Notes: Experiment in finding the character's voice before attempting anything that has a point. Thank goodness we're treated to so much inner monologue throughout the games, most of it also silly and pointless.

Warnings: Contains stupid euphemisms, bad puns, and slash.

That Other Kind of Dance

The two of us usually refer to what we do together in the courtroom as battle - but recently, given how often we meet and how well-matched we are, how long and intense our trials together are, sometimes we hear another word to describe it. That word is: dancing.

Pearls liked that, and agreed once she heard someone say it. I guess I do too... but I think she's thinking of the kind of dancing where one person takes a step forward as the other steps back, and then that person steps forward as the other steps back, and maybe they spin around each other. Do they have ballroom dancing in Kurain Village? Something like that, anyway - neat and choreographed. Not quite the same kind of dancing that our courtroom battles remind me of - she's too young to understand that kind of dancing, and I really don't want to be the one who has to explain it to her.

...By which I mean... you know. Horizontal mambo, and all that. Mattress dancing.

Which is why we're here, in the janitor's closet. Uhm, not that there's a mattress in here. We're here because there aren't any mattresses in the courthouse. At least, I don't think there are, but it's not like I've been in every room to know. Still, the chance of there being a mattress in the courthouse is-

"Your mind is wandering, Wright," he hisses in my ear. "We don't have time for this."

A ten-minute recess isn't long, he's right. And yes, I'm 'Wright'. He still calls me that, even when I've got him up against the wall and panting. I tried calling him 'Miles' once, and he looked at me like I was crazy. I apologized. (He accepted.)

It's... strange, how this started. But where everyone else watching our trials sees a back-and-forth exchange between two well-matched, skilled attorneys... Maybe it's just that I know all too well that half the time I'm not sure what I'm doing, and they don't. But this whole thing where we're clashing violently and shouting at each other, over and over, looking for all the world like we're fighting even though now I know we're ultimately working for the same goal, the truth... it just... somehow it started really turning me on. It made me think of clashing and grappling physically, instead of just verbally from across the room. Then one day he pulled me aside to 'speak privately' during a recess, and we wound up... well.

It's a good thing he feels the same way about it as I do, or these recesses wouldn't be anywhere near as interesting. It's better when we have half an hour instead of just ten minutes, of course.

Time's almost up for today, though. I finished a second ago, but he's not quite there. Not quite. My hand moves harder, faster, and then he's pressed against my shoulder, sinking his teeth into it to keep from making a sound. Wouldn't do to give away what we're doing in here. My jacket's thick, so it doesn't hurt, but it would be nice if he'd use his own hand to muffle himself like I do, instead of gnawing on my shoulder... Someday I'm going to walk back into the courtroom with my sleeve hanging off. At least I can always blame it on structural damage from Franziska's whip. (I'm so glad he didn't keep that.)

But then we're both done. Clean-up is easy, when you're doing this kind of thing in a janitor's closet, and then we zip up and straighten our clothes. There's no mirror in here, so I always have to put his jabot back in order for him. But then we can emerge, with none the wiser. Well, with one the wiser.

"All done, you two?" Maya's got a great big grin. She's been willing to stand guard ever since she dragged it out of me. ...I'm not sure how she figured out that there was anything to drag out, exactly - maybe Mia told her. (I think Mia figured it out a long time before I did. She usually does.) Maybe I had psyche-locks, and she could see them. At any rate, she thinks the two of us sneaking around like this is 'cute'. At least, that's what she said... but the gleam in her eye when she said that sort of scared me. It's kind of like when she talks about the Steel Samurai, times ten. At least she doesn't mind, and she's good about making sure no one walks in on us.

Although, she's so interested in looking us over when we come out, sometimes she forgets that she was standing guard...

"Hey, pal - what were you two doing, coming out of the closet like that?"

Maya jumps - apparently she didn't see him - and Edgeworth sounds like he just choked. I'm not sure if he doesn't realize that Gumshoe isn't talking about that, or if he's stifling a laugh. (Well, you never know. Anything's possible!)

"Looking for evidence," I say, not skipping a beat. When it comes to Gumshoe, what you say doesn't really have to make sense, as long as you say it with confidence. He'll believe you, if you sound like you're saying something that makes sense.

He scratches his head. "In the janitor's room?"

"You never know what might have been swept up," Edgeworth states, now straight-faced.

"Hmm... Hey, you're right - I just found a nickel, pal!" Gumshoe exclaims from where he just knelt to check out the broom. "I think I've got enough for the vending machine now!"

"Just hurry." I just barely manage to see Edgeworth's fingers clicking shut a coin purse as he's slipping it back into his pocket. It's a good thing Gumshoe is so easily distracted - except when it's a bad thing. "Recess is almost finished."

I nudge Edgeworth. "Last time, it was a dime,"

He shrugs. "I'm not feeling generous today."

"Wonderful," I mutter as we head back into the courtroom, and we prepare to resume our battle. Or that other kind of dance, if you prefer.