Chapter Text
Raindrops stream down the window panes, obscuring the chilly gray sky of a late fall morning. Thankfully, the rain is outside, and Miles Edgeworth is inside, appreciatively sipping his favorite tea. It’s very hot, as he prefers, and the steam lightly wafting from the liquid’s surface carries with it the scent of bergamot.
Across the breakfast table, Larry is drinking coffee (and spilling coffee, and wiping it up with his shirtsleeve, which Edgeworth is not going to comment on) and is currently talking about...something. His apartment, Edgeworth thinks, but he hasn’t been listening closely. Instead, he’s mentally running through the evidence and witnesses he’ll be presenting in a few hours’ time at that morning’s high-profile homicide trial.
Then Edgeworth realizes he isn’t listening. He’s gotten better about that, most of the time, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s just caught himself at it again.
“I’m sorry,” he interrupts. “My mind wandered. Could you tell me that last bit again?”
Larry sets down his coffee cup. (It is very decidedly his coffee cup, not a part of Edgeworth’s set--it’s a garish shade of yellow with a cartoon cat on it that may possibly be some variety of Pokemon. Edgeworth is a little afraid to ask. He also doesn’t know where the cup came from, only that it now lives in his cupboard.)
“You’re really worried about this case, huh?” says Larry.
“Well, it is important,” Edgeworth agrees, “and of course I take all my cases seriously, but I’m not at the courthouse right now. I’m here, with you.” He meets his eyes earnestly across the table. “So please, go on.”
“I was saying the lease on my apartment is up in a couple months,” says Larry. “I’ve been putting it off, but my landlord keeps calling me this week, so I guess I better tell them something.”
“Ah, you intend to look for a different residence, then?”
“I...hadn’t really decided yet,” says Larry. The words are innocuous enough, but Edgeworth can’t help but think he sounds a bit unhappy about it.
Of course, Edgeworth realizes belatedly. How dense of him--his mind really is elsewhere this morning. “Naturally, if you need a place to stay for a bit in between--” Come to think of it, he’d been staying over nearly every night for months now as it was, so it hardly made much difference.
Larry sighs, causing Edgeworth to pause with his teacup halfway to his mouth.
“What’s the matter?”
“No, okay, right, you don’t do hints,” says Larry, and runs a hand down over his face as if mentally preparing himself. “I guess I was kinda hoping you’d want--that maybe you’d ask me to move in with you. But if it’s too soon, that’s cool too, I get it,” he adds hastily.
Oh, that’s all? Edgeworth relaxes. Truth be told, he’d thought it obvious that they were heading in that direction. “Of course. After all, there hardly seems much point in having your own place when you are practically living here already.”
But that doesn’t seem to be the right answer either, judging by the way Larry absolutely deflates.
“Never mind,” he mutters, and pushes away his coffee cup. “I don’t wanna live with you if it’s just out of convenience.”
“Larry…” Edgeworth is at a loss. He’d had no objection to the idea--what in the world was the problem now?
“Hey, forget it. I gotta go to work.” Larry stands, scoops up his empty dishes, and carries them off to the kitchen. “Your lunch is in the fridge,” he calls over his shoulder, and a moment later, the front door shuts--firmly, but stopping short of a slam.
Edgeworth doesn’t understand.
He understands that some sort of communication breakdown has taken place, obviously, but the why and how are beyond him. Larry needed a place to live, and by his own admission wanted to live with Edgeworth--in fact, was more or less already doing so--yet had gotten upset at the offer. So what had gone wrong?
All morning, Edgeworth tries to puzzle it out in the back of his mind, even as he presents his evidence in court. The case is a fairly straightforward one, the defendant clearly guilty, and by the time the judge declares a recess, Edgeworth knows exactly how to proceed with his argument.
If only it were so easy outside of court.
Once again he turns his gaze to the rain outside the lobby window, and after a moment, the answer strikes him, stunning in its simplicity.
Larry had actually told him quite directly what he wanted: to be asked to move in with him. He wanted the gesture, not to simply be told that yes, of course, it was a sensible decision. To Edgeworth, there’s little distinction between the two, but, he realizes, obviously it matters to Larry --yet again, a clash of the romantic and pragmatic.
It’s all a bit silly in Edgeworth’s opinion, but he’s long since accepted his boyfriend’s temperamental nature. Certainly it leads to its share of miscommunications, but they also tend to be an easy fix as soon as he can figure out the absurd leaps in logic, and this time is no different.
After court lets out, Edgeworth picks up a bouquet of flowers and heads to Larry’s apartment, where he expects, correctly, to find him.
When he knocks at the door, Larry calls, “Come in.” Edgeworth does, and finds him with his sketchbook at the kitchen table (strictly speaking, the only table in the place).
