Miles had spent most of his life backing away from emotion, retreating into rationalism whenever the world became overwhelming. But then, for much of his life, emotions were dark things: pain, fear, anger. It had taken him a long time to remember simple, uncomplicated joy. And nothing in that learning process compared to this.

"We should go slow," Phoenix said, sounding like he very much disagreed with his own words. After a few more kisses and the occasional trembling touch, they'd returned to the living room to await Trucy's return. A full couch cushion's width separated them now, though their bodies were angled toward each other.

Miles inhaled, then exhaled. His breath was as shaky as his legs had been out there on the balcony. "I agree." In return, Phoenix gave him a strange expression that was all crinkled eyebrows and lopsided smiles, and Miles slowly ventured, "Did you expect me to raise an objection?"

After a little too long, Phoenix shook his head. "No. We do not want to screw this up. I don't think either of us would ever get over losing each other as a friend because things went wrong on a date."

Miles mutely shook his head. With only one past partner from whom he'd amicably departed, that concern hadn't crossed his mind. No wonder Phoenix had thought of the risk, though. His first relationship had ended in a murder trial. "You're absolutely right. I also prefer to move slowly for my own comfort level." Considering that, his brow furrowed more. "Although before, I was with someone new to my life. The two of us already know each other intim... very well," he corrected at the last second, and not very smoothly.

A nervous laugh escaped Phoenix. "Yeah, we can't say 'intimate' yet." He froze a second later, but just as quickly melted into a sheepish grin. Whether those pink cheeks were from embarrassment or his imagination, Miles couldn't say. "I'm getting really, really ahead of myself," Phoenix said after a long, flushed beat between them. "And here we are, saying that we need to take things slowly."

With Julien, four months had passed before Miles wished to take that mutual step forward. He felt certain that the timeframe would be abbreviated here. Still, it would take longer than those ships who had passed Phoenix by in the night. Very deliberately, he asked, "If I may ask, Wright, what passed through your mind when I... ah... grabbed hold..."

Phoenix grinned at the obvious detour. "I think I finally realized what was happening right before we stopped. It was..." Countless conclusions ran through Miles' mind, everything from his old, habitual self-loathing to the joy he'd felt that evening. Phoenix had clearly been stunned, but 'stunned' could have so very many different flavors to it. "If I was ever holding a winning lottery ticket," Phoenix slowly finished, "I think it would take me about that long to process that my ticket matched the tv."

The comparison made Miles duck his head, hiding an expression that felt positively bashful. I can't disagree. How long had he been waiting for this, even though he was sure that it would never happen? So illogical. But then, he's always shaken up my logical foundations.

"Are you going to look at me?" Phoenix asked. The question sounded far more amused than when it had followed their first kiss.

"I'm trying to maintain—"

"Oh, Edgeworth," Phoenix laughed, and pulled him in by his cravat again. Somehow, the fact that Phoenix had just been laughing at him didn't seem to matter. Laughter had felt cruel and cutting for so long, but as Miles vacantly wondered when they'd wound up sitting hip-to-hip again, he felt like he was in on the joke for the first time in his life. As he turned toward Phoenix, the better to meet his mouth, Miles' hand found the strong, broad planes of Phoenix's back and rested there. After a low, appreciative noise at the contact, Phoenix lightly cupped Miles' jawline and cheek. Despite the delicacy of the touch, Miles felt as if he were being guarded like some precious treasure.

Winning the lottery, indeed.

"Maintain control?" Phoenix finished when they broke apart.

Aware that his gaze was a bit unfocused, his cheeks were more flushed than ever, and his clothing was an unsalvageable mess of wrinkles, Miles breathed, "It almost feels as if I don't have to."

Clearly, that had been the right thing to say. Phoenix's eyes widened and he swallowed. His smile was like sunlight breaking through clouds. "You really don't," he said after those long beats and leaned back in. Had they really kissed so much already? Every time seemed like a fresh revelation.

