Like the Body I Hated Then

by kogalo

Summary:

Miles never knew his mom. It was always just him and his father, as far back as he could remember. No old photos of his dad with his mom, no wedding photos, nothing. And that was okay. He knew some kids only had one parent. His friend Larry only had his mom, and he never knew his dad. It was normal for them. Miles loved his dad, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

There was a reason there weren’t any photos of a nuclear family in their home. Gregory just didn’t know how to tell him yet. He was almost 10, he was sure he’d understand. It’s not like anything would change if he knew. It was just… difficult to explain to a child. Hell, it was hard to explain to adults. Lord knows how difficult it was to get the doctors to listen to him.

Chapter 1: Propria Persona

Summary:

To represent oneself in court.

Notes:

This is a revised version of chapter 1, rewritten to better flow with the rest of the fic and add more context to Gregory's life.

Gregory’s first memory was a funeral. A little girl named Mary Genevive Edgeworth, his cousin. She had died shortly before his own parents’, which brought him into his aunt and uncle’s care. He was the same age as her, they even looked alike, as cousins sometimes do. Everyone in their small town in rural Virginia didn’t dare ask questions. It was just an awful coincidence, nothing more. To everyone outside their family, at least.

His parents had never died, and the daughter didn’t die, either. At least, not in the traditional sense. Gregory was so lucky to have parents that, despite not fully understanding, still supported him and did the best they could. A forged birth certificate, a new wardrobe, ‘aunt and uncle’ instead of ‘mom and dad.’ They even helped him pick out his new name: Gregory Marcus Edgeworth.

That was how he grew up. He went to school, he made friends, he played sports and roughhoused with the other boys. Things were good. That was, until puberty hit. It was simple enough to hide his changing body from others, but what about the things that wouldn’t change? Noticeable things, like his voice.

He needed to find a way to deepen his voice, fast. That was when one of his friends offered him a cigarette after school—all the boys were starting to smoke, as everyone did back then. He could hear how gruff and manly their voices became, on top of their voices naturally deepening. He quickly accepted, and got hooked.

His voice was definitely more masculine with his tobacco usage, so he accomplished that much. He didn’t appreciate how scratchy it made his throat, but sacrifices had to be made; One more to the list was nothing. Over time, the cigarettes morphed into a coping mechanism for him. Helping him deal with the changes, both to his body and his place in the world, as he neared adulthood. He had been waffling on what he wanted to do with his life all through highschool. He had found a love for law with debate club, but he doubted he would be able to get into any good schools. He still applied anyway.

He needed to get out of his hometown. If he wanted to live how he truly wanted, he needed a place where no one knew him. Gregory loved his parents dearly, he knew they would be keeping in contact. They understood his choices, and helped him in any way they could.

He was accepted to a few colleges dotted across the country—none Ivy League, but he expected as much—and decided on the one with the best law program of them: UCLA. It cost him an arm and a leg to get to California, even with his parents’ help, but he managed. He would finally get to become the man he wanted to be.

 

He had heard of GRID, and AIDS, but most people at his highschool used… harsher terms. Whispers of a ‘gay disease.’ But moving to Los Angeles dropped him in the thick of it; an AIDS walk had taken place not long before he moved there.

Gregory felt much less alone here than he did in his hometown, being the only transsexual in a hundred-mile radius. People could be more open here, and he found his own community. Being a law major, he offered his help to many people that blurred the lines of gender and sexuality. It was freeing, despite the fear that pervaded many interactions. At least most people didn’t believe it was airborne, anymore.

One of the first things he did in LA was legally change his name. From helping his community, they repaid him by showing him the ropes of the process. They helped him form counterarguments, even preparing mock trials for him. With that, on top of his legal history studies—and case precedent—it was a swift day in court, and he would never hear that name ever again.

Once his name change was posted in a small column in the paper, some people’s attitudes towards him changed. His small community of men and women and others grew, while some classmates ostracized him. But it only took a few months for most people to forget about that small blurb, and eventually even people who did care barely remembered in the first place.

His friends—some clients, some classmates, some met by happenstance—helped him present himself how he wanted. But Gregory didn’t want to just present, he wanted to be. That was how he found out about hormone therapy, but it was extremely hard to come by. He tried going in as a man with a hormonal imbalance, which technically was true, but the Sex: F on his driver’s license thwarted that. A supportive fellow law major even offered to go in with the same plan and give him the supplies, but the shots were done in-office. Gregory was out of options, and his smoking became worse as a result. That was, until a client told him how to get in contact with more… illicit ways of receiving treatment.

The Meraktis Clinic, not-so-secretly run by the mafia, was the go-to for many—medically speaking, everything was above-board, even if the staff were criminals. Gregory hated going against the law like this, but he had no other choice; he promised himself he wouldn’t accept any bribes or deals from them. He wasn’t planning on defending businesses in criminal court, anyway.

With the shots, his voice became naturally deeper. Deeper than it had ever gotten with just tobacco use. His skin became oiler, and he gained more muscle. His period stopped. The fat in his hips moved and redistributed. He didn’t need to hide in ill-fitting clothes anymore, he only had to bind down his chest. With the good the testosterone was doing, Gregory decided to finally quit smoking; he didn’t need it to cope anymore. It took a long while to fully stop, with cravings and relapses, but he finally did it. He could see how gaunt his face was from using cigarettes for so long, but he couldn’t change that now.

Over his teen and young adult years, Gregory’s chest had continued to grow. He hated it. So once he finished law school, he decided he needed to fix that. Better to do it now than when he had a firm to worry about. He got in contact with the Hotti Clinic, which specialized in plastic surgery. He had bought a trenchcoat after graduating as a compromise between professional and body-obscuring, which was fantastic at hiding what remained after binding, but it still didn’t sit right with him. He needed them gone.

And the Hotti Clinic was more than willing to provide, given a little extra: On top of their monetary fee, they asked for his legal counsel should they get in hot water. “What if we get sued for helping people like you?”, was their argument. Gregory did end up agreeing— this clinic wasn’t doing anything outright illegal—and under the knife he went. A weight was off his chest, literally.

After he was fully healed, he finally looked the way he wanted. He had started up his own firm with a bit of help from his parents, he had a good job, he had a home, he had a good life. But there was one thing nagging at the back of his mind throughout the years: he was terribly lonely. Most people still didn’t think transsexual men could be gay, and he didn’t expect men to understand what he was in the first place. Or respect him as a man if they did know.

He couldn’t be caught dead in a gay bar regardless, for fear of a scandal. And his friends from the community were just that, friends.

It would be wonderful to have a lover, but he knew it simply wasn’t in the cards. A relationship may not be in his future, but he could still have a family. A child. For once, Gregory was glad to have the anatomy he had. He had always dreamed of having kids, even back when he was little. Dreams of being a mother, which took quite a while to morph into dreams of being a father, even after he realized he was a boy. He wouldn’t be able to have a one-night-stand even if he did want to, so there was only one choice: artificial insemination. He had just turned 25, he was at a stable point in his life and career to start trying.

 

Gregory walked into the Novel Conception fertility clinic, and the receptionist immediately asked him if he was there to provide a donation. While that did boost his ego, that was not what he was here for.

“I’m here to discuss fertilization, actually, miss.” He responded as cordially as he could. He produced his driver’s license, pointing to the Sex: F clearly stated at the bottom. Finally that pesky marker was doing him some good.

“Oh! W-Well, we— we can certainly get you an appointment to discuss your potential options!” She was incredibly flustered, but he didn’t turn him away, which was better than he initially suspected. It wasn’t often people like him came in to get pregnant, after all.

He had stopped his testosterone shots as soon as he made the decision to start trying, and he had already had one period since. He didn’t exactly like that he had to stop his hormone therapy for this, but it was necessary. He wouldn’t want to wait too long and end up infertile from it.

“My name is Dr. Deo—” The physician introduced himself, looking up from his clipboard, “but… you can call me Dr. D.” His little joke fell flat when he saw who his patient was, obviously expecting something different. After going through the treatments he’d been through—as well as disclosing that he was a past smoker—the exhaustive physical exam began. Multiple vials of blood taken, and an ultrasound of his uterus to see if he was viable. He left that day feeling violated, but no more than his other gynecological exams. Everyone at the clinic seemed… uncomfortable with him, unsure of what to do regarding him. But they were kind enough.

At his follow-up, they confirmed what Gregory already suspected. “Well, you should have no problem getting pregnant. Your testosterone levels are still high, but since you stopped your hormones that shouldn’t be an issue.” The physician, Dr. Deo, told him, who already seemed to be getting more comfortable with him being here. Treating him more like any male doctor would treat any male patient, rather than the context being at a fertility clinic.

