Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Sigh," said Maya Fey for the third time.

"You're supposed to actually sigh, not just say sigh," Phoenix replied. He was hunched over the computer, using two fingers to type up the report for their latest case.

"And you're supposed to ask me what's wrong, not just make fun of me!" Maya sat up from where she had been sprawled on the couch, glaring in his direction.

Phoenix sighed. "See? That's how it's done."

"Humph," said Maya. She took a deep breath and let out a long, exaggerated sigh, maintaining eye contact with Phoenix the whole time.

"Why, what on earth is wrong, Maya?"

"Finally!" Maya cheered, throwing her hands up. "Okay, so, you know the Steel Samurai, right?"

"I'm acquainted, yes." Phoenix straightened, turning off the computer screen. Whenever Maya started a conversation like this, he was in for a long spiel, and he might as well save the electricity.

"So, some fans of the Steel Samurai get together and run – well, it's called an exchange, but it's like… You know secret Santa?"

"Yes," Phoenix said warily. "Wait, is this a Christmas thing? It's March."

"The time of year doesn't matter! The point is, a bunch of people sign up, and they give their likes and dislikes. And then you are matched up – anonymously – and everybody makes something for the person they're matched with. And then people reveal their gifts, and then – ta-da! The creator is revealed, too."

"Right," said Phoenix, who from a young age had learned to smile and nod when he didn't get it. "And this all has to do with the Steel Samurai?"

"Yes! Because it's Steel Samurai-themed, so everything you ask for – either art or writing – has to do with the Steel Samurai."

"And you love the Steel Samurai," said Phoenix.

"I love the Steel Samurai."

"So…what's the problem?"

"The problem is my assignment! I mean, the gift I have to make! I signed up as a writer, but the thing this person is asking for just has me completely blocked."

"Can't you just write something else?" Phoenix asked.

Maya looked at him, eyes wide with betrayal. "God, no! That you could even think…! No, what they've requested is law, as in you have to follow it. And it shouldn't even be hard, but I just…I can't find the start."

Phoenix shrugged. "Alright, hit me. What did they ask for?"

"They asked for MagiSteel – that's the Steel Samurai and the Evil Magistrate in a romantic relationship. And they want them to be childhood friends, which is a really cute concept, but…I don't know, it's just so out of my comfort zone." Maya blew her cheeks out, frustrated. "Because I was the daughter of the Master, the other kids always treated me different while I was growing up. I certainly don't have any experiences that qualify for the 'childhood friends to lovers' trope."

"Don't the Steel Samurai and the Evil Magistrate try to kill each other at least once a season? Why would childhood friends do that?" Phoenix folded his arms, thinking. It was true that childhood friends could change and grow apart, but becoming arch-nemeses seemed a bit farfetched. Then again…

"Exactly my point!" Maya groaned, sliding back onto the couch and all the way into a depressed puddle on the floor. "I'm going to have to drop out, aren't I… I'm completely stuck."

Phoenix leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. "That's a shame. Hm… I guess if they've spent time apart, maybe one of them has changed. You know, the Evil Magistrate has turned Evil. He probably wasn't Evil when they were friends as kids."

"That's true! The Steel Samurai must've been so betrayed when he found out his childhood friend had become evil."

"Or maybe he was just worried about what had happened to his friend."

"Oh! What if he was his childhood crush?" Maya sat up, excited. "And the Steel Samurai is like, no, someone I love would never turn evil! Something must've happened!"

"That's a reasonable thing for a person to think," Phoenix agreed. "So he tracks him down."

"Tracks him down…? Don't you think that's a bit much?"

Phoenix frowned. For some reason, he felt like he should be taking that personally.

"No, no, I should be yes, and-ing you!" Maya slapped her own cheeks in reprimand. "Tell me more! I'm but an avid listener of your wisdom."

"Well, he, uh, tracks him down and…makes him see the wrongs of his ways, and then…happily ever after?"

Maya tapped her chin. "It could work," she said contemplatively. "It's certainly a unique angle."

"A lot of my work is unique," Phoenix said. "Unfortunately, the word is usually followed by '-ly bad'."

"Not this time!" Maya wiggled her fingers in his direction. "I'm feeling it, Nick! The spirit of creation is come unto me, and I…must…write!" She got back on the couch, reaching for the beat-up laptop she'd said was an old hand-me-down from Mia.

"It's office hours," Phoenix said, but he knew his audience of one had turned into an audience of none, and it was with only a small sigh he turned back to his own computer and switched the screen back on.

Over the next three weeks, Maya needled Phoenix about the experience of having childhood friends. "If you were to fall in love with them," she asked, "how would that feel?"

Phoenix sighed, standing up from where he'd been crouched to examine a carpet blood stain. "I wasn't a very self-aware kid," he says, "so I probably wouldn't have realised at the time. It's something I would've seen when I got older, looking back on the stuff I did and the feelings I had."

"Like…?" Maya prompted, producing a notebook and a pen as she looked at him with a waiting air.

"Like, uh, getting jealous when they spent time alone with other kids…wanting our friendship to be special and the most important. Wanting that person to be the one to comfort me when I was sad…writing poetry about their eyes…you know, normal stuff."

Maya narrowed her eyes. "What was that last one?"

