Author's Note: I posted this on the Phoenix Wright Kink Meme quite a long time ago, but it just struck me that something might happen to it there, and that I didn't have a copy of it for myself. Not wanting to just have it sitting around on my computer, I figured I'd do something a tad bit more productive and post it to . Hopefully you enjoy it!
First it had been the bloody trophy. Now this.
Miles sneezed loudly, glaring at the cause of his misery. If there was anything like pure justice in the world, the roses would have all burst into flame, since there was not, he was left sitting in a room full of their cloying, sweet aroma. And their pollen.
He had, he decided, suffered for long enough. Propriety or not, it was becoming difficult for him to do his job. As much as he hated the moniker, he had a very good feeling that the new King of Prosecutors could do whatever he bloody well wanted with his victory bouquets if they were getting in the way of his work.
"Miss Fright," he growled into the intercom, one hand depressing the call button while the other dug around in one of the desk drawers for the bottle of allergy medicine he kept on hand, "please come into my office."
Hannah Fright was quite possibly one of the only individuals in the Prosecutors' Offices that Miles had any patience for. She was quiet, unassuming, and could brew an acceptable pot of tea when he wasn't in the mood to call the Gatewater hotel. She also knew how to take directions and not ask questions, which was, in Miles' opinion, one of her most valuable talents.
"Yes Mister Edgeworth?" She asked, pushing her glasses up a little from where they had slipped down her nose.
"Get rid of this obnoxious...greenery," he growled, downing a pair of the allergy pills with what was left of the tea he'd been nursing and stifling yet another sneeze. "Disperse it around the building as surreptitiously as you can, but get it out of my office."
She flashed him only the barest of sympathetic looks before gathering up an armful of the bouquets and removing them. He was reminded - not for the first time - that he owed her a raise for her exemplary service. It was good to know that at least someone that worked under him could follow directions satisfactorily. Within a half hour, she'd managed to get rid of all of the roses except for a huge bouquet from Chief Gant, taking pride of place on his windowsill and blocking out most of the view. The ornate crystal vase that they'd come in was too big and heavy for either Hannah or himself to handle on their own, and the shape of the thing made it far too awkward for them to attempt to remove it together, so Miles just asked her to get a hold of Gumshoe as soon as she could. The detective would certainly be strong enough to at least get the offending flowers to the lobby.
Of course, being unable to open the window and let some fresh air in meant that he was still stuck with an uncomfortably fragrant office, but the allergy pills were starting to kick in, and barring any other unfortunate incidents, he'd finally be able to do his job.
"Hey Edgeworth, you in here?"
"Wow," Wright muttered, his face screwing up into an odd expression as he sniffed the air tentatively. "Are you trying some new kind of air freshener or something, Edgeworth?"
Miles just stood there, in front of a veritable hedge of roses arranged in a three-foot-tall crystal chalice, with his arms crossed in front of his chest; not even bothering to deign the Defense Attorney with a response until he heard the little "oh" that told him that the man had finally clued in.
"Wright," his frown deepened as he noticed that he still sounded a little stuffed up, for all that the rest of his symptoms were already nearly gone. "I'm sure you have better things to do with your time than dropping by to smell my office."
As angry as Edgeworth looked, Phoenix couldn't help but laugh at the thought. Sure, he liked how the man smelled - not that he'd ever admit it unless he was willing to get caught up in his own murder trial - but this wasn't usually it. The few times he'd been in Edgeworth's office before, it had smelled like law books and tea. Sophisticated, understated, and clean. Just like the man himself. The heady aroma of roses - he had to guess that was it considering the available evidence, even though he was horrible with flowers - didn't really seem to fit.
"Well, as a matter of fact I do," he held up the manila folder he'd brought with him. "Gumshoe asked me to bring this by. He's still tied up at the crime scene."
Edgeworth made a small exasperated noise that would probably have sounded more imposing if he hadn't been as stuffed up as he was and relieved Phoenix of the folder, leafing through its contents for a moment before tossing it onto his desktop. He looked like he was about to say something when he turned away, stifling a loud sneeze in a handkerchief he just barely managed to pull out of his pocket in time. Phoenix had the good grace to look sympathetic, rather than laugh again, but he could tell by the way Edgeworth was still glaring at him that he wasn't quite managing to keep his amusement off of his face.
