy, who started in on some story about a sport they'd played together. Once attention was off Gumshoe, Edgeworth quietly rested a hand on his elbow. It seemed like the kind of gesture a boyfriend would make, a gentle reassurance that he recognized Gumshoe's genuine discomfort and was on his side. The subtle redirection of the conversation, too, even if he wasn't sure Gumshoe would pick up on it. These were the kinds of things Edgeworth would do in this situation with someone he loved - or so he assumed. He didn't really have the experience to be sure. Gumshoe glanced down at the hand, then up at Edgeworth's face, his cheeks still a bit pink. He sat up a bit straighter, and Edgeworth pulled his hand away before leaning back.

The rest of dinner passed largely without incident, as the friends fell into a rhythm of banter and camaraderie, sharing stories of their lives since college. Gumshoe gave enthusiastic descriptions of some of their more unique cases, although he showed a tendency to exaggerate Edgeworth's role in investigations. Edgeworth tried not to interrupt, but he couldn't help but correct some of the more egregious details. The bulk of the conversation was on Gumshoe, though, and Edgeworth was glad to leave him to it. He'd never found it easy to keep a conversation going for more than a few minutes without a clear topic for discussion. Gumshoe was positively glowing at the opportunity to reconnect with old pals. It turned out that the energy that so often frustrated Edgeworth at work was put to good use in a social setting. Edgeworth even found himself actually enjoying the conversation.

It helped, too, that every time his wine glass emptied somehow a full one took its place. By the end of dinner he was too pleasantly buzzed to even be annoyed when the DJ demanded their attention. It was time for toasts, or something. He listened dutifully, raising his glass when indicated and clapping along with the crowd. The toasts were probably fine, the usual drivel about how the couple were perfect for each other and love is so beautiful and blah blah blah. But they were over soon enough, and Edgeworth could stop pretending to pay attention.

He realized, with some alarm, that Gumshoe had left the table. In fact they all had with the exception of Tom, who had scooted a couple seats closer. A quick scan revealed that Gumshoe and Jimmy were chatting near the bar. Edgeworth sighed with relief that he hadn't been abandoned, then jumped at the hand that appeared on his shoulder.

"Hey," said Tom, leaning in close and slurring slightly, "I just wanna say, you and Dick look good together."

"Uh." Edgeworth pulled away as much as he could. "Thank you?"

"Nah, I mean - he seems happy. 's good to see him happy. Can I - " He dropped his voice to a hoarse whisper. "Can you keep a secret?"

Edgeworth blinked. "I - "

"Lizzie's not really sick." Tom nodded his head. "She didn't wanna come because she didn't - she never liked how things wound up between Dick an' Chris. I mean, none of us were exactly happy about it, but she always had a lil' bit of a grudge against Chris for it. And then she found out that he'd invited him and thought it was kinda mean, y'know?"

"I see." Edgeworth had no idea what the man was talking about, but now he was curious. Gumshoe hadn't mentioned anything about the relationship, and apparently there was more drama than he ever would have imagined Gumshoe getting involved with. "How things wound up?"

Tom leaned back. "Dick never told you? I guess that's not surprising. He was pretty cut up about it, took it rough. And then the group kinda fractured, and, well, we lost touch." He sighed. "Been thinking of getting back in touch but it's just one of those things. So it's good that he's doin' good. I'll make sure he gets a plus one to my wedding too," he added with a wink.

Edgeworth shook his head. "Sorry, your wedding?"

"Oh, that's a secret too!" Tom leaned in close again, and his breath wasn't great. "Me 'n Lizzie got engaged! We just weren't tellin' people yet. Don't wanna mix up wedding news!"

"Congratulations," Edgeworth said dryly. Another wedding? Unless Gumshoe found somebody else (and that didn't seem terribly likely, based on his running luck) it seemed Edgeworth would be doing this again. Well, if it made Gumshoe happy. He could at least plant the seeds of an enjoyable evening. "Invest in a better wine."

Tom laughed. "I'll ask you for a recommendation! An' I'll set aside a couple special bottles, just for Gumshoe's guy."

Gumshoe's guy. Hmm. At least it sounded better than "boyfriend." Edgeworth nodded. "I appreciate the gesture."

Jimmy's face appeared between them. "Say, what are you two talkin' about?"

"Secrets!" answered Tom, punching Jimmy's arm.