"Let's forget I said that," Phoenix said hastily. "Anyway, look at this footprint. Does that look like a clown shoe to you?"

"It does," Maya said. "Did you feel all that stuff about your childhood friend?"

"Maybe," Phoenix said. "Let's focus on the clown shoe, please."

Maya ignored him, as she was wont to do. "So you were writing poetry about your friend's eyes without realising you had feelings for them? Oh, Nick…"

"I was a sensitive child! I thought it was normal!"

"That's sad," Maya said. "But also, very Steel Samurai. He's also surprisingly sensitive, you know? I'm going to steal that." She wrote a few bullet points in her notebook.

"I'm glad my childhood is proving useful for your fanfictions," Phoenix muttered. "Now can we get back to solving this murder?"

"Fine, fine." Maya put her notebook and pen away. "Hey, is that the murder weapon sticking out of that vent?"

Phoenix paused. "So it is."

They both stared at it for a moment.

"I can't believe the cops missed that," Phoenix said. "Well, I can, but…"

"Last one to say MagiSteel has to bag it," Maya said. "MagiSteel!"

Phoenix pinched his nose. "I should probably bring it to Edgeworth," he murmured to himself. "Then again, that'll give him time to come up with new strategies…but I want us both to be on the same page, which means sharing evidence…and he's been sharing evidence with me…and that's the only way we'll get it properly analysed in time for the trial…"

"Last one to say MagiSteel has to bring the knife to Edgeworth," Maya said. This time she waited a beat, but Phoenix continued to frown into the middle distance, lost in thought. "MmmagiSteel."

"I'll take it to him," Phoenix said resolutely. "It's only fair."

"Have fun," Maya said. "I'm going back to the office to write. I'm suddenly feeling very inspired."

Miles Edgeworth was not having a good day.

First, there was the case. He had been strongly advised that his office would be re-allocated if he did not pick up more cases through the Prosecutor's Office, instead of focusing on the extracurricular activities he had stumbled upon since his return from Europe. Thus he had been saddled with a murder at a children's birthday party, complete with the asinine politics of suburban stay-at-home parents. It was not his usual fare, to say the least, and Detective Gumshoe was equally out of his depth.

The man Miles currently had in the detention centre, Justin Limmy Cook, had been the party's caterer, and was the only one in possession of knives that matched the victim's fatal wounds. Cook insisted one of his knives had gone missing before the party even started, but without any fingerprints to corroborate his story, he was the most likely suspect.

Miles's phone vibrated and he sent a dark look in its direction. That was the second source of his foul mood: the MagiSteel exchange he had signed up for after several glasses of wine. Ever since he'd confirmed his participation, his phone had been chiming incessantly with "check-ins" and "reminders". As if none of these people had ever worked to a deadline before! Miles had not yet started writing, but his concept was clear in his mind. He would write a version of events where the Evil Magistrate was a genius prosecutor, ruthless but blind to the nuances of law, while the Steel Samurai was a defense attorney who saved him from his fate. Miles's giftee had asked for some ridiculous "coffee shop AU" that did not suit MagiSteel at all. He was confident he was doing them a favour by ignoring their prompt.

His phone vibrated again. Just as he reached over to silence it, there was a knock at his door. "What!" Miles barked.

The door opened and Phoenix Wright's head appeared, an expression of wry uncertainty on his face. "Everything okay..?"

Miles cleared his throat. "Wright. Of course, yes. Come in – I wasn't expecting you."

"I won't take up much of your time, I'm sure you're busy," Wright said, stepping inside and closing the door gently behind him. When he wasn't flustered or stealing from a crime scene, Wright had quietly meticulous manners, an odd incongruity with a man who had once come to court five minutes late with seagull poop in his hair. It was frustratingly endearing.

"I'm not particularly busy," Miles said, setting aside a pile of paperwork that needed to be completed by the end of the day. "What brings you here?"

"Maya and I were just at the crime scene for the Cook case," Wright said. "We found this in the grate by the patio." He held up a plastic bag containing a knife, the blade of which was marred with the unmistakable brown-red of dried blood.

Miles's mouth fell open for a moment before he composed himself, clearing his throat. "That looks very much like the murder weapon."

"Doesn't it just?" said Wright, handing over the bag. Miles took it, holding it up to study the knife through the plastic.

"How did the detective miss…?"

"Maybe it ended up there after they'd already searched it," Wright said, not sounding particularly convinced.

Miles raised an eyebrow at him. Wright grinned sheepishly.

"… but probably not."

"No, probably not indeed. Why did you bring it to me?" Miles asked, trying to see if he could spot any residue on the handle. "You know I'll use this in court tomorrow – and prove your client guilty if I have to."

"I know," said Wright. "But the whole point is to have the same amount of information, right? You share with me, I share with you. And, uh…" He rubbed his neck, sheepish smile returning. "We kind of need the blood analyzed by court tomorrow, and I don't have that kind of resource at my beck and call, so…"

"Phoenix Wright, are you using me for my connections?" Miles asked, a glint in his eye.

"Oh, no," Wright said. "If I were using you it would be for something else entirely."

There was a beat of silence before Wright stumbled to cover himself. "L-like our lunches! I was thinking of our lunches and how you end up footing the bill most of the time, n-nothing like–"

Miles turned away to hide his face, pressing a button on his desk phone.

