More squishiness written at the request of the same anon. Set a week or two after the last chapter.

Edgeworth was calmly measuring ground espresso from a jar when Wright tossed his cell phone on the coffee table, collapsing sideways on the sofa. "So, that was my insurance company," he said with a sigh, voice muffled under his arm. "They just got the last bill from the hospital... I hit their ceiling limit for coverage."

"Hmm."

"Yeah," was the wry response. "They said they can only cover only the emergency room visit, the surgeries, and anything from my GP. I guess I'll be paying all the specialized treatments and outpatient therapy out-of-pocket."

Edgeworth paused to look at Wright; he was tempted to hedge the subject, but it was time he confessed. And besides that, Wright looked utterly miserable, almost as if he were about to cry. Edgeworth had never wanted for money (in fact, he'd always had more than he needed) and could only vaguely imagine the agonies of facing bankruptcy. "Don't worry about it," he said. "Neither you nor your insurance will need to cover anything."

Wright lifted his head and stared as Edgeworth tapped the excess grounds from the spoon, rolled the bag closed, and opened the refrigerator to pull out a gallon of milk. "Why not?"

"The hospital has been paid. Your insurance will hear from them in another day or two," Edgeworth said, trying unsuccessfully to be casual. He poured milk into the steaming carafe: espresso this late at night was usually a very bad idea, but he'd found a very nice decaf blend at a coffee bistro nearby, and thought perhaps Wright would enjoy the treat. "Don't worry about it."

"Wait, who paid them?" Wright demanded. He levered himself up on the sofa, eyes narrowed. "Edgeworth..."

Edgeworth sighed, and capped the milk. He stuck it back into the refrigerator, and turned to look straight in Wright's eyes. "I did. And before you get all offended, Maya helped."

Wright's mouth fell open; Edgeworth had a moment to remark to himself that it was sort of a cute expression, before Wright thundered, "She did what? Edgeworth, I—I can't pay you back! Not until I finish another case, at least!"

"Don't be a fool," Edgeworth said, probably more coldly than was necessary, plugging the espresso machine in and flipping on the pressure switch. He'd anticipated that this conversation would be ridiculous, but wished Maya were here to at least back him up. "The state of California owes you already for taking so many pro bono cases on behalf of the innocent. Consider it compensation by proxy. There's no need for repayment."

"Bullshit! You just made that up!" Wright accused. He stood up, somewhat unsteadily, and Edgeworth eyed him as he crossed the living room and came into the kitchenette. "Is this still about blaming yourself?"

His silence must have been a confirmation. Wright leaned on the counter, his thin hands spread for balance. "Edgeworth," he said desperately. "You can't just... I mean, it wasn't your fault. You didn't owe me anything."

"Which is exactly what Maya said when I suggested it," Edgeworth answered. He moved to stand next to Wright, at least half because it appeared he was about to fall over. "But she quite reasonably came around when I reminded her that I happen to have money, and you don't. You would be sending your next twenty-five client checks straight to the hospital, whereas I had immediately available capital."

"But that's not the point—"

"I know it's not," Edgeworth said, cutting him off. He put an arm around Wright's waist. "Would you please sit back down before you fall down?" Wright rolled his eyes, but heaved a sigh and let Edgeworth help him back to the couch.

Sitting down next him, Edgeworth said, "It isn't about what I owe you, or whether it was my fault you were hurt. We're past that now. This is..." He suddenly realized how difficult it would be to explain his reasons. How had Maya so immediately understood?

He reached for and found Wright's hand, unable to meet the other man's gaze as he explained, "You probably don't understand how much you mean to me. It's the same for Maya. You believed in us when no one else did."

"But—"

"I know," Edgeworth said firmly. Wright stared at him helplessly; again Edgeworth wondered how he could possibly convey his point of view. Was it about love? Probably... but that would be even harder to explain. "I know you helped us because you believed in us, not because we could or would ever repay you. Give me at least some credit, Phoenix. You hate money. Which is why I know it would offend you to be financially dependent on anyone."

Wright opened his mouth, as if to protest, then made a face. "Yeah."

"Well, you're not." Edgeworth squeezed his hand. A brilliant idea occurred to him. "Consider it bail. It wouldn't be the first time I've spent money to set a friend at liberty."

Reluctantly and a bit wanly, Wright smiled. Maya, getting herself held in contempt of court so Edgeworth's trial could go on. And it was a better analogy than anything else, if somewhat disparate in cost: both had been one-time payments which Edgeworth had been more than happy to pay.

"Maybe," he added quietly, "I was happy to pay some of your debts because I consistently get the feeling that it's all I can do for you."

"What?" Wright said, surprised. "Miles, are you serious?"