Jimmy sat on the far side of Tom and immediately launched into a discussion of some long-ago antics. Gumshoe sat next to Edgeworth.

"You were gone for a while," said Edgeworth.

"Just catching up with Jimmy," Gumshoe answered. He chuckled. "He said we're a cute couple." He frowned. "Tom wasn't bothering you, was he?"

"Secrets," Edgeworth answered.

The music grew quiet and the DJ's voice blasted through the speakers. "And now, why don't we get all the couples on the floor for a slow dance?"

Lucy appeared, tugging at Jimmy's shoulder. "Oh, let's dance!"

Jimmy groaned as he allowed himself to be guided from his seat. "Alright, alright, but Dick, you're not leaving me alone out there!"

Jimmy's hand clamped around Edgeworth's wrist and yanked him out of his chair so quickly it was a wonder he didn't fall. As it was he stumbled ungracefully and couldn't recover in time to resist a shove on his back propelling him straight toward Gumshoe. Gumshoe caught him, holding him upright as Edgeworth shook his head and tried to reorient himself. They were standing on the dance floor now, and the space around them was filling with couples. Edgeworth looked up at Gumshoe, who looked positively terrified, and sighed. Then, in a practiced motion, he placed one hand on Gumshoe's shoulder and the other on his waist.

"I suppose we'll dance, then," he said.

Gumshoe raised his hands defensively. "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Edgeworth," he stammered, "you don't have to - Jim gets a little - "

"You're not supposed to call me that," Edgeworth interrupted. "And it would look suspicious if we ran off now. Come on, then, the music's starting."

A slow tune had begun to play from the large speakers at the end of the room, rich and gentle. Gingerly, Gumshoe rested a hand on Edgeworth's side, well above the waist. This close, Edgeworth could see that Gumshoe's stubble was already shadowing his chin, and his hair was a mess. He couldn't hold back his natural scruffiness for long, it seemed. Edgeworth had expected a cloud of cheap cologne, but it seemed Gumshoe had decided against it. There was something different, though, about him. Normally the man smelled like cigar smoke, even though as far as Edgeworth knew he wasn't a smoker, and something like car exhaust. It wasn't exactly a pleasant smell, but somehow Edgeworth found himself acutely aware of its absence.

"Not much of a dancer, are you?" said Edgeworth, glancing down at their feet.

"Nope," answered Gumshoe, swaying awkwardly.

"Mmm. Well, it's not a competition." Except that it was, to an extent. Somewhere in this room, a man had his eyes on the two of them, so Edgeworth pulled Gumshoe closer until their chests were touching, wrapping one arm around his waist and grabbing his hand with the other. There wasn't much point in trying to guide Gumshoe through even basic steps, but they didn't have to look like middle-schoolers scared of the chaperone. Gumshoe's broad chest was firm and warm - well of course he was warm, people are warm, nothing special there. When Edgeworth looked up again he saw that Gumshoe's face was warm too, turned pink with blushing.

"S-sorry about this," he muttered. "I didn't think it'd get this complicated."

"It's not all that bad," replied Edgeworth. "In fact I've actually had a pleasant evening."

Gumshoe's eyes went wide. "Really?"

"Yes. It's been…" He paused. "Nice."

Gumshoe chuckled. "That's good. I was kinda worried. I mean you've probably been to way fancier parties than this one."

"True," Edgeworth mused, "but an event is less about the decorations and attire and more about the company. And I have found the company quite agreeable."

Standing this close together, it would have been difficult to miss the flicker of expression on Gumshoe's face. It was impossible to miss the pink blush creeping up his cheeks. He just looked away, though, and kept swaying.

Edgeworth wasn't a tactile person. It had been years since he'd been this close to another person for any length of time, probably during one of the interminably dull events Von Karma had trotted him out to as a display of his perfection. He'd been taught to dance for the sake of those things so he could spend a dreadful few minutes waltzing around with the daughter of someone important. This, though, he didn't mind nearly as much. In fact it was comfortable. He could see the appeal in a way he never had when his arms were around the waist of some debutante. Here, with Gumshoe, he could imagine closing his eyes, letting his cheek rest against the man's chest, leaning his head back and reaching up to press their lips together - he blinked hard and shook his head. He was letting his mind wander, and maybe buying into the charade a little too much. There were still boundaries.

