Yay for AU!
Dec. 31st, 2007 01:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabinetzinTitle: Measure For Measure
Summary: Phoenix is hot for teacher.
Fandom: Gyakuten Saiban
Word Count: 2467
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, AU
Pairing: Phoenix/Edgeworth, implied Will/Phoenix
A/N: University AU for the Phoenix Wright Kink Meme.
If he was going to be perfectly honest about it, he'd signed up for it expecting it to be a sop course. He learned the trick from Larry, who skated through college as a gender studies major- pick the course that sounds most likely to be taught by a middle age woman with a penchant for broomstick skirts and too much jewelry, and you're golden. And, truth be told, Phoenix was a little desperate for a class that meant he could finally have an excuse not to be with the other theatre students all day long. There was a reason they called it drama, after all.
He should have known something was up when he got to class on the first day, and everyone looked so serious. Most of them looked older than him, but they all had the earmarks of newly minted freshmen- new notebooks, serious expressions- some of them were even wearing belts, for Christ's sake. Phoenix pulled off his toboggan and sheepishly tried to fluff his hair into something resembling presentablity.
He had only just settled into the back row when he heard the door close. Phoenix's eyes snapped to the front of the room, where he didn't see quite what he'd expected.
Actually, he saw what could pretty much be described as the exact opposite. The professor was tall, immaculately dressed, and, above all, male. His steel-grey hair was arranged very neatly, and the surprisingly young teacher gave off the overall feeling of precision.
He set his briefcase on the desk at the front of the room with a booming clack, and there wasn't another noise to be heard.
"My name is Professor Miles Edgeworth, and this is Gender and the Law. If you are in the wrong classroom, please consult the Office of Special Needs." He opened his case, taking out a stack of photocopies and handing them to a student on the front row.
"You will be expected to produce a five to seven page paper each week for this class. You will be expected to show up for this class and to be on time. If you have any problem with these strictures, do not come back."
He shut his case again and looked at his watch. "As I am not under the delusion that anyone is actually capable of paying attention on the first day of classes, you may go once you have received your syllabus. Read the pages listed, and I will see you on Thursday."
When Phoenix walked out of the room, he suddenly realized that he hadn't actually heard anything the man said.
--
"Professor Edgeworth?!" his best friend asked incredulously. "Good luck."
Phoenix rolled his eyes. "One: you're a freshman. Two: you're religious studies major. How do you know who he is?"
"Because he's Professor Edgeworth," she replied, rolling her eyes like it was a foregone conclusion.
"Am I the only person on campus who's out of the loop?" Phoenix complained.
"Yes," Maya answered, stealing his fries. "But I only know who he is because my orientation leader said to stay away from him. He doesn't take excuses, he doesn't play favorites, he doesn't curve, and he doesn't care." She considered for a moment. "He is pretty cute though."
"You've seen him?" Phoenix asked, trying to hide his blush.
Maya grinned. "No, but you have, and you're an easy mark."
--
Phoenix wrote his first paper on gender bias in custody cases. He spent the better part of a night at the library, frantically scrabbling for any source he could find.
He made a C; but when he couldn't find anybody who did better than a B, he stopped feeling bad about it.
--
"Wright."
Phoenix stopped dead in his tracks. He hadn't figured that Professor Edgeworth would have bothered learning his name. He turned against the tide of escaping students, walking back to face him.
"Yes, sir?"
"Why are you in this class?" the older man asked him, turning his head to one side as if to study him. His voice was completely calm, but there was something of a challenge lurking underneath his words. Caught off guard, Phoenix tried to stammer a response, but Edgeworth cut him off. "There was a waiting list for this course, you know," he told him. "People who needed it to graduate will be delayed because of you."
Phoenix couldn't think of anything appropriate to say, so he went for honesty instead. "Half the class has dropped," he replied, shrugging. "There's plenty of room for them now."
Wonder beyond wonders, Professor Edgeworth gave him a little smile, and Phoenix felt like he'd just accidentally passed some test.
--
That weekend was the first really good theatre party of the year. This, of course, meant that the cops had already been by twice, the back porch looked like a scene from Caligula, and the jungle juice was just about 190 proof.