He continued, not looking up from his notes, “Treatment going forward is simple: You’ll be taking a medication to induce superovulation, and then we will go through with IUI with the sperm donation you’ve selected.”

“But— I haven’t chosen a donor yet.” He had been preoccupied with a large case, and thought he would have more time between his appointments here.

“Well, get looking, then! Our clinic is connected to Doe Cryo, though, so you can look through their options.” Gregory left with a large stack of papers of the various sperm donors to choose from, as well as a handful of pamphlets about what to expect during pregnancy.

Over the next month, when he wasn’t busy with his caseload, he looked through the pile of options; He culled it down to a handful that fit his preferences. He was very happy the profiles listed the anonymous donor’s ages, he didn’t want someone old enough to be his grandpa being the father of his child. Even if they would most likely never actually meet.

Eye color, hair color, blood type, and family medical history were listed as well. He wanted someone with similar features to himself, so his child wouldn’t come out looking nothing like him. He finally decided on a candidate who was 30 at the time of donating, tall with black hair and grey-black eyes. Like almost everyone from that bank, this donor wished to remain anonymous. Any child born from a sperm donation could ask to learn about their biological father when they were an adult, though, so it would be his child’s future decision to make. With Gregory’s own decision made, he scheduled his first IUI treatment.

The first round wasn’t exactly pleasant, but no procedures down there ever are. Every two weeks, he would go in to see if he had conceived, and to receive another dose if he hadn’t. He was in his second month of treatment when the ultrasound finally showed something.

“Congratulations are in order! Looks like you’re pregnant!” Dr. Deo proclaimed, showing him the grainy display. “Never thought I’d see that.” He added, quieter.

The physician rolled his chair to a calendar on the wall, doing some mental math. “If everything goes well, you’ll have a baby in your arms by the first week of April, give or take,” He squinted and looked closer. “Hopefully your kid won’t be born on April Fools Day.”

Gregory had many check-ups scheduled to monitor his health and the growth of the baby, but he left the clinic that day happier than he had ever been. After months of trying, he finally got what he always wanted.

 

As the baby inside him grew, he was hit with what he knew would happen: Strange cravings, body pain, and unstable emotions. He felt incredibly guilty, despite the happiness of being a father. He had distanced himself from his community after graduating, for his own safety. He only remained close with college friends who only knew him as a man, the ones who took him out to guys’ nights at the bar or the bowling alley. But he still saw the names in the paper. The transgender people he had known, met once or twice, listed in the obituaries. He couldn’t tell if they had died from AIDS or some other unfortunate means, but he could draw his own conclusions. He felt terrible, and terrified, and powerless. The government said they would have a vaccine developed in two years, but that was almost a decade ago.

He knew he did all he could. He defended people like him when he could, keeping them out of jail or off the streets. He may not be part of the community anymore, but people still knew he was safe to come to. At this point, most people simply thought of him as a very strong ally. That was all he could do.

Gregory knew to be gentler with himself while he was going through this. How much pregnancy changed a person. Absolutely no one knew he was pregnant, besides the clinic, and he had no one to turn to. He couldn’t go to the bar with his buddies, having to lie about an investigation going long or some other excuse; He couldn’t drink, after all. He knew he would be turned away at the door from any pregnant women’s groups. He was doing this to have a family, yet he was alone through it.

As his baby grew, clients came and went, cases were won and lost. His emotions evened out and became more manageable. He continued his job as best he could, with his belly becoming more and more noticeable and making it harder to do certain aspects of his job. Once again, he was glad his trenchcoat was so good at concealing his body. It had to be one of the best purchases he ever made.

Gregory worked hard to turn his home office into a nursery, though the large bookshelves would have to stay. He’d just work on his cases at the dining table from now on. A crib, a rocking chair, and a baby monitor decorated the room, as well as parenting books and baby toys. He got a baby carrier for the car and to carry them out-and-about. He stocked up on formula, since he had no way of making his own. He was a busy man, juggling everything on top of the mounting exhaustion.

A few weeks before his expected due date, he finally had to close the firm down—he was the only employee—to prepare for the delivery. A note was posted to the front door, the answering machine was changed to reflect his absence; now he was solely focusing on resting. He watched more television than he’d like to admit, and reread many of the books in his collection. He had started reading aloud at some point, and he could feel his baby wriggling at the sound of his voice. He couldn’t do much else, having to lay in bed or sit in his recliner for most of the day. It gave him a lot of time to decide on baby names, though.

He hadn’t been thinking about potential names very much, he had other things to focus on. He had flipped through a few baby books, but that was the extent of his research ‘til now. He had a deadline fast approaching, though.

Atticus was a top contender. Sure, it was the name of a fictional lawyer from a book he enjoyed, but he liked the name! Arabella, Ada, and Sandra were girl names he was considering, after notable female lawyers. But Gregory didn’t want to tie his child down to law. Maybe something with a simple, sweet meaning. He picked up one of his books of baby names, and began skimming, trying to find one that stuck out.

Verity: truth. Alphonse: noble. Cassandra: to shine, to excel. Wilfred: to desire peace. Felicia: lucky, successful. Albert: bright. Liberty: free.

Cassandra definitely felt like a good name for a baby girl. Cassandra Edgeworth. And easy enough to go by Cass, should his child be transgender like him. But he wanted the same for a boy, and that was much harder to find with boy names.

He kept flipping through, until finally a name jumped out at him. Miles: dear, (possibly) soldier. It rolled off the tongue well, and they could go by Miley if they weren’t actually a boy.

He finally decided on names: Cassandra Arabella for a girl, and Miles Atticus for a boy.

 

He had been having contractions for days. Gregory waited until they were almost too intense to stand, then finally drove himself to the hospital as calmly as possible—not very calm at all, actually—with his hospital bag in tow. He was brought into a triage room to assess how far along he was, then was taken to a delivery room to get situated. They helped him change into a hospital gown, he was hooked up to monitors, and he was given his requested epidural for the pain. Then it was time to play the waiting game.

“Would you like me to stay with you?” His delivery nurse, Carmen, asked, assumedly because he had no one with him for support.

“I— That would be lovely, but I wouldn’t want to take you away from… your work.” Gregory grit out, waiting for the medicine to kick in.

“You are my work, sir. And I have no other patients to wait on at the moment.” She looked over his and the baby’s vital monitors before sitting down in a chair near the bed. “I must say, I’ve never had a patient quite like you.”

“I wouldn’t think so.” He replied drily.

“If you don’t mind my asking—” At his nod, she paused, thinking over her words. “Why did you pursue childbirth? Looking like you do?”

“Because… I wanted a family. Simple as that.” He doubted anyone in his day-to-day life knew he was pregnant, he did his absolute best to hide it. Everyone thought he was a normal man, and that’s how he liked it. “And my anatomy can give me that.” He pushed his unstyled hair off his sweaty forehead.

“Have you thought about what to say if people ask questions about your… sudden baby acquisition?” Carmen asked, raising a red-orange eyebrow.

“I grew up lying about dead parents.” He had never admitted that to anyone, he realized. He shrugged. “It’s easy enough to tell people the child’s mother died.”

“I’m… sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s what I had to do. Not many other options when you leave with a daughter and come back with a son.” He sighed as the pain began to ebb.

“Well, I’m glad you’re living the life you want, sir.” She stood to retrieve Gregory’s hospital bag when he reached for it, since it was too far away. Something in the room beeped then, and Carmen smiled sheepishly at him. “I guess that’s my cue to leave.” Some other patient must have needed her help. “I’ll have the obstetrician come check on you soon. If you feel an urge to push, or need anything at all, please press the call button there.” She informed him as she headed to the door. “It was very nice meeting you, Mr. Edgeworth. And I can’t wait to meet your baby.”

With the epidural finally working its magic, Gregory quietly read the random book he had thrown in his bag, eventually getting bored and listening to music on his portable radio instead. At least he had the forethought to put a crossword puzzle book in his supplies. The doctor came in an hour or two later to check on him and his progress, but he wasn’t quite dilated enough.

But half an hour later, he frantically pressed the call button as he felt the bed under him get drenched. His water had broken, but the doctor didn’t deem it urgent enough to start delivery just yet. Carmen stayed by his side after that, per Gregory’s request. His body was beginning to go into fight-or-flight mode as the pressure built, he didn’t want to have to think about pressing any buttons.

They made small talk—at least, Carmen tried to. He wasn’t very much of a conversationalist at that moment. “What do you do for a living?”

“Practice law.”

“Ooh, a lawyer. That must be stressful. Well, do you have any hobbies?”

“Reading. Bowling. Baking, sometimes.”

“I could tell, when you had your nose so deep in that book.” She giggled quietly. “Were you thinking about ever having more kids?”

“Absolutely not.” He couldn’t imagine going through this again.

