|alorian (alorian) wrote in courtroomdance,|
@ 2009-05-17 22:04:00
[fic] [NSFW] If You Can't Stand the Heat
Phoenix and Edgeworth and a heat wave. NSFW, 1830 words, no spoilers except the one on the back of Edgeworth's car.
Cross posted to y-gallery.
If You Can't Stand The Heat
It was sweltering in the courthouse. After a full week of record summer temperatures, the environmental system in the city courthouse had responded with the poise and dedication typical of all city servants, which is to say, it failed completely. The air conditioning was as exanimate as the victim in the current murder trial, and no attempt to revive either had worked.
In spite of the stuffy heat of the courtroom, the gallery was packed with spectators, devoted to their favorite sport. The murder of a prominent attorney did not matter to them, nor the desperate plight of the hapless defendant. No, only one thing jammed them into the steaming courthouse, causing the ambient temperature to rise another ten degrees.
Wright versus Edgeworth.
No amount of heat would keep them from their battle. Phoenix Wright had discarded his jacket shortly after the opening statement. His sleeves were rolled to the elbow, his tie was loose and his suspenders marked out damp lines in his shirt, but still he fought on. Even Miles Edgeworth was in his shirtsleeves, a thing unheard of in the annals of justice. Though he refused to loosen his cravat, it hung limply from its knot, and where the silk pressed against his throat it had gone transparent with sweat.
The desks of both lawyers were littered with empty water bottles, evidence sheets curling at the edges from the humidity. Neither of them was giving so much as an inch of ground, their furious determination the only thing hotter than the weather. In the gallery, hand fans batted back and forth like the wings of moths, and the spectators held their collective breath. Under the constant snap of objections was the rickety hum of a small electric fan on the Judge's bench, rattling as it struggled to heave some of the heavy air around. The last wilted witness left the stand, and the judge, bald pate gleaming, called for a thirty minute recess.
"You should go in the men's room and stick your head under the faucet," Maya suggested to Phoenix, as she fanned him with a glossy photo of the murder scene.
"It couldn't make me any wetter than I already am," Phoenix said, sprawled in a lobby chair, tugging at his collar. "Besides, the water's warm."
"I'd tell you to go outside, but it's actually hotter out there." Maya lifted the weight of her hair off the back of her neck and fanned herself for a moment. "Phew. There's not even a breeze."
"I'm not gonna make it if I can't cool off somehow," Phoenix said. "I will literally melt. There will be a little blue puddle with an attorney's badge floating in it, and then Santa Claus will have to come open the door of the greenhouse and let in the magical frosty Christmas air, and--"
"You're rambling, Nick." Maya blotted his forehead with her sleeve. "You should lie down someplace cool and dark. Like a cave. Too bad there aren't any here. In the village, there's one underneath--"
"Cave!" Phoenix said, sitting bolt upright and running for the elevator. "I'll be right back!"
The elevator doors dinged open on the parking garage beneath the courthouse, and a wisp of cool, damp air teased the hair at the back of Phoenix's neck. He stepped out and pressed his back against the nearest concrete pillar, ignoring the stink of motor oil and exhaust. It might as well have been attar of roses, for all he cared.
It was a minute or two before he realized that the dull purr of white noise could not be the broken ventilation system. Someone nearby was running his car, selfishly driving up the temperature in Phoenix's haven. Scowling, Phoenix walked over to give the offender a piece of his mind. He stopped short when he discovered the source of the sound: a gleaming red sports car idling in place, Miles Edgeworth reclining in the driver's seat, cool as the proverbial cucumber. Phoenix could see his cravat ruffling in the air that gushed out of the A/C vents.
Edgeworth opened one wary eye at the knuckles rapping on the driver's side window. Phoenix saw him make a motion on the console and the window slid down one grudging inch. "What?" Edgeworth said, in nothing like invitation.
The bit of refrigerated air that leaked out hit Phoenix with the force of a tidal wave, smacking all the righteous indignation out of him. He had meant to say something about the environment, the shrinking ice caps, polar bears. Didn't Miles Edgeworth care about polar bears? Instead Phoenix said, "Let me in."
Edgeworth might have smiled, then, a fleeting tightness around his mouth. His response was another gesture on the control panel, and the doors unlocked. Phoenix was around the car in a flash, opening the door and flinging himself down on the blissfully cold leather of the passenger seat.
"If you can't stand the heat, Wright, maybe you should stay out of the courthouse." Edgeworth was smug, his cravat buoyant once more.
"Nice try, but I'm going to see this one through to the end."
"It very well may be the end, you know. You've got about as much chance of winning as a snowball does of surviving in the gallery today."