Eventually the music came to an end. Around them, couples separated. Gumshoe released his hold on Edgeworth and took a half-step back, and Edgeworth found himself missing the contact. A new song started up, peppy and fast, and the dancing grew energetic to match. Edgeworth and Gumshoe joined the folks streaming off the dance floor to make room for the livelier dancers who stayed. They wound up standing near their table, trapped in an awkward in-between of whether they should sit or keep socializing. Edgeworth had been playing into this little illusion of theirs a little too strongly, and he wanted - wine. He wanted another glass of wine. To clear his head, and never mind that it usually had the opposite effect.

"I think I'll go refill my glass," he said airily, as if it was barely a consideration. And it was, of course, why wouldn't it be? This whole evening, this whole event was nothing but a trifle. A way to spend an evening, a favor to a coworker. Nothing more.

Gumshoe nodded maybe a bit too enthusiastically, but then, that's how he did most things. "I'm gonna go hit the john."

Edgeworth wrinkled his nose. Crass. Still, he wasn't annoyed as Gumshoe lurched off, not as much as he would have expected. A lot of things were not as he expected tonight, and he refused to acknowledge it. He chose instead to sweep off to the bar and soon he was standing at the edge of the room with a glass of wine in his hand, alone.

He was used to being a focus of attention, so he barely registered the feeling of being watched. He swept his eyes over the crowd anyway until he spotted the groom, staring at him openly. Edgeworth shifted his weight and took a sip of the wine, not acknowledging the brief eye contact. Good. He was supposed to be watching, wasn't he? He was supposed to see who had replaced him. He had cast Gumshoe aside and now Edgeworth had snatched him up, and he was sure to regret it. Or something like that anyway. Edgeworth knew damn well all the things that made him a terrible romantic partner, but if nothing else, he could put on a show. Von Karma'd taught him that much. Keeping up appearances.

Edgeworth wondered, briefly, what kind of man the groom was. He'd never put much thought into Gumshoe's romantic tastes; the man ceased to exist when he left the precinct each evening. Perhaps, once or twice, Edgeworth had wondered, but not to any serious extent. So, who would Gumshoe choose? Something much like himself, perhaps, boisterous and loud, energetic enough to keep up. The groom seemed like he could fit that description, although there was a cruel glint of intelligence behind his eyes that just didn't seem to suit Gumshoe. So maybe he'd chosen a compliment instead, someone to make up in the areas he lacked, someone clever or cunning. It seemed more likely that such a person would choose Gumshoe, really; he didn't seem like he'd make the first move, as it were. And someone looking for a partner could certainly do worse. Yes, he could understand how a certain kind of man could lure in Gumshoe.

His wine glass was empty; he wasn't sure when that had happened. He'd lost track of the groom, too, and Gumshoe hadn't returned. Edgeworth made another trip to the bar to refill his glass, then set out to find his date. He couldn't have gotten into too much trouble here, but Edgeworth felt a certain obligation to keep an eye on the man. He couldn't take care of himself half the time. Edgeworth ambled around the edges of the building, peering down empty hallways and around corners.

Eventually he rounded a corner in the back of the venue, tucked away far from the noise and crowd. There was Gumshoe, his bulky frame unmistakable even in the dark corner where he stood with another man. Edgeworth couldn't see Gumshoe's face, but he could identify the groom as the other man and watched as he reached forward, wrapped his arm around Gumshoe's waist, pulled him closer, and leaned in to - oh.

Edgeworth's stomach lurched. He tried to tell himself he was mistaken, that the darkness made it hard to see or the angle just made it look worse than it was, but he knew otherwise. It was quite clear why the pair had stolen off to this isolated spot; they were doing something they didn't want anyone to see. And the way they were pressed together, the way the groom's hand tugged at Gumshoe's hip, the downward angle of Gumshoe's head, all painted a perfectly clear picture of what that something was.

Edgeworth backed away, waiting until he was out of line of sight to turn and flee. He was suddenly feeling very lightheaded, but the weight in his gut kept him from floating away. He needed air. He skirted the edges of the crowd until he broke out onto the stone patio, overlooking rolling hills shrouded by the night. The only other people in sight were a couple huddled together on a stone bench, who didn't so much as glance at Edgeworth as he passed them to lean on the stone railing framing the patio. The air was just beginning to chill, not enough to cause a shiver but enough to sober him up. Which, he realized, was not what he wanted, so he drained the wine glass he was still somehow clutching in one gulp.

