A/N; Alrighty, kids. I'll be honest straight. I don't have any idea where this'll go. I have the beginnings of ideas, but before the initial two chapters I've got pre-written...who knows. I'll be honest, too, in saying that right now, my time is sort of limited, but I'm stressed out as all hell, so I'll probably turn to this for solace. This being said, this fic won't be the best thing I've ever written. xD It happens. R and R, and stuff, and enjoy. :3 I'm not sure if this will eventually tie into ME; AAI. I think certain parts will, but don't take my word for it yet.

Stepping out of the shower and rubbing at his hair, a certain Prosecutor wandered through the hallway of his apartment. The place was dark, as it was fairly late in the evening, and while Miles Edgeworth was not a fan of sleeping with remotely damp hair, the lack of time he had in the mornings of late just proved that showering then was too difficult. As he wandered through his flat, though, he paused outside of his study, noting a light was on. Briefly, a throb of agitation consumed him, and the idea of opening the door fully and throwing his wet towel onto his house guest almost seemed too good to ignore. Being the mannered man that he was, though, Miles settled with opening the door quietly and slowly and leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his bare chest.

The unshaven, beanie-wearing man leaned back in the desk-chair he was in, and he grinned upside-down at Miles, waving with a hand and holding a phone to his ear with the other. Spinning the chair with him, he faced the partially undressed man, and Miles rolled his eyes.

"Is that so?" Phoenix Wright continued, eyes glued on the other's chest, not seeming to be at all bothered that his call had been stepped in on. Miles, rolling his eyes in annoyance, kept his arms crossed and didn't otherwise care the other was staring. Phoenix made faces while he listened absently, before he pulled his beanie off and scratched at the horrid mess his dark hair had become. Miles rather missed his stupid spikes. It was hard to believe, but imagining the name 'Wright' brought pictures of spikes and the color blue and the other's blazingly intense eyes to mind, not an unshaven hobo. Upon his return to America, Phoenix instantly asked for his place to crash in, to give Apollo and Trucy space at the old office. Miles hadn't taken a lot of convincing, and from there, their old relationship resumed where it had left off before Miles had departed.

That is to say, they were the strangest of bedfellows in the most literal context possible, but somehow, the Phoenix that sat before Miles now seemed just as attractive, intelligent, and brilliantly stupid as the younger man Miles had re-encountered in court one fateful day. Phoenix was Miles' idiot savant, and no other's. Not even time had effectively stepped on their relationship.

"Really now?" Phoenix drawled, obviously more absorbed in watching his lover. Miles tapped an imaginary watch on his wrist, and then gave the other an annoyed raise of the eyebrow. Phoenix pressed a finger to his lip despite the lack of sound, and moved himself back and forth in the office chair, listening to what he was being told. "I see. Well, that's very helpful. Thank you. Yeah, alright, I'll see you tomorrow, then." Hanging up, he let out a melodramatic, heavy sigh. "I'm just wanted so damn badly all the time, it's so hard."

Miles snorted. "All the time? That's a mighty strong delusion you have there, Wright." Miles gave Phoenix time to pout and huff before continuing, "I think I've told you to stay out of my study? Or did you just ignore me, as you do when I remind you that the floor isn't a hamper?"

"Aw, Miles, you're so mean," Phoenix light-heartedly blew off. "I had an important call, and if it's in the house, it's a hamper. It's how I've lived the last forever."

"The last forever? You can't even remember the last time you picked up after yourself?"

Phoenix chuckled, but sounded tired. Miles rolled his eyes and stepped aside, allowing Phoenix to stand and depart from the room. Unable to pass Miles without pinching the other's nipple, he laughed as the other turned bright red and hurriedly re-covered his chest with his arms, before he took the towel hanging off of his arm and covered Phoenix's head. "Haven't I told you to keep your hands to yourself? My God, you're such a child still."

A muffled, "That makes one of us!" came out of the former-attorney as he squirmed, before he just attached to Miles' figure and snickered. "I remember you being taller. And skinnier." Miles bopped the other on the head, annoyed.

"Yeah, and I remember you with a little bit more meat on your bones."

"I remember you not wearing glasses to read--I win, hands down, no comebacks!"

Miles hadn't known they were playing a game, but then again, it was the perfect testimony to his previous comment relating Phoenix to being a child. Allowing the towel to fall back over the other's head, he let Miles blink those amazingly blue eyes up at him, and Miles allowed a faint smile to curve his lips. Phoenix smirked in response, arms running around the other's waist and holding Miles' close. Miles granted the other a brief peck, before he swatted the other's rear and shoved him out of the study doorway.

"Bed. Now."

"Fine, mom, jeez," Phoenix whined, limping his way into the room over. Miles shut the study behind him, followed Phoenix to bed, and was about to drift into the pleasant land of sleep when he realized he was being disturbed quite a bit. Actually, it was because the other was moving around. Phoenix was tossing and turning, grunting and mumbling soft apologies for fidgeting.

Is it that hard for a bum like you to sleep on a comfy bed? After years of sleeping on a damned couch?

Miles pushed himself up with an arm, blearily looking through the dark at the other. Phoenix rolled to look at him, storm-cloud eyes looking up, before Phoenix smiled sheepishly. "Um, sorry."

"'Um sorry'?" Miles mocked in a tired, snide voice. "Go sleep on the couch. Unlike you, I have a busy day tomorrow."

"Hey, no, listen," Phoenix said, sitting up, letting the blankets crumple about his waist. The messy-haired, unshaven man watched Miles a second before he continued, "Something's…Aren't you getting that vibe? You remember what it's like to end up at the wrong place at the wrong time, all the time, right? Like, what used to happen to me? I…" In distress, the man got out of bed, but Miles was too tired to really care. He let Phoenix get up, and as soon as the other had shuffled out of the room, Miles fell fast asleep.


Miles awoke the next morning slowly and gently. As he pushed himself up and listened to his bones crack and pop, he looked to the curled figure on the other side of the bed. Memory of the other's distress seemed to have faded, and so Miles simply thought to pull the blankets up and over the other's shoulders a bit before sliding out of the bed and beginning to put together his outfit. It was only as he was finishing the touches on his outfit did Phoenix stir and roll about for a bit, and then peek at Miles from under the blankets at the foot of the bed.

"Miles," he mumbled sleepily, yawning. "Good day at work…all that stuff…Sleepy time still…" And the man sprawled over the edge, hanging and snoring.

Miles stared back at the man before he smiled a touch affectionately. There was always something about the other that made his chest feel warm. Somehow, the other's good heart had remained good, even now after he had lost his beloved badge and former occupation. It'd been good since they were children. It was a quality Miles grew up seeking and only found again once he had found Phoenix again.

Miles rolled the other back onto the bed, but when the other was less than helpful, Miles left him dangling and moved to go prepare his briefcase for work. He, unlike Phoenix, was still an attorney, and he still had a job. In his rush to get out, he chose a fruit from the fruit bowl for breakfast, but in doing so, his eye caught a note left by the bowl. Setting aside his apple, he picked up the note, cursed his failing eyes, and pulled out his reading glasses. As he read it, his body shivered faintly. It was unmarked, and simply read, 'I'm coming.'

"Who's coming?" he mumbled, losing interest and picking his breakfast back up. It was of no importance. Work called and was desperately more important than a piece of paper with unfamiliar writing. With a final call back to Phoenix, Miles left for the District Court Building.