Phoenix sat one end of the couch, trying and failing to be indifferent to the fact that two girls he didn't know were furiously making out at the other end.
"Bored?" asked a voice behind him, which turned out to be Will, his old stage fighting coach.
"Halfway," Phoenix returned, cryptically. Will offered him a beer, and they sat on the balcony, watching Will smoke.
"This isn't really my kind of party," the large, muscular man admitted bashfully.
"It used to be my kind," Phoenix replied, wondering what it was about Will today that was making him sound like a character in a bad novel.
"I hear you," Will said, sighing and swigging his beer. "I think I'm getting a little too old for these things."
"Did you ever think you were going down the wrong path?" Phoenix asked suddenly.
Will scratched his head. If Phoenix's question had come as a surprise, his face didn’t betray it. "Well, I'm only good at fighting and yelling. So it was either this or the Mafia."
It wasn't particularly funny, but it was the first truly genuine, entertaining thing that anybody had said all evening; and Phoenix laughed out loud.
Later that night, Phoenix lay awake trying to remember why he hadn't gone home with Will. Then, he lay awake trying to remember a reason that didn't make him sound completely and utterly pathetic.
--
For his second paper, Phoenix wrote a point by point refutation of Rehnquist's dissenting opinion in 410 U.S. 113 (1973). He was up for thirty-six hours straight; Maya's sister snuck him into the law library, and her boyfriend must've forced about seventeen cups of coffee into him.
He made a B; but when he found out the bitchy exchange student who sat on the front row made an A, it sucked all the joy out of it.
--
"So what's your name, pal?" the burly guy who sat next to him asked one day before class.
"Phoenix," he replied, taking the offered handshake.
"I'm Richard," he said, a little uncertainly. This polite fiction lasted about ten seconds before someone across the classroom yelled, "Hey, Dick!" and waved.
Something finally clicked over in his mind. "Aren't you on the football team?"
"I was," Dick told him, momentary embarrassment forgotten, "but I quit. I need all my concentration if I'm going to get my criminal justice degree!"
Phoenix was pretty sure that criminal justice was what football players majored in so that they wouldn't have to concentrate, but he let it slide. "I didn't know this course was crosslisted."
"It isn't," he admitted. "I'm taking it for Edgeworth."
Phoenix swallowed, hopefully inaudibly. "You're putting yourself through this class just for him?"
Dick looked suddenly fierce. "Yeah, pal! Miles Edgeworth is a great man! Before he started teaching, he had a perfect win record as a prosecutor! He-"
There was probably more to this spiel, but Edgeworth himself chose that moment to enter the classroom, getting Dick's full attention.
Phoenix felt marginally better. He may have been nursing a full blown crush on the man, but at least it didn't make him sound crazy.
--
Rehearsals had been going since summer session. It had been weeks since Phoenix had actually read the script, because the thing was written permanently onto his brain. He hadn't missed his opening mark since before tech week, and as he stepped onto the stage, he was completely prepared to steal the show.
And when he looked out over the audience, he completely forgot what he was going to say, because he could just make out Professor Edgeworth in the front of the mezzanine.
Aside from that terrifying moment, the night went smoothly. Heads were cut off, identities were switched, and Phoenix married a whore, all without incident.
Professor Edgeworth was standing in the lobby after the performance, completely failing to look nonchalant. "I came to congratulate you on your performance," he said when Phoenix approached him. "So… congratulations. See you on Tuesday."
He made as if to leave, but Phoenix stopped him. "I was about to go and have a cup of coffee-" he said hopefully, his voice trailing off.
"I won't keep you from your friends," Edgeworth replied, looking away.
Phoenix bit his lip, a little embarrassed. "My friends aren't coming."
Edgeworth raised his eyebrows in a gesture of recognition, and then smiled.
--
Phoenix's third paper, a defense of anti-essentialism in statutory rape cases, almost didn't get finished. Halfway through his research, Phoenix happened upon an article about the former professions of famous lawyers, which led him to two books on the topic, both of which he read cover to cover.
He got an A, with a note that said, "See me after class."
--
Phoenix was technically early for office hours, but he still ended up second in line. After an uncomfortably long wait, the exchange student flounced out of the office, looking extremely upset. Professor Edgeworth waved for Phoenix to come in, closing the door behind him.