He wasn't sure what he was feeling. No, that wasn't true, he knew exactly what he was feeling, he just didn't know why. Why should he feel betrayed? Why would this hurt? Gumshoe owed him nothing. If anything, he should be pleased. He'd done his job. This was probably what Gumshoe had wanted all along, and Edgeworth had helped him achieve it. Why else would he have even come? Gumshoe'd be happy, and that meant he'd do his job well, and that was all Edgeworth cared about.

He'd probably just had a little too much to drink, which explained the queasiness and the way he didn't seem to be making sense to himself. That was all. He'd stay out here for a while, and then go back to playing the part he'd been acting so well until now. Because that's all it was. That's all any of this was.

"There you are!" The voice was jarring in the quiet, as was the hand slapping him on the back. Edgeworth didn't turn but Gumshoe appeared anyway, leaning against the railing and into his line of sight. "I've been lookin' everywhere for you, pal."

"Have you," Edgeworth said, focusing his attention on the empty wine glass dangling from his fingers.

Gumshoe, stupid Gumshoe, didn't pick up on the edge in Edgeworth's tone. "Yeah. I gotta talk to you." He sighed one of those deep tragic sighs, accompanied by the sinking of his shoulders. Edgeworth didn't look at him but he knew he'd be wearing those damn sorrowful puppy-eyes. "I got a problem. Somethin' happened."

Edgeworth snorted. "I saw." He'd really underestimated Gumshoe, all this time. He'd thought the man was honest, and it turned out he was just a better actor than Edgeworth thought.

Gumshoe's jaw dropped open. "Y-you did?" he stammered in a way surely as calculated at the eyes and the shoulders, a long con to radiate helplessness and elicit sympathy. "Aw jeez. What do I do? Should I tell her?"

Edgeworth inspected the empty wine glass, desperately wishing it was full again. To think he'd trusted this man. To think he'd thought him guileless, and honest. As if any of it was anything but an act. As if anyone could honestly care about Edgeworth like Gumshoe had pretended to. "What did you have in mind?" he asked. "Surely you must have had something planned."

Gumshoe frowned. "Planned?"

"Yes, obviously. You've got your man, now what?" Edgeworth rolled the wine glass back and forth along the rough stone. "Were you intending to keep him, or just ruin the marriage? You've certainly got the opportunity to make a scene now, so if you're just here for revenge, it seems like the perfect time. But if you want to keep him, a little more delicacy may be in order."

There was a long pause. At some point the young couple had gone back inside, so there was no sound aside from the muffled music from the dance floor inside and the grating of glass on stone as Edgeworth toyed with the glass. He didn't bother to look at Gumshoe. He knew better now than to think the expression on the man's face really meant anything.

Eventually Gumshoe would have to say something, and eventually he did. But not something Edgeworth was expecting. In a quiet, low tone, Gumshoe said, "You really think I'd do something like that, Mr. Edgeworth?"

Edgeworth flinched. There was genuine hurt in that voice like nothing he'd ever heard come out of Gumshoe before. He turned, but before he could even open his mouth Gumshoe was gone.

In that instant everything he'd been thinking collapsed. What the hell was wrong with him? He was suspecting Detective Dick Gumshoe? Of course he wouldn't have planned any of this. The man didn't have a malicious bone in his body. He would never be so rotten, so manipulative, so cruel. It wouldn't even occur to him. Not like it had to Edgeworth.

He didn't realize how tightly he was gripping the wine glass until it gave way. He heard the sound of broken glass hitting the ground and looked down to see the remains of the glass, splattered with blood. He lifted his gaze along the dripping blood until he reached its source, a long deep cut across his palm. A shard of glass stuck out of it. Some long forgotten first aid training told him not to remove it, but the idea of leaving it in sickened him. With a hiss, he gripped the shard with his other hand and yanked it out, letting it drop to the ground with the others. Predictably, this did indeed increase the blood flow.

He stood there, gripping his wrist, watching the blood pool on the stone, and he laughed. It wasn't funny, but he couldn't do anything else. The worst night of his life had happened decades ago, he was sure of that, but this was easily in the top five. He'd broken a wine glass, he'd wounded his hand, and he'd destroyed his relationship with one of the only people in the world who honestly seemed to care about him. Almost impressive, really, how quickly he could ruin his own life. So he laughed.