Larry glances up from his drawing. “Hey, Edgey, what’s up?” His tone is curiously neutral, and Edgeworth suspects his feelings are still hurt after their earlier misunderstanding.
He offers the flowers, and says gently, “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t understand this morning, but I do now. Will you move in with me?”
All at once, it’s as if their earlier conversation had never taken place. Larry jumps up and throws his arms around him, already tearing up. “Babe, of course I will!”
He kisses him, and Edgeworth eagerly responds. As usual, he’s bottled up all the tension of the day--the trial, the conflict between them--and now it’s been released. There’s another difference, he realizes--they both feel intensely, but while he keeps it inside, Larry externalizes everything. Ideally they could both move toward a middle ground, but, as he knows that’s unlikely, at least they might balance each other out.
He lifts Larry onto the kitchen counter as they continue to make out.
“Miles, I missed you,” Larry breathes as he removes Edgeworth’s cravat and begins to unbutton his shirt.
“You were on my mind all day,” murmurs Edgeworth. That’s true, even if it’s best not to specify exactly why.
Soon, they’ve both shed their clothes, and Edgeworth goes to the bedroom to retrieve the lube. When he returns, Larry is waiting right where he’d left him on the kitchen counter, watching him and slowly stroking his cock.
At that sight, Edgeworth considers having his way with him right there on the counter, but then he has a better idea.
“Come here,” he orders, and puts a bit of the Demon Prosecutor into his voice.
With a shiver, Larry complies immediately and follows him to the sliding glass doors of the tiny fifth-floor balcony.
Edgeworth kisses him once more, turns him around to face the door, and pushes him forward against it. The glass is cold, wet with condensation from the rain coming down all day, and Larry whimpers at the contact of his bare skin against the chilled surface.
Edgeworth kisses Larry’s shoulder and nudges his legs apart, rubbing his hard cock against the cleft of his ass. Then he releases him and lets him draw back from the window.
“Shit, Miles, that’s cold--”
“Mmm, I know, come here.” He encircles him in his arms, splaying his hands over Larry’s chest, giving him his warmth, pressing his palms against the pebbled skin of his nipples.
Then Edgeworth takes his hands away and pushes him against the glass once more.
Larry gasps. “Fuck--Miles--”
He abandons his protests, however, when Edgeworth bites the side of his neck and reaches between his legs with lubed fingers.
Larry moans as Edgeworth fingers him open, but after a bit, something seems to occur to him. “What if someone sees us?”
Edgeworth smirks. “Well, you’re moving out soon anyway, aren’t you?”
“Oh God--”
He holds Larry’s hips in place as he presses his cock into him, once again marveling at the incredible heat.
“Besides,” he continues, and again lets his most disdainful courtroom tone creep into his voice. “I think maybe you want them to see. I think anyone who catches sight of you will know just what a greedy, desperate whore you are, letting me take you like this.” That’s something else they’ve been going further with lately--Edgeworth has known for some time that Larry enjoys being insulted like this, and he’s slightly worried at how easily it comes to him.
Regardless, it has the desired effect.
“Yeah, please, just--God, baby, please--”
Edgeworth tenderly takes hold of his cock and gives a few strokes, then forces Larry’s hips forward to press his sensitive flesh against the cold glass.
“F-fuck--”
The sense of power is exhilarating.
Edgeworth makes a game of it, releasing Larry at intervals to let him step back, sharing the warmth of his hands with him, against his cock, his stomach, his chest--and then pushing him back against the window.
After a few repetitions of that cycle, Larry begins to cry. That’s not terribly alarming--he does cry in bed sometimes, more openly now since the two of them have moved beyond casual sex--but Edgeworth still asks, “Do you want me to stop?”
“D-don’t you fucking dare stop.”
As he thought.
Edgeworth pins Larry against the glass and begins to thrust into him in earnest.
“Please--” Larry’s voice is ragged now, the fingers of his free hand scrabbling against the glass. “Miles, please--”
Edgeworth relents. He shifts his stance, allowing Larry to fall back from the window into his arms. He’s trembling against him, pleading for release, and again, the sense of control is so delicious that Edgeworth almost comes right then. He holds himself back, though, holding Larry close against him with one arm and roughly pumping his cock until they finish simultaneously.
The two of them sink to the floor together, both gasping for breath.
Larry clings to Edgeworth, hiding his tear-streaked face against his shoulder and mumbling a stream of half-coherent words. “--love you, God, I love you, that was--” He breaks off with another shudder.
“I know,” Edgeworth murmurs, and holds him tightly. “I love you, too.” He knows now that he needs to pet and reassure him after intense play like this, and gladly does so. “That was good. You were very, very good for me. You always are.”
They remain there for some time, simply holding each other. The rain continues to fall, and the sky begins to grow dark.
Edgeworth kisses Larry on the forehead. “Are you ready to come home with me now, love?”