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Entry tags:
[Fic] PW, "Catnap"
Title: Catnap
Words: 570
Pairing: Phoenix/Edgeworth
Rating: G
Summary: On the sleeping habits of frilly prosecutors.
Prompt: "Anon wants some phoenix/miles fluff, please?
And anon wants them to end up falling asleep cutely together or something. NOT after sex, not before sex, not inbetween sex. Just something without sex [because as AMAZING as all the stories are here, almost every one of them has it and anon would love to see something different.]"
He hadn't really realized, until the problem was resolved, what a persistent little niggling worry it had been. It was such a small and simple concern, and maybe that's why it had been bowled over - he'd had much more pressing things on his mind when he first found out, and then there had been even more pressing things, and then he'd been too busy wishing both that Edgeworth would come back and that he would have driven off a cliff somewhere to really think about it.
And so, it really wasn't until that first night he'd spent in Edgeworth's house, padding silently from the guest room and through the unfamiliar surroundings for a glass of water and finding the master bedroom's door ajar, that he'd peeked in at the drowsing prosecutor and wondered, Is he getting enough sleep?
Edgeworth had said that the nightmares had stopped, but...
He'd ended up falling asleep there in Edgeworth's doorway, water forgotten beside him, just in case his friend had a disturbance during the night.
(Edgeworth later conceded that it was quite romantic in theory; not so much in practice, when he had nearly broken his neck tripping over the unexpected obstacle and had to deal with everyone and their mother in the Prosecutor's Office wondering just where that black eye had come from.)
At any rate, it seemed Edgeworth had indeed escaped the specter of his chronic nightmares, and was now in the habit of sleeping full nights. Or, rather, would have been if he wasn't still an incurable workaholic who stayed up to absurd hours of the night and got up at ridiculous hours of the morning.
"This is why you always look so tired," Phoenix had scolded, tracing the heavy bags under Edgeworth's eyes with the tip of his finger. "You should really try this sleep thing sometime. You might be surprised."
Edgeworth had batted his hand away in faint irritation. "I get enough sleep, Wright," he'd said mildly.
Which was of course a blatant lie, Phoenix had thought. Edgeworth averaged six hours a night. But it hadn't seemed worth pressing the issue, and so he'd dropped it.
It was two weeks later that Edgeworth had presented evidence to support his claim.
Phoenix didn't remember whose idea it had been to watch TV, or even what they'd wanted to watch. It had mostly amounted to lazy conversation while idly flipping channels, with a short debate when they'd encountered a broadcast of one of Jack Hammer's old movies. (Edgeworth had wanted to watch it. Phoenix had just found it too creepy.) They'd ultimately found something to watch, but Phoenix's attention was really only half on the television; the pleasant warmth and weight of the prosecutor at his side had been more than a little distracting.
It must have happened gradually, though - Phoenix didn't notice the slow increase of the weight against him or the gentle slackening of Edgeworth's grip in his hand until he'd half turned to remark on the ridiculous plot twist that had just occurred, and received only a slow, soft exhalation in response.
Blinking, Phoenix twisted himself carefully to get a look at Edgeworth's face. His expression was slack and peaceful as he snored quietly on Phoenix's shoulder.
Oh, Phoenix thought. He catnaps.
He was going to have to confront his partner with this later. It was really entirely unreasonable for one man to be that adorable.
Goes with this.
Words: 570
Pairing: Phoenix/Edgeworth
Rating: G
Summary: On the sleeping habits of frilly prosecutors.
Prompt: "Anon wants some phoenix/miles fluff, please?
And anon wants them to end up falling asleep cutely together or something. NOT after sex, not before sex, not inbetween sex. Just something without sex [because as AMAZING as all the stories are here, almost every one of them has it and anon would love to see something different.]"
He hadn't really realized, until the problem was resolved, what a persistent little niggling worry it had been. It was such a small and simple concern, and maybe that's why it had been bowled over - he'd had much more pressing things on his mind when he first found out, and then there had been even more pressing things, and then he'd been too busy wishing both that Edgeworth would come back and that he would have driven off a cliff somewhere to really think about it.
And so, it really wasn't until that first night he'd spent in Edgeworth's house, padding silently from the guest room and through the unfamiliar surroundings for a glass of water and finding the master bedroom's door ajar, that he'd peeked in at the drowsing prosecutor and wondered, Is he getting enough sleep?
Edgeworth had said that the nightmares had stopped, but...
He'd ended up falling asleep there in Edgeworth's doorway, water forgotten beside him, just in case his friend had a disturbance during the night.
(Edgeworth later conceded that it was quite romantic in theory; not so much in practice, when he had nearly broken his neck tripping over the unexpected obstacle and had to deal with everyone and their mother in the Prosecutor's Office wondering just where that black eye had come from.)
At any rate, it seemed Edgeworth had indeed escaped the specter of his chronic nightmares, and was now in the habit of sleeping full nights. Or, rather, would have been if he wasn't still an incurable workaholic who stayed up to absurd hours of the night and got up at ridiculous hours of the morning.
"This is why you always look so tired," Phoenix had scolded, tracing the heavy bags under Edgeworth's eyes with the tip of his finger. "You should really try this sleep thing sometime. You might be surprised."
Edgeworth had batted his hand away in faint irritation. "I get enough sleep, Wright," he'd said mildly.
Which was of course a blatant lie, Phoenix had thought. Edgeworth averaged six hours a night. But it hadn't seemed worth pressing the issue, and so he'd dropped it.
It was two weeks later that Edgeworth had presented evidence to support his claim.
Phoenix didn't remember whose idea it had been to watch TV, or even what they'd wanted to watch. It had mostly amounted to lazy conversation while idly flipping channels, with a short debate when they'd encountered a broadcast of one of Jack Hammer's old movies. (Edgeworth had wanted to watch it. Phoenix had just found it too creepy.) They'd ultimately found something to watch, but Phoenix's attention was really only half on the television; the pleasant warmth and weight of the prosecutor at his side had been more than a little distracting.
It must have happened gradually, though - Phoenix didn't notice the slow increase of the weight against him or the gentle slackening of Edgeworth's grip in his hand until he'd half turned to remark on the ridiculous plot twist that had just occurred, and received only a slow, soft exhalation in response.
Blinking, Phoenix twisted himself carefully to get a look at Edgeworth's face. His expression was slack and peaceful as he snored quietly on Phoenix's shoulder.
Oh, Phoenix thought. He catnaps.
He was going to have to confront his partner with this later. It was really entirely unreasonable for one man to be that adorable.
Goes with this.