"You know, Edgeworth, it might be a good idea for you to get out of here for a while. At least until the place airs out a bit," he suggested, wafting his hand in front of his face.
"I'll have you know, Wright that I have a great deal of work to d-" the silver-haired Prosecutor's expression darkened as another sneeze snuck up on him, and he frowned at a little bottle of pills on his desk before throwing them into the wastepaper bin next to his desk and glaring at Phoenix like this was all his fault.
"Just for coffee? Or something? While the air clears a bit."
"...Fine. But only because I prefer to be able to breathe."
Phoenix let Edgeworth leave ahead of him, managing to suppress a grin that he knew would probably get him punched. He barely got the chance to talk to Edgeworth outside of court, and this was as good an excuse as any.
Phoenix had expected Edgeworth to be stubborn, so he wasn't really surprised when the man had refused point-blank to leave the building. He knew for a fact that the coffee from the cafeteria was horrible - probably one of the reasons Edgeworth had insisted, he'd probably figured that Phoenix would ask for a rain check - but a little bad coffee wasn't enough to dissuade him. He could be just as stubborn as his old friend when the situation called for it.
The conversation was halting and more than a little forced. Miles - Phoenix couldn't help but refer to the man by his first name, if only in his own head - was normally horrible at small talk, but being stuffed up only made him more tight-lipped. The change of locations seemed to have helped a little, but every so often another sneeze would jump him out of nowhere and Phoenix would be left to hide a grin with his coffee cup as he scrambled for his handkerchief. He was only barely saved a tongue lashing when Miles' cell phone went off.
"As thoroughly enjoyable as this has been, Wright, that was my secretary," Miles stood up just quickly enough for Phoenix to recognize the movement as the first part of a tactical retreat. "Detective Gumshoe has just returned with a report for me and was good enough to move the last of those infernal flowers."
"Perfect, now your office should clear out in no time," Phoenix only barely kept himself from laughing at the almost shocked look on Miles' face. "Hope you don't mind if I tag along. I was hoping to catch Gumshoe about something myself."
The glare that Miles shot him would have been enough to send a lesser man running. Phoenix, however, had built up an immunity to death-glares during the course of his career, and when he showed no signs of exploding into a million pieces, Miles just turned on his heel, growling something about the world conspiring against him actually doing his job and heading back for the fire escape they'd come down to get to the cafeteria.
Miles Edgeworth was a fit man. His deep-seated hate of elevators meant that he used the stairs wherever he went, and having an office on the sixth floor of the building pretty much ensured that he got a good amount of exercise in a day - not counting his daily walks with Pess.
When one already has issues breathing, however, sometimes even the most mundane activities can become...difficult.
He'd tried to outpace Wright, right at first - it would mean that he wouldn't have to worry about any more of the painfully awkward conversation they'd been attempting in the cafeteria - but, as was his luck at the moment, he'd completely forgotten that Wright bicycled everywhere he went.
"You okay, Edgeworth?" The defense attorney asked, seeming completely unaffected by the brusque pace.
"For the fourth time, yes Wright," Miles replied curtly, conceding enough to his current inability to get quite enough air into his system to get by unassisted. "I would be better, however, if you stopped asking."
In the man's defense, Wright attempted to stifle the chuckle that the comment brought on. Of course, Miles had never been one to allow such things to get in his way.
"I'm thrilled to be such a reliable source of entertainment, Wright," he sneered, stopping to glare at the man - definitely not to catch his breath.
"Aw, Edgeworth, don't be like that," Wright's tone was placating, though his expression was still far too amused for Miles' liking. "You know I don't mean anything by it, right? It's just nice to know that Mister Perfect Public Prosecutor's human too. Allergies are nothing to be ashamed of."
Miles wasn't entirely sure how to respond - admitting that he saw his body's aversion to flowers as an irritating weakness probably wouldn't earn him any sympathy - but he was distracted enough by the sudden spike of irritation that ran through him that he didn't quite put his feet down on the next step properly...