The pain in his hand throbbed, and he lifted it above the level of his heart to slow the bleeding and inspect it. Experimentally, he flexed, and all five fingers responded. No tendons had been severed, so it could have been much worse. It was still bleeding freely, however, and he would need to tend to it. He returned to the building and grabbed a discarded napkin from the table nearest the door, pressing it against the wound to staunch the flow. Then he set his eyes on a young woman in the crisp black uniform of the staff who was circling tables with a tray, collecting used dishes.

He approached her slowly. "Excuse me," he said, "is there a first aid kit available?"

The woman turned, frowning. "Do you need a bandaid or something?" she asked.

"I was hoping for something a little more substantial," he answered, lifting his hand. The blood had soaked through the napkin, staining it bright red.

The woman's eyes went wide, and she set down the tray. "Are you okay?" she asked, frantic. "Should I call an ambulance?"

"It's just a cut," Edgeworth answered. "Nothing drastic."

The woman nodded. "Okay. We've got some gauze and stuff. Wait here."

"Thank you. Oh, and there's some broken glass on the patio," he added. "Someone will need to clean it up."

She nodded again, then took off at a brisk walk. Edgeworth took a seat at one the tables furthest from the dance floor. The cut, at least, was manageable, a clear source of pain with a simple solution. He could focus on that, and the rest could be dealt with later. Or never. Preferably never.

The woman returned, carrying a plastic case emblazoned with a red cross. He accepted it, but waved off her attempts to help him with the bandaging. The idea of being coddled by a stranger did nothing to help his mood, and he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Still, it was clumsy work with one hand, so he was still wrangling a length of gauze when Gumshoe appeared. He had a determined glare on his face, and planted his feet and spoke before Edgeworth could even acknowledge him.

"Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" he declared firmly. "I have something to say to you! And you're going to listen!" He looked down and his eyes went wide when he spotted the blood. "W-what happened?" he shouted, his stony demeanor dropping instantly.

"No need to shout," answered Edgeworth. "It's just a cut."

"Just a - " Gumshoe landed in the chair next to him and reached out a hand. "Let me see, sir!"

Edgeworth sighed, but he extended his arm. Gumshoe grabbed him around the wrist, inspecting his palm. "This is bad! I gotta get you to the hospital!"

"That is not necessary," said Edgeworth, pulling his hand out of Gumshoe's. "It just needs a bandage."

Gumshoe shook his head. "You're gonna need stitches." When Edgeworth didn't respond, he frowned. "At least let me help bandage it?"

Edgeworth glanced over at Gumshoe. The damn puppy-dog eyes. Did he even know he was doing it? Did he even know how hard it was to resist? With a largely performative eye roll, he extended his arm again.

Gumshoe's hands were gentler than Edgeworth expected. He dabbed at the edges of the wound with a cleaning wipe before pressed a wad of absorbent cotton against it. His face was screwed up in concentration, his tongue sticking out from the corner of his mouth. Edgeworth realized he was staring and looked away.

"You had something to say?" he asked, trying to divert himself.

Gumshoe paused for a second. "I think I forgot it. Sorry, sir."

Edgeworth smiled. "Then I suppose I have something to say instead." He rested his chin on his undamaged hand, watching from the corner of his eye as Gumshoe cleaned away the blood. "I owe you an apology."

Gumshoe's head jerked up. "No, you - "

Edgeworth hissed in pain as the cleansing pad passed over the wound. Gumshoe looked back down and wiped it away. "Sorry, sorry!"

"It's fine," said Edgeworth, taking a deep breath. "It just stings." He cleared his throat. "I need to apologize for my behavior." He couldn't hold up a hand to stop Gumshoe from interrupting so he just spoke over his objection. "I shouldn't have accused you of plotting something nefarious. You wouldn't do something like that, and I know that perfectly well. I - " He hesitated. He what, was hurt by Gumshoe kissing another man? He couldn't say that. He didn't have any claim to his affections, no right to be hurt by the way he chose to spend his personal time. "I don't know what I was thinking," he said, aware of what a weak explanation it was.

But this wasn't court, and Gumshoe wasn't a lawyer. He just bent over Edgeworth's hand, arranging a layer of cotton. "Thanks for sayin' that," he said, "but this is all my fault anyway. This was a dumb idea. I don't know who I thought I could fool into thinking a guy like me could get a guy like you." He started wrapping bindings around the cotton, too focused on the task to see the frown creeping onto Edgeworth's face. "Sure didn't fool him. Wasn't good enough for him, not good enough for you." He said this last bit with a chuckle, but that did nothing to soothe the anger building in Edgeworth's chest.

