A/N. The last of the cavity-inducing cuteness. Writing fluff is so much fun once you already have the story base, guys...

In that case, he had to assume responsibility. "Wake up, Phoenix." Sitting down, he touched Wright's face; his friend yawned, blinking at him. "You haven't taken the last of your medication."

"Nooo... sleep now, meds later," was the deadpan response, as Wright closed his eyes again.

"No, right now," Edgeworth said firmly, taking his friend's arm. The bottles were scattered across the coffee table. He gathered them up and plunked them in Wright's hand. "Taking five minutes for this will not unduly interrupt your sleep."

Wright grinned, opened his eyes, and reluctantly sat up, yawning again. He peered at the bottles, held them out at arm's length. "Man... I don't even remember which ones are which. I'm gonna have to think, too." He pointed. "Grab my reading glasses, will you?"

Edgeworth's face must have shown his astonishment, because Wright said, rolling his eyes, "Yes, I need reading glasses. Have done since first year of law school, when all that reading destroyed my near vision. Now would you—? Thank you." Edgeworth reached out and snagged the black frames; he tried to repress a smile as Wright slipped them on, looking rather like a mad scientist.

Wright glanced at him sideways. "Oh, shut up."

"I said nothing," Edgeworth protested. "They're... they're very academic-looking. Intellectual."

"What, intelligence as opposed to my usual dull stare?" Wright's tone was amused, carrying no bite. He squinted at the bottles, hesitantly began to open one. "I think I take two of these... maybe only one...?"

"Only one," Edgeworth said, able to read the bottle from where he was sitting. He wondered if Wright was making a production out of this on purpose, but could see no reason to let him overdose on Vicodin if he were really this confused.

He took the bottles back. "Here," he said. It took only a moment to shake out the correct proportions; Edgeworth tried not to look at the labels themselves, depressed to see just how many painkillers and muscle relaxants Wright was still taking. He reached over for a glass of water, sitting on the side table. "Just take them, and then you can go to bed."

Wright wordlessly obeyed, and Edgeworth realized that his words may have come across as annoyed. Unsure how to explain that they'd been sharp from worry, he put his hand on Wright's shoulder, let the hand slide down his back. "I... I apologize. You're tired."

"Yeah, but so what," Wright said, setting the glass on the coffee table, between the demitasses. He raised a hand to his temples, grimacing. "Just another reason that it's an awful good thing you're here—I'm still too dizzy and stupid to manage taking my pills. I'd probably forget altogether if no one were here, or end up overdosing."

Rather than alleviating Edgeworth's nervousness, Wright's awareness of the danger made him even more worried. But he took a deep breath and let it go. There would be someone with Wright around the clock for at least a couple of weeks: Maya was in Kurain tonight, but she would be back tomorrow. And this cycle of medication would be downgraded in several days.

"Here's to hoping you forget altogether instead of overdosing," he said. "I would wager you prefer pain over incoherence." Or worse, but he wasn't about to say that.

Wright smiled crookedly, his eyes closed. "You're right. This is awful: it makes me think of defending Maggey for the first time, when I couldn't even remember my own name."

Edgeworth chuckled, remembering Maya's grandiose telling of the story. "Only you could be hit over the head with a fire extinguisher and suffer no more than a couple hours of memory loss." He felt a sudden welling of love and grippingly fierce affection for Wright, who always managed to emerge from terrible situations fresh as a daisy. Edgeworth had no doubt that before long, Wright would be running around with Maya and Gumshoe again, getting into trouble and putting himself in harm's way to save his defendants.

He put his arm around Wright. "Come on. Ready to sleep?"

"Ye-es," Wright moaned dramatically. Edgeworth helped him to his feet, and they made their way into the main bedroom. He was staying the night, since by a fortuitous chance he had no trial or meetings in the morning, and could drive Wright to his outpatient rehabilitation.

He flicked the bedside lamp on, glad to see that Maya had tidied up somewhat. "Do you, um..." Edgeworth had gotten used to asking personal questions, but he still drew up short every once in awhile. "What do you usually... wear?"

Wright laughed as he eased down to the bed. "Whatever's under my clothes. Just like most self-respecting bachelors."

"I see," Edgeworth said stiffly, making Wright snort with further laughter. Was he the only man in the world who kept his apartment clean and wore pajamas? There had to be others. Still, it wouldn't surprise him at all if Wright slept in the buff. "Well, I'll... be in the next room if you need anything."

Wright's laughter trailed off, his expression becoming serious. He looked up somewhat plaintively. "Are you sure?"