After a few rings, a hurried voice answered: "Hey, this is Gumshoe!"

"Detective," Miles said once he was confident his voice would not betray him. "Come to my office right away. Your paycheck depends on it."

"Yessir!"

Miles hung up, looking at Wright, who was smiling faintly in sympathy with Gumshoe, cheeks still pink from his faux pas. "You have a way of brightening my day, Wright, even if that means it rarely goes according to plan."

Though it was after midday, pink dawn clouds drifted across Wright's face, his blush bright and obvious. "O-oh. Thanks. Likewise – you like to throw me for a loop. Speaking of loops, how are you doing?"

Miles had told Wright all about his stint with the Yatagarasu and his trial at the Committee for Prosecutorial Excellence some weeks previous. Though it was only spring, it had certainly already been a long year for them both.

"I'm well," Miles said. "I feel at peace, as much as I can. Truly, shouldn't I be asking that question of you? It's not been long since sister Iris was convicted." Without quite realising, he had taken a seat on his sofa, leaving the evidence on his desk. Wright sat down next to him, the tip of his knee so close to touching Miles's that Miles could feel the kinetic energy moving through the air.

"I'm okay," Wright said truthfully. "That trial was… intense… but it gave me closure I didn't know I needed. For Maya, too… Losing her mother was horrible, of course, and she is going to have to live with many unanswered questions. But she's ready to move on now, and to learn what she needs to know to become the Master of Kurain." Wright's smile turned soft and rueful. It was often the way of him, that asking about his wellbeing led to an answer involving Maya Fey's – like their happiness was interlinked. "She told me that Mia is gone, too. Moved on, I mean. It'll be much harder for her to channel her now."

Miles fought to keep his expression neutral.

"Sorry," Wright said. "I know that stuff makes you uncomfortable. And that was a really rambly answer, too, I'm sorry."

"I don't mind," Miles said. "There are certainly less interesting topics in the world."

They smiled at each other.

"Oh, Maya is doing this thing," said Wright after a moment, "it's about the Steel Samurai, so maybe you know it–"

"Sir!" Detective Gumshoe burst into the room, chest heaving and brow furrowed with determination. "I'm here! What do you need?"

Wright shot to his feet like a naughty schoolboy caught by his teacher. Miles got up in a much more controlled manner, retrieving the bag with the knife and handing it to the detective. "This was found at the crime scene," Miles said, tone sharp enough to cut ice. "Care to explain how you missed it?"

"Why, that looks just like the missing murder weapon!" Gumshoe exclaimed. "That's great, Mr. Edgeworth! Where did you find it?"

"I was the one who found it," Wright said.

Gumshoe grimaced. "Oh, I see the problem."

"Luckily, Wright was kind enough to grace us with this vital piece of evidence," Miles said coolly, "but it's unacceptable that it was missed in the initial search. You can be assured that this will feature at your next performance review. Now get it analyzed! I want the results on my desk by tonight."

Gumshoe gulped, taking the bag with one hand and saluting with the other. "I'll see to it, sir! And I'll make sure this doesn't happen again – you have my word!" With that, he hurried out of the office, moving faster than a man of his size should be able to.

Miles turned to Wright, who was watching the door as it shut. "Wait," he said slowly. "Isn't this your case?"

"Indeed," Miles said.

"So why haven't you been to the crime scene? Or did you miss the knife too?"

"Nyooh!" said Miles, curling in on himself. "I… did inspect it, but… I must have been distracted… I have decided to take on this particular new hobby…"

Wright laughed. "I'd love to know what has driven the great Miles Edgeworth to distraction."

Miles opened his mouth to reply, but a tinny rendition of the Steel Samurai theme interrupted him. Wright got out his phone, giving Miles an apologetic look.

"It's Maya, so I should probably take this… sorry."

"Go ahead."

Wright nodded at him and turned away for some privacy as he answered the phone. "This is Phoenix. W-wait, what do you mean, an emergency? Are you OK?" Wright held his breath before letting out a relieved sigh. "Alright, that's good. I'll be right there." He hung up, looking at Miles. "Sorry, I have to go – apparently she's in dire straits."

"Of course, go," Miles said. "Can I help?"

Wright gave him a grateful smile. "I think it'll be okay, but I'll call you when I need you. If, I mean! If!"

Miles nodded, ignoring the warmth spreading over his own face. "See that you do."

He watched Wright leave, and then he sat down behind his desk. He would make no headway with the case until the forensic analysis came back, and Wright's visit had ignited several sparks of inspiration for the exchange piece he was planning…

Miles brought up a blank document on his computer and began to write.

"I'm here! What's the emergency?" Phoenix burst into the office, eyes anxiously searching the room for Maya. He finally saw her, bundled into an unhappy pile of robes and blankets on the couch. "Maya…?"

Her head popped up, lashes wet with tears. "I can't do it!" she wailed before burrowing back into her makeshift nest.

Phoenix blinked, perplexed. He saw the corner of Maya's laptop sticking out from under a blanket, so he put it on the coffee table before sitting down next to her. With the steadiness of someone calming a spooked horse horse, he put an arm around where he guessed her shoulders were and tried his best consoling tone of voice. "I'm sure you can do it, whatever it is. Is this about Kurain or your medium training?"