“Yeah, I agree—” Carmen must have noticed something on one of the monitors, because she stood from her seat and pressed the call button for the doctor. He was checked over one last time, and delivery began.

He didn’t remember much through the frantic haze. There were people buzzing around him, telling him to do things, people coming in and out of the room. Everything was wet and sweaty and it felt like he was being split in half. He knew it wasn’t uncommon to need to fix tears done during delivery, and from the pain he wouldn’t doubt he would need that. He didn’t ever want to know what this would have felt like without pain management. He just wanted it to be over with.

After what felt like an eternity—but judging by the clock was actually a half-hour at most—a baby’s cry resounded through the room.

Lying limp and drained on the bed, his legs still in stirrups, he watched as they were gently wiped down and checked over by another nurse. He breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing as the professionals continued to work over him. He didn’t pay them any mind.

He was asked to remove the top of his hospital gown, and a small, pink… thing, for lack of a better word, was laid on his sternum, with a soft blanket draped over them. He held his newborn to his chest and tried to get his breathing under control, as his child did the same.

“It’s a boy, by the way.” Carmen told him as they worked on helping him deliver the placenta, setting a hand on his stomach. Another nurse offered him a tissue, he didn’t realize he had started crying.

Once everything was out of him, his baby was taken away for a few quick assessments while the doctor worked on stitching him up. When his child was brought back into his arms, a nurse gave him a ready bottle to feed the little one.

He looked down at his son. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Miles.” He kissed his little pink forehead and held his tiny hand as he fed him. He couldn’t be happier.

Miles Atticus Edgeworth was born on April 12, 1992, at 12:08PM.

Notes:

- Mary Genevive = mother of immaculate conception + mother
- Gregory Marcus = watchful + male, Mars/god of war, swaps acronym from MG to GM
- the AIDS walk mentioned is the first AIDS Walk Los Angeles event in July 1985
- Novel Conception = novel concept, an idea never been done before + conception/fertilization
- Dr. Deo / Dr. D = Demeter/goddess of fertility, joke about him being a fertility doctor
- Doe Cryo = John Doe, unknown male + cryobank/sperm bank
- Cassandra Arabella = to excel, to shine + invokable, called on for assistance/support (named after Arabella Mansfield, first female lawyer in America)
- Miles Atticus = dear, (possibly) soldier + from Attica/Athens (named after Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird)
- Carmen = Carmenta/goddess of childbirth, red/color of blood
- Miles' birthday being 4/12/92 would land it on both "national only child day" AND "international be kind to lawyers day"

Chapter 2: Quo Ante

Summary:

To return to a specific state of affairs which preceded some defined action.

Gregory became an avid photographer after his son was born. He already took photos of important events, a keepsake to remember, but it was different with Miles. He took pictures any chance he got, accumulating quite the baby book. He loved looking through them, going down memory lane.

A photo of Miles on his first day home from the hospital, swaddled in his blue blanket and cap. He didn’t look very good in blue, it made him look too pale. Gregory kept that in mind when buying clothes for him. He also hated the mittens the nurses put on him, a precaution to avoid him scratching himself with his little nails, but he cried and screamed and wriggled until those were off. Gregory learned this quickly, that first night was quite the challenge. He ended up wearing inside-out baby socks on his hands for those first few weeks instead.

A newspaper clipping of Gregory with his acquitted client, as well as Miles held in his arm; his first case back at the firm after his absence. There was no way in Hell he was leaving his infant with a babysitter, Gregory wanted to be there for everything. So the only logical conclusion was for him to take his baby with him to work. He had the carrier for Miles to lay in and be able to look at him while he did his job, but he greatly preferred to be held. Which was fine, the courthouse knew of this arrangement, and everyone seemed to love having a cute baby around, even labeling him his paralegal on court documents. Miles liked hearing him slam his hand on the table, sometimes trying to imitate him by flailing his own little arms. He even let other people hold him with very little fuss, which was… a tiny bit alarming for Gregory, based on what he read in his parenting books. But every child was different, and Miles got great joy out of sitting at the bench with the kind judge and pulling at his beard.

Miles looking at a book he would read aloud to him. He had begun reading to him when he was still in the womb, and that definitely stuck once he was born. He started to read more books with pictures, letting him look at the animals on the pages, with Miles especially liking the colorful birds. He also greatly enjoyed his interactive baby books. He read his law books and documents to him as well while they were at the office, since he didn’t have much else to entertain the infant there. He was constantly talking to his son, to be honest.

A picture of Miles’ first purposeful smile at him. He didn’t know a baby could have such a stern face, but it completely changed any time he smiled. He was having tummy-time in his playpen, with Gregory watching one of his movies—Singin’ in the Rain, based on the photo. Gregory must have laughed at something in the film, because Miles chirped at him happily and he had to run to grab his camera. The nickname ‘Smiles’ stuck after that.

The first time Miles picked out a toy for himself. They were walking through the toy aisle, when the baby started fussing and grabbing for something on one of the shelves. Gregory immediately knew which one he was interested in: Pete the “repeat” parrot displayed in big letters on the packaging of a robotic parrot. He picked the box up to check it over, with his son continuing to whine and grab for it. It said it was for ages six and up, but did not indicate a choking hazard… Miles could play with it with supervision, and it would be put on a shelf otherwise, he decided. When they got home and he was setting it up, Gregory recorded a message onto it, saying “Papa loves you so much, Smiles!” Once it was set up properly, he took a picture of him babbling at it and gently petting it, with the bird repeating his noises.

Miles learning to crawl, ahead of schedule, even! Gregory couldn’t be more proud, seeing his son crawling over to him in his recliner.

Miles’ first time at the playground, with him liking to be pushed on the baby swing. His second favorite activity was to people-watch, a pastime he shared with his father. He would just observe the world around him with his big grey eyes. He also immediately gravitated to the dogs at the park, with his first experience being a very happy, excited Labrador. He cried when the dog licked his face, though, which was understandable.

Miles’ first birthday. Not much of a party, with Gregory’s parents being across the country, but he got a jungle-themed birthday cake and streamers to decorate the dining room. His son wasn’t that messy of an eater, all things considered, but he demolished that cake. His hands had been stained green for two days afterward.

 

The thing was… Miles hadn’t said his first word. He babbled, he cooed, he cried and laughed, but he never actually said any words. He called Gregory “da”, and his parrot toy “ba”, but no proper words, only almost-words. Gregory could understand him, but it was still worrying. He took him to the pediatrician to check his ears, and even got a second opinion, but his hearing was fine. He didn’t understand why his son wasn’t speaking. So he did what he did best: he turned his thinking around.

His son could still communicate with him, that was the most important thing. He responded to him, he reached for things he wanted, he reached for Gregory when he wanted him.  He had been watching Miles play with his parrot one night, watching him babble and converse with the toy in his own way. They would work on it, but if he never spoke… He would be fine.

Miles learning to walk unassisted! He had figured out how to stand and walk by holding onto furniture, and Gregory had photos of those too, but his first time walking on his own and toddling his way over to his father was magical. 

A picture of Miles standing with his impressive collection of Dr. Seuss books, his favorite children’s books to read. He would read along, repeating certain consonants when his father prompted, but Gregory just couldn’t get that egg to crack. So he began talking to him even more than he already did, any chance he possibly could: Talking aloud when working through his paperwork while Miles scribbled, talking to him while he cooked, talking to him while they rewatched The Wizard of Oz or Mary Poppins or their other Old Hollywood films.

He didn’t remember when exactly this started, or what they had been reading, but one night Gregory had asked Miles some innocuous question while they read a bedtime story, and Miles pointed to the word ‘yes’ on the page. He knew his son could point at objects when prompted, but this wasn’t repetition, this was communication. And it ended up not being a fluke, because Miles kept doing it. He had learned to read extremely early, and was using what he knew to communicate with him more accurately. Gregory had spent a day at work making laminated note-cards with various words on them, and Miles happily began using them. He seemed very proud carrying around his cards, being able to communicate his thoughts.

After a few weeks though, Miles became frustrated with them. Gregory would talk to him, and Miles would start using his cards, then his face would scrunch up and he’d throw the cards angrily. He desperately researched, hoping he could find something to help his son, and ended up learning about communication boards. He printed one out, substituting some unnecessary words (‘mother’ whited out and replaced with ‘teacher’, for instance) then laminating that too. He brought it home to Miles, and showed him how to use it by pointing at words to make sentences, or spelling words one letter at a time. Miles said «Thank you.» using it and gave him a great big hug. Things would be okay.

 

A photo of Miles’ second birthday. It was dog-themed, with a cake and streamers, as well as a trip to the dog park to see one of his favorite animals. The dogs were very approachable, with Gregory asking every owner if they could say hi to the doggies. Miles especially enjoyed the dogs big enough for him to hug.