"Shows what you know," Phoenix said, and yanked his shirt out of his belt, pulling it and his undershirt up so that the delicious cool air could sluice over his chest. He let out an involuntary groan as chill bumps prickled all over his skin, lifting up every little sticking-down hair on his chest. The icy blast of the car's air vents twisted his nipples into hard little knots, and the pitch of Edgeworth's silence changed considerably.
"It seems to me, Wright," he said, suddenly very close to Phoenix's damp temple, "that you have very little idea of what I know."
Phoenix opened his eyes to see that Edgeworth was leaning over him, close in a way that usually meant either a guilty verdict or a fuck. Sometimes both. Phoenix wasn't exactly sure which it would be, at least not until Edgeworth reached down and undid Phoenix's belt with the dexterity of long practice.
"For one thing, Wright," Edgeworth continued, his voice soft over the sound of parting zipper teeth, "to best avoid heatstroke, the first area that should be cooled is the groin."
Phoenix sucked in a breath as Edgeworth's cold fingers plunged into the intense heat between his legs, closing like a vise on his thickening cock.
"I don't think this qualifies as cooling," Phoenix began, but got no further as Edgeworth pushed aside the stifling folds of Phoenix's trousers, letting the air hit him full force. Ventilation moved like a fingertip along the hot crease of Phoenix's thigh, Edgeworth's tongue swept away the taste of salt behind his earlobe, and Phoenix gave up on making a show of struggle. The only thing Phoenix was interested in, at that moment, was getting his hands into Edgeworth's pants as fast as humanly possible.
"Oh, the defense always has to cross-examine," Edgeworth said, in a tone that wanted to be bored but really was just breathless. "Get on with it, Wright. It's a thirty minute recess, not an adjournmeuuhnnngh--"
Phoenix bent over and wedged his shoulders between the steering column and the gear shift, his fingers making quick work of Edgeworth's belt and his tongue making quick work of everything else. Already cooler to begin with, Edgeworth shuddered as cold air kissed the wet skin Phoenix left behind, trailing a shivery path up the underside of his cock. Phoenix, pressing his advantage, went down for longer the second time.
Edgeworth tasted like salt and sex and lemons; he tangled his hands in the spiky hair at the base of Phoenix's neck and lifted his hips off the seat to push his cock in further.
"Not so fast, Prosecutor," Phoenix said, pulling away with a wet sound. "I think I interrupted your argument, and it was so eloquent..." He caught Edgeworth's wrist, urging the other man's hand back between his legs.
"Dammit, Wright," Edgeworth hissed, grasping the cock presented to him, and pumping it in something like fury. "You'll have us tag-teaming the witness again, and we'll both get a penalty--"
"Only witness here is the Steel Samurai figure on your dashboard, Miles," Phoenix said, as both of them settled to the task of getting each other off as fast as possible. "And you know I don't really think he gives a damn."
Edgeworth's answer was the sound of his head smacking against the back of the seat, Phoenix's name--his first name--a long low growl in his teeth as he came. Phoenix's hand wrapped around Edgeworth's on his cock, hot and cold losing meaning in the slow, shivering burst of his own release.
They lay there a moment, gasping and sticky. Edgeworth disentangled his hands and made a noise of disgust, as he always did, at any bodily fluid besides blood. Phoenix stayed where he was, contented and cool and dreamy, as Edgeworth busied himself with his handkerchief and a water bottle. When Phoenix showed no signs of budging, Edgeworth cleaned him up too, wet silk sliding down between Phoenix's legs and up to his navel. For a prosecutor, he was unnaturally good at getting rid of evidence. Phoenix would have said something to the effect except that Edgeworth was kissing him, and it seemed rude to interrupt.
"There." Edgeworth tucked his handkerchief into the trash pocket of his door, and the last moisture evaporated off of Phoenix's skin. "Good of you not to spatter my upholstery."
"Not after what you did last time I did." Phoenix sighed and stretched, tucking his shirt in again. "Christ, that feels good. I think I'm almost dry for the first time all day."
"If you want to be cool at a trial, be the cadaver." Edgeworth smiled. "Any lawyer worth anything sweats a little in the courtroom."
"Not our dead lawyer, though," Phoenix said, his mind wandering away from the tendons of Edgeworth's wrists and back to the case. "He was all dry and fresh when they found him." He frowned, slowly buckling his belt. "Funny, since he was supposedly arguing with the defendant outside for half an hour right before he was murdered, you'd think he would be soaked to the skin. Hot day, big guy like...that..." Phoenix broke off and Edgeworth sucked in a breath; their eyes met.
"But," Edgeworth began, aghast, "if he hadn't been sweating then--"
"Then he wasn't murdered by my defendant!" Phoenix shot back in triumph, and both of them were out of the car, pulling on their coats as they raced back to the elevator. By they time they got back to the courtroom they were hot all over again, but it didn't really matter. It was Wright versus Edgeworth, and they both could take the heat.