"No," Maya replied, her voice muffled by fabric. "Neither of those! I need to write sex, but I can't!"

Phoenix blinked again. "… I'm sorry, I must've misheard. It sounded like you said…"

"It's for the exchange!" Maya wailed. She sat up, her bangs mussed and the blanket's pattern imprinted on her cheek. "When I signed up, I said that I write R-rated works, and that's what the person wants! What am I going to do, Nick?"

"Can't you just… ignore that part?" Phoenix asked weakly.

Maya sniffled. "I told you, what the giftee wants is law. When the church asked Michelangelo to paint the Sistine Chapel, did he ignore the part where they wanted it on the ceiling?"

"…no, I suppose not," Phoenix said. "That's quite the example, coming from you."

"One of my MagiSteel friends is also into 16th century Italy RPF," Maya said.

Phoenix decided not to ask. Instead, he said, "Is it even legal for you to be writing… uh… that sort of thing?"

"Of course. I'm 18 now."

"But you haven't written it before," Phoenix guessed. Maya's pained expression gave him all the confirmation he needed. "Why did you say you would?"

"It was aspirational," Maya said, curling in on herself like a pathetic turtle retreating into her blanket shell. "I didn't think I'd be matched based on it."

Phoenix shrugged. "Guess you've learned your lesson. No more aspirational sign-ups. Maybe spend your aspirational energy elsewhere, huh?"

"Or…" Maya said, pausing and peering at him meaningfully out of her nest.

It took Phoenix a moment to follow her train of thoughts, and then he blanched. "Objection! I can't – I won't!"

"Nick, please!" Maya wheedled. "Even if you haven't done it with men, you have a better idea of the anatomy involved than I do!"

"Absolutely not," Phoenix said firmly, bright red. "And we're never talking about this again."

Maya's lower lip trembled.

"I won't do it," Phoenix said.

Her eyes shone with tears.

"You can't make me," Phoenix said desperately. "Stop looking at me like that…!"

"I guess I can't do anything right after all," Maya said in a small voice. "I'll drop out. You're right, I don't know what I was thinking."

Phoenix took a deep breath. "…oh, damn it. Pass me the laptop."

"Yes – thank you, thank you, thank you!" Maya turned on the couch and embraced him tightly. Phoenix sighed, patting her sides.

"But you're doing our taxes for free," he said. "As compensation."

Maya laughed, pulling back and passing him her laptop. "I already do them, Nick. You should read what I have so far before you start – I based it off what you told me. Everything else is done, so you just need to write the bow-chick-a-wow-wow."

Phoenix felt his face pinch like he'd bitten into a lemon. "Right."

"Chin up, Nick! Maybe you'll find a secret talent. Now, I'm starving, so I'm going to go get something to eat. Where's your wallet?"

"Coat pocket," Phoenix said. "Get my usual, please."

"Of course," Maya said. As she passed by the back of the couch, Phoenix felt a quick kiss to the top of his head, an impulsive moment of affection, and he smiled to himself as he started to read.

"I'm glad we're doing this." Said Steel Samurai. "I have loved you for a long time." He touched Evil Magistrate's erection. The skin was soft in his hand. He jerked his hand up and down many times.

"I have loved you too." Said Evil Magistrate. He was grunting with pleasure and sweat dripped down his chest. "Stop. I want to come inside you." He took Steel Samurai in his hands and Steel Samurai lay down on his back. They looked into each other's eyes for a long moment. Their connection was beyond words.

"Are you allergic to silicone?" Evil Magistrate asked.

"Oh, my God, Nick, you're here already? Wait, did you sleep here?"

"Coffee," Phoenix croaked. He blinked at the speaking shape a few times before it resolved into Maya, looking at him with concern.

"Did you sleep at all?" she asked.

"Time's it…?"

"Eight in the morning, I came down to use the TV."

Phoenix gingerly put Maya's laptop on the table, closing it gently. "Then no. But it's done."

Maya gasped. "It is? That's amazing, maybe you do have a secret talent after all! Let me read it." She pounced on the laptop, opening it and quickly scanning the document.

Phoenix watched her face. "What do you think?" he asked anxiously. "If it's not good, it's your fault for asking me to write this."

"Um… It's certainly inspired," Maya mumbled, her eyes still moving. "Inspired by what, though, I'm not sure… Is this really what sex is like?"

"I plead the fifth," Phoenix said.

Maya fell silent as she finished reading, and then she sat back with a sigh. "Either way, it'll do. Thank you so much for doing this for me, but… maybe don't quit your day job."

"I wasn't planning on it," Phoenix said sourly. "Is it really that bad?"

Maya stayed quiet. Phoenix sighed. "Sorry," she said. "Bluffing is your kind of thing, not mine. But I'll keep it in! Thank you again. Did you say you wanted coffee?"

"Please," Phoenix said. "I need to go see Edgeworth before the trial. He might have the lab results from that knife."

"I'll bring everything else to the courthouse and meet you there, then," Maya said. "And I'll stop by the crime scene for one last look. Maybe I'll find a signed confession!"

"Now you're thinking like a defense attorney," Phoenix said. "Mia would be proud."