Miles running for the first time. He had immediately fallen down, but got back up and tried again. Keep-away became one of his favorite games after he learned how to do that, picking up Gregory’s keys or something else he needed, and running away while laughing.

A picture of Miles’ first time at the zoo. He loved seeing all the animals from his books in real life. He especially loved the bird exhibits, with the parrots that could speak. They sadly didn’t have his favorite parrot though, the african grey. Gregory promised him he’d meet one, someday.

Miles’ attempt at going to daycare. It would be very beneficial for him and his development to spend more time with other children rather than being cooped up in a law office. He only lasted there one day, since the woman who ran the daycare had taken away his communication board, telling Gregory that he should talk like a normal kid. He had come home crying, and—he learned later—had tried to climb the fence to escape the daycare.

A photo of Miles’ third birthday, which was car-themed. He enjoyed playing with his toy cars and playing pretend with them, as well as staring intently at the small details and spinning the wheels. The customary themed cake and streamers were had, and they had a trip to Santa’s Village as well. Miles enjoyed the various rides, especially the one where he pretended to drive a car.

Miles’ first time—to Gregory’s knowledge—joining another child in play. Being an only child didn’t give him many opportunities to interact with other kids, and usually he just preferred to watch the other children play when they were at the park. But another toddler was playing with their toys in the grass, and Miles decided to play with them. It was wonderful watching him play house with the dolls and plushies, having a tea-party together. The other child didn’t even seem to mind that Miles couldn’t talk.

They had still been working on Miles’ speech at home, of course. But no progress was made on that front. So Gregory pivoted to helping Miles learn how to spell more words, so he could say what he wanted with his communication board. 

Miles started preschool this way. It alienated him from the other children, since none of the kids could read besides him, and the teachers were unsure of him. Gregory fought hard to advocate for his son, telling them this was how his son communicated and to treat his words the same as anyone else’s.

Once he had started school, Miles stopped babbling for the most part. It frightened Gregory, how his son suddenly became quiet. He was always a relatively quiet child, preferring to observe his surroundings, but not with his father. Never with him. He hoped the other children weren’t picking on him at school—or worse, the teachers.

About a month in, the preschool teacher had sat Gregory down privately for a talk. With pity in her voice, she suggested looking into an autism diagnosis for his son. Telling him he played with toys ‘wrong’, organizing them or staring at details; He hated the texture of the carpet in the classroom and would only sit on a pillow; He once brought a law book to school and carried it around with him like a security blanket for the whole day. Gregory knew about his son’s idiosyncrasies, that was why he had been looking into this exact thing for months.

Miles was not an easy baby, far from it. He was very fussy in general, until Gregory realized that it was small, insignificant things setting him off. The footies on his onesies, or Gregory’s suit jacket against his skin, or the noise of the ice machine. He wasn’t as expressive with his face as other babies Gregory saw. And he was a cranky toddler, too. He wasn’t the best with eye contact with his father, but it was leagues better than how he was with strangers, not looking them in the eye at all; Gregory had assumed he was just shy. At times, it seemed like he was off in his own little world. He was hard to calm down. He occasionally wandered off. He would flap his hands, and spin in circles, and walk on his toes. He taught himself how to read. If he was autistic, it would make perfect sense, and a diagnosis would only help him.

 

Something happened one evening during Christmas break. Gregory was a dead man walking, swamped with cases as well as the paperwork for his son’s upcoming evaluation. It was late at night, with Miles sitting at the table with him drinking some water. He woke up and was scared, he’d said, probably a bad dream.

He was talking to himself as he worked, as he normally did when Miles was with him, when the boy tapped on the table to get his attention.

“Are you ready to head back to bed, Smiles?” Gregory asked. Usually that nickname got his son to giggle, but he just kept staring holes through him with his big grey eyes. That glare could send shivers down even his spine.

His face scrunched up, and Gregory assumed he was about to cry from the nightmare. He belatedly realized that they had left his communication board in Miles’ room, so he couldn’t tell him if something was wrong. Gregory was getting up to comfort his son, when something miraculous happened.

“OBJECTION!”

... Leave it to his kid to have that be his first word. He was even pointing, just like his father did in court.

That seemed to open the floodgates, because Miles continued, “You messed up the— maybe-bad guy and dead guy’s names, papa.”

Gregory was stunned silent, just starting to stand up from his chair, staring in awe at the boy. Not only had his child just said his first word, at a-couple-months-to-four, but his first sentence. He spoke as if he’d been able to talk the whole time.

Miles looked, confusingly, embarrassed. “Did I say a word wrong?” He asked quietly.

His father’s face split into a wide grin as he ran to scoop his son up, hugging him like his life depended on it. “You talked! I can’t believe it!” He looked at his son in his arms. “Why didn’t you talk any sooner?!”

The child shrugged. “Didn’t have to.”

He wasn’t talking simply because he didn’t see a reason to? That was certainly something to bring up at his evaluation next month.

“... Fair enough!” He laughed, and his son smiled too. “How about a trip to the San Diego zoo this weekend to celebrate? Finally go see the African greys?”

“Yeah! Go see the— grey parrots!” Miles cheered. He then began squirming, indicating to put him down, with a quiet “Down, please.” Once he was back on solid ground, he pointed to the papers strewn haphazardly across the dining table. “And ‘member to check your papers, papa.”

He didn’t know if this would only be with him, or if he’d be comfortable enough to talk to others, but Gregory couldn’t be more proud. He’d have to wait and see, he supposed.

“Wait.” He paused, looking down at the boy. “You were following along with my case that whole time?” Miles nodded with a grin. “Well, I’ll be darned. But I’ll check them over in the morning, okay?” He ruffled his son’s hair. “You, however, need to get back to bed, bugaboo. Think you can go get into bed while I tidy up? I’ll come tuck you in when I’m done.”

“Okay!” Miles nodded and ran upstairs, slowing down when his father yelled “Careful!” after him. Gregory got to shuffling the papers into a manageable stack, putting them in his briefcase. He still couldn’t believe the turn the night had taken.

The most interesting—and befuddling—thing about this ordeal, now that he heard him talk more, was that he didn’t have his accent, with the fading southern twang. No, now that he thought about it, he sounded like the movies they would often watch together. His son had managed to teach himself the transatlantic accent.

He went and tucked Miles in, kissing all over his face until the boy laughed and batted him away. He made sure to turn on the night-light, and the white noise machine, and left the door open a crack. His room was just down the hall, as he knew his son knew. And if he silently cried in his bed that night over how happy he was, then no one had to know.

 

Miles got his autism diagnosis a month before he turned four. On his birthday, Gregory surprised his son with a trip to the animal shelter to pick out a new member of the family: a dog. He chose a little pomeranian named Priscilla, though he couldn’t pronounce it very well, so she became better-known as Pess. He would read to her when his father was busy, working on his pronunciation, as well as playing with her in the yard whenever he could.

Miles got a children’s dictionary for his fifth birthday, seeing as he enjoyed reading through his father’s books and didn’t know many of the words. He would constantly ask Gregory what a word meant, so this was a very logical present for him. He carried it everywhere, loving to look through it and discover new words and their meanings.

Part of Miles’ present for his sixth birthday was formal clothes, seeing as they had a funeral to go to that week. It was different from the tees and jean shorts he normally wore—he had been choosing his own outfits since he was four—but he fell in love with the new wardrobe. He wore that shirt and tie for a week straight, and only changed when his father took him to go get more. It was all button-ups and bow-ties and blazers from then on. When Gregory asked, Miles said that he liked how tight they were, like a big hug; And that he was going to be a defense attorney someday, so he should look like one. It seemed that he really was set on that, seeing as he’d been saying it since he started talking.

He begged Gregory for a Gameboy for his seventh birthday, and some game called Po-key-mon Red or something along those lines. Gregory didn’t understand it, but he got it for him, and he was glued to that toy. Miles was fairly good about his time limits for watching his cartoons on the TV, but he threw a fit when the same rule was put in place for his new game. Gregory knew he was bound to need glasses someday—he got glasses in his teens, after all—and he didn’t want to hasten that process with screen usage. He still hoped that this new age-appropriate interest would lead to him making friends with some of his peers, though.

 

Gregory wanted to get his son something special for his eighth birthday. Miles rarely asked for anything particular for his birthday, and his father would get him anything he asked for. The only thing he absolutely vetoed was letting his son stay home alone when Gregory had to stay late at the office; the babysitter—an old college friend’s teenage daughter—would be a mainstay until he was at least in middle-school.

He ended up asking his parents about it during their monthly catch-up call. His mother suggested a tea-set, since Miles loved tea 'just as much as his old man.' Miles did love tea-time at the office with his father, and liked tracing the patterns on the authentic Japanese set. Gregory had gotten that as a moving-out present from his mother, her favorite from before she immigrated.

Gregory looked around town at small shops, and ended up finding an English-style set, with similar blue patterns to his own set. It was by far the most expensive single gift he had ever gotten for his son, but he deserved it. And Gregory knew from experience that these kinds of sets would last a lifetime, if Miles properly cared for it. His son adored his new present, and they began using his set for their nighttime cup of tea every night.

When Miles started fourth grade, he asked his father if he could join an after-school program. It was a general program, with some arts and crafts, and some recess, and the occasional VHS movie. He said it was being run by his favorite teacher. Gregory immediately said yes, this would be a great opportunity for him to make new friends! Miles still didn’t have any friends, to his knowledge. But now that he wasn’t coming to the law office after school, Gregory realized how lonely he was without his son there. He was the only employee, after all. Perhaps he should finally look for someone else to work in the firm with him. A paralegal, or junior attorney… Hell, even a secretary! Without Miles, the place just felt so empty. 

Notes:

- Miles' favorite childhood animal being parrots began as dramatic irony, since the thing that ended his guilt over DL-6 was Polly the parrot. Then it spiraled into a full-fledged headcanon since I believe he would latch onto how smart parrots are, and how they can talk like humans
- Miles' autistic traits were a combination of my own and my friends' traits (as well as online research) that I felt matched Miles' canon characterization
- Miles' birthday parties (besides his first) were based on things Miles is known to enjoy in-canon, seeing as he had Pess as a child and drives an imported sportscar

Chapter 3: Amicus Curiae

Summary:

Literally “friend of the court”. A person/group who is not a party to a case, but assists the court by offering additional insight/perspective/expertise.

A few months later, around Thanksgiving, Gregory finally accepted an apprentice at his firm. He had put a listing out in the paper, but few people seemed interested. He supposed it made sense, he wasn’t a very high-profile attorney. When he was just starting out, he wouldn’t have wanted to be his apprentice either.

With Miles staying at his after-school program rather than coming to the office, Gregory spent more and more time at work. They still had their evening family time and weekends together, but he missed having his son there with him. Now all he had to remind him of his son were the little things, like the beanie babies he kept on the shelf. One had Miles’ birthday, if he remembered right, another was a Father’s Day present, a bear with a heart on their chest, and another was to celebrate the supposed end of the beanie baby line, The End bear. He knew better than to keep photos of his child on display in his office, given his line of work.

Young Mr. Fender had come in like a whirlwind one day asking for an apprenticeship. He wanted to get a head-start on law school before he finished high-school, he had said. It was nice to see kids—besides his own son—be excited about law. Gregory accepted, and quickly fell into a fatherly role with Edward. He had a lot to learn, and he was more than willing to teach him.

 

On Christmas Eve, Gregory was asked to take on the defense for a case. He asked if it could be postponed until later in the coming week, but the prosecution seemed adamant on this case going as efficiently as possible. Since there was no way a babysitter would be willing to work during the holidays, Gregory had to think outside the box.

He called his college buddy, the one whose daughter usually watched Miles, and asked if it wouldn’t be too much trouble for them to watch Miles while he was working. He would pay extra, even, he had no one else to turn to. His old friend laughed it off, telling him they’d be more than happy to have Miles over, he knew they all adored him, even on Christmas if he needed it. An agreement was made amid heartfelt thanks, and he hung up to get Miles ready to go to their house a neighborhood over. He hated that, because of the prosecution, he wouldn’t get to spend all of Christmas with his son.

Over the course of investigating that case, Gregory met someone. Not in the stereotypical sense, but he couldn’t deny the connection they made. A detective on the same case, willing to stick his neck out to help him against a ruthless prosecution. He had heard the tales of Manfred von Karma, defying that man was certainly brave.

Tyrell Badd couldn’t stand him when they were first introduced, and the feeling was very much mutual. Cool, calm, and collected didn’t exactly fit him; more like cool, blunt, and detached. And what kind of man constantly pulled out a hand mirror to admire himself? The way he looked and acted honestly reminded him of his old Film Noir movies. He didn’t appreciate the man constantly smoking cigarettes while on the job either, until he finally revealed they were just lollipops; He should have known, he remembered how the smell of smoke clung to him when he was a teenager. That endeared Gregory to him, just a bit.

Against all odds, they found common ground on that case, and worked together to find reasonable doubt. It helped when one’s opponent was detestable. Detective Badd went from seemingly hating his guts just for being a defense attorney, to actually being cordial. They ran into each other on cases regularly, chatting and exchanging ideas and advice. 

One day, Gregory was lamenting the difficulties of his current case, how he couldn’t find any leads. “I’ve… got nothing planned… tonight. I could… take a crack at it.” The detective offered. They were up working late into the night at his law firm, Eddie having long left, and Gregory calling for an impromptu babysitting for Miles. Looking through potential avenues to investigate the case, working together to create an airtight defense. His advice had actually led to the correct culprit in the end, someone Gregory would never have thought of on his own.

It was strange, having a detective help him so soundly with a case, especially on their first case together. Gregory had never had a detective give him sensitive information so… easily. Perhaps it was simply due to Detective Badd’s distrust of the prosecution. But that did not explain why he continued to do it, when it wasn’t in his interest to do so. He was even helping with the ongoing investigation for the stalemate of IS-7. They had formed an unlikely alliance, and perhaps friendship, Gregory hoped.

He wasn’t the only one making friends. A few weeks after winter break ended, Miles was waiting outside to be picked up from his after-school program. When he saw his father’s tan car pull up, he said goodbye to the boy next to him and gave him a hug. He happily ran to the car to be picked up, a grin on his face. That was certainly out of the ordinary for his son.

“Who was that now?” Gregory asked.

“I made a friend!” The boy proclaimed from the back seat. “Well, two, I guess.” He added, quieter.

“A friend? What’s their name?” He responded as he began the drive to their home a handful of blocks away.

“Phoenix! Phoenix Wright!” He could hear his son patting his thighs in excitement, something he had begun doing after some adult told him not to flap his hands. Gregory wholeheartedly disagreed with that. “And Larry!”

“That’s great, Smiles! I’d love to meet them sometime.”

“We could invite them over this weekend!” Miles was very enthusiastic about this new bond. It was his first friendship, of course he’d be ecstatic.

“They’ll have to ask their parents first,” pulling into their driveway, he parked the car in the garage, “and I’ll need to talk to those parents. But after that, we can certainly have them over.”

As they ate dinner, Miles told him about how they had met. A class trial had sprouted up over Miles’ stolen lunch money; Well, less of a trial and more of a witch-hunt. Phoenix was the only suspect, and therefore the defendant, with everyone blaming him and telling him to give the money back. Miles was the only person to come to his defense and believe him, Gregory couldn’t be more proud. Larry Butz, a jury member, also came around and supported them, but Miles added that as more of an afterthought.

He knew he would be hearing more about this boy, he could tell. His son had never had much interest in his peers, preferring to spend time with adults. He hoped the boys would accept his son exactly as he was, he didn’t know how well they knew each other beforehand. He would have to wait and see, he knew he would be meeting them soon enough.

 

After a month, his late-night discussions with the detective moved from the office to Gregory’s dining table. He hated having to pull the babysitter away from her own life at unscheduled times, and he wanted to spend time with his son. Even if that time was his son reading in his bedroom or watching television in the living room while he worked.

Miles was extremely wary of the detective in his home, bombarding him with questions that first night. “Who are you?”

“Detective Tyrell Badd… LAPD homicide department.”

“Why are you here?”

“Helping… your father… with work.”

“Detectives are supposed to help prosecutors, not defense attorneys.”

“Are you… cross-examining me?” He bent down to be more at the boy’s level, getting in his face somewhat.

He visibly shrunk. “... Maybe.” Miles gained some courage, also getting into the man’s face. “But I’m gonna be a defense attorney when I grow up! So that’s my job!”

Badd paused at that, taking the lollipop out of his mouth—what flavor was green?—as he looked up at Gregory, who had been watching this unfold from the sidelines. “Like father, like son, huh?” He could feel his cheeks grow hot at that.

They came to some sort of disgruntled truce after that, when the boy realized he had candy on him. The detective rummaged around in his coat pocket, trying to find a cherry one as Miles asked. He happily took it when the man procured one, popping it in his mouth with a smile. He still stayed away from Detective Badd, but he tolerated the man after that, even when sitting in his father’s lap for comfort. This was the first time Miles had had an adult stranger stay in his house, after all.

“That’s a good kid… you got there.” He said later that night, after they had all eaten the dinner Gregory cooked. Miles had left to go watch his VHS of The Wizard of Oz in the living room. Gregory could tell the lollipop now in the man’s mouth was either blue raspberry or grape, with how his lips and tongue were stained. Quite the flavor choice to pair with chicken parm.

“Thank you, Badd.” He smiled tiredly, looking over in the direction his son went, then back to the detective. “I just hope he actually warms up to you someday.” It seemed this was bound to become a regular occurrence.

“I’ve got time.” A rare smile—or smirk, more accurately—crossed the man’s face. “I’ve got more than enough… sweets to bribe him with.”

“You’re lucky he has as big a sweet tooth as you do, mister!” Gregory laughed, he was glad he got to have fun with an adult again. Since Miles was born, he and his college buddies had less and less time to spend together. He still saw them for the occasional bowling night, at least.

The conversation lulled, and they continued looking over their evidence, when Gregory asked, “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he didn’t know how to put this lightly, “were you a smoker? I used the same trick for a while when I was quitting.”

The man leaned back in his chair, making it squeak against the floor. He took the candy out of his mouth; blue raspberry. “Read me like a book. Well… It started as a way to quit, yeah. But I’ve been 15 years smoke-free, I just like sweet things.” That smirk returned. “And something to keep my mouth occupied, I guess.”

Gregory choked on his spit in surprise at that. He couldn’t have meant that how it sounded. The detective just laughed.

 

He finally got the go-ahead from the parents to take Phoenix and Larry home alongside his son for a play-date. From what Miles told him, both boys were in the after-school program with him. A dark-haired boy with mismatched eyes was sitting in the middle, the two other boys flanking him in the back seat.

“It’s nice to meet you, boys! We’ll be at the house in a few minutes.” He looked at them from the rear-view mirror.

“Hi, Miles’ dad! I’m Phoenix!” The middle boy waved. “Miles has told us a lot about you!”

“Has he now?”

“Oh yeah, loads! He talks about you all the time, Mr. E!” He thought Edward would be the only person to ever call him that. “I’m Larry Butz!”

“Miles talks about you two a lot, too.” He talked about Phoenix more often, though. The boys chatted to themselves while Gregory drove.

“I hope macaroni and cheese is okay.” He said as he put the car in park. The boys all made noises of agreement as they filtered out, carrying their backpacks. Phoenix’s looked to be based on some children’s show he didn’t recognize, while Larry’s was orange with scribbles on it. Miles had his father’s old randoseru.

“Can we go play Pokémon in my room?” Miles asked Gregory, toeing off his shoes.

“Of course, Smiles. But can you take Pess out to potty first?” The boy nodded and went further into the house to let the dog out.

“What version do you have again, Nickie?” Larry asked offhandedly, he was digging around in his backpack after he had untied and taken off his sneakers.

“I got blue, Miles has red. He picked Squirtle, I picked Bulbasaur.” Phoenix was also getting his game system out of his backpack.

“Oh, perfect! I got yellow, and I have a Charmander! We can trade to get them in our dex!” He finally got his out from his bag and threw his arm around Phoenix’s shoulders. “Y’know, I heard if you get every Pokémon in your dex, there’s a secret Pokémon you’ll get!”

“If you’re talking about Mew, it’s under a truck, actually.” Miles replied as he came back with Pess. “Now come on, so my papa can cook!” The boys went to follow him upstairs. “He likes it quiet when he cooks.” He heard him add.

With the downstairs now empty besides Gregory and the dog, he got started on preheating the oven and boiling the water. “They’re nice boys, aren’t they, Priscilla?” He only received a bark in reply.

 

Tyrell offered to take him to a coffee shop during an investigation a week later. Rather, he told Gregory he was going to get coffee and that he could join if he wanted. The detective looked haggard, he understood why he needed caffeine.

They went to a little hole-in-the-wall café that felt more like a speakeasy. It seemed Badd was a regular here, as he immediately went to a sequestered booth in the back of the room, where no one was likely to see or bother them. He ordered a black coffee, while Gregory ordered a dirty chai. When the drinks were brought out to them, Tyrell waited until the barista was gone before pouring at least six sugar packets into his.

“Is something the matter, Detective?” Gregory asked, holding his cup to help warm his hands. It was a particularly cold February.

He crunched down the rest of his lollipop, taking the stick out of his mouth and taking a large gulp of his overly-sweet coffee. “It’s… this case I got put on.” He hung his head low, staring down into his drink. “Well, one of them. They have me on four cases right now.”

“I understand how tired you must feel. You have a lot on your plate.” Gregory responded after taking a sip of his chai. He glanced down at the detective’s hand mirror sitting on the table; he told him once that it was to check his blind-spots in case a criminal was attacking from behind.

“That’s not it.” He looked up at the other man, finally sitting up. “There’s this… attempted homicide. I’m glad I was the one assigned to it, God knows how the others would’ve treated the kid.” The attorney stayed quiet, letting the other man speak his mind. “Some freshman tried using the boys’ locker room… and a gang of boys beat him half to death.”

“Why on Earth would they do that?!” He was taken aback. Had bullying really gotten that bad since he was a teen? He hoped Miles wouldn’t ever experience such treatment.

“Cuz they said he wasn’t a boy. But if he says he’s a boy, then I’m gonna believe him!” The detective huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t get people sometimes, man. The rest of the precinct is gossipping up a storm about it. ‘Oh, some girl wanted to use the boys’ locker room and got what was coming!’” He clicked his tongue in distaste. “Bullshit. Even if I don’t get why he would want to use the boys’ anything, you and I both know how disgusting they can be.”

Gregory stared at him, trying to process what he had just said.

“If I hadn’t been the one put on the case, I’m not even sure the other detectives would’ve listened to the poor kid.” Tyrell added as he brought his drink back to his lips.

“You… You mean—” Gregory leaned over the table and lowered his voice to a whisper, “The victim is… transgender?”

“That’s right. The slimy public defender is trying to pass it off as trans-panic, but the kid never even got undressed! Not that that’s much of a defense in the first place.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was rare enough to find people like him to begin with, and here was the good detective explicitly telling him he supported transgender people.

“Have you had cases like this before?” He knew violence against the community was far from uncommon.

“I haven’t, no. But cases have come by like this before, loads of ‘em.” He swirled the drink in his hand. “The DAs usually brush ‘em under the rug, and the police have a field day saying whatever they want about the victim. But this case was too severe for them to pull that.” He leaned back in his chair. “Wouldn’t call that a lucky break, though. Kid’s still one foot in the grave in the hospital.”

Gregory didn’t know what to say. He put his hand over the other man’s resting on the table. His ears were pink, probably just from the cold. “You’re doing the right thing, Badd. It’s very honorable.” He had sworn off cases of crimes against children when Miles was two, he couldn’t handle the pain they caused him. But hearing about this, it lit a fire in him to see those criminals brought to justice. “I only hope the victim will be okay.”

“Jury’s still out on that, but he’s got a good shot.” Tyrell’s face softened at that. “He’s a strong kid.”

“Glad to hear it.” Gregory looked down at their hands, then noticed the time on his watch. “Looks like we should be heading back soon.”

The detective gulped down the last of his coffee, then took his hand back to dig around in his pocket for another candy. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” This one was red, probably cherry or strawberry. “At least this case… should be easier than that.”

“I should hope so.”

 

Miles had a field-trip day at school that he vehemently refused to go on, which meant Gregory got a rare full day with his son at the office with him. Which also meant this was Edward’s first time meeting him.

“Hey there, short stuff! Are you lost?” He asked when he walked in for the day, squatting down to the boy’s level. He didn’t understand how he thought this was a random child, he looked remarkably similar to his father.

“Uh. No.” Miles asked, looking awkwardly at Gregory from the couch.

“Edward, this is my son, Miles.”

“Oh! Well, nice to meet you! I’m Eddie Fender, your dad’s apprentice!” He offered the boy a handshake, which he accepted with confusion. “I didn’t know you had a son, Mr. E!”

“I try to keep my personal life private, I suppose.” That was a blatant lie. He had just forgotten to introduce them before this.

The rest of the day went smoothly, with Edward offering to watch his son while he went out to talk with his client, a woman charged with double-homicide. He came back to them laughing and singing, watching Bake ‘n’ Bop together.

Sitting at his desk as the kids had fun together gave Gregory time to think. He still didn’t know what to do with the information he had been given by the detective. It felt monumental, like it would change the foundation of their relationship. Gregory had never felt safe telling anyone he was transgender—besides his medical professionals—since college. Everyone thought he was a normal man, and he liked it that way.

But it was lonely sometimes, not having someone to love. Miles was his whole world, and he couldn’t ask for anything better, but he couldn’t deny that he wanted at times. It was hard enough finding someone as a single father, not to mention being attracted to men. But being transsexual added a whole other layer of complexity to any potential relationship he was to get into. So, he simply didn’t try.

He had never figured out the careful dance that was outing oneself to a suitor. He was terrified of it. He knew about trans-panic long before Tyrell brought it up. He looked over at Miles, happily kicking his feet as he listened to Mr. Tangaroa sing on the television. He had a son to take care of, he couldn’t put himself in potential danger like that.

But, with Badd, it seemed he was… safe. He couldn’t deny that the man was attractive, and they got along well. They may have had a somewhat rocky start, but now they were seeing each other multiple times a week outside of work! Besides weekends, those were times specifically for his son.

Why was Tyrell so willing to help him? Even during IS-7, he originally thought it was simply because the detective wanted to spite Prosecutor von Karma, but he kept doing it, even for cases he wasn’t on! And their late-night discussions would always lull into conversations about each other, their days and their interests and learning more about each other. They felt more like… dates, at times? Getting to know each other, see if the person's compatible. Gregory would cook extra portions of dinner on days he knew the detective would be coming over, in case the man hadn’t eaten yet. Tyrell would ask Miles questions whenever he was sitting in his father’s lap, and always offer him a cherry lollipop if he had one on him. He was even learning more about his son!

And the detective was clearly an ally. He wasn’t in danger if he were to tell him. His small crush on the man that he had hidden away in the back of his mind might actually work out. He had no idea if Tyrell felt the same, but he had an inkling. Getting him tea, when he didn’t need to do so, when they were at a crime scene together. Complimenting his cooking. Showing Miles a picture of himself and the K-9 unit, since he knew Miles liked dogs. He may have a tough exterior, but he was only sweetness on the inside, just like the candies he constantly carried with him.

 

Things continued this way up to April, growing closer with Tyrell while his son grew closer to his friends. Miles’ birthday was coming up, and Gregory needed to plan the party; he had never had to plan an actual birthday party before. He needed to do more than just a cake and streamers this year. He decided on a day at the park that he and the other parents regularly utilized for playdates, where the kids could play together on the playground while the parents sat at the nearby picnic tables. He had only ever talked to Larry’s mom and Phoenix’s parents in passing during drop-offs and pick-ups, it would be nice to finally get to know them better. Mr. Fender was also invited, since Miles enjoyed his antics, but he had to study for an exam and wouldn’t be able to make it. He did make the birthday cake though, as his own way of giving him a present.

Gregory asked that it be samurai-themed, since his son was obsessed with Signal Samurai at the moment. He was glad Miles was so invested in an educational show, even he got hooked at times with the fight scenes. He was glad the boys were getting his son into more age-appropriate interests, he wanted him to still get to be a kid, not grow up so fast.

Alongside the cake, plates and napkins of the same theme were acquired, and he packed some card games for the parents to play if they so chose, as well as Miles’ game system. Larry’s mother offered to grill burgers for them, so he didn’t need to worry about the actual meal.

There was one other thing, though. It was obvious Miles had something to ask, with how he fidgeted at the dinner table.

“Do— Do you think Mr. Badd could come to my party?” He asked quietly, looking more like he was asking the table instead of his father.

That took him by surprise. He knew the two were on better terms by now, but he didn’t expect something like this!

“Your party’s this weekend, Miles, he’s a very busy man.” The boy visibly deflated at that. “But… I’ll ask.”

The detective got back to him the next day when he called him about it. “I could stop by… in the evening. If that’s… okay.”

Gregory quickly accepted. “Of course! We’d both be happy to have you. Thank you, Detective.”

He thought the man had hung up on him, and was about to set the phone down, when he heard a laugh. “What is it?”

“You broke… your rule for me.” He could hear the smile in his voice. “Your rule about… weekends.”

A disbelieving laugh ripped its way from his throat. He took a moment to compose himself. He was right. “I suppose I have. See you then, Badd.”

 

They arrived at the park around noon, and he noticed Phoenix and his mother already sitting at a picnic table. The boy ran to greet his friend, with Miles doing the same, the two crashing into each other in a hug. “Happy birthday, Miles!” The boys spun around, with his son giggling and laughing the whole time. Phoenix was the first child to ever get his son to smile like that.

Gregory got to the picnic table, setting his bag down and unhooking Pess from her leash. He really hoped the cake wouldn’t melt before it was time to eat. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Edgeworth!” The mother smiled, offering him a handshake, which he accepted. “I’m Rain, by the way. Since we only really know each other as ‘Phoenix’s mom’ and ‘Miles’ dad.’” She had a bright, breathy chuckle.

“Likewise! I’m Gregory.” He sat down across from her, watching the boys play with the dog.

“Did Phoenix have a good time at Larry’s birthday party last week?” Poor boy had a birthday on April Fools Day. But Miles had come home that day with a painted wooden box that he refused to show his father in great detail, it would probably end up as his Father’s Day present this year.

“Oh yes, he had a great time painting. I helped Ms. Butz organize the whole thing, she borrowed some of my acrylics. He painted Sonic on a heart-shaped box, I think he’s storing his favorite Pokémon cards in it right now.”

“The hedgehog?”

“The very same.” They laughed over it, and Gregory looked around the expanse of the park, watching the kids. He then realized that someone seemed to be missing.

“Phoenix’s father couldn’t make it?” He asked. He had seen the man a few times when they exchanged children.

“Well, that’s—” Rain began, as a yell sounded from the parking-lot.

“Hey! Someone mind helping me with this?!” A younger woman was dwarfed by the portable grill she was lugging in her arms. Gregory quickly got up to help her, that must be Larry’s mother.

“Hey, B-Day boy’s dad! I’m Paninya, nice to meet’cha.” They introduced themselves as they worked together to bring the grill near their chosen area. Paninya Butz: what an unfortunate name, Gregory thought.

A young boy whizzed past them to join his friends, yelling, “Happy birthday, Edgey!” He almost knocked Gregory over in his haste.

“Hi Larry, we started playing without you!” Miles called from where he was in the grass, scratching Pess’ tummy.

The boys went to entertain themselves on the playground once their trio was complete, yelling about being the Signal Samurai and waving sticks around. Pess was curled up in his lap, taking a break from the play. Paninya was busy getting the grill set up while the three parents got to know each other.

“What does everyone do for work?” The young woman started off, brushing her hands off on her stained overalls.

“I’m sure Miles has told everyone on the planet by now that I’m a lawyer.” Gregory chuckled, pouring iced tea for everyone.

“He most definitely has.” Rain giggled as she accepted her cup and took a sip.

“I’ve been around a courtroom a couple’a times myself!” The sizzle of meat on the grill accentuated her point. “I was a bailiff for a bit. But it’s been a while since that one. I’ve been bouncing between jobs, I’m lucky I got the mechanic job to fall back on.” That explained her grease-splattered denim.

“I’m in the same boat, Paninya. I was a stay-at-home mom after Phoenix was born, but now, with the split and everything, I’ve been giving painting lessons to help pay the bills.” Ah. So that’s why the father wasn’t present.

“I’m sorry to hear that, about your separation.” Gregory said as he patted her hand, while Paninya offered a “Good riddance!”

“Oh, it’s not like that! Well, not exactly. Sh— He— She just needs time to h-herself. It’s a very confusing time for us both. S-She’s not entirely out of the picture.”

Interesting, tripping up on pronouns. Gregory could guess what the confusing change was, now.

“I’m glad you’re doing better than I was. Find out you’re gonna have a baby, tell your boyfriend, and he dumps you like you’re nothin’! Men can be such pigs.” She looked up from grilling a patty to nod in Gregory’s direction. “No offense, man.”

“None taken.” It was true, to be fair; he knew firsthand. Plus, Paninya was much younger than him and Rain, potentially even a teen mom. What a harsh start to parenthood.

“What’s your story, anyway, Greg? How’d you get roped into the single dad life?” She continued.

“I… I’d rather not talk about it.” That was always his answer to questions in that vein. People could take that however they wanted. Most tended to assume that meant his partner died, which seemed to be how the women took it now.

“I completely understand, I’m sorry.” Rain patted his arm sympathetically.

At that moment, Miles came running up to them and hid under the picnic table, curling up in a ball. Gregory leaned down to look under the table at him, offering a “Everything alright, Miles?”

His son batted him away, loudly whispering, “We’re playing hide-and-seek! Go away!” He had a smile on his face, which was a good sign.

Gregory looked over at the playground, seeing Phoenix searching around with his eyes closed, with Larry maneuvering out of his grasp. Not the kind of hide-and-seek Miles was thinking, and they certainly wouldn’t find him anytime soon.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go dodge and run away from Phoenix instead? It looks fun.”

The boy shook his head. “They’re both faster than me, they would find me too easy.”

