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madimpossibledreamer(Oddly enough, I also realized Leon (RE4) and Edgeworth have the same haircut. Which explains why I liked the look.)
~Dreamer~
Main Points:
Ace Attorney AU
Summary: Edgeworth's Decembers have all looked very similar over the years.
Rating: G?
Word Count: 945
Edgeworth is aware that he’s confusing Wright. The man probably assumed him a Scrooge, a harder, less accommodating worker during the Christmas season.
Phoenix had begun, finally, to relax when spotting Miles in his sleepwear. Given that the Edgeworth mansion had practically become a home for lost souls, despite the size of the place, it was inevitable that daily routines would overlap to some extent, and Edgeworth refused to change his actions in order to avoid Wright’s worldview from being damaged.
The man had nearly had a mental breakdown upon discovering Edgeworth owned and regularly wore casual wear. True, it wasn’t quite the definition of most people’s casual, but he even owned and wore a few t-shirts now and then. The look on his fellow lawyer’s face as he discovered Miles the first few times relaxing in his nice silk peach pajamas and reading the paper honestly made Edgeworth a little worried about the other’s health, but on the whole it was probably a good thing for Phoenix to expand his worldview. Even the stupid sniggering at the warm bunny slippers was better than the shock.
Still, seeing him like this is probably a bit more casual than Phoenix, even with the newfound evidence, is prepared for. He’d begun December a bundle of nerves, unwilling to handle any requests on his own. He’d hover, wishing but unable to ask for help—embarrassing, and what would he really ask for? Phoenix had proven himself a true friend, and would no doubt wish to do whatever he could for a friend in need, but hurt like this wasn’t something a simple action could fix. It was something that Edgeworth needed to work through on his own.
Toward the end of the month, he stopped coming in to work. He’s aware that Maya explained that one to Phoenix, that it happened every year, that Edgeworth had enough money to cover the month even with the expenditures for presents. Which he did, actually, happen to do, though he usually shopped during October so that Christmas wasn’t looming on the horizon and he could actually enjoy the act of picking out things he hoped would bring a smile to the faces of those close to him. Usually, baking and handing out cookies was enough for fellow attorneys, prosecutors, the judge. (He didn’t personally hand everyone cookies—the Paynes, for instance, were unpleasant enough in court, let alone outside of it—but to at least give everyone a fair chance he did also leave a few plates full in common areas as well, and, well, if they were too slow, it was not his fault.) He’d been supposedly dozing on the couch at the time, too tired and lazy to move, and besides, it was interesting, what people would say when they thought he couldn’t hear them. Almost interesting enough to distract him from the true reason he put his life on hold for a month.
Father, I still miss you.
He reassured Wright that if the man went in without him, he wouldn’t take offense. He only got a surprisingly sharp glance from dark blue eyes before the ridiculous lawyer announced cheerfully, “Nah, it’s fine. I’m not used to working this much as it is! It’s nice having a break, and besides, it’s always a lot more boring when you’re not in the picture.”
Edgeworth would have taken that as a compliment if he wasn’t aware exactly how much of a circus some of their cases had gone. Instead, he merely smiles and shakes his head.
By late December, Miles just…stops getting dressed. Occasionally, he’ll change his pairs of pajamas for another. He doesn’t always brush his hair. He’ll spend most of his time largely unmoving on the couch, even falling asleep on it. It’s comfortable enough to do so, but he’s found a steadily increasing number of blankets carefully tucked around him when he wakes up in the morning. Maya’d never had the courage to do it before, so he suspects the culprit is Phoenix, even if he never voices his suspicions.
He spends most of the time listlessly watching the programming. The newest Doctor Who is rather poor, compared to all that preceded, and he reflects it’s a sad day when that includes Colin Baker of all the Time Lord’s incarnations. Usually, it’s a safe bet, but the writing has just deteriorated lately, so that he’s had to do a little more channel surfing than he’s used to doing.
Phoenix doesn’t comment when he walks in on the middle of a Pirate Turtles episode, or the latest episode of Posh Houses on Low Budgets, or even on the superhero movie marathon. He’s not always there, in fact he’s rarely there, but when he is, he usually doesn’t want to talk much. Usually, he’ll just walk in quietly, find a spot on the couch that’s close but not too close, and watch with him. At first, it made him uncomfortable, until he realized that Wright, for once in his life, was not being loud or confrontational in that ridiculous way of his, at which point it quickly became relaxing.
Occasionally, Edgeworth will pull out old cases and make notes, bring out his old, well-loved violin (which had Wright worried until he’d learned that the instrument wasn’t merely for show, at which point an impromptu concert had occurred), play solitaire, read old, well-loved Steel Samurai fanfiction on his laptop. For the most part, though, he sleeps or pays half attention to what he’s watching.
He eats, for the most part, though sometimes it takes Wright to remind him. And that makes this particular year just that little bit more bearable.