Maya's smile turned bittersweet. "I could never be as good at her," she said quietly. "Not that I could abandon Kurain like that anyway…"

"Hey." Phoenix stood, interrupting her sad musings. "You're doing a great job. I meant it when I said she'd be proud, because I am. Even if the stuff you get up to online is a bit… unusual."

"Lots of people are in fandom, Nick!" Maya said. "It's not that weird. I bet there are other lawyers who write fanfiction too, not just you."

"I don't write fanfiction," Phoenix said, "that was a favor!"

"Yes, but technically–"

"Now you're thinking too much like an attorney," Phoenix said darkly. "And hey, wasn't I promised coffee? Hurry up, please, I have to go soon."

"Yeah, yeah – coming right up!"

Perhaps it was Miles's novelist instincts, but Wright in the bright morning light seemed particularly dashing. Just like the Steel Samurai, who in Miles's novella – calling it 'fanfiction' seemed uncouth – cut a striking figure as the defense attorney who was saved from the clutches of corruption by the valiant prosecutor Evil Magistrate, Wright's smile was as bright as the polished badge upon his lapel. He had knocked on Miles's door only a moment previous, holding up two cups of coffee.

"Good morning, Wright."

"Good morning, Edgeworth. I hope I'm not interrupting…"

"No more than anyone could be at an hour before court," Miles replied. He flexed his fingers, which ached from staying up typing way past his sensible bedtime. Wright stepped into the office properly, putting one of the coffee cups on Miles's desk.

"Here – black with sugar, like you usually take it."

"Thank you, but I had a coffee already this morning."

Wright shrugged. "Suit yourself, I'll drink it. That'll be my fourth cup this morning."

Miles eyed him. Like the former Prosecutor Godot, Wright seemed immune to the effects of caffeine on one's nervous system, but he still rarely imbibed on it to this degree. "Are you alright?"

"Uh, yeah, just – court jitters, you know how it is," Wright said with a small smile. "It's probably pretty silly to still get them after all this time, but, well."

"You were always susceptible to stage fright," Miles replied.

"Oh… you remember that?"

"Just a few things," said Miles, who felt like he had somehow exposed himself by accident. "A-anyway, I had a copy of the analysis results made up for you – I was planning on bringing it to the defense lobby, but given you're here already…"

"Were Cook's fingerprints on it?" Wright asked.

"Yes," Miles said, enjoying the way Wright's face fell. He let the pause linger for a moment before he continued: "However, they were not the only ones."

Wright slapped the desk. "A new suspect!"

Miles smirked, luxuriating in the feeling of Wright's grateful puppy eyes on him. "I'm having the relevant paperwork drawn up. Ms Deedee Killim will be giving her testimony later today, so you can do what you do best."

"Oh, Edgeworth, I could kiss you," Wright blurted out. "I-I mean – gosh, thank you!"

"I didn't do it for you," Miles said, forcing his voice not to crack. It was easier to ignore Wright's outburst than acknowledge it – if he actually gave it thought, he would be entirely too distracted during the trial. "I'm merely working to find the truth."

"Still," Wright said sincerely. "I appreciate it."

Miles found himself staring at the floor, unable to meet Wright's gaze as he cleared his throat. "Well, yes, quite… er, oh, here is your copy of the forensic report." Miles thrust the folder at him. "If you don't mind, I need to prepare for the trial…"

"R-right, yes, of course. Me too, what a coincidence! Haha…"

Miles watched him leave, sighing softly. He was reminded of one of the passages he had written the night before:

"For my crimes, I may never stand in court again," the Steel Samurai declared. His raven hair, obsidian in the dim light, fell into his eyes in this moment of weakness. "But the work we did together remains the epitome of my career. I could not have begun to right the wrongs that lay behind me without you. And yet, were it not for me, your record would have remained untainted…"

"Nay!" cried the Evil Magistrate. He grasped both of Steel Samurai's hands in his, clutching tightly at the digits. "I feel the same, my dear Samurai. Our work together has shown me the true path to justice. Only by putting my reputation at stake could I know what it meant to truly dispense the law." He surged forward to kiss the Steel Samurai passionately and lustfully. Their tongues battled for dominance just as they fought in court, but the Evil Magistrate prevailed, plunging his organ of speech into the Steel Samurai's molten sultry cavern.

"Oh, my God, Nick, the gifts are out – you'll never guess what someone wrote!"

"Could this please wait until after office hours…?"

"Someone wrote a fic where they're lawyers!"

Phoenix lifted his head. "What?"

"Yeah, the Steel Samurai is a defense attorney and Evil Magistrate is a prosecutor… ooh, and it looks like the Magistrate has to prosecute him, how juicy. Hold on, let me send it to you – I'm going to read my own gift first. Finally, some Pink Princess food…"

Phoenix had every intention of deleting the email that loaded into his inbox seconds later. He opened it to get rid of it, but instead he somehow misclicked, and the link opened in a new browser window.

The Attorney's Badge by Anonymous. Phoenix remembered Maya mentioning that the writers wouldn't be revealed for another week, though he didn't really see the point in temporary anonymity. How many people could be writing adult fiction about this kid's show, anyway? Surely they all knew each other at this point.

He meant to exit out of it and go back to work, but the mention of an obscure legal code in the first paragraph caught his eye. With a brief mental apology to the other unread emails in his inbox, Phoenix began to read.

"…ck? Nick? Nick!"