"My stepsister seems to be under the impression that because her father believes she is a wunderkind, I will too," he said by way of explanation, pursing his lips.
"You wanted to talk about my essay?" Phoenix prompted as they seated themselves on opposite sides of Edgeworth's desk.
"I wanted to talk to you about changing your major," Edgeworth said, his professional demeanor seeming forced.
"I wasn't that bad as Lucio, was I?" he replied, trying to keep things light.
"You're not stupid," he told Phoenix. "You're the first non-major to do decently in my class since- since I've been teaching, I think." Phoenix had a sudden moment of sympathy for Dick. "You show real promise."
"I'm glad that you think so," he replied, shaking his head, "but I'm not sure I'm ready to make that kind of effort."
"Isn't it worth it to have what you obviously want?"
Those words hit some spot in his over-taxed, under-rested brain; and between that and the ungodly tension in the room, Phoenix took momentary leave of his senses. He got up, stepping around his professor's desk and leaning down to kiss him. The older man put up a moment's resistance, but softened quickly, grabbing the front of Phoenix's hoodie to pull him closer. Phoenix kissed him for all he was worth, pouring out weeks of frustration and wanting. Edgeworth kissed back just as fiercely, until they both calmed, panting for breath.
"You're my student," Edgeworth said, reluctantly releasing him.
"In December, I won't be your student anymore," Phoenix countered defiantly.
"Wright, have you been listening to a word I've said?" He looked away, hugging himself with one arm. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do, but if you don't do what's right- even if you think you have a good reason- you're going to regret it."
Edgeworth didn't look up again until Phoenix was out of the room.
--
"I'd like to complete a change of school form," he told the lady behind the desk.
"You'll need to have these forms signed by-"
"I've got them," he said, passing them to her. "I just came by for the Dean's signature."
"BFA program to law studies?" she said, rhetorically, looking over his paperwork. "That's quite the jump."
Phoenix smiled, a little sadly. "It's the right thing to do."
--
"I now declare you graduates of this university," the dean announced, and Larry tipped up his flask. He passed it off to Phoenix, who lifted it to him in thanks before taking a swig.
When he tried to remember it later, commencement would seem like a blur, even though at the time it had been a long, sweaty ordeal. Relatives Phoenix didn't know he had came out of the woodwork, and he took pictures with every single one of them, including some people that he was convinced were actually other people's relatives who just wandered in. And then Maya had run up and jumped on him, and he'd had to explain about fifty times that, yes, the girl in the funny outfit was sweet, yes, her hair was lovely, no, she wasn't his girlfriend.
By the time Maya dropped him off at the restaurant, Phoenix was completely exhausted, not to mention a bundle of nerves. He checked his tie twice in the mirrored glass door, trying desperately to keep the sleeves of his suit from riding up over his cuffs. Taking a deep breath, he walked in, giving the doorman an awkward nod.
Everything just seemed to evaporate, though, when he entered the foyer. Edgeworth stood, waiting for him. Phoenix's happiness got the better of him, and he all but ran into the older man's arms. Edgeworth held him stiffly for a moment, embarrassed, but he melted, hugging Phoenix tightly.
Phoenix, inevitably and to Edgeworth's further embarrassment, got carded, but besides that, it was a lovely meal. Somewhere between the coffee and the panna cotta, Edgeworth slipped his hand into his jacket pocket, withdrawing a small box.
He looked at Phoenix as if he was about to say something, but quailed at the last minute. "Here," he said, offering it to the younger man.
Inside was a ring, its wide band inscribed with an image of a firebird. Phoenix's mouth hung open. "Thank you- I- What does this mean?" he asked, trying not to let his confusion overrun his gratitude.
Edgeworth looked away, smiling to himself. "A ring is a non-arbitrary object that has several arbitrary meanings in western society. One can accept its intrinsic value, or one can agree to associate it with a predetermined arbitrary meaning." His eyes met Phoenix's. "Or, one can allow it to acquire its own novel meanings."
"You mean we make it up as we go along?" Phoenix smiled. "I think I'd like that."
Edgeworth blushed when Phoenix took his hand across the table, but he didn't pull it back.
Summary: Phoenix is hot for teacher.
Fandom: Gyakuten Saiban
Word Count: 2467
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, AU
Pairing: Phoenix/Edgeworth, implied Will/Phoenix
A/N: University AU for the Phoenix Wright Kink Meme.
If he was going to be perfectly honest about it, he'd signed up for it expecting it to be a sop course. He learned the trick from Larry, who skated through college as a gender studies major- pick the course that sounds most likely to be taught by a middle age woman with a penchant for broomstick skirts and too much jewelry, and you're golden. And, truth be told, Phoenix was a little desperate for a class that meant he could finally have an excuse not to be with the other theatre students all day long. There was a reason they called it drama, after all.
He should have known something was up when he got to class on the first day, and everyone looked so serious. Most of them looked older than him, but they all had the earmarks of newly minted freshmen- new notebooks, serious expressions- some of them were even wearing belts, for Christ's sake. Phoenix pulled off his toboggan and sheepishly tried to fluff his hair into something resembling presentablity.
He had only just settled into the back row when he heard the door close. Phoenix's eyes snapped to the front of the room, where he didn't see quite what he'd expected.
Actually, he saw what could pretty much be described as the exact opposite. The professor was tall, immaculately dressed, and, above all, male. His steel-grey hair was arranged very neatly, and the surprisingly young teacher gave off the overall feeling of precision.
He set his briefcase on the desk at the front of the room with a booming clack, and there wasn't another noise to be heard.
"My name is Professor Miles Edgeworth, and this is Gender and the Law. If you are in the wrong classroom, please consult the Office of Special Needs." He opened his case, taking out a stack of photocopies and handing them to a student on the front row.
"You will be expected to produce a five to seven page paper each week for this class. You will be expected to show up for this class and to be on time. If you have any problem with these strictures, do not come back."
He shut his case again and looked at his watch. "As I am not under the delusion that anyone is actually capable of paying attention on the first day of classes, you may go once you have received your syllabus. Read the pages listed, and I will see you on Thursday."
When Phoenix walked out of the room, he suddenly realized that he hadn't actually heard anything the man said.
--
"Professor Edgeworth?!" his best friend asked incredulously. "Good luck."
Phoenix rolled his eyes. "One: you're a freshman. Two: you're religious studies major. How do you know who he is?"
"Because he's Professor Edgeworth," she replied, rolling her eyes like it was a foregone conclusion.
"Am I the only person on campus who's out of the loop?" Phoenix complained.
"Yes," Maya answered, stealing his fries. "But I only know who he is because my orientation leader said to stay away from him. He doesn't take excuses, he doesn't play favorites, he doesn't curve, and he doesn't care." She considered for a moment. "He is pretty cute though."
"You've seen him?" Phoenix asked, trying to hide his blush.
Maya grinned. "No, but you have, and you're an easy mark."
--
Phoenix wrote his first paper on gender bias in custody cases. He spent the better part of a night at the library, frantically scrabbling for any source he could find.
He made a C; but when he couldn't find anybody who did better than a B, he stopped feeling bad about it.
--
"Wright."
Phoenix stopped dead in his tracks. He hadn't figured that Professor Edgeworth would have bothered learning his name. He turned against the tide of escaping students, walking back to face him.
"Yes, sir?"
"Why are you in this class?" the older man asked him, turning his head to one side as if to study him. His voice was completely calm, but there was something of a challenge lurking underneath his words. Caught off guard, Phoenix tried to stammer a response, but Edgeworth cut him off. "There was a waiting list for this course, you know," he told him. "People who needed it to graduate will be delayed because of you."
Phoenix couldn't think of anything appropriate to say, so he went for honesty instead. "Half the class has dropped," he replied, shrugging. "There's plenty of room for them now."
Wonder beyond wonders, Professor Edgeworth gave him a little smile, and Phoenix felt like he'd just accidentally passed some test.
--
That weekend was the first really good theatre party of the year. This, of course, meant that the cops had already been by twice, the back porch looked like a scene from Caligula, and the jungle juice was just about 190 proof.
Phoenix sat one end of the couch, trying and failing to be indifferent to the fact that two girls he didn't know were furiously making out at the other end.
"Bored?" asked a voice behind him, which turned out to be Will, his old stage fighting coach.
"Halfway," Phoenix returned, cryptically. Will offered him a beer, and they sat on the balcony, watching Will smoke.
"This isn't really my kind of party," the large, muscular man admitted bashfully.
"It used to be my kind," Phoenix replied, wondering what it was about Will today that was making him sound like a character in a bad novel.
"I hear you," Will said, sighing and swigging his beer. "I think I'm getting a little too old for these things."
"Did you ever think you were going down the wrong path?" Phoenix asked suddenly.
Will scratched his head. If Phoenix's question had come as a surprise, his face didn’t betray it. "Well, I'm only good at fighting and yelling. So it was either this or the Mafia."
It wasn't particularly funny, but it was the first truly genuine, entertaining thing that anybody had said all evening; and Phoenix laughed out loud.
Later that night, Phoenix lay awake trying to remember why he hadn't gone home with Will. Then, he lay awake trying to remember a reason that didn't make him sound completely and utterly pathetic.
--
For his second paper, Phoenix wrote a point by point refutation of Rehnquist's dissenting opinion in 410 U.S. 113 (1973). He was up for thirty-six hours straight; Maya's sister snuck him into the law library, and her boyfriend must've forced about seventeen cups of coffee into him.
He made a B; but when he found out the bitchy exchange student who sat on the front row made an A, it sucked all the joy out of it.
--
"So what's your name, pal?" the burly guy who sat next to him asked one day before class.
"Phoenix," he replied, taking the offered handshake.
"I'm Richard," he said, a little uncertainly. This polite fiction lasted about ten seconds before someone across the classroom yelled, "Hey, Dick!" and waved.
Something finally clicked over in his mind. "Aren't you on the football team?"
"I was," Dick told him, momentary embarrassment forgotten, "but I quit. I need all my concentration if I'm going to get my criminal justice degree!"
Phoenix was pretty sure that criminal justice was what football players majored in so that they wouldn't have to concentrate, but he let it slide. "I didn't know this course was crosslisted."
"It isn't," he admitted. "I'm taking it for Edgeworth."
Phoenix swallowed, hopefully inaudibly. "You're putting yourself through this class just for him?"
Dick looked suddenly fierce. "Yeah, pal! Miles Edgeworth is a great man! Before he started teaching, he had a perfect win record as a prosecutor! He-"
There was probably more to this spiel, but Edgeworth himself chose that moment to enter the classroom, getting Dick's full attention.
Phoenix felt marginally better. He may have been nursing a full blown crush on the man, but at least it didn't make him sound crazy.
--
Rehearsals had been going since summer session. It had been weeks since Phoenix had actually read the script, because the thing was written permanently onto his brain. He hadn't missed his opening mark since before tech week, and as he stepped onto the stage, he was completely prepared to steal the show.
And when he looked out over the audience, he completely forgot what he was going to say, because he could just make out Professor Edgeworth in the front of the mezzanine.
Aside from that terrifying moment, the night went smoothly. Heads were cut off, identities were switched, and Phoenix married a whore, all without incident.
Professor Edgeworth was standing in the lobby after the performance, completely failing to look nonchalant. "I came to congratulate you on your performance," he said when Phoenix approached him. "So… congratulations. See you on Tuesday."
He made as if to leave, but Phoenix stopped him. "I was about to go and have a cup of coffee-" he said hopefully, his voice trailing off.
"I won't keep you from your friends," Edgeworth replied, looking away.
Phoenix bit his lip, a little embarrassed. "My friends aren't coming."
Edgeworth raised his eyebrows in a gesture of recognition, and then smiled.
--
Phoenix's third paper, a defense of anti-essentialism in statutory rape cases, almost didn't get finished. Halfway through his research, Phoenix happened upon an article about the former professions of famous lawyers, which led him to two books on the topic, both of which he read cover to cover.
He got an A, with a note that said, "See me after class."
--
Phoenix was technically early for office hours, but he still ended up second in line. After an uncomfortably long wait, the exchange student flounced out of the office, looking extremely upset. Professor Edgeworth waved for Phoenix to come in, closing the door behind him.
"My stepsister seems to be under the impression that because her father believes she is a wunderkind, I will too," he said by way of explanation, pursing his lips.
"You wanted to talk about my essay?" Phoenix prompted as they seated themselves on opposite sides of Edgeworth's desk.
"I wanted to talk to you about changing your major," Edgeworth said, his professional demeanor seeming forced.
"I wasn't that bad as Lucio, was I?" he replied, trying to keep things light.
"You're not stupid," he told Phoenix. "You're the first non-major to do decently in my class since- since I've been teaching, I think." Phoenix had a sudden moment of sympathy for Dick. "You show real promise."
"I'm glad that you think so," he replied, shaking his head, "but I'm not sure I'm ready to make that kind of effort."
"Isn't it worth it to have what you obviously want?"
Those words hit some spot in his over-taxed, under-rested brain; and between that and the ungodly tension in the room, Phoenix took momentary leave of his senses. He got up, stepping around his professor's desk and leaning down to kiss him. The older man put up a moment's resistance, but softened quickly, grabbing the front of Phoenix's hoodie to pull him closer. Phoenix kissed him for all he was worth, pouring out weeks of frustration and wanting. Edgeworth kissed back just as fiercely, until they both calmed, panting for breath.
"You're my student," Edgeworth said, reluctantly releasing him.
"In December, I won't be your student anymore," Phoenix countered defiantly.
"Wright, have you been listening to a word I've said?" He looked away, hugging himself with one arm. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do, but if you don't do what's right- even if you think you have a good reason- you're going to regret it."
Edgeworth didn't look up again until Phoenix was out of the room.
--
"I'd like to complete a change of school form," he told the lady behind the desk.
"You'll need to have these forms signed by-"
"I've got them," he said, passing them to her. "I just came by for the Dean's signature."
"BFA program to law studies?" she said, rhetorically, looking over his paperwork. "That's quite the jump."
Phoenix smiled, a little sadly. "It's the right thing to do."
--
"I now declare you graduates of this university," the dean announced, and Larry tipped up his flask. He passed it off to Phoenix, who lifted it to him in thanks before taking a swig.
When he tried to remember it later, commencement would seem like a blur, even though at the time it had been a long, sweaty ordeal. Relatives Phoenix didn't know he had came out of the woodwork, and he took pictures with every single one of them, including some people that he was convinced were actually other people's relatives who just wandered in. And then Maya had run up and jumped on him, and he'd had to explain about fifty times that, yes, the girl in the funny outfit was sweet, yes, her hair was lovely, no, she wasn't his girlfriend.
By the time Maya dropped him off at the restaurant, Phoenix was completely exhausted, not to mention a bundle of nerves. He checked his tie twice in the mirrored glass door, trying desperately to keep the sleeves of his suit from riding up over his cuffs. Taking a deep breath, he walked in, giving the doorman an awkward nod.
Everything just seemed to evaporate, though, when he entered the foyer. Edgeworth stood, waiting for him. Phoenix's happiness got the better of him, and he all but ran into the older man's arms. Edgeworth held him stiffly for a moment, embarrassed, but he melted, hugging Phoenix tightly.
Phoenix, inevitably and to Edgeworth's further embarrassment, got carded, but besides that, it was a lovely meal. Somewhere between the coffee and the panna cotta, Edgeworth slipped his hand into his jacket pocket, withdrawing a small box.
He looked at Phoenix as if he was about to say something, but quailed at the last minute. "Here," he said, offering it to the younger man.
Inside was a ring, its wide band inscribed with an image of a firebird. Phoenix's mouth hung open. "Thank you- I- What does this mean?" he asked, trying not to let his confusion overrun his gratitude.
Edgeworth looked away, smiling to himself. "A ring is a non-arbitrary object that has several arbitrary meanings in western society. One can accept its intrinsic value, or one can agree to associate it with a predetermined arbitrary meaning." His eyes met Phoenix's. "Or, one can allow it to acquire its own novel meanings."
"You mean we make it up as we go along?" Phoenix smiled. "I think I'd like that."
Edgeworth blushed when Phoenix took his hand across the table, but he didn't pull it back.