Miles Edgeworth felt his body completely freeze, just as his mind began racing. If he weren't misinterpreting... Wright was asking him to sleep together. This was the first time he'd ever had such an offer made to him, and he felt completely helpless to respond.

"But—you—" he sputtered, aware of just how stupid he probably sounded. Taking a deep breath, he said, "But won't it... bother you?"

Wright's expression grew unmistakably exasperated, although he appeared ready to keel over from exhaustion at any second. "Miles, you just cuddled with me out on the sofa. What's the difference in here?" He paused. "Or does it offend you to share my bed?"

"N-no," Edgeworth faltered, feeling his cheeks flame. "I just... you're sick..." What was wrong with him? He wanted nothing more than to lie down next to Wright, to put his arms around him and sleep peacefully for the first time in years.

"I am not," said Wright firmly, obviously trying not to laugh, "and I'm really not making any propositions. I guarantee I'm not up to that sort of thing. And... right now I'm going to lie down before I fall off the bed and hit my head. Maybe I am sick." He closed his eyes, obviously dizzy.

Edgeworth immediately moved forward, sitting down and helping Wright lie back. His mind whirled furiously, his whole body yearning toward the other half of the bed. His hands, against his own will, lingered on Wright's vulnerable head and shoulders, cradling them safely. And suddenly, as he looked down at Wright's exhausted face, everything became clear. "I'll stay," he said softly.

A few minutes later, having turned out the lights and neatly placed his own clothing on a nearby chair, he slid under the covers. Everything was foreign: the thread count and material of the sheets, the fat polyester pillows, the total darkness of the room (his own bedroom window faced the street), the fact that he was wearing almost nothing... as he inched over and found someone else's skin there, he had to keep from gasping at the strangeness.

"Try not to panic," said Wright, and yawned monstrously. His hand came around the back of Edgeworth's right arm and slid down it, to link their hands. "Isn't this much nicer than squashing into Maya's fluffy little bed?"

Edgeworth, feeling a little hysterical, cleared his throat. He'd planned to sleep on the couch, not in Maya's bed, but that wouldn't have been any more comfortable. "Yes. Yes, much."

Hesitantly, he slid a little closer, until his chest was lightly touching Wright's back and he could set his chin on the other man's shoulder. "So warm," Wright murmured happily. He sounded mostly asleep already.

Edgeworth realized that his arm was all the way around Wright's chest, his hand resting on the lower left ribs; that odd, rough patch of skin must be... He jerked his hand away, a little frightened.

"Don't worry," Wright said after a moment. His head turned in the darkness, such that Edgeworth could feel their breath colliding as he spoke. "It's all healed over. The one in back is much bigger... I guess what they say about exit wounds is true."

Unable to speak for a moment, Edgeworth finally managed to say, "He... he aimed a little low."

"Mmm-hmm," was the yawned response. Edgeworth could feel their noses practically touching. "He was standing over me... maybe he was aiming for my stomach instead of my heart." There was a pause, and Wright added slyly, "He wouldn't have hit my heart anyway... it's been in my throat for awhile now."

It was such a bad joke that Edgeworth almost didn't understand: when he finally realized what Wright meant, it was like someone had grabbed his heart and crushed it, his own feelings throbbing wildly all though his own chest.

"I..." He almost blurted the words out, but cut himself off.

The ensuing pause lasted so long that Wright said, quietly, "Yes?"

The thoughts finally coalesced, and he said slowly, "Facing your death... holding you in my arms... knowing how much you mean to me... they're just catalysts. A truth I locked up inside long ago is out now."

He tightened his arms around the other man, so scared to continue that he could barely hear himself speak for the blood pounding in his ears. "Phoenix... I love you."

Wright was only silent for a few seconds, but in the breathtakingly tense darkness, it felt like forever. At last he sniffled and said affectionately, "That was a very sweet and eloquent way of saying that you've loved me for a long time."

He kissed Edgeworth again, and sniffled once more. "Thank you. I love you too, Miles—so much that it breaks my heart."

They said nothing else, just shifted even closer together in the cosy blackness of the room, so that his thighs pressed into the backs of Wright's scrawny legs, and nothing separated them. Wright was soon asleep: Edgeworth could tell by his breathing, which was finally soft and without struggle. But he didn't mind being awake by himself.

In the last few moments before the exhaustion of the last few weeks won over and he drifted off, Miles realized that from that point on, his fate was more entwined with Wright's than ever before. What a blissful thought.