Phoenix shook his head, looking up at Maya where she was hovering by his desk. She grinned at him.

"Totally absorbed? I recognise that browser logo, you know."

Phoenix cleared his throat and quickly collapsed the window. "Uh, yeah. Did you read the gift for you?"

Maya did an OK sign and kissed her fingers. "It was perfect."

"Did you…" Phoenix took a deep breath. "Did you read the one where they're lawyers?"

"Not yet," Maya said. "Was it good?"

"Just… tell me when you have, please."

She gave him a look. "Alright. You look pale, want me to make you some tea?"

"No! No, please just – please just go read it."

"Okay," Maya said slowly. "I'll go do that, then."

"Thank you," Phoenix said.

Half an hour later, he heard Maya's loud exclamation from the receptionist's desk: "Wait, Nick, this is just you and Edgeworth!"

"Oh, thank God," Phoenix said. He shot to his feet, running out into the room where she was sitting. "I thought I was going insane. It is, right? It really is!"

"One hundred percent, for sure, no way for it to be anyone else," Maya said.

"Some details have changed–"

"Yeah, obviously you're not corrupt and you were the one to save Edgeworth, not the other way around. But all that stuff about a prosecutor's purpose–"

"It sounds just like him! And the way the Steel Samurai–"

"Started bluffing his way to the truth once he stopped being corrupt? Yeah, it was pretty obviously you."

Phoenix sank against the door frame. "Great," he said. "This is just what I need. Does this count as identity theft? I don't want to do all that paperwork again."

"I don't think so. But who could've written it?"

Phoenix's stomach did a somersault as he thought about the most likely suspect. "I don't think that part matters," he said weakly. "We should get back to work–"

"It doesn't matter? Of course it matters! Someone out there wants you and Edgeworth to be gay lovers!"

"It might be a misunderstanding…"

"A misunderstanding?" Maya narrowed her eyes at him, before suddenly covering her mouth to snicker. "I just realized – Edgeworth is into the Steel Samurai, right? Maybe he finds this and thinks you wrote it."

Phoenix turned pale. "You think so…? But what if he's the…"

"The author? Oh, please, I think I'd know if Miles Edgeworth was in a fandom exchange with me, Nick. Besides, guys who write fanfic are like smart judges – they don't exist."

"You're not always the most observant, Maya. You could've missed it."

"Hey! Who was it that found the knife that absolved Justin Limmy Cook?"

"Even a broken clock is right twice a day," Phoenix mused, cheered up by the grimace Maya gave him. She was right, he reasoned – it would be a ridiculous coincidence for Edgeworth to be participating in the same thing that Maya was, and she definitely would've noticed if he was. "Oh, does this mean our fanfiction is up too?"

"Yep," Maya said cheerfully, bouncing back easily. "No comments yet, though. Our giftee is probably just in awe of how good it is."

"Or they're busy doing work," Phoenix said. "Like we should be doing."

Maya sighed. "Fine," she said. "I'll read the rest of the fics on my phone in the bathroom."

"I know it doesn't take women that long to pee, you know."

"I'm special," Maya informed him.

Phoenix's lip quirked. "On that, we're agreed."

It was with great self-restraint that Miles waited until he was home to open his burner email with the notification. His expectations were low – after all, amateur writers online tended towards the unserious, self-mythologizing, and were much too fond of epithets – but he was still curious about how his giftee had tacked his prompt. Unlike the unimaginative drivel he himself had received and discarded, Miles's suggestions were thoughtful and elucidated the dynamic and characterization he was expecting from his gifter.

With a glass of Merlot to buoy his reactions, he sat in his favorite armchair and opened his laptop.

After only a few sentences, he was rapt with attention, his wine glass forgotten at his side. The writing was simple, occasionally to the point of childishness, but the emotions captured were mature and realistic. The Steel Samurai's heartbreak when he finally caught up with his old friend only to discover him changed was palpable. And yet he never gave up on the Evil Magistrate, confident that if he could only show him the error of his ways, his old friend would find his way to the light.

The only hurdle in his reading experience was the sex scene, which felt like an unnecessary addition at the end. Honestly, Miles knew he had requested an Explicit rating, but if it was outside the writer's wheelhouse – and it clearly was, judging by the way the prose turned clumsy and the stilted, much-too-long conversation about allergies and the different kinds of lubrication – they should have made the executive decision to ignore it. At least they had respected his desire for the Evil Magistrate to top, a preference which was by some absurdity the minority among his fandom peers.

As Miles read the work again, this time nursing his wine happily, he began to notice certain similarities between the Evil Magistrate's experiences and his own. He had not been overly specific in his prompt, and yet the writer had seemingly plucked from Miles's own life when crafting their story. The Evil Magistrate saves the Steel Samurai from a gang of bullies when they are children, sparking a brief but intense friendship that is cut short when the Evil Magistrate's mother is killed. Steel Samurai dedicates his life to seeing him again, only taking up the mantle as Neo Tokyo's protector in the hope that he can face off against the Evil Magistrate and protect him from his own fate.

Miles narrowed his eyes, a finger touching his temple. He sat his wine down and navigated to the exchange's main page, looking through the list of prompts submitted, and found his culprit on the second page:

MagiSteel adopt Pink Princess!!

