WEDNE
Title: time doesn't pass when you close your eyes
Fandom: Ace Attorney
Character(s): Phoenix Wright/Miles Edgeworth
Word Count: ~800
Rating: G
Summary: A night in the life of Phoenix Wright, age 40.
Phoenix wakes on the couch from a nap he hadn't even planned on taking, feeling more achey than rested. He can't sleep in as many positions as he used to be able to, not with the stiffness of age settling into his joints. With a yawn, he stretches, popping his back and shoulders into some semblance of alignment before he reaches out to turn off the television.
Without the brilliance of the screen casting everything into harsh contrast, the room has changed into soft, familiar shadows, but for the yellow wedge of light cast from a half-opened door. Phoenix crosses the floor with the ease of a man in his home, skirting both the jut of the coffee table and the spindly reach of Charlie (gosh that plant has gotten tall) without disturbing either.
When he pushes the office door open with his hip, he grins fondly at the familiar sight before him: Miles Edgeworth, hunched over his desk and studying case files by the too-dim glow of the incandescent lamp he's had since college.
"You know, if you're going to keep doing this, you should really get a new light source." It's an old argument, well-worn and comfortable, and Miles falls right into the rut of it, levelling an unimpressed glare at Phoenix over the rims of his glasses.
"This lamp light is comfortable. Fluorescents give me headaches."
Phoenix raises an eyebrow. "So does squinting at tiny print in the middle of the night."
With a huff, Miles taps his papers against the desk, neatening the pile. "I'm perfectly fine as I am."
"Objection." Phoenix smiles warmly as he brushes the tip of his finger against the crease between Miles' eyebrows. "This evidence proves that you've got a tension headache."
Phoenix gentles his poke into a caress, brushing Miles' bangs off of his face. As the fine, light strands pass between his fingers, Phoenix murmurs, "Come to bed. It's late."
The other man leans into his hand for a moment, then shakes him off, stubborn as ever even now. "I'm not tired yet, Phoenix. I'll come later."
"Aw, but I'll be lonely without you!" It's so easy to slide Miles' glasses off, brush his lips at the tender indent at his temples where the arms had lain. "And who said we had to sleep, hmm?"
"It's almost impossible to believe that someone here recently celebrated their fortieth birthday." Miles says, but there's a warmth to his voice that tells Phoenix that he's on the verge of a smile.
"I can believe it. You've looked forty since you were nine years old, Miles." He winks, ruffling Miles’ hair before ducking away with a squawk when the subject of his teasing yelps and aims a smack in his direction.
"This is my natural hair colour!"
"Hey, I never said it was a bad thing!" Phoenix slides his arms around Miles, dropping a playful apology of a kiss on his cheek. "Maybe I have a thing for DILFs, huh?"
"Given that the definition of a DILF involves fatherhood, the only one in this relationship is you, Phoenix," but the the frown lines at his eyes are gone, and he's leaning back into Phoenix's embrace.
In a singsong, Phoenix says, "That means you want to fuck me, right?", as he tucks his nose into the nape of Miles’ neck, hiding his smile against the soft collar of his shirt. "Because, you know what that acronym stands for..."
Miles sighs, a clear sign that he's rolling his eyes in that lovingly resigned way of his, an expression reserved only for Phoenix at this point. "If pop culture hadn't educated me by now, the screams of your staff when the papers applied the term to you would have."
At that, the man turns in his chair, shaking out of Phoenix’s grasp so that he can stand. For a moment, Miles sets his hands on his hips and just looks at Phoenix, as if he’s trying to solve a truly complicated puzzle.
“What? Is there something on my face?” Phoenix scrubs at his mouth, wondering if a drool line remains from his impromptu nap.
Miles shakes his head. “No. It’s nothing.” He leans in to drop a quick peck to the corner of Phoenix’s mouth. “I … You’ve convinced me to retire for the night. That’s all.”
Phoenix chases Miles’ mouth when he pulls back, catching his lips for a proper kiss before they part. “I love you too, Miles.’
He pauses, then can’t help but ask, “So are we going to retire, or… retire?”, waggling his eyebrows in the exaggerated way reserved for dorky dad!jokes as he follows Miles towards the door.
“That depends entirely upon whether or not you continue to be ridiculous.” Miles says as he takes Phoenix’s hand, leading him out to their bedroom.