Perhaps, if they hadn't been so enthralled with each other, they would have heard Trucy's keys turning in the front door. Instead, Miles and Phoenix ended their kiss abruptly when a high-pitched squeak cut through the room like a fire alarm.

"Oh," Trucy said. Her eyes were as wide as theirs.

Neither man dared move. Phoenix's hand still cupped Miles' face, and Miles' hand rested on his back.

"Oh," Trucy said again. "Ohhhhhhkay. Okay. Okay. Okay!" Her hand pulled away and left the key in the lock. It gestured through the air like a conductor seeking a baton. "I. I. I'm gonna go. Be somewhere. Else. Somewhere else. I," she bellowed with more confidence, "am going to go be somewhere else!" With another deep breath she finished, "Apollo, you home yet?"

That broke through their shock and Phoenix lunged off the couch. He banged his shin on the coffee table and probably bruised his hip on the table near the door, but he reached his daughter before she ran for Apollo's. "Trucy," Phoenix said, his face red. "I can explain." Miles certainly hoped so; he felt mute with shock.

"No, no, you really don't need to explain," Trucy said even as he tried to pull her inside. She gestured behind her, toward the hallway. "I'm just gonna go, so—"

"I can explain," Phoenix said more seriously. "Please."

"I don't..." Her cheeks blazed as red as theirs, but Trucy nodded and mutely stepped inside.

Miles found his voice. "The key, Wright. Grab it from the lock."

With a grateful look for the reminder, Phoenix did just that and closed the door behind Trucy.

"I'm sorry," Trucy said, staring at the ground as Phoenix guided her toward a chair. It was one of the chairs that Phoenix's team had used during their game night, Miles thought, his head swimming. Had all of this really changed so much in just a week's time? "I didn't mean to. Um. Interrupt."

After a pleading glance at Miles, Phoenix sat on the furthest possible point of the couch and looked very seriously at his daughter. "We're sorry that we startled you," Phoenix said after a beat, and Miles relaxed a tiny bit. They weren't retreating from what had happened. After that look, he'd wondered if Phoenix was about to cover everything up. "Normally I would have let you know first, but this sort of... just happened."

"Uh huh, sure, absolutely." She still wouldn't meet their eyes.

As Phoenix struggled, Miles took a deep breath and found his courage. "Trucy, are you upset that you saw your father romantically linked with another man?"

Her head jerked up and her wide blue eyes locked onto his, fierce behind their surprise. "What? No! You think I'm..." Her lips pulled down into a scowl, mirrored by the sharp, angry slant of her eyebrows. "Excuse you very much!"

"Well then," Miles said mildly, "my apologies." If he could live for years with Franziska, a flash of temper was nothing. He'd rather see Trucy righteously outraged than incoherent.

Phoenix thought differently. Trucy's anger had paled his cheeks, and he sent another desperate look at Miles as he knelt beside his daughter. "I should have told you before now. Please don't be mad, but I guess I deserve it. I know you keep talking about wanting a 'Mommy,' but—"

"I don't care," Trucy said, cleanly biting off each word. "I don't! I don't care if you like boys or girls or both, Daddy! But you couldn't have warned me?" she asked. When her hand raised to point at Miles, his heart dropped. How could so much dismissal be contained within a single gesture? He could hear the conclusion to her statement: warn her about him.

"Like I said," Phoenix said carefully, "this just happened. Like... ten minutes ago. Your timing is kind of unreal."

"Seriously?" Trucy replied. "You seriously expect me to..."

It was time to retreat into rationalism. Though it hurt to do so, Miles forced away the joy of that evening. Hope, amazement, something that might be love: they were all firmly shoved behind lock and key. The comforting embrace of pure logic surrounded him. "Perhaps, instead of us making assumptions," he said in a voice that sounded cold even to his own ears, "you should inform us yourself of what has you so upset."

Trucy looked between them, sighing, and threw up her hands. "There is no way that this 'just happened.' Not with how happy Daddy's been around you, Miles, and not with how you two were totally going at it. I can't believe you'd lie to me. That is why I'm upset. Because you lied."

"But it really just happened," Miles said, "exactly as your father said."

"Going at it?" Phoenix repeated.

Trucy chose the latter for a response. "Oh my god you were going at it like it was the end of some romantic comedy. If I'd come in five minutes later, what would I have walked in on? Huh? Huh? I'll tell you what: naked time!"

"Excuse me!" Phoenix protested, his face crimson. It matched the blazing heat in Miles' cheeks. "No you would have not." He raked his hands through his hair. "Can we just... start over, Truce? Pretend you walked in and we were sitting on the couch, with a cushion between us, and then we say we've got something to tell you?"

"Maybe," Trucy said warily.

With a glance toward Miles, Phoenix took his distant perch on the couch again and began in tones as formal as any court appearance, "Trucy, Edgeworth and I have something to tell you." She gestured him onward, past this first part of the charade, and he nodded. His hands flexed where they held his legs. "We've both been very important people in each other's life for a very long time, and... is that the right way to describe it?" he broke off, looking toward Miles.

Miles, with a smile, nodded and gestured him onward.

"We had a discussion tonight—tonight—and found out that we both viewed the other as... more than just that, though. We'd each thought that we were the only one who felt anything more, and so we never made a move." Phoenix held out his hand to one side, and Miles found with pleasure that they were still close enough to interlace their fingers. They let those hands rest on the sofa between them. "When it happened, neither of us could believe that it hadn't happened sooner. We're both kind of in a state of shock, and then, well, you showed up and screamed at us."

Though her anger had been softening with each word, Phoenix's ending sparked another frown from Trucy. "I didn't scream."

"If you can label us as 'going at it,'" Miles said dryly, "we can certainly apply that label to the noise you made."

"Oh." Trucy bit her thumbnail, but smiled as she did. "It was that loud, huh?"

"It was pretty loud," Phoenix agreed, grinning with relief. "So... is this okay, now?"

"Is it okay?" Trucy repeated and gawked. For a long second Miles was left uncertain, but then she bounded up and between them, landing on their clasped hands in the process. "This is perfect!" she squealed and flung her arms around their shoulders. "Oh my god I can't believe I kept bugging you about a new mom, Daddy! And I can't believe I didn't figure it out! You're stupid in love with him!"

"I'm not stupid in... can we have our hands back?" Phoenix wondered as they looked at where Trucy sat.

"Oh!" She leapt to her feet and turned to study them. Under that gaze, Miles wondered what, exactly, he was supposed to be doing. For an answer, Trucy wormed her way in on his other side, shoving him toward Phoenix in the process, and draped herself over Miles' shoulder. He froze.

"Um." Phoenix offered a sheepish grin as Miles' face wound up close to his, and their arms pressed together. "I think it's going well."

"So?" Trucy demanded.

She's staying on top of me, Miles thought with concern. He was starting to feel a little trapped in the middle of the two warm bodies of the Wright family; he was still wearing a full suit, rumpled as it was. "...So?"

"So are you moving in?" Trucy asked.

"Told you," Phoenix laughed.

"Tru... Trucy," Miles said in his most serious voice. "Please, take a seat where I can easily see you." She reluctantly left his side for a seat opposite the two men, and Miles breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't move away from Phoenix, though; when he felt another rush of warmth, it was welcomed. "As we told you, this just happened."

"Right."

He frowned slightly. "And one doesn't move in with someone they kissed for the first time not thirty minutes earlier. At least, I certainly don't." Torn, the girl nodded reluctantly. While that all made sense, she'd been hoping to see her father as part of a matched set for nearly a decade, now. Miles couldn't fault her enthusiasm, even if he had no plans to coddle it. "Besides, I will be looking for a place of my own soon, and that will take some significant time and—"

"If you moved in here," Trucy said impishly, "you wouldn't need to."

Sighing, Miles looked around the beige, boxy living room. He could hear the distant thud of a neighbor's stereo. He hadn't checked the closets, but was certain that there was not enough room to properly store an expensive wardrobe with all its accoutrements. There was absolutely no good way to put this. "I... schedule myself very tightly, Trucy, and I need..." The idea of an unbroken stretch of sleep had once been impossible. Now, with his long-ago nightmares gone, he'd become used to planning days that depended on exactly six hours of deep, silent sleep.

And he was moderately sure that the insulation in these walls was made of cardboard.

But there was something more important, something he didn't want to say to her. Something that might actually make it irresponsible to continue this, at least until Trucy graduated and left the house. Pained, Miles turned to look at the front door. It opened onto a hallway with no doorman and no keycard checks at an elevator.

It wasn't just that he wanted his primping niceties. As the city's face of criminal prosecution, he needed somewhere far more secure.

"I could... I could vacuum," Trucy offered when she saw his gaze wander around the living room, full of what must have looked like dismissal. "We've been busy. I know it's messy." He met her eyes, ready to say no. Trucy flinched, looking every bit as hurt as she had when she told him the story about Stupid Karlie making fun of the funny poor girl.

Though Phoenix tried to soothe her with reminders of how they wanted to take things slowly, Miles spoke over him. The girl was nearly an adult. She deserved the whole truth. "Trucy, before you put any seal of approval on this potential relationship, there's something you should know. In my line of work, there are security concerns fairly regularly. That's one reason why finding a suitable condominium will take so much effort. Do you understand?"

Phoenix's hand tightened around his. Being reminded of the risks of Miles' position couldn't be pleasant, but he remained silent. Unlike Trucy, this wasn't anything that Phoenix didn't already know.

"If you would prefer not to be adjacent to those risks," Miles slowly continued, "then I would understand. Your father and I could delay any romantic entanglements until after you were no longer living with him."

"Any romantic... wait, you wouldn't even date until I'd graduated?" Trucy asked, frowning.

"If that's what you want," Phoenix echoed, though he sounded as unhappy about it as Miles did.

"No, that's not what I want!" Her fist thudded against the chair's padded armrest, and she gnawed her lower lip with concern. "Are you safe where you are now, Miles?"

He nodded solemnly. The Gatewater's long-term hotel hosted plenty of corporate officials. They tended to keep industry secrets in their rooms. When Gavin had texted his imminent arrival with Franziska, Miles had provided both of their pictures to the front desk so that they would be allowed through. If Franziska hadn't been registered for his room, even that wouldn't have been enough. "Completely."

"And you can find a safe condo?"

"With some time and effort," he allowed. "I may have to wait for the right place to come on the market." He did have expensive tastes and specific needs, but Franziska was right: high-end condos and a hatred of elevators seldom went together. He would need an agent with a good database and a healthy helping of patience.

"Okay then," Trucy said with determination. "You and Daddy are gonna start dating now, but you're not moving out of the hotel until you find somewhere safe. Promise me that you won't!"

Grinning, Phoenix nudged him. Miles smiled back; sharing that uneasy truth had gone better than expected. This was a night for pleasant surprises. "You have my word that I will only move into a properly secured home," Miles said.

"Good!" Trucy nodded sharply and her smiled turned up further. "Then Daddy and I can come live with you!"

Laughing, Phoenix rested his head on Miles' shoulder. "I think we just got outsmarted by a teenage girl."

"According to Franziska," Miles said dryly, "that's something to which I should long be accustomed." Phoenix's chuckles warmed something deep inside Miles. His heart swelled at the idea of feeling it again, and then again after that. Turning toward Phoenix, he kissed him on the forehead, feather-light.

Trucy's cooing was hardly less intrusive than her squeal.

"You know," Phoenix pointed out, rubbing his thumb against Miles' hand, "you could have known that we weren't lying to you about how long this has been going on. Didn't we look like we were telling the truth?"

Trucy laughed sheepishly. "Well, it was kind of hard to concentrate, Daddy!" She hesitated. "So, even though this just started... it's serious, right? I can..." The intense vulnerability of youth crashed over her. "I can hope?"

"You can do more than hope," Phoenix promised her, and stroked Miles' arm, "because this hasn't just started."

After catching that hand to kiss it, Miles stood before he could convince himself otherwise. Phoenix's disappointed noise went ignored. "Indeed. We already have a well-established relationship. We'll be careful about transitioning it into a romance, and neither of us sees any need to worry. I apologize again for startling you, Trucy."

"To make it up to me," she said slyly, "you can get a place downtown. I want to live downtown."

They could protest all they liked about taking things slowly, but Miles had the distinct suspicion that he should just give in now and look for a two-bedroom place. "I should be going," he said firmly, and retrieved an armful of paperwork. "I need to review all of this so that it's ready to file on Monday." The thought of the Gregory Edgeworth Legal Scholarship warmed him nearly as much as Phoenix's helpless laughter.

"I'll talk to you soon?" Phoenix asked hopefully.

"Soon," Miles promised. Memories of trivia card Donatello returned, and he asked impulsively, "Did you see that there's an Italian sculpture exhibit at the Getty?"

"Can't say that I did," Phoenix said, but his broad smile begged for the next question.

"If you'd like, we could go see it—"

"Tomorrow?" Phoenix supplied.

Despite Phoenix's studies, he'd never truly seemed that interested in art. That was fine; Miles doubted they would have much attention left over for the sculptures. "Tomorrow," he agreed, hands tight around his papers. "I'll pick you up tomorrow."

"This is the best Christmas present ever," Trucy told the ceiling.

After a kiss that he refused to let linger, Miles left the Wright apartment and tried not to trip over his own feet going down the stairs. That was tricky; they were light as air and his head buzzed. He nearly fell into his car. Putting on his seatbelt felt like it was using someone else's hands.

He'd never been this happy. His life had presented him with relief, satisfaction, and pride, but he'd never before felt joy that could consume him like wildfire. All the way home, he felt like a stranger in his own skin.

"Good evening, little brother," Franziska said, distracted, as she flipped through a stack of files. She didn't look up at the sound of the door. "Adrian Andrews is doing well. She managed her employees today not unlike a commander on the battlefield. I admit to some pride at the sight." Her finger tapped a particular file, hard. "In the meantime, I discovered records of customer shoplifting that the store has chosen not to pursue into court. Clearly, a foolish decision. I informed her that I would be reviewing them."

When he remained silent, Franziska looked up, frowning. "Miles? What's wrong with you?"

He shrugged helplessly, paperwork still in hand, and smiled.

Her face dropped. "Oh no."

"I'm... happy," he said in glorious wonder.

"Oh no." Glowering, Franziska stormed over and seized his cravat in a small, fierce fist. "You listen to me, Miles Edgeworth." She shook him once, hard. "He is a defense attorney and is only now clawing out of his disgrace, and..." Her hand dropped. "And you don't care, do you?"

"I'm glad you're here," he said and offered another smile.

Hands in the air, she stalked into her room and slammed the door.

Laughing quietly to himself, Miles claimed the table she'd abandoned and began reviewing his paperwork. An hour ticked by, then another. His all-consuming joy quieted as the city did. Only a small, private smile remained.

A soft chime made him look up at the small clock next to the television. Midnight. For a moment, that was meaningless; he often worked late hours. The date soon clawed up through his memories, though, and for one sharp second he felt the unease of moving a step closer to Christmas.

But only for that second. His hands felt the stacks of paperwork for the Gregory Edgeworth Legal Scholarship and his eyes saw the distant shadows of the Hollywood Hills. Somewhere there, the Getty sat. He rested there for a bit longer, dreaming of tomorrow and feeling the future of law under his hands, and then rose for bed. Even in the darkness, he was happy.