Gen PLS. Im ok with it being more of a brother situation than a parent one I just think they would make a really happy family <3 Thank u so much! I hope its OK that Im requesting a Pink Princess fic for this exchange?? If u dont want to write her u dont have to, but I think she rules. Shes me fr haha

Miles tapped his temple in thought. It was not inconceivable that this prompt was written by Maya Fey, whose fondness for the Pink Princess had persevered through several years of atrocious writing. If it were indeed Maya Fey, it was also not inconceivable that she may be matched with him – a quick scan of her user profile showed that she was capable of writing the sort of prompt that he had asked for, with many of her works tagged with Alternate Universe. None of her works were E-rated, which also explained the sudden awkwardness of the sex scene.

Last, but not least, the anonymous author being Maya Fey explained how the work seemingly had an interior perspective on Miles's own life, given that her best friend had been present for many of the moments depicted. There was even a thank you in the author's note that said as much:

Notes:

Thank you to you-know-who for helping me with the plot and a certain scene!!! Ur the best even tho u will never read this. xx Hope u enjoy ur gift SteelOfTruth!! :)

Miles frowned. Could it be a prank? He had found the work emotionally cathartic, but perhaps he was meant to be the butt of the joke. The Steel Samurai's heroic endeavors were in sharp contrast to the Evil Magistrate's misdeeds – perhaps the idea of the Steel Samurai forgiving his old friend was supposed to be…laughable? The idea of the Evil Magistrate finding redemption, supposed to be preposterous?

Surely not. Maya was not cruel, and neither was Wright. If Wright were involved, surely the romantic development in the work was a sign?

But maybe that, too, was a joke? Perhaps the terrible sex scene was meant to be a jest or an omen?

Miles stood up sharply, his laptop clattering to the floor. He ignored it, taking his wine glass to the kitchen to refill it.

After a moment of deliberation, he forwent the glass entirely and brought the bottle back with him to his chair, bringing his laptop back up to stare sullenly at the burgundy logo of the domain which now vexed him.

Interrogating Wright or Maya about it up-front was obviously out of the question. No, he needed to be subtle and careful as he tried for more information. Given enough time, the two of them would slip up and reveal their part in this ruse, if indeed there was such a thing. The likelihood of there being one was slim. Maya was clearly enthusiastic about MagiSteel, and it was unlikely that she would use her favourite pairing in such a cruel way. But Miles had seen many elaborate betrayals in his time, and fallen victim to a few. He felt unable to trust something as volatile as his feelings.

Miles finished the bottle and was left feeling just as hollow as his glass companion.

Phoenix usually met Edgeworth at an upscale sandwich place on the third Saturday of the month. The first two occurrences had been a coincidence – Edgeworth was a busy man, and his jetsetting ways left little time to catch up with friends. But by the third time, Edgeworth had said, "I suppose I'll make this a recurring event in my calendar," and Phoenix had tried not to take that as the deeply romantic line it felt like.

Ever since Iris's case, things had been comfortable between him and Edgeworth. That moment of awkwardness in the graveyard had loosened something, lessened a fear of saying the wrong thing, that made talking less of a tight-rope exercise and more of a comfortable volley. Phoenix prized these Saturday mornings deeply, and he refused to let himself weasel out of it, even though every fibre of his being was anxious about these damn fanfictions.

It would be fine, he told himself sternly, fixing his tie and trying to push back his cowlick before he went out the door. Edgeworth had much better things to be doing with his time than read that kind of thing online, and even if he did, he was way too proper to bring it up.

That thought cushioned him like a soap bubble all the way downtown to the café, but Edgeworth burst it almost as soon as they sat down.

"Say," Edgeworth said, stirring his cup of Lady Grey, "What was the name of that show your client was on? Way back when… with Dee Vazquez."

Phoenix blinked. "The…Steel Samurai? You have a statue of him in plain view in your office, you know."

"Right, that's it." Edgeworth sipped his tea delicately. "Did you ever watch much of it?"

"Just the odd episode," Phoenix said quickly. His mystery-meat sandwich, which was always discounted to half price and usually went down just fine, was suddenly twisting in his stomach. "Maya's a fan, you know."

"That's good. One of my more recent acquaintances prefers the Jammin' Ninja, which is simply deplorable." Edgeworth paused. "So, no interest in the Steel Samurai, then?"

"N-none," Phoenix said.

"You used to be a creative child, you and Larry were always making up stories."

"I haven't used those skills in years," Phoenix replied, "I don't even remember the difference between a sonnet and a haiku anymore!"

Edgeworth's gaze narrowed. "I was referring to your interest in the stage," he said slowly. "It's interesting that your mind went to writing."

Phoenix gulped. "I wrote some poetry in university," he said, "but it was terrible, so I stopped. Haven't touched a pen since." It was clear that Edgeworth was not buying what Phoenix was selling. He was getting better and better at that, rooting out which of Phoenix's bluffs had meat to them and which did not.

Edgeworth deployed his secret weapon, which was to let Phoenix stew in his own sweat. It was very unpleasant for them both, as Edgeworth's eyes narrowed further and further until they were slitted like a cat's, and Phoenix's shirt collar grew damp and he began to worry whether he'd applied enough deodorant.

"I didn't write the lawyer one!" Phoenix finally burst out, gripping the edges of the table like a lifeline. "It wasn't me, I swear!"

