Oh, this is going to be a fun one! (I hope.) Not necessarily romantic (but you can if you want!!) 14 or 22 for Larry and Edgeworth! (Ace Attorney)
Asks that remind me I never uploaded my Larry Zine fic to Ao3. Did that by the time you get this prompt fill, but Here's that for those who have not seen it. On with the main event!
14. phone call and 22. reunion hug
Although Miles has spent more time far across the ocean than here—speaking German in quaint little towns with clear skies, winding waterways, and unique historical architecture—Los Angeles with its sea of skyscrapers and palm trees mixed with shrines and Japanese street food stands is still the only city he truly calls home. It’s good to be back—or at least it would be were he not stranded at LAX for the past several hours with no ride in sight. He wants to sleep in his own bed! For god’s sake, what could be taking him so long?
Bzzzzt. Through the many layers of his suit and coat, his phone vibrating is still more felt than heard in the endless noise of Terminal B. It doesn’t last long. “What happened?”
“Not even a hello? Rude!” whines the voice on the other end, loud enough Miles has to pull the phone away from his ear despite the surrounding cacophony.
“Butz, I was on a flight for 12 hours in a cramped economy seat, and now I’m sitting on my suitcase in an airport terminal. You try being congenial in these circumstances.”
“Listen man—” Larry starts, and a horn blares from nearby him, “—the traffic out here is TERRIBLE! What do you want from me? It’s like Moozilla vs Gourdy levels of people trying to leave town, and then the car—” Another horn. Again? Larry pulls away from the mic and yells, “Hey, watch it, buddy! I’m right here!”
A horrible thought strikes him, accompanied by the image of a beat up Honda CR-V smashed like an accordion against a highway K-rail: “Please tell me you are not still behind the wheel.”
“What? No!” Thank god. “I’m crossing the street! These guys are crazy out here! They almost hit me with a car!”
“Well, those are LA drivers for you,” Miles drawls with the faintest hint of a smirk. He really ought to stop underestimating Larry; although his choices are usually dubious, he agreed to pick him up on short notice when no one else would.
“They’re out for blood! My life is at stake!”
“I’m sure you will survive the perils of crossing the street.”
“What about the guys riding the curb? Nowhere is safe! I might not have any feet after this! And I don’t think you know how to drive American cars…”
What kind of ridiculous assumption is that? It’s just a car! It can’t be that different! “Just hurry up.”
“I’m doing my best!” Larry yells. “Why didn’t you get a cab? Most people do.”
“I had not planned to return home this soon, and…” How could he? Who would have expected this? And only a mere two weeks after Miles swore to reform the entire legal system! As soon as the news graced his phone screen, well…let’s just say he panicked, and after an uncountable number of rejected calls and going straight to voicemail before that too was turned off, he booked the soonest flight home without regard to logistics; it only occurred to him mid-flight he does not have means to get home. “I was not quite thinking clearly.”
“He really provokes something else in you, huh?” The who remains unspoken. For his numerous idiosyncrasies and struggles with basic logic, for matters of the heart, Larry is strikingly intuitive. Though Miles did not once say why he was already back home in that call sitting in the back of the plane waiting to get out, the wobbling wave weaved through every word must have given him away.
There’s a pause—1…2…3—then a sigh. “Yes.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Larry says, in a quiet voice, or at least as quiet as he can manage in the interminable noise of LAX’s international terminal. “It’s good you came back.”
‘I agree’, Miles thinks. ‘I had to,’ he affirms. ‘Was there any other choice?’ he asks. ‘It is the least I can do to pay him back for all he’s done for me,’ he confesses. ‘I may not be able to do much more than this; the undertaking I’ve begun is so massive, and already I’ve lost one of my greatest allies,’ he worries. ‘I did not envision beating back this darkness alone,’ he despairs. ‘But I must,’ he resolves. ‘Perhaps it’s fitting that my work begins with changing the legal world to bring him back.’
“Mm.” A grunt will have to suffice. He’s sure that Larry understands that without it being spoken as well.
Larry says something indecipherable, muffled by something blocking the microphone, but before Miles can ask him to repeat it, there’s a shout and an abrupt click. “Now who is being rude,” he grumbles, looking up from his phone right as an orange track suit comes rocketing towards him.
“Edgeyyy!!!” He yells, loud enough to turn the heads of several tourists, although if he notices, it affects him not one whit.
“You’re causing a scene,” Miles says, giving a pointed glance to the other stragglers loitering in this corner who are now gawking at Larry as he jumps over suitcases and sprints across the tile floor.
To his surprise, Larry actually listens, skidding to a sudden stop with an “Oops!” about five feet away, and the tourists return their attention elsewhere. “I was gonna give you a welcome back hug, but then I figured you don’t really like that kinda thing.”
“A good assumption,” Miles says and picks himself off his luggage. Everything is still here—yes. Exactly where it should be. “Alright. We should make haste.” I cannot bear this noise for even one second longer.
But Larry says nothing and remains firmly rooted in place even as Miles starts wheeling his way out; whereas before he wore a smile too big for his face, now his mouth is curved into an uneasy half-frown.
“What’s wrong?”
“Sorry. I was just thinking about something.”
Normally, Miles would say, ‘a rarity,’ but with that wavering misty gaze, it’s clear now is not the time for snark. “About…?”
“I’ve never been to this part of the terminal before. Y’know. For arrivals.”
That’s it? But Miles bites his tongue. Obviously, that is not merely it, but what it is is beyond him. Miles is nothing like Larry; for him, emotions are an enigma beyond understanding. And I have no evidence to work with! Well, that’s not strictly true. Think! His phrasing suggests Larry’s been here for departures, and yet never the return. That’s not how traveling works—you have to return home—but Miles didn’t take him as the traveling type for several reasons, so that only leaves… “Ah.”
Miles has never given much thought to Larry’s myriad relationships. They never last very long; he can hardly remember any of his former girlfriends’ names, only that they tend to be models and actresses, and at some point, without fail, they leave to travel abroad. Presumably, they must come back, in the same way Miles does, but…not for him. They never come back to him.
Passengers from the latest arrival pour out from the hallway out of customs and into the lobby in droves, reuniting with their loved ones waving them down with enthusiastic shouts of “Welcome home!” Not far from them, a middle-aged man welcomes a girl home, perhaps his daughter, with outstretched arms, and she tackles him with a laugh.
“Anyway, we can head out,” Larry starts, speeding towards the exit but without the bombast from earlier, “but I gotta warn you it’s really bad out—”
“Larry.” Deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale. You can manage this.
“What?” Larry says. He hasn’t stopped.
“Come here.” His arms move like they belong to a rusted machine, disjointed, clunky and slow and slow, and Miles has never felt less in control of his limbs before. How does anyone do this?
“Why? Aren’t we leaving? I thought you wanted to go home.”
“Butz so help me—”
“Dude, make up your mind—” But Larry’s words putter out once he finally turns around, and he stands there with his mouth still hanging open. It flaps, open, then less, again and again as he tries yet fails to speak.
Yes, I know I look ridiculous! This was a terrible idea! What is he doing? Why is he doing this? Yes, they’re friends, but it’s not like he can fix it! He didn’t come home for Larry’s sake either, so isn’t this a meaningless, symbolic gesture of pity? What’s the point?
“Edgeeeeyyyy!!!,” Larry cries, and once again barrels across the airport terminal, crashing into Miles at full force, almost knocking them to the floor were it not for Miles’ luggage behind them, but despite the strength of the crash, the hug itself is gentle. Enthusiastic, but gentle. “I missed you, man!!”
“I was not even gone a week.” The rust in his arms slowly falls away when Miles hugs him back.
“Still!” Larry says as he steps back with a sniff. “Only you can make offering a cheer-up hug look like struggling to lift 200 pounds.”
“Nnngghhh—” Must he say it so bluntly? Curse his intuition!
But Larry’s impossibly big smile from earlier is back, so maybe this humiliation is okay. “It’s good to be back, right?”
Yes, it is. Los Angeles is a mess of skyscrapers and shrines and endless horrific traffic, a city rife with corruption that stretches deep into the foundation of government, yet just as filled with people who would drop everything to come get him, no matter how ill-tempered and emotionally inarticulate he is. “Yes, it is.” Thank you.
Larry waves him off. Once again, Miles is understood without speaking.
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