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Just Another Truth, Wright	By : Blackwidina Category: +M through R > Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney Views: 2004 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Ace Attorney series, and I make no money from the writing of this story.

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Welcome to the latest installment of the JustWright series! ^_^ As always, I don't own any part of the Ace Apollo series, though it seems to have bought stock in me. This is yaoi, blatantly so, so don't say I didn't warn you! Oh, and there's a lot of tense abuse here; I apologize. Spoilers abound, of course.

Just Another Truth, Wright
Apollo wasn't sure just what was going on, but between his bracelet trying to burrow under his skin, and Trucy looking so visibly green that he was afraid she might vomit from nerves, he felt like someone, somewhere was going to snap.
Neither of them had seen Phoenix like this. He wasn't even trying to act like nothing was wrong.
It had all started with a phone call that morning. Apollo had answered to hear a heavily accented male voice informing him that there was an international call for a Mr. Phoenix Wright. He'd called Nick off the couch where he was "studying," and then tried to act casual as the man's tension level sky-rocketed within the first few seconds of the conversation.
After several "yes" and "no" answers, and a "that's fine" and "I won't," Apollo was ready to scream. Even with Phoenix's back to him, the man just radiated discomfort.
Hanging up, Phoenix had stared at the phone in his hand for a moment, then set it down as if it were made of glass.
Trying not to be pushy, Apollo managed to ask, "Um . . . is everything all right, Mr. Wright?"
It was a sign of how bad things were that the man hadn't even smirked at the potential jokes. He'd just shaken his head, looking slightly dazed before his gaze had sharpened. "Polly, can I ask you to stay over tonight?"
That was odd, as well. Phoenix had never asked him to stay the night; it usually just happened. Usually, it was because the three of them had spent the evening together, made dinner, and finally, Trucy would announce that it was way too late at night for Apollo to be running around, and that he needed to sleep over.
Apollo wouldn't even call bullshit on the fact that both Phoenix and Trucy both worked night jobs that required just that. When he was feeling honest with himself, he could admit that he liked staying with the Wrights. He liked watching anime with Phoenix, or helping Trucy perfect her tricks, even if that just meant sitting outside her door while she practiced the "secret" parts in front of her mirror. He also enjoyed their dinners, where it was just the three of them, working together to make something edible from the few ingredients that would fit in the mini-fridge. He'd never known there were so many types of sandwiches before. He didn't even mind the Wrights' blatant overuse of puns—hell, he was just as bad as they were by now.
Having Trucy and Phoenix in his life . . . as strange as it was, he couldn't imagine being without them.
And seeing Phoenix upset like this was driving him up the goddamn wall.
"Uh, yeah, sure, I'll stay. But what—"
Phoenix cut him off, "I'm heading out for a few hours. Make sure Trucy does her homework, if I'm not back."
"Wait, but—"
"Apollo." Phoenix was already at the door, facing away. "I know I can't lie to either of you, so you'll just have to take my word for it. Something's up, but it's not bad."
"Then why are you leaving?" Apollo had asked, feeling desperate. He moved from around the desk and stood a few inches from his boss' back, wanting to touch him, to turn him around make eye contact, at least.
Phoenix's head bowed, "Because . . . because there are more secrets I've been keeping."
"About what? A case?"
"No. About . . . other things." Phoenix did turn around then, though he wouldn't look Apollo in the eye, merely laying a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Polly, I can't talk about it—I promised. Not yet. Can you just wait till tomorrow morning?"
An idea was forming in Apollo's mind, "Is . . . is it about me?"
". . . Just . . . wait, please. And let me have a few hours to myself, okay?"
"O—okay."
Moments later, Phoenix was gone.

It had been a rough afternoon for Apollo. Trucy had taken three steps in the door before dropping her school bag and asking if he was all right. He'd only been able to tell her about the phone call and Phoenix's hasty departure. Anything else, he reasoned, was pure conjecture.
They'd spent an hour going over Trucy's homework, and then she'd changed into her usual magician's getup (she insisted she couldn't concentrate on 'mundane' stuff unless she was in 'mundane' clothes,) and locked herself into her bedroom to work on a new conjuring trick.
Apollo had feigned an interest in paperwork for a while, but when Trucy came back out of her room, ready to perform, he'd gladly set everything aside.
They made a really good team, they'd discovered. Trucy would spend a lot of time in front of a mirror, trying to make sure the secrets to her tricks weren't apparent, but thanks to Apollo's bracelet, he could spot imperfections here and there. In fact, he could usually tell how a trick was done within a few showings, and that was what Trucy took advantage of.
By the time they'd worked out the errors in her posture, it was nearly dark out, and no Phoenix. So they'd started dinner, slapping together a healthy meal of grilled cheese and Snackoos and lounging on the couch.
That was when Phoenix finally came home.
If Trucy had thought he was perhaps exaggerating before, the sight of her daddy proved otherwise. Apollo grabbed her before she could leap off the couch, but he couldn't stop the girl from gasping, "Daddy! Are you okay?"
Phoenix shuffled further into the office, locking the door behind him. "I'm fine, Truce. I promise."
"But—!"
"Tomorrow, Trucy." Apollo cringed at the harsh tone almost as much as the tightness around his wrist.
The next couple hours were probably the most painfully awkward they'd ever spent together, sitting around watching Nickle Samurai episodes and trying to ignore the really fucking tense elephant in the room. At nine o'clock, Trucy excused herself to bed, glancing apologetically at Apollo.
"Good idea, Trucy," Phoenix muttered. "We'll need to get up early tomorrow."
For WHAT? Apollo wanted to yell, but kept his silence somehow as he and Nick wordlessly folded out the hide-a-bed. Trucy brought out his pillow—and it was actually his, in recognition of how often he'd been staying over lately—from her room, and, to his surprise, gave him a big hug before retreating.
Running away, he thought uncharitably as he took his turn in the bathroom to rinse the gel out of his hair.
Sleeping with Phoenix was usually the strangest blend of awkward and comfortable. Apollo had thought his ultra-secret crush on the man would make things difficult—and sometimes it did, making it hard to fall asleep, particularly when he would be wrapped up in borrowed, too-big clothes, but he'd discovered that once he was asleep, his subconscious was perfectly okay with it. How, he wasn't sure, but no matter how far apart they started the night, they always ended up waking up in each others' arms, or flopped on top of each other, or even spooning like they'd been doing it for years.
And it wasn't weird. Not like it probably should have been.
Though, as his mind pointed out, it's not like either of them were particularly sharp first thing in the morning.
But when Phoenix crawled into bed that night, deliberately facing away so that Apollo couldn't see his face, he knew he had to do something now. Steeling himself, he moved closer cringing as the broad shoulders tensed at the weight shift.
"Apollo, don't."
The whisper might have stopped the Apollo of six months ago, when he'd first met his fallen hero, but not now, after such a long, stressful day. "Why won't you tell us anything?" he quietly asked.
"Because it's not my place to tell." Firm. End of Discussion.
Apollo sighed, and reached out, touching a shoulder, "Give me something, Nick. Did—did someone die? Is that why you're so upset?"
He didn't understand the choked laugh, but he had the unpleasant premonition that he might understand the humor later. "No, Polly, no one died."
"Is someone hurt?"
"Not physically. Just drop it. You and Trucy will find out in the morning." Phoenix was getting angry, or maybe just frustrated.
"Phoenix—I just . . . don't tell me, then. I won't ask, I promise, but," he swallowed, nervous, "Just tell me how I can help. I'll do anything, just stop hurting or . . . being angry or whatever it is. Don't keep it all bottled up, it's affecting all of us. Let some of it out." His arm was starting to tire, but he just gripped Phoenix tighter, angling his elbow a little to help relieve the lactic acid buildup.
There was a long pause before Phoenix slowly rolled over. Apollo tried not to wince at how weary he looked. Usually, without his hobo gear, he looked much younger than he was, but now Apollo could see stress lines pinching around his features.
To his shock, Phoenix slowly reached out and draped an arm around Apollo's waist, pulling the younger defense attorney closer. Apollo considered—for all of five seconds—either protesting or pulling back, just on principle. He'd grown up an orphan—physical contact just didn't happen, and when it did, it was usually a bad sign. It'd taken long enough to get used to Trucy's affectionate side, and he didn't have a crush on her.
Still, that little voice that was hopelessly in love with the man urged him to just relax and let it happen. 'After all', it coaxed, 'how often to we get to touch him while we're awake?'
A good point, but then, listening to that particular voice was nothing but trouble. As a sort of compromise, Apollo allowed himself to be drawn into Phoenix's arms, but rather than tuck his head under the man's chin (as usually happened by the time they woke up in the mornings,) he tilted his head back to where he could still see his face. "Ph-Phoenix?"
"Apollo . . . me and Trucy, how would you feel if we left you?"
Apollo felt like he'd just swallowed an ice cube. What did that mean? Were they leaving? Where were they going? Why were they going? What had he done wrong? Was that what was going on? If so, did Trucy know? Had she been acting before?
He tried to jerk back, but Phoenix's arms were tight around him. He tried to speak, but emotion swelled his throat shut—he could barely even breathe, much less speak. All he could do was stare at the other, searching his eyes for some sort of clue.
Meanwhile, his bracelet was still giving him fits.
Phoenix shook his head at Apollo's reaction. "No, no, we're not leaving. At least, I'm not. But I'm afraid of losing Trucy. And you."
That made no sense. "Why would you?" he managed to say after a moment.
"I can't tell you. All I can really say is that, starting tomorrow, she might not need me anymore. And you . . . you never really did." Nick's brown eyes closed as he swallowed hard. When he opened them again, Apollo was dismayed to see wetness in them.
Oh, God, Apollo knew this feeling. He'd felt it so often as a kid, every time one of the other children got adopted, every time another set of parents decided he wasn't the one for them. He wouldn't wish that loneliness on anyone.
Swallowing hard, he responded, with absolute sincerity, "Don't be an idiot, Phoenix. There's no way we could ever not need you. I don't care what happened, or who we're going to see, or what they're going to tell us. Trucy needs you. You're her dad, remember? Zak Gramarye or Shadi Smith or whoever be damned." The bracelet nearly started cutting off circulation at that point, but he'd said he wouldn't ask. That didn't stop him from wondering if maybe they'd found some distant Gramarye relation that wanted to take Trucy. But . . . what would that have to do with him?
Still, that wasn't really the issue at hand. The kind of fear Phoenix was experiencing wasn't the kind of demon that you could defeat by logic alone. With that in mind, he slowly wrapped his arms around the older man, dropping his head to snuggle in. "Nick . . . she'll always need you, and . . . and now that I know you, so will I."
That must have been exactly what he needed to hear, because his grip on Apollo became vise-like, and, unless Apollo was mistaken, there was a barely audible sniff. He kept his head down, because, hey, if Phoenix needed to cry, then Apollo needed to observe the Guy Rules and just act like it wasn't happening.
Some time passed, though he couldn't see a clock by which to gauge it. He'd nearly fallen asleep, actually, lulled by the amount of body heat Phoenix was giving off, when he was jolted by an enormous breath and a shift in the larger man's body. Since the shaking had stopped, Apollo figured Phoenix was done weeping—er, whatever term was permissible for manly tears—so he pulled back a little so he could see him.
The combination of moonlight and streetlight through the office windows cast everything into sharp contrast, but the angle was just right that he could see Phoenix's face, and just how much that release had done for him. He still looked pretty haggard, which was only expected after a good cry, but he didn't look like he was going to snap from the tension any minute.
"How are you feeling?" Apollo asked softly, still feeling half-asleep.
Phoenix gave a wan imitation of a smile, "Better. I think. Really tired, though."
"Yeah, that usually happens, after," he replied politely.
"I know. I was a crybaby back when I was in school. And college. And hell, after getting disbarred, I bawled for hours after getting home."
Apollo stifled a laugh. "Phoenix, you just completely broke the Guy Code. In fact, it's so broken, I think it's going to sue. What next, pink sweaters?"
"Pink is a perfectly acceptable . . . you know what? I'm not going to argue with you on that one. But, well, if I'm not breaking it myself, I'm encouraging others to. Technically, I don't think snuggling is supported under the Code, either." He gave Apollo a little squeeze in emphasis.
Oh God, he'd completely forgotten. . . or at least, stopped being so self-conscious about it, until now. Apollo could feel his face flushing. Hell, he could even feel his neck heating up. "Yeah, well, I won't tell if you won't."
"Oh really?" Phoenix smirked a little, but not in his usual derisive way. "Well then, in for a penny, in for a pound." And before Apollo could think or protest, or even decide if he wanted to protest, he was being kissed on the forehead. "Klavier Gavin's right. This noggin of yours is hiding some pretty impressive smarts. Thank you."
Apollo couldn't move; even his lungs felt paralyzed. There were about three trains of thought warring for track space inside his head. One was screaming at him not to do anything, because what he wanted to do wasn't the sort of thing friends did, and Phoenix was just thanking him. The other was telling him that they'd never been so close before, that he should take a leap, what was the worst that could happen? The third, the voice that had haunted him—still haunted him on lonely nights—told him the worst would be that he could lose Phoenix altogether, that if Phoenix knew, he'd start pulling away, leave him alone, and Apollo just couldn't take that sort of rejection again . . .
He wasn't sure what was going on with his expression, but he could see the confusion on the other's face, tinged with a little worry. There was a touch of irony, there, in that they'd switched roles.
After a few more seconds, Nick looked even more worried, "Polly? What's wrong? Did I—"
Three trains screeched to a halt at the same time Apollo leaned up and pressed his lips firmly to Phoenix's.
He had just about enough time to note that stubble most certainly did not tickle, and was indeed quite scratchy, before the other recovered from his surprise. Apollo braced himself to be pushed away, but instead found himself being kissed back.
It was obvious from the first that Apollo wasn't very experienced, so he gladly gave up control to the other, letting Phoenix slowly coax his mouth open. The adrenaline spike made Apollo feel light-headed, and all he could think was, Oh my god, I'm making out with Phoenix Wright!
Actually, no. Even better. This wasn't Phoenix Wright, Ace Attorney; this was Phoenix, the poker player and piano abuser. The same man who gave him forged evidence in his very first trial, that had sent him hunting panty snatchers and noodle wagon thieves. The same guy who drank a crate of grape juice a day, wore the most eye-blindingly blue beanie in creation, made a mean grilled ham and cheese sandwich, and had Steel Samurai tucked under the edge of the couch like most men hid porn.
Apollo couldn't help it; his thoughts were so random that he smiled against Nick's mouth, making the man pull away in curiosity, panting slightly. His eyes held a spark that they'd lacked for a while, "Something funny, Mr. Justice?"
The smile split into a grin, and he replied flippantly, "Sorry, Mr. Wright, I was just wondering how many bowls of noodles you had. I'd recognize that salt-lick and chicken taste anywhere."
Phoenix laughed softly, "Are you telling me I should I go brush my teeth?"
Apollo, still feeling pretty brave, slid an arm around the other's waist, "Don't you dare."
"Fine then. Smell my noodle-y breath all night."
"I was planning to." He tilted his head up again, and this time, Phoenix met him halfway.
They lay like that for several minutes, just exploring each other. Apollo might not have noticed if it weren't for his bracelet, but Phoenix was used to kissing a certain way, so he kept having to adapt. He actually felt quite pleased by the idea that he was overriding whatever habits the man might have formed with his previous lovers.
By the time they had to stop for air, Phoenix had pushed Apollo onto his back and was running his hands up the smaller man's shirt. Apollo, glad that their lower halves weren't pressed together, because damn he was hard, found himself running his fingers through surprisingly soft spikes. Phoenix sniggered in his ear, "What is it with you and my hair?" He gently ran his tongue over the rim, making Apollo shiver.
"I like you, Phoenix," he corrected, "Your hair's just a bonus." He gave his handful a little tug, which actually got a tiny moan out of the man. Phoenix retaliated by moving his hands higher under his shirt until he could trace Apollo's nipples, making him gasp and wiggle a little, before pulling the shirt over his head completely.
As Apollo turned flushed from a mix of arousal and shyness, Nick looked extraordinarily pleased, "I wondered how far that blush went." His fingertips trailed over Apollo's collarbone and down his chest.
"Sh-shut up!" Honestly, Apollo was amazed he could spare the blood. His cock was so hard, he felt like it might actually shatter if either of them touched it—and wouldn't that be humiliating. Lust was warring with his usual timidity—he wanted to touch, to kiss, to do all of the things he'd never allowed himself to do before, but he was terribly afraid of being laughed at for his fumbling. Or worse, pitied for getting to be as old as twenty-four without ever-"
"Apollo. Stop."
Phoenix's firm, but still kind voice jolted him out of his self-doubting monologue, and he found himself looking into serious brown eyes. Oh god, had he just blanked out? For how long?
"Apollo, I can hear you thinking at this point," Phoenix said, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "It's okay, you know. We all have to start somewhere."
He was going to die, and not in a good way. "Uh . . . is it that obvious?" he asked, mortified beyond belief.
"I can't lie to you, so yes, it is." Apollo groaned and tried to bury his head in Phoenix's chest, but the man would have none of it. Grabbing Apollo's chin, he lifted it so they were eye to eye. "But, that also means I can honestly say it doesn't matter. It's you I like. And I won't push you, promise.
"I—I might need a push, Nick," he whispered. "I'm not really good at taking the initiative."
A warm chuckle, "I don't know about that. I seem to recall that you were the one that kissed me."
"Yeah, well . . . you needed it." Did I really just say something that corny?
"Oh, I needed it, did I?"
Yeah, I really did. "I—I mean, uh—mmph!" Apollo's linguistic fail was halted by another kiss, this one fueled by a hunger that sent shivers down his spine. Phoenix slowly shifted them again,sliding his leg between Apollo's, swallowing the desperate moan.
Phoenix hushed him, "Trucy's sleeping, remember? Unless you want her to hear you?"
Apollo's mouth clamped shut so fast he nearly bit his tongue.
"Good. Now, back to things I need," snickering softly, Phoenix started running his hands lower, gently tickling along Apollo's sides, making him squirm. Apollo tugged at the other's t-shirt, pulling it over his head. After Phoenix tossed the shirt to the side, he came back for another kiss, and Apollo could appreciate the feel of skin on skin. He wriggled a little, then had to bite back a groan when his groin came in contact with Phoenix's thigh.
Phoenix's lips moved to latch onto Apollo's neck, while one of those large, warm hands reached down to grip his hip, encouraging him to move. The sensation was so delicious that he was unable to keep completely quiet, little whimpers escaping. He bucked against Phoenix, feeling the coiling tension in his abdomen wind up, embarrassingly fast. "W-wait," he whispered frantically, "I'll—I'm gonna . . ."
"That's the point," he smirked back, but pulled back a little, just enough to slide his hand down inside Apollo's sleep pants and pull out his erection.
Apollo made a desperate sound in the back of his throat, his hips coming up involuntarily. When Phoenix started kissing his way down Apollo's body, he jammed the fleshy part of his thumb into his mouth, because he had a feeling he was about to get a whole lot louder.
Phoenix's mouth trailed fire down Apollo's body, his stubble scraping and making everything hyper-sensitive. One hand leisurely stroked his erection, while he balanced over Apollo's body with the other. He bit playfully just above his bellybutton, then looked up, "Is this still okay, Polly?"
Afraid to remove the hand still muffling him, all Apollo could do was nod. Emphatically.
He was fine! Really. He wasn't sure he was coherent enough to spell it, but that didn't matter in the least when Phoenix was shifting lower, when his breath was ghosting over his erection-
Then he felt those lips, the same ones he'd found himself staring at dreamily from across the office, finally wrapped themselves around his cock-
He couldn't help the reflexive string of curse words that left his mouth, luckily muffled, but he could tell from the amused snort down below that Phoenix wasn't fooled. But oh God, he'd never thought anything could feel this fucking good.
Naturally, it didn't take long before Apollo hit his peak, trying to get out a warning only to be ignored. It took all of his control not to scream his release, it felt that good, and the effort left him panting hard afterward. Phoenix, looking damnably pleased with himself, slithered back up Apollo's body. Apollo, for his part, quickly pulled the man into a kiss, leisurely enjoying the feel of Phoenix's chest and stomach under his wandering hands.
Yeah, he could die happy right now.
Phoenix whimpered a little as the kiss deepened, and Apollo could feel the evidence of the other's desire brushing against him. Wanting to return the favor, he slid his his hand further and wrapped it around Phoenix's erection, his thumb spreading the wetness he found at the tip.
Phoenix pulled back from the kiss with a gasp, "Ahh-Apollo . . ."
Blushing hard, the younger man whispered, "I—I want to . . ."
Phoenix thrust into Apollo's hand, a quiet, but desperate moan escaping his throat, "J—Just like that, please, ohgod, 'm so close . . ."
Apollo sped up his hand, trying to mimic how he touched himself. The look on the older man's face was breathtaking: eyes wide, pupils blown, flushed with arousal, his mouth open slightly and emitting breathy groans. If he hadn't just come, Apollo was sure that he'd be hard again from just the sounds. As it was, he couldn't help but shiver as he sent his other hand roaming over Phoenix's chest. His shyness forgotten, he sped up his ministrations, prompting another jerk of hips, another wonderfully delicious series of sounds. Phoenix's head dropped, his forehead pressing against Apollo's, eyes scrunched shut.
"Apollo, ohGod, ohGod, I'mgonnacum!" Phoenix's hand was suddenly clenched on Apollo's arm, fingers digging in as he gave another buck, this one causing the slick head of his cock to slide up against Apollo's lower stomach, and suddenly, Phoenix was coming, all over Apollo's hand and abdomen, and making this low, keening sound as his head arched back, exposing his throat.
Apollo had never seen anything so amazing.
After several seconds, Phoenix slowly started to wind down, dark eyes opening. Apollo couldn't help but grin at the lazy, sated look in the other's eyes. He released the older man and brought his hand up. He studied the cum smeared on it for a second before giving a mental shrug and bringing it to his mouth, licking it clean. Not the greatest flavor ever, but not as bad as he'd been led to believe.
Phoenix made an interested sound, and the next thing Apollo know, he was being kissed again, deeply. The older man pulled back, "Do you have any idea how ridiculously hot you are, Apollo?"
Apollo felt himself blushing furiously, "I—uh, I—but . . ."
"Yeah, just like that. Don't ever change." A long arm reached over Apollo to the box of tissue on the side table, and the rest of their mutual mess was attended to before the two of them snuggled up together under the covers. Phoenix was surprisingly tactile, post-coitus, running fingers through Apollo's hair, playing with his bangs, gently running down his jaw.
Apollo felt the exhaustion—of both the day and their recent activities—catching up to him. With a content sigh, he slid an arm around the other man's waist. He closed his eyes, ready to just let sleep take him away.
"Apollo," Phoenix whispered.
He grunted to show he was listening.
"Thank you."
Apollo gave him a little squeeze, mumbling, "Told you. Need you."
The last thing he heard before falling asleep was a very quiet, "I'm glad."

A/N:Finally! I'm so happy! I worked on this for ages, trying to get it right. _ I hope it was up to everyone's expectations.
There's also a bit of fanart that I made for this story—it's on my deviantART account at: http://blackwidina.Deviantart.Com/#/d3ai9at
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Just Another Truth, Wright