==
This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth.
Fandom: Ace Attorney
Character(s): Phoenix Wright/Miles Edgeworth
Word Count: ~800
Rating: G
Summary: A night in the life of Phoenix Wright, age 40.
Phoenix wakes on the couch from a nap he hadn't even planned on taking, feeling more achey than rested. He can't sleep in as many positions as he used to be able to, not with the stiffness of age settling into his joints. With a yawn, he stretches, popping his back and shoulders into some semblance of alignment before he reaches out to turn off the television.
Without the brilliance of the screen casting everything into harsh contrast, the room has changed into soft, familiar shadows, but for the yellow wedge of light cast from a half-opened door. Phoenix crosses the floor with the ease of a man in his home, skirting both the jut of the coffee table and the spindly reach of Charlie (gosh that plant has gotten tall) without disturbing either.
When he pushes the office door open with his hip, he grins fondly at the familiar sight before him: Miles Edgeworth, hunched over his desk and studying case files by the too-dim glow of the incandescent lamp he's had since college.
"You know, if you're going to keep doing this, you should really get a new light source." It's an old argument, well-worn and comfortable, and Miles falls right into the rut of it, levelling an unimpressed glare at Phoenix over the rims of his glasses.
"This lamp light is comfortable. Fluorescents give me headaches."
Phoenix raises an eyebrow. "So does squinting at tiny print in the middle of the night."
With a huff, Miles taps his papers against the desk, neatening the pile. "I'm perfectly fine as I am."
"Objection." Phoenix smiles warmly as he brushes the tip of his finger against the crease between Miles' eyebrows. "This evidence proves that you've got a tension headache."
Phoenix gentles his poke into a caress, brushing Miles' bangs off of his face. As the fine, light strands pass between his fingers, Phoenix murmurs, "Come to bed. It's late."
The other man leans into his hand for a moment, then shakes him off, stubborn as ever even now. "I'm not tired yet, Phoenix. I'll come later."
"Aw, but I'll be lonely without you!" It's so easy to slide Miles' glasses off, brush his lips at the tender indent at his temples where the arms had lain. "And who said we had to sleep, hmm?"
"It's almost impossible to believe that someone here recently celebrated their fortieth birthday." Miles says, but there's a warmth to his voice that tells Phoenix that he's on the verge of a smile.
"I can believe it. You've looked forty since you were nine years old, Miles." He winks, ruffling Miles’ hair before ducking away with a squawk when the subject of his teasing yelps and aims a smack in his direction.
"This is my natural hair colour!"
"Hey, I never said it was a bad thing!" Phoenix slides his arms around Miles, dropping a playful apology of a kiss on his cheek. "Maybe I have a thing for DILFs, huh?"
"Given that the definition of a DILF involves fatherhood, the only one in this relationship is you, Phoenix," but the the frown lines at his eyes are gone, and he's leaning back into Phoenix's embrace.
In a singsong, Phoenix says, "That means you want to fuck me, right?", as he tucks his nose into the nape of Miles’ neck, hiding his smile against the soft collar of his shirt. "Because, you know what that acronym stands for..."
Miles sighs, a clear sign that he's rolling his eyes in that lovingly resigned way of his, an expression reserved only for Phoenix at this point. "If pop culture hadn't educated me by now, the screams of your staff when the papers applied the term to you would have."
At that, the man turns in his chair, shaking out of Phoenix’s grasp so that he can stand. For a moment, Miles sets his hands on his hips and just looks at Phoenix, as if he’s trying to solve a truly complicated puzzle.
“What? Is there something on my face?” Phoenix scrubs at his mouth, wondering if a drool line remains from his impromptu nap.
Miles shakes his head. “No. It’s nothing.” He leans in to drop a quick peck to the corner of Phoenix’s mouth. “I … You’ve convinced me to retire for the night. That’s all.”
Phoenix chases Miles’ mouth when he pulls back, catching his lips for a proper kiss before they part. “I love you too, Miles.’
He pauses, then can’t help but ask, “So are we going to retire, or… retire?”, waggling his eyebrows in the exaggerated way reserved for dorky dad!jokes as he follows Miles towards the door.
“That depends entirely upon whether or not you continue to be ridiculous.” Miles says as he takes Phoenix’s hand, leading him out to their bedroom.
==
This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth.