Happy Accident ~A Narumitsu One Shot~
Summary: When Phoenix has a rough day, Miles decides to cheer him up by encouraging a previous passion. There's just one problem: the paint he purchased isn't exactly the type he intended.
Written for Day Eleven (Poetry, Art, Music, Craft) of Flufftober 2022
Tags: Established Relationship, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Humor, Banter, Non-sexual Intimacy, Suggestive Themes, Body Paint
Additional Notes: Hello hello! Oh my GOODNESS it has been so long since I've greeted y'all lol! A little over two months? Like PLEASE @ my brain, what was up with that drought? Deescustang. I was in another little motivational low for quite some time, so man, how good it feels to be back with these two! Their banter is always such a delight to return to, as is their NONSENSE.
I've been working on a few little drafts here and there, but this one ZOOMED. The banter got flowing, as did the Trademark Narumitsu Nonsense™.
Just in time for Flufftober, and just in time for PHOENIX'S BIRTHDAY TOO LMAO HAPPY BIRTH, HEDGEHOG.
But regardless, I'm so happy to be back with another story, and I hope y'all enjoy! Cheers to the silly husbands as per usual <3
You can also read directly on AO3 here [x]
Phoenix Wright never found himself questioning his sunflower-laden path, his decision to become a defense attorney. Everything loved to fall into place, and most aspects of the job felt incredibly fulfilling. He could go on and on about what a privilege it was to wield the truth, how incredible it was to protect the innocent, and how amazing it was to bring proper justice.
…At least, on most days.
Because, as he slumped into the darkness of his apartment, the remnants of the day had him second guessing it all.
It seemed like everything that could have gone wrong had indeed gone wrong. He had woken up late, fallen off his bike, dropped his things in a puddle…
Knocked a mug onto his desk, spilled coffee on his documents and computer, lost a number of digital files…
Floundered over a phone call, tripped over the coffee table, and potentially lost a client…
It went on and on and on. For someone who was supposedly lucky, he certainly didn’t feel it. And for someone sound in his career, he definitely felt the opposite.
He groaned, sinking himself down on the couch and hunkering into a grumpy bundle. He normally wasn’t one to sit and feel sorry for himself, what with shoving his emotions into a back cabinet somewhere on more than one occasion. But with his brain spinning from the chaos of the past hours, he felt inclined to just take a breather.
And grouchily huff.
And mentally shake his fist at the world for a while.
And perhaps even pout a bit as though nothing could lift his spirits.
An unrealistic sentiment, and he knew so. Especially when he heard two sounds that almost immediately brightened his soul: the front door opening, and a gorgeous voice calling.
“Darling?”
Phoenix’s breath caught. Miles. Perhaps the one element which had anchored him to reality, the last little thread holding him up. The back and forth texting throughout the day had been a lifesaver, and actually being together again was that much more comforting. But even with the warmth pumping through his veins, he was still a bit iced over, not fully defrosted as he called back.
“Hey.”
The coldness though, was depleted that much more by the sound of footsteps and the sight of Miles in the doorway. At least he seemed to have had an alright day, what with looking composed and beautiful. The thought gave him a bit of solace, but not as much as Miles easing into the room.
“That bad, hm?” he softly asked.
“You’ve no idea…” Phoenix muttered.
“Mm, well, I’m sorry to hear that.” Miles walked around the room, setting down some of his things and hanging up his coat. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”
There were a number of things Phoenix could think of. Hell, almost anything Miles could come up with would probably make him feel better. Still, the little cloud over his head thundered, making him sigh and grumble.
“Eh. Think I’m damned to have a bad day.”
“Is that so?”
“Yup. Lady Luck wants nothing to do with me anymore. I’m done. Finished. Doomed.”
He looked up just in time to see Miles give a fond roll of his eyes, before shaking his head and walking towards his briefcase.
“I don’t suppose a gift could alleviate such dramatics a bit?” he asked.
And yes, Phoenix’s logic had been sound; the question was enough to perk him up, mismatched eyes wide with increased curiosity.
“A gift?”
“Mm,” Miles hummed, offering a ghost of a smile as he rummaged through his case, “Just a little something to help slice through the atrocities. That’s the idea, at least.”
Phoenix stuttered on his breath, his heart flipping in his chest. Sound logic indeed; the loving thoughtfulness from his partner almost made him disregard the gloom entirely.
“Babe, you didn’t,” he breathed.
“I’m afraid I did,” Miles said, pulling a small gift bag from his case, “It’s not much, but after all you informed me of today, I suppose I just…couldn’t help it.”
Phoenix’s heart went from flipping to outright singing. He too, found himself giving a ghost of a smile—the first one in hours. It intensified when Miles’ did, their expressions playing off each other, just as their emotions did.
“You’re such a sweetheart,” Phoenix croaked, his smile crinkling even more when he earned yet another eye roll.
“Mmgh, you flatter me. It’s the very least I could do,” Miles said, walking over and holding out the bag.
Phoenix took it gratefully, feeling a blush crawl across his cheeks as he looked into expectant yet tender eyes. He was that much more thankful to feel his anger washing away, and that much more thankful to unwrap and find…
“Paint,” he breathed. He looked back to Miles with awed eyes. “You got me paint?”
It was Miles’ turn to blush, shrugging his shoulders and averting his stare.
“I figured you would want to take your mind off judicial matters, and…Well, between being aware of your previous studies and passing the craft store on the way home, I thought it fitting.”
The thoughtfulness speared him then, like love was slaying a fiery beast within. His breaths quivered once more, along with the corners of his mouth.
“Babe…”
“Is that alright?“
“Is that alright…” he huffed, incredulous at the doubt. He stood up, breaking away from his dejected chains and showing his utmost appreciation, placing a kiss on his rescuer’s mouth. “It’s perfect. Thank you. So much. I love you.”
Miles exhaled a multitude of tension then too, smiling and blushing once more.
“I love you too. I cannot wait to see what you create with them.”
“Heh, well, I might be a little rusty, so don’t get your hopes up too high,” Phoenix snickered, rummaging through the gift bag to get a better look at the artistic medium.
“Nonsense. I’m sure it’ll be absolutely immaculate.”
“Well, if today was was any indication of my coordination, then I might have a few…”
Phoenix’s voice trailed off as he got his first good look at the paints. Because, it was then he noticed something a bit…unusual about them; they certainly weren’t the acrylics and oils he had utilized in school.
“…Concerns.”
Ever-observant, Miles caught onto the pause, onto the shift, his expression falling and furrowing.
“What? Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Ah, er, not wrong, per se—“
“There is,” Miles said, crossing his arms, “Your blatant shift in composure is more than telling.”
“No! No. It’s just ah…” Phoenix gave a sheepish laugh, reflexively reaching for his neck with a hand, “Did you mean to purchase this kind of paint?”
He watched as Miles stiffened, grey eyes flitting down to the bag and then back upwards.
“Are…are those not acrylic?”
“Not exactly.”
“Not exactly?” Miles asked, his tone higher, more desperate, “What, pray tell, is so unique about them?”
Phoenix felt his mouth quiver again, but instead of tenderness, it was from the threat of laughter. He bit down on his lip, anger long gone as he gazed between his partner and the paint.
“Miles. Baby. Honey. Love of my life—“
“Don’t patronize me, Wright!” Miles hissed, his face flushing a nervous red. “For God’s sake, what is it?!”
Though, the shift in color was nothing compared to when Phoenix uttered the truth, holding up a bottle and grinning.
“These are body paints.”
Shift indeed; Miles’ face went as white as a ghost, rivaling that of his bugged eyes.
“I b-beg your pardon?” he choked out.
“Body paints,” Phoenix repeated, grinning, smirking, “Paints for your body.”
And then that white quickly shifted to red, running a deeper burgundy than that of Miles’ suit.
“T-that’s very much impossible! I distinctly remember purchasing regular paint! Paint intended for canvas!”
“Oh, well, they’re for a canvas, yeah.” Phoenix gave a bounce of his brows. “A beautiful, sexy, naked canv—“
“Ngoooh!” Miles cried out in despair. “It cannot be!”
Phoenix could no longer hold back his mirth, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Not at his partner, really, though the thought of him in full blown Chief Prosecutor Mode buying body paints was humorously endearing. More so at how silly things had gotten.
“I’m afraid you can’t refute the cold, hard evidence, Chief,” he chuckled, presenting one of the bottles, “Says right here on the front.”
He laughed more when Miles swiped the bottle from his hand, as though he was somehow lying about the very much visible text. But when Miles gazed upon it himself, the truth sank in and the mortification grew. He reached up to pinch the bridge of his flushed nose, shutting his eyes and groaning.
“Good Lord. Forgive me. I did not mean to make such a careless mistake.”
The harsher term sobered Phoenix a bit, his eyes traveling betwixt Miles and the paint once more. Yes, they were different, but that didn’t make them a bad thing. Yes, they were outside his normal methods of application, but that didn’t make him opposed to…experimenting.
“Mistake? A certain painter once said that we don’t make mistakes, only happy accidents.” Phoenix’s smile grew—right along with all the considerations. “And I don’t know about you, but I’d definitely call this a happy accident.”
“Nonsense. It’s not what I intended at all,” Miles grumbled, grabbing his forearm and looking away.
“Oh really? You know what they say about denial…” Phoenix teased.
“It’s not denial!”
“He says, while denying.”
“Phoenix Wright!” Miles hissed, “What ulterior motive could I possibly have by ruining your gift?!”
The upset in Miles’ voice sobered Phoenix once more, swallowing down further jests. Still, he smiled, though gentler and warmer.
“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin my gift.” He bit his lip again, and leaned in closer, dropping his voice down to a husky whisper. “Because if the canvas is willing, I’d say you greatly enhanced it.”
“If the canv—“ Miles’ question abruptly cut off, his voice sputtering and cracking. “P-pardon me?”
Phoenix shrugged his shoulders as though it was the most casual situation in the world, and made a point of eyeing the canvas in question.
“I’ve never had the opportunity to paint on such a beautiful, striking, perfect canvas after all. I actually think anything I paint will pale in comparison but…”
His grin grew impossibly brighter as cheeks flushed impossibly redder. Miles sputtered once again and cleared his throat, looking at the paint before looking to Phoenix, incredulous.
“You…You would actually want to utilize these? Even though they’re…very much unconventional?”
“I’d love to,” Phoenix said, reaching to lay a hand atop Miles’ to hammer in his sincerity, “They sound really fun, actually. But only if you’re absolutely comfortable.”
He watched as Miles opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then did so again. Grey eyes looked back to that supposedly deceiving label, before flitting elsewhere, the gears in his head visibly churning. He squinted a bit, frowned a bit, and then offered a contradictory answer.
“I…I suppose so.”
“You suppose?” Phoenix pressed.
Miles’ facial expression remained furrowed, but he sighed, the red swirling beneath his skin pointing to a different motive. Sure enough…
“I just feel rather silly holding your brilliance temporarily, when it could just as well be captured permanently elsewhere.”
“When you’re already the work of art yourself? Yeah, that makes sense.”
“Wright.”
Phoenix tittered and blushed a bit himself. Even more so when he dove into the deeper meanings.
“Think that’s kind of the allure of them though. They’re meant to be pretty…intimate, above all else.”
Miles too, reacted to the true purpose, his scowl and color both deepening.
“What?” Phoenix snickered, “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”
“Yes, well…You’ve never looked upon me with increased focus for such a long period of time before.”
“Well damn, I’m slacking then.”
“Phoenix.”
Phoenix laughed a bit more, before closing the space between them. Miles had done wonders in slicing through the tension earlier, so he thought it right to do the same. He pressed a soft kiss to an even softer cheek, smiling when wrinkles smoothed at the touch.
“Babe, honestly, we really don’t have to. I’m just giving you the business,” he gently reassured.
“Indeed; I’m no stranger to that,” Miles scoffed, and Phoenix snickered. But before Phoenix could say anything else, Miles squinted in further thought. “But your points do indeed hold validity, so…”
“Honey, I mean it—“
“As do I with my own considerations. You must know I still get…flustered when you see me, but…”
Phoenix must have been making some sort of incredulous face, because Miles scoffed and continued.
“Don’t look at me like that. Is it so unrealistic for me to falter beneath such a striking gaze?”
“Miles…”
“But, that doesn’t mean I’m…disinterested. Or opposed at all, really. Just…”
He sighed and flushed, and Phoenix snickered and teased.
“Adorable?”
The disgusted scoff Phoenix received did nothing to alleviate his laughter, nor did the following comment.
“Now I’m opposed,” Miles grumbled.
Phoenix continued to giggle, but ran with the momentum, holding on to the bits of approval. His heart had dropped its melodic tunes and was beginning to pound instead, excitement filling in where glumness and tenderness had been previously.
“Well okay, if I were to paint on a certain gorgeous Chief Prosecutor, what would he like in theory?” he asked.
Miles’ eyes widened a bit, and color surged for the umpteenth time. But to Phoenix’s delight, he played along.
“I believe he would leave that up to the discretion of the artist.”
“What if the artist insists?”
Miles sighed and gave another roll of his eyes.
“Then he would begrudgingly reach the decision of…sunflowers. To make up for the lack of permanency. And perhaps…honor the artist’s prowess that much more.”
“Miles…” Phoenix breathed, getting caught up in that lovely tenderness again. There was simply no space in his body for the day’s events anymore, his appreciation landing in the form of a kiss once more.
Their lips glided with a bit more intent for that reason, albeit softly and gingerly all the same. And when Phoenix finally broke away, he couldn’t help but press two more kisses to each of Miles’ cheeks.
“Okay, well, that brings me to an even more important question then: when would this sweetheart of a Chief Prosecutor like to do this?” he asked with a dreamy grin.
“Again, up to the discreti—“
“Objection. Considering he’ll be the one to be lying still for a while, I believe he should get the choice.”
Miles huffed, pulling the face he so often did in court when he was about to fire back. But in the next second, to Phoenix’s utmost relief, it melted with an exhale, draining away with all the other negative emotions.
“After dinner?” he proposed, and Phoenix’s smile was the brightest it had been all day.
“After dinner.”
---x---
Dinner itself was a little hastier than Phoenix would have liked to admit. Normally, it was a time to catch up, to get one another up to speed on the day’s events and relish in each other’s company.
But Phoenix had practically given Miles a miserable play by play anyway, and most nights didn’t have such a dazzling end. Intimacy, perhaps, and all the delights that came with sharing body and soul. But nothing quite as unique as what awaited.
He sped his way through his portion of the meal prep, whined when Miles was too slow with his, and laughed when utensils subsequently whapped his rear.
He scarfed down his food, barely allowed Miles to get a word in, and was prepped to dash through the dishes.
Before he could attack them at lightning speed though, his buzzing body and mind were halted with a deep kiss.
“Heavens, you’re excitable,” Miles breathed when they finally parted.
“Yeah, because it’s you. Of course I’m excited,” Phoenix replied, punctuating every descriptor with another kiss, “And honored. And nervous.”
“You’re nervous? I’m the one who made the erroneous purchase and got us into this. I can only pray those damn paints meet your standards.”
“They will. Honestly, I could paint on you with ketchup and still be into this idea—“
“I’d very much rather you didn’t,” Miles sighed, snickering a bit himself when Phoenix laughed. “So, if you would, my dear, could you please give me about ten minutes to get ready?”
“Ten?” Phoenix whined, and Miles rolled his eyes.
“Yes. Ten whole minutes, Phoenix Wright.”
“Ugh.”
When Phoenix dramatically pouted, puffing his lip out, Miles took the opportunity to capture it. He kissed the expression right off of his face, only pulling away when they both became breathless.
“Channel that energy and clean the whole kitchen if you’re so inclined,” Miles huffed.
“That was your plan all along. I just know it,” Phoenix grumbled.
Miles shook his head, but pressed one last kiss to dramatic lips, sealing the deal and the time.
“I love you. Ten minutes.”
“Love you too,” Phoenix said, before theatrically sighing, “And fine.”
It was then that Miles departed, and Phoenix was left to muddle through the longest ten minutes of his life. He paced around the kitchen and living room, scoffing at the time as if it was mocking him; every minute seemed to drag at an agonizing pace.
Around the halfway point, he actually took it upon himself to prepare a bit too, gathering some wash cloths and the old art supplies he had stowed away. But even that barely offered any respite, hardly making a dent in the digital numbers.
Right when cleaning the kitchen was actually looking like a good distraction, the clock changed to the desired number and sent Phoenix bolting down the hall. Excitement zipped through his veins once more, all the darkness replaced with sparkling giddiness as he forced himself to stop outside their bedroom door.
“Miles? You ready?” he called.
“Unfortunately,” Miles sighed from behind the barrier, but that was all the permission Phoenix needed.
He eagerly burst in with supplies in hand, expecting to find Miles waiting on the bed for him. He did. He definitely did. But oh, how Miles seemed to be full of surprises.
Because the sight that awaited him froze Phoenix in place, a contrast to the fire which erupted in his veins.
For Miles was on the bed, yes, lying on his stomach with towels spread out beneath him. But he was also entirely bare, laid out in an all too familiar position.
It didn’t help when grey eyes found his, making him dizzy, making him almost forget why they were both there in the first place.
“Wooo…” he breathed, sheepishly smiling and taking shaky steps forward. “Ah…Hi, babe.”
Miles merely smirked, propping himself up on his elbows and shaking his head.
“Do control yourself, Mr. Wright.”
“Always hard around you,” Phoenix said, and paused at the accidental double entendre before laughing. Miles, of course, reacted with the same fond annoyance.
“And opt for a bit more professionalism if you can manage.”
Phoenix snorted, walking to the bed and setting his things down on the mattress. He bit his lip as he looked his canvas over, straining to keep all the heat in his chest.
“You do know I was just going to paint your back, right?” he sheepishly tittered, grasping his neck with a hand, “That you didn’t need to uh, strip all the way?”
“And risk having you get that blasted paint on my other attire? Hardly,” Miles scoffed.
“Ah. Should’ve known.”
“Besides, you’re not normally one to complain about this anyway.”
“You’re right, I’m not. I definitely…appreciate it,” Phoenix said, sucking in a deep breath, “But all the same, it might be a little…distracting.”
Mismatched eyes traced trails upon ivory skin, imagining where pigment and designs were going to go. His concern too, manifested as he did so, what with him struggling to keep thoughts professional indeed.
Miles must have been able to sense the fiery look, as he shifted against the mattress and averted his own stare. Phoenix watched more pink bloom across his beautiful body, mostly collecting in his face once more.
“You had to sketch and paint nude models in school, did you not?”
“Well, yeah. But they weren’t Miles Edgeworth. They weren’t the most beautiful damn man I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“Nghh…” Miles grumbled, deflating against the bed and drawing out a snicker. “Well, if I recall, you were the one who mentioned nudity numerous times anyway.”
“Huh. Yeah, guess I did,” Phoenix chuckled, rubbing at his neck, “But only if you were comfortable.”
“I’ll live.” Miles shifted himself to make eye contact once more and cocked a knowing brow. “You, on the other hand…”
“Oh, I’m comfortable,” Phoenix said with a grin, finally easing himself to sit beside Miles’ reclined form, “Very comfortable.”
He did a once-over yet again, and then found he couldn’t help himself; he leant down to press his lips right between Miles’ shoulder blades. His mouth turned upward at the shiver and coupled gasp such contact earned, yet still, he continued. Paint was momentarily forgotten—his kisses were the medium, sweeping trails down a quivering spine. He hummed contentedly to himself, particularly at the uptick of heat, and would have continued down…
But a breathy grumble stopped him at the halfway point.
“Wright…”
“Hm?”
“I don’t believe that’s part of the artistic process.”
Phoenix snickered and pressed another kiss against sweltering skin.
“You don’t know that,” he murmured against Miles, “Which one of us went to college for art?”
“I know enough to surmise,” Miles huffed.
“Oh, do you? Care to tell me how we ended up in this position then?”
He beamed when he could feel muscles stiffen beneath his lips, flexing with objective tension.
“Hush.”
“Uh huh, that’s what I thought.” Phoenix dared then, giving a little nip at the sass and drawing out another gasp. “Anyway, I’ll have you know that prepping your canvas is actually a thing.”
“That may very well be, but this doesn’t need to turn into something else.”
“Doesn’t it?” Phoenix asked, grinning innocently.
“Wright,” Miles said firmly, “Need I remind you that we’re here for painting.”
The sharpness to his tone was enough to make Phoenix back down, albeit reluctantly. With one last soft kiss to that gorgeous back, he pulled up and away.
“Alright, I’ll give you that one,” he said, and began readying his supplies.
He laid out all his brushes on the towel, and squirted all the needed colors into his palette. He also took a moment to legitimately map out his work, making a mental image in his head as he looked Miles over. He envisioned a vine trailing diagonally from his shoulder to his lower back, with sunflowers interlaced throughout.
The picture made him smile, as well as the implications: his darling wearing a rivalrous symbol, all for him.
On the note of care, he picked up a blank brush, touching it against Miles’ skin.
“Okay, I’m ready, but tell me if this feels alright,” Phoenix murmured.
When Miles nodded, Phoenix began softly sweeping it around—from his neck, down his spine, to his pelvis. A few areas earned a slight tense, but thankfully, nothing seemed too uncomfortable for his love.
That was, until he trailed dangerously low, Miles flinching as the bristles brushed his rear.
“Hggkg—“ he choked out.
“What?” Phoenix asked, immediately pulling back.
“Tickles.”
Phoenix blinked before his face melted into a smirk.
“Oh, sure,” he huffed, “Suuure. Real rich. You just don’t want me to paint your a—“
“It is an erogenous zone, Wright,” Miles interjected, matter-of-factly, “The skin is sensitive. Ergo, the bristles do indeed tickle.”
“Yeah yeah…” Phoenix snickered, but respected the boundary. He also reeled his teasing back in, turning more towards genuineness again. “Does everywhere else feel alright?”
Miles seemed to hesitate, before his body eased against the mattress, tension releasing as they stepped away from banter.
“Y-yes, everywhere else is acceptable.”
Phoenix nodded, and then took things a step further, dabbing a bit of color onto an area he didn’t plan on painting.
“And is the temperature of the paint okay?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Anndd do you need anything else before I start? More pillows, less a/c—anything at all?”
Phoenix was pleased to see pink swirl once more; he experienced similar sensations when Miles tilted his head to gaze at him with a soft smile.
“Are you always this thoughtful and kind with your canvases?” he murmured.
“Not usually. Just with my favorite one,” Phoenix said with a wink, and the countless round of mirth when Miles sighed.
“You were the one having a bad day. If anything, dearest love, I should be caring for you.”
“Nah. This is perfect. I’m already feeling so much better.” Phoenix leant downward to press a kiss against Miles’ forehead. “See? Wasn’t a mistake at all.”
“Only because it’s an honor to wear your talent.”
“Like I said, don’t give me too much credit yet, sweetheart. We don’t know how this is going to turn out.”
“Well, I believe that requires starting,” Miles huffed.
“Now who’s impatient?” Phoenix laughed.
“I wouldn’t say impatient,” Miles said, looking elsewhere, “More so…eager to see your work. And…stricken by your gaze, perhaps.”
“Alright alright.” Phoenix readied his first brush, and then leaned in close with softer tones. “Just relax, then, and I’ll see if I can come even remotely close to matching your beauty.”
He watched as Miles’ breath caught, but he relaxed indeed, nestling himself down and resting his cheek on his hands. The moment he was settled, Phoenix too, got into a comfortable position, and reached with the first dab of vibrant green. He hesitated for a moment, as though he couldn’t believe they were actually sharing such a moment, before finally making the first stroke.
And it was like all the therapeutic feelings from years ago came rushing right back.
It was insane, really, how familiar it felt still. He found himself falling into a groove, into a dance of color and swipes. Even the odd paint felt easy to work with, like it cooperated just so with his previous skills. All the anger he had felt before, all the storminess of the day, completely melted away from the act, as though the flower he was painting was the very sun itself.
Everything melted away really, lifting him to a plane where it was just his favorite things present. His homey space, his previous passion, and his darling beloved. That probably added to the comfort too—getting to paint on Miles. It felt so intimate indeed, like he was re-charting areas already explored many times over. He was breathing new life into already-loved skin, connecting in a way they hadn’t before.
It was like art meeting art, retouching a masterpiece.
He began to hum softly, getting into a zone as the picture practically presented itself. A green line became a vine, dabs became leaves, and blobs became flowers, the entire piece breathing beneath his fingertips. He had missed it, and God, how special it was to share with someone he loved so much. How incredible it was to have cherished intertwine with cherished.
He was even happier to see that Miles too, seemed taken by the peace of it all. His breathing slowed considerably, and all the tension in his body seemed to lift. It was comforting, to know that he was providing a bit of respite for his hardworking partner, and even more comforting to know that there wasn’t any sort of unease to be had.
It was lovely.
It was definitely not a mistake.
It was the perfect cure for his previous blues, something he wanted to repeat over and over if given the chance to.
He was particularly meticulous then, not wanting the moment to end. He put a bit too much attention into detail, shading and highlighting and blending to his heart’s content. Miles’ back erupted with floral imagery, with a light different than his own. But there was only so far Phoenix could go, only so much he could do before plateauing alongside Miles’ natural attractiveness.
So with one last stroke did he finally lean back, looking upon his work with a pleased smile. It was even more satisfying to see the image in his head translated before him, a feeling he had also missed. It was incredible to bring his thoughts to life, to see them laid out before him.
Yes, a diagonal sash of vines and sunflowers indeed, decorating its wearer wonderfully. And speaking of…
“I think that does it,” Phoenix murmured, “Thanks for being so patient, babe.”
Only, there was no response.
Just deep, calm, collected breathing.
Wavy brows furrowed for a split second before the realization struck, Phoenix’s mouth quivering with fond laughter.
“Miles? Babe?” he asked, reaching to gently shake the untouched shoulder, “Up and at ‘em, Chief.”
There was another second of null response, and then Miles roused with a clear of his throat.
“Hm, what? No, I was just resting my eyes, is all,” he rasped.
“Uh huh, sure,” Phoenix said, grinning at both the adorableness and mutual relaxation, “Not so bad, was it?”
Miles sighed, trying his best to scowl but falling flat. There was no running from the truth after all, something they both knew a bit too well.
“It was…lovely,” he admitted on grumbled tones, “Far more relaxing than I had anticipated.”
“Yeah, I could tell,” Phoenix snorted, before he sobered a bit. “But no, I agree. It was incredible to do that again. I didn’t think it would come back so easily.”
“Mm, I’m so glad to hear it. That was the hope, after all.”
“You know me too well, sweetheart. Thank you for letting me do this, and for making my day a thousand times better. I love you so much.”
Miles propped himself back up on his elbows, looking towards Phoenix with a contented and ginger smile.
“And thank you for sharing your passions with me. I love you so much too.”
It was unsurprising that they shared another kiss then, loving each other atop towels and pigments. They remained interlocked for numerous lazy beats, the glides of their lips as gentle as the paintbrushes prior. Despite the previous teasing, there were no flames to be found; just deep affection and appreciation.
That was, until Miles eventually broke away with a smile, raising a brow at his artist.
“I don’t suppose you’d actually allow me to see what you’ve created?”
“Oh shit!” Phoenix laughed, leaning back and grasping his neck, “Yeah, uh, I guess that’s kind of important.”
“A bit, yes.”
Phoenix eased off the bed first with a small groan, and then extended a hand to Miles, helping him off the mattress so as not to crinkle or smudge the paint. While temptation certainly existed with beauty bared before him, Phoenix continued to trod through the tender, merely walking towards the mirror with his beloved.
The pair shared a short glance, one of anticipation, before Miles turned his back towards the mirror, craning his head around to get the first look at himself.
And the look of utmost awe that fell upon his face made everything that much more worth it.
“Oh…” he breathed, “Phoenix, darling. Darling. How on Earth…?”
“Eh, it’s just a little something,” Phoenix replied, feeling his face finally take on a deep, red shade.
“Oh, hush. Don’t be so modest. It’s stunning. So incredibly stunning. I cannot believe how talented you are, you absolutely brilliant man.”
Phoenix ducked his head at the praise, grinning and blushing to the nth degree.
“Nahhh…”
“You stun me each and every day with your excellence, so I suppose it should come as no surprise. But Good Lord; you never cease to blow me away, Phoenix Wright. I’ve never been happier to slip up.”
“Miles…” Phoenix whined in lighthearted disdain.
“I’m more than serious. What beauty you’ve made of me, and what a blessing you’ve made of my life.”
“Miles!”
He surged forward to shush any further compliments with a kiss, what with his eyes misting. All was indeed beautiful, all was right.
That was, until perhaps the last little problem presented itself, Miles vocalizing it when they broke away.
“However, you’ve given me quite the predicament all the same.”
“Oh yeah?”
“How I’m going cover this up or wash this off is beyond me,” Miles sighed, “It feels sacrilegious, really.”
“Aww darn,” Phoenix chuckled, “Guess you have no choice but to be naked all the time.”
“That was your plan all along,” Miles grumbled, and Phoenix laughed harder. “I do believe our professions would take a bit of issue.”
“Nah, come on. You’re the Chief Prosecutor. Who’s going to stop you?”
“I’m not safe from contempt either, silly. Nor an arrest for public indecency.”
“How aboooout a framed picture on your desk then?” Phoenix tittered. When Miles scoffed, he added, “What? It’s art, isn’t it? It’s fine! Totally fine.”
“And you’re totally foolish,” Miles huffed, turning around and beckoning Phoenix into his arms.
“Hey, what happened to me being brilliant?”
“The two can coexist,” Miles huffed, leaning close to nuzzle his nose against Phoenix’s, “Just as your artful eye can with your lawful mind.”
Phoenix beamed, and nuzzled in return before joining their lips in the countless kiss of the night.
Yes, all was forgotten amidst his dearest love—even his doubts towards his profession. And yes, all the contradictory points did marry. For if he hadn’t switched to law, he couldn’t get to stand with such a wondrous partner. If he hadn’t studied art previously, he wouldn’t get to showcase different passions.
And if a so-called mistake hadn’t been made, they never would have shared such a beautiful moment.
It all worked out, in the end. Everything had settled into place.
The sun had come to chase away the darkness once more.