Edgeworth's eye muscles relaxed as his expression changed from suspicious to dumbfounded. "What?"

"Maya was participating in a thing," Phoenix said in a rush, "some kind of thing, I didn't really get it, but anyway, I had to help her out, but someone else doing that thing wrote a thing, like an alternative universe, where they were lawyers and I didn't write that one–"

"Stop saying 'thing'," Edgeworth said, exasperated. "They're called works."

Phoenix stopped short. "Oh."

"And it's alternate universe, not alternative universe. Alternative universe makes much less sense."

"I don't know about that," Phoenix said hesitantly. "Wait…did you write the lawyer one, then?"

Edgeworth coughed. "N-no, of course not. However, I'm assuming you and Maya collaborated on the one where they were childhood friends?"

Phoenix slammed the table, making the cutlery on their plates rattle. "How did you know!"

"It seemed eerily familiar," Edgeworth said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Write what you know, I guess," Phoenix said with a sheepish grin, rubbing his neck where the sweat from earlier was starting to cool. "You participated, huh? I knew you wrote the lawyer one, I was sure of it – oh, I shouldn't have expected Maya to have a clue what she was talking about…"

Edgeworth folded his arms, looking stern. "I would never participate in something so banal as a fandom exchange!"

Phoenix pointed his finger and shouted, "Objection! Rookie mistake, Edgeworth, I never said it was an exchange."

"Nghooh," Edgeworth said, curling in on himself. "I-I inferred… due to the name of the collection…" He stared at the table, furious.

"I knew it had to be written by a prosecutor, anyway, given how much detail you went into about the forms the Evil Magistrate was filing."

Edgeworth took a few more moments to sulk in his defeat, finally straightening up and tilting his chin nonchalantly. "It was a significant plot detail," he said. "And you don't get to lecture me about unnecessary detail. I suspect a lengthy conversation about silicone allergies and appropriate lubricant was your contribution to the work?"

Phoenix jolted, looking around hastily, but the cafe was busy and drenched in Saturday chatter, with no one paying them any mind. Still, he said cautiously, "We're in public."

Edgeworth put his cup and saucer on top of his empty plate. "Let's go somewhere else, then."

"Okay," Phoenix said. He took a deep breath to steady himself. "My place?"

Edgeworth gave him a nod and pulled out his wallet. "That'll do."

Miles had never stepped foot inside Wright's apartment before. He saw why immediately – it was not terribly unclean, but it was messy, and Wright both had clearly forgotten the state of it and was embarrassed to be showing it to someone. Miles watched as Wright tidied under the pretense of searching for something, sipping a cup of tea that Wright had made him when they'd gotten inside.

The tea was both weak and cheap, but surprisingly tasty. It reminded Miles of how quickly one can be lulled into a false sense of security, staying within one's own comfort zone.

"In your work," Miles said, "the Steel Samurai was in love with the Evil Magistrate."

"In yours, too," Wright said. He gave up on his half-hearted mission to tidy the apartment, leaning against the counter with his sleeves rolled up. His body was turned towards Miles. It was a glorified studio space, a kitchenette muscled into the living room with an accompanying dining table that left barely any room for the couch, a small coffee table and a TV with some well-worn controllers attached to it. Miles sat in a wooden chair, sipping his tea and watching Wright over the top of it.

"Obviously," he replied once he'd swallowed. "It was written for a MagiSteel exchange, as you deduced. And the subtext of the show lends itself to a gay reading, particularly episode twenty-one—"

Wright held up a hand to stop him. He was smiling. His apartment suited him. The space felt intimate instead of cramped, and Miles could see the short row of spices on his counter, each of them betraying Wright's tastes in a way that felt like Miles was being admitted into his confidence. "But they were lawyers," he said. "A prosecutor… and a defense attorney."

"And what of yours? As if it's any better. Childhood friends who were reunited after one party's perseverance."

"One of them saves the other from corruption."

Miles set down his cup, a soft clink as the porcelain settled on the coaster. "Repaying a debt that never needed to be repaid."

Wright's smile turned soft and shy. "Who wouldn't be in love with someone, after that?"

Miles looked back at him, meeting his gaze seriously as he said, "I agree."

Whenever he was in court with Wright, there was always a flash moment of astonishment. At first, it had been accompanied with bewildered anger – realising that Wright's inane theories were leading somewhere, that things were adding up – but in the years since, that feeling had been replaced by a wild kind of joy. Miles was the one who got to solve these impossible cases alongside him, he was the whetstone without which Wright would never be sharp enough to cut through his own bluffs and find the truth. There was pride alongside the astonishment, knowledge that Wright wouldn't be half the man he was without Miles opposite him, and neither would Miles.

Their first kiss felt like that.

It was impossible to know who had moved, or maybe they both had. Action and consequence fell away as they kissed, unnecessary in the small world that enveloped them. Miles's hands found Phoenix's hips and Phoenix held his biceps. Phoenix tasted like that horrible mystery meat sandwich he always ate and, after the first kiss, of Miles's tea.

Phoenix pulls back to smile at him, big and warm and blinding. And Miles, who loves words, who always reaches for his rhetoric through speech and pen, finds that the only way to say what he means is to pull Phoenix in for another kiss.