"Not good enough for - " Edgeworth reached out with his uninjured hand to grab Gumshoe by the shoulder, forcing him to look up. "That man invited you to his wedding with the intention of humiliating you and cheated on his wife before the ink was dry on the certificate, and you think you're not good enough for that? You? You're one of the best men I've ever known, and you deserve much better than some cruel philandering asshole." He was on the verge of rambling now, feeling a bit light-headed from the drinks or the blood loss or some combination thereof. "You deserve someone good, someone as good as you, someone kind and brave and loyal. You deserve someone who will love you the way they should, true and strong. Someone who would fight for you, someone who would defend you, someone who - who - who you can trust." At some point he'd locked eyes with Gumshoe, and he was suddenly very aware of how close they'd gotten, and the way Gumshoe was still cradling his hand, and the strange look in his eyes. It completely derailed whatever nonsense he was saying, it was all nonsense anyway, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered, not the pain in his hand, not Gumshoe's stupid ex, not a damn thing, because that was when Gumshoe leaned forward and kissed him.

It was quick, just a few seconds before Gumshoe pulled back, looking terrified as if he hadn't been the one who started it. "I - "

Edgeworth couldn't let him say it, whatever it was. If he did it would be ruined, the moment would be gone and this would just be an awkward memory. They'd never have the chance again, and Edgeworth couldn't stand it. So he grabbed the back of Gumshoe's head and pulled him back in.

Gumshoe's lips were ridiculously soft in comparison to his hands. There was a taste to them, almost sweet, that enticed Edgeworth to open his mouth and draw him in deeper. His hair was cropped too closer to grab but he clutched at it anyway, holding him tight. They could have stayed that way for hours.

Eventually they broke apart, gasping for air. Edgeworth wasn't sure where to look and wound up gazing down, at where Gumshoe still held his wounded hand. His heart was racing, and he wasn't sure why he'd done that. Or rather, he knew why, but he didn't understand the swelling in his chest, the warmth of Gumshoe's skin, the craving to do it again. He was sure he'd never felt it before; he thought he might have known what it was called.

Gumshoe was starting to speak again, and this time Edgeworth was inclined to let him. He'd answered Gumshoe, and now had no idea what to say. Something had been confirmed. The moment was less tenuous now. He caught his breath and waited.

"I, uh." Gumshoe rubbed the back of his head, where Edgeworth had just grabbed him. "Wow."

It took a lot for Edgeworth not to laugh. "Wow?"

"Y-Yeah. I don't… really know what else to say." He ran a thumb across Edgeworth's fingers. "I didn't think you, uh. You'd do that."

Edgeworth did laugh, this time. "What did you think I would do?"

"I didn't. Think. I'm sorry, Mr. Edgeworth, I shouldn't've done that. It's just that you were - you've been so nice all night, and you were sayin' all those nice things about me, and I got carried away."

"I meant them, Dick. Every one." He raised his hand to Gumshoe's cheek and guided him to look into his eyes. "And I meant this, too." He kissed him again, softly this time. He kept expecting to come to his senses and push the man away, to label this all an unfortunate accident - Detective Gumshoe, for God's sake, of all people? Ridiculous - but it didn't happen. The part of him that managed propriety had gone silent. All that was left was a strange sense of security.

His thumb brushed against Gumshoe's cheek and came away wet. Edgeworth pulled back sharply to see tears streaming down Gumshoe's face. "Why are you crying?" he asked.

"S-sorry, sir," said Gumshoe, wiping his face on the sleeve of his suit jacket.

"I don't think you have to call me sir," said Edgeworth, plucking an unused napkin from the table and handing it over to spare the suit.

Gumshoe buried his face in the napkin, sniffling. "Sorry, si - sorry. I - " He blew his nose noisily and Edgeworth winced. "I didn't think this could happen." He dropped the napkin and grabbed both of Edgeworth's hands. "I really like you, sir!"

"You don't need to shout," Edgeworth answered, "and you don't need to call me sir. But yes, I'm beginning to understand that."

"I've liked you for a while! For - for years, really." Gumshoe lifted Edgeworth's hands, pulling them close. "I didn't think you'd ever even think about me like - like that."