Edgeworth shrugged uncomfortably, shifting. "Well, I couldn't even be there when you were in the hospital. Maya's been with you nonstop ever since... even Pearl has been coming all the way from Hazakura once a week..."

"Stop!" Wright exclaimed, and as Edgeworth finally met his gaze, he realized that the other man was upset. "Just stop right there! You can't possibly feel that way."

Edgeworth couldn't answer; he just shrugged again. He realized that, to a certain extent, he did feel that way. But it seemed insulting to say it aloud. He knew Wright liked him, and held particular affections for him, but beyond that... "I'm rarely here," he said at last, weakly. "I don't contribute anything."

It was Wright's turn to sigh in exasperation now; but his cheeks were flaming red. "I guess I'm rotten at expressing myself," he muttered, and took a deep breath. "Miles, you're... you... I mean, you're as important to me as Maya. Or anybody. And that's not even the important part. I wasn't—"

He swallowed, stopping so suddenly that Edgeworth wondered if something was wrong. Then Wright looked down at their linked hands, and said softly, "It did cross my mind a few times that I might die." There was a long pause, and Edgeworth remembered how frightened he had been that first night. "I kept slipping in and out of unconsciousness, and all I could remember was that I'd been shot. It didn't really scare me, to think I might die. That mostly just annoyed me. But I remember feeling bad for you guys, thinking that you were probably angry and sad, and the whole time I just wanted to..."

He stopped again, and this time he raised Edgeworth's hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to it. His words were murmured against Edgeworth's skin, eyes half-closed. "All I could think of was you. Not Maya, because even though she's like the little sister I never had... she'd get by somehow. She would have her village, and Pearls."

Wright looked up, and Edgeworth felt the secret parts of his soul shriveling under that earnest brown gaze. "But you... I know you have Franziska, too, but it's not the same. Am I... is this insulting?"

Slowly, haltingly, Edgeworth shook his head. "No. Not at all." His heart had begun to race wildly, and he closed his eyes to say it. "I have no idea what I would have done if you had died. You're... really all I have to love."

He was just about to open his eyes again, to see what Wright's reaction had been, when he felt the other man's lips on his. A hand slipped behind his head, and the kiss suddenly became passionate. Some little voice in the back of his head wondered if this was real, while his baser instincts had him riveted by the soft yet warm and utterly electrifying sensation of the kiss. He flicked his tongue over Wright's lips, pressing harder until their noses met, breath exploding on their cheeks.

Suddenly Wright broke away, literally gasping for breath. "Sorry," he said, and coughed, clutching his chest. "Augh... I shouldn't have... well, I should've, but... sorry."

Edgeworth hated to see him in pain: in fact, it almost made him queasy with fear, and he said nothing, just rubbed Wright's back as he coughed spastically. After a minute or so, Wright raised his head and said roughly, "I'm okay. Whew. Sorry, that's a really awkward way to end a kiss, isn't it?"

Unable to keep from laughing, Edgeworth leaned over and pulled Wright toward him gently. They settled back together, and he wrapped his arms around his friend. "No. And in any case... it's an unutterable relief to know that you understand."

"I guess," was the somewhat grumbling response.

"Maya helped," Edgeworth said, indignantly. "She understood perfectly, to the point where she would steal the bills from your mailbox and bring them to me at my office. And although she argued at first, it was only because she knew you would be mad."

Wright chuckled, quietly enough that it didn't start another coughing fit. "No one ever cares if I'm going to get mad."

Edgeworth, affectionately pressing his cheek into the top of Wright's still-soft head, suddenly remembered that he'd left the espresso machine plugged in. He groaned: all of a sudden he had no interest in making cappuccinos, but presumably the machine was still pressuring.

"What?"

"I left the espresso machine on and have no desire to explode your kitchen. I'll be back in a minute," Edgeworth said. He helped Wright sit back up, and hurried into the kitchenette. Frowning at the machine, wishing there was a way to just shut it off, he flicked the switch back to the coffee setting. It began pouring the espresso, dark and caramelly. "Do you want a cappuccino or a macchiato?" he called into the living room, resigned.

"Whatever," came the response, obviously spoken in the middle of a cavernous yawn.

Quickly, Edgeworth steamed the milk in the pitcher. It only took a minute or two, but every second he was alone seemed to tick by loudly, his heart still pounding uncontrollably from the kiss. He poured the milk, slipped the espresso shots into it, and carried the two macchiatos back into the living room.

Too late, he thought resignedly, but he couldn't help but smile as he set the cups on the coffee table. Wright had dropped off, his head tilted into the side of the couch and his mouth open just a little as he slept. Edgeworth felt his heart wrench, and thought in astonishment, I really am in love.