"I suppose I didn't," Edgeworth answered, gazing at Gumshoe's hands. "Tonight, I..." Gumshoe was looking at him hopefully, and Edgeworth felt exposed under such a starkly honest look. His cheeks grew warm. He had the urge to pull away, to hide, but that would be a mistake. Gumshoe would be hurt, and somehow that seemed like the worst possible outcome. Instead, he took a breath and tried to figure out how to put into words what he was feeling.

He hesitated long enough for Gumshoe to speak up instead. "You don't have to say nothin' right now, Mr. Edgeworth. I know you're not a real mushy guy."

"Mushy. Yes." Edgeworth shook his head. "I feel as if I should make myself clear, but I'm still… this was unexpected."

"I'll say! Boy, what a night. I got kissed by two guys in one night!" His eyes went wide and he raised his hands defensively. "N-not that I wanted to, Mr. Edgeworth! I mean, I wanted to kiss one guy, I mean, b-but not any guy, I didn't - "

"Please," said Edgeworth, dropping into the stony glare his face seemed to default to, "for the love of God, stop calling me Mr. Edgeworth. We're well past that."

"Sorry, M- " Gumshoe blushed. "Sorry, Miles," he mumbled.

"Thank you." Edgeworth leaned on the table again. The exhaustion creeping over him had been kept at bay by the adrenaline of the last few minutes. Now, with that fading, it had leapt at him. "I think I'm ready to leave," he said, his eyes half-closed. "If that's okay with you."

"Yeah, I'm ready to get outta here." Gumshoe took Edgeworth's hand, frowning at the bloody bandage. "Can I please take you to the hospital now?"

Edgeworth chuckled. "If you insist."

Gumshoe helped Edgeworth to his feet; he was feeling a bit dizzy now, and leaned against Gumshoe for support. Gumshoe wrapped an arm around his shoulders to hold him up as he guided him out of the venue into the cool night.

Edgeworth didn't make it home for several hours, most of which was spent sitting in the emergency room waiting room. He did, in the end, need several stitches, although the nurse had nice things to say about Gumshoe's bandaging job. He was sent home with a prescription for antibiotics and strict instructions for keeping the wound clean. Gumshoe was at his side the whole time, sitting next to him in the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the waiting room, holding his other hand while the stitches went in, and at long last, driving him back to his home at a completely unreasonable time of morning.

Gumshoe helped Edgeworth to the door and waited patiently while he fumbled with his keys, having trouble operating them with his off hand. "I guess I should go," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Edgeworth as he finally pushed the door open. The alcohol had long since worn off, but his head still swam from exhaustion and the after effects of blood loss. "Come in."

Gumshoe followed him in, looking around the lavishly decorated space. "Nice place you got here," he said.

"You can spend the night," said Edgeworth. He paused as the implication of that statement sunk in. Having Gumshoe with him, comforting him, taking care of him, it had all felt so natural that he'd almost forgotten about the evening's developments. "If you don't want to drive home," he added, hoping it might clarify his intentions. "It's late."

"Uh, thanks," Gumshoe answered. He hadn't reacted at all; maybe Edgeworth was overthinking. Maybe he was always overthinking. Gumshoe never seemed to have that problem. He found he had wandered over to the leather couch in his living room, and sat heavily. Gumshoe followed after, sitting gently next to him. "You feeling okay, boss?"

"Don't…" Edgeworth gave up. "I'm tired." He leaned his head against Gumshoe's shoulder and closed his eyes.

Gumshoe lifted his arm to drape it around Edgeworth's shoulders. "It's okay. You just rest."

"Mmm." There were a whole series of things that Edgeworth should be doing before going to sleep - brushing his teeth, getting undressed, reaching his actual bed - but he couldn't have managed any of them. There was simply no way he could have forced his tired body away from Gumshoe's warm form.

When he woke, he was in his bed, and sunlight streamed through the curtains. His jacket and shoes were gone, but otherwise he was still dressed. Gumshoe lay next to him, snoring loudly, an arm flung across Edgeworth's chest. Edgeworth sat up just enough to see the clock. It was well past time for him to be out of bed. He looked back down at Gumshoe, still sleeping soundly. Slowly, Edgeworth lowered himself back down to the pillow and slid closer to him. He could stay here a little longer. He'd had a long night.