Well, if this was how Miles wanted to play hide-and-seek, he didn’t see anything wrong with it. His son wasn’t upset, and the boys would find him at some point. “Would you like to play with your game… thing, then? I put Tetris in it before we left. It’s going to be a while before they find you, this is a great hiding spot.”

Miles nodded, and after digging through his bag of birthday supplies, Gregory found it and handed the game system to his son.

It was only a few minutes before the boys came over to their table. “Have y’all seen Edgey anywhere?”

“He’s too good at this one!” Phoenix laughed. “We’ve been looking for him with our eyes closed this whole time and we can’t find him at all!”

Miles poked his head out from under the table to peek at them. “There you are!” Larry leaned to the side to look upside-down at the boy’s hiding spot. “We’re ready to play something different, if you want.”

Gregory could tell he was debating on playing more Tetris. “... Could we play on the swings?”

“Heck yeah!” Phoenix helped pull Miles out from his hiding place, with Miles handing his toy back to his father along the way. “I'll push you!”

The parents were left to their own devices once again. “What show is that on Larry's shirt, by the way? I don't think I recognize it.”

Paninya flipped the last of the patties. "He wanted to wear his Dragon Ball shirt, since 'it's the most red thing he owns.'" How sweet, wanting to dress up in Miles' favorite color for his birthday.

“I try to keep Phoenix to mostly educational content. Somehow the TV always ends up on Spongebob, though.” She smirked knowingly over the rim of her cup.

“I love cartoons too much to be strict about that. Larry has been gettin’ into Bob Ross lately, though! It’s nice to see him be passionate about something. He said he wants to take a pottery class, too.”

“GUYS, WATCH THIS!” Larry shouted from the swings, drawing their attention. He was high up, the chain almost going over the bar to wrap around. That couldn’t be safe.

He then jumped off from the apex. And landed face-first on the wood chippings that surrounded the playground. His screaming and crying was ear-piercing.

Paninya ran to comfort her son, completely forgetting the burning grill she had been manning. Gregory took it upon himself to turn the grill off and move the patties and franks to a plate.

That was their cue to take a break and eat. Larry had a bloody nose and some scrapes but was otherwise physically okay. He sat in his mother’s lap while she doted on him, while at the same time reprimanding him for ‘doing something so stupid’. Phoenix and Miles sat next to them, with Miles sitting between Phoenix and his father.

Rain and Gregory helped get the kids’ meals ready, with only Miles asking for a burger and the rest having hotdogs. All the kids smothered their food in ketchup and mustard, and happily ate. Everyone made light conversation, with the boys telling the parents about their escapades, and soon all the prepared meat had been eaten up.

It would be a bit before cake, but now would be a good time to open presents. Gregory picked up a polka-dot gift bag from the other side of the picnic table that was reserved for gifts. “And whose would this be?”

Larry raised his hand excitedly, still in good spirits even after getting hurt. “Mine! Open mine first, Edgey!”

He handed the bag to his son, who gently unwrapped his present from the yellow tissue paper. It was a small ceramic dog that looked just like Priscilla.

“Doesn’t it look just like Pess! We found it at a yard sale and I couldn’t pass it up! But it wasn’t her colors, so I painted it.” He pointed to the paperweight’s collar. “And I gave her a bowtie. Y’know, to match you!”

Miles was jostling the bench with how hard he was kicking his feet. He leaned down to Pess resting at Gregory’s feet, showing the present to the dog. “Look Pess, it’s you!” The pomeranian sniffed at it and gave it a small lick. “Thank you Larry, we both really like it.”

“Open mine now! I really hope you like it.” Phoenix was also bouncing with excitement.

Gregory handed his son the remaining gift bag, which was solid red. Miles unwrapped a plush… bird… thing, from the white tissue paper, holding it in his hands.

“It’s a Porygon2! Apparently in the newer games, Porygon—y’know, that weird blocky duck thing?—it can evolve! And this is what it looks like.” Miles stared down at it blankly. “I thought it kinda looked like a parrot, if you squint. Since there’s no parrot Pokémon yet.”

Miles didn’t show much of an outward reaction, but Gregory could tell his son was thinking it over. “There’s more in the bag, too. At the bottom.”

He pulled out two small cards, hidden under the balled-up paper. Miles set the plush down next to the Pess figurine and took the cards from Gregory’s hand.

“I looked through my deck for one I thought you’d like! There was a Weepinbell with a real bird, but it kinda looked like it was gonna eat it. I didn’t think you’d like that.” One showed a bird hunting for worms, and the other showed Pikachu—Gregory did know that one—with a birthday cake. The top of the card was covered with white-out and overtop read Miles’s Pikachu.

Phoenix looked nervous. “Do… Do you like ‘em?”

Miles took a second to respond. He then hugged Phoenix, and excitedly showed the cards to Larry, since he was farther away. “Look! Spearow’s hunting for worms, just like a real sparrow!”

“Yeah! We knew you’d like that one, Edgey!” He now had a ninja-themed birthday napkin stuffed up his nose to stop the bleeding. It made for a funny sight.

“And it does kinda look like a parrot. A little.” He picked the doll up, examining it from different angles. “Maybe it’s a weird eclectus parrot.” He looked over at his father. “Remember, papa? Those red and blue parrots we saw at the zoo?”

“It does look like those, you’re right, Smiles.” He ruffled his son’s hair. “How about I go put these in the car, and then we can cut the cake?” The boys all agreed, and the women got the cake ready while Gregory went to put the gifts in the passenger seat, safely kept in the red gift bag so nothing would be lost.

When he came back, Rain was busy putting nine multicolored birthday candles on the cake, making sure to not destroy the design. Edward did a wonderful job putting Signal Red to icing. The calligraphy spelling out Happy birthday Miles! was a bit messy, but it’s not like he could do any better. Gregory took many pictures of the cake, of Miles with the cake, of everyone singing happy birthday to him and him blowing out his candles.

“What did you wish for!” Phoenix asked, shaking him by the shoulder.

“I can’t tell you, otherwise it won’t come true!” His son laughed.

The sheet cake was cut, Miles asked for a corner piece, and the rest of the cake was divvied out. Everyone happily ate their treats and chatted with one another. There were only two pieces left, he could save them for Edward and Tyrell.

He knew Edward would like the cake, seeing as he'd made it. He hoped Tyrell would like the cake, that it was sweet enough for his tastes. Maybe he should get some sprinkles, just in case it wasn't. Would he like vanilla? He hoped he would.

Maybe he could surprise the detective with it the next time he came over to help with a case.

He looked over to see his son’s cheek smeared in red icing, making his friends laugh. Right. This was his son’s big day, his first birthday with other children. He shouldn’t be thinking about his silly crush. He took a birthday napkin and wiped Miles’ face for him. Guilt weighed heavy on his shoulders.

The boys went back to playing now that they were in the throes of a sugar rush. That was short-lived, however, as sugar rushes often are. After their short stint on the play structure, Phoenix and Miles sat in the grass, plucking the small flowers dotted throughout the field. Phoenix was weaving them together, while Miles helped him collect more. Larry laid next to them on his back, pulling handfuls of grass out of the dirt.

“Were we thinking of having a sleepover tonight?” Rain asked. “We walked here, I could go get his backpack all set while they play.”

“That would be fine.” Gregory nodded. “I’m sure Miles would be very happy to have his friends over for a sleepover.”

“I know Larry would love to, and he’s gonna come home with me kickin’ and screamin’ over it, but I wanna keep an eye on his schnoz. Make sure he didn’t break it again.” Paninya was slumped over the picnic table, her chin propped up with her hand. “I swear, that boy is always getting into trouble.”

“There will be other sleepovers.” He responded. “His health comes first. I’d do the same thing, if I was in your shoes.”

“Me three.” Rain chimed in. “I'm gonna sneak out while they’re still distracted. Be back in a bit.” She pushed herself up from the bench, taking the long way out of the park to go get Phoenix’s things for the night.

“I’m gonna take Lare-bear home now, I think. Don’t want him to realize he’s missin’ out.” She got up from the bench as well. “Hey Squirt! C’mon, time to go home!” She called to her son, who came over quickly after hugging his friends. His nose definitely looked a bit bruised now.

Gregory helped her get the grill in her car, and the two left. He could tell sunset was starting soon, they should be leaving soon too. He was getting everything back in his bag, and throwing away their trash, when Phoenix and Miles came over. Miles was wearing a flower crown.

“Where’s mom?”

“She’s getting your things for a surprise sleepover.” He smiled at them.

“Oh! Yay!” Phoenix smiled in return. “Ooh! And look, Miles’ dad! I made him a crown! He’s the king now!” He stated triumphantly.

“I can see that!” His son looked like he was thinking very hard about something. “Is there anything I can do for you, King Miles?”

“I…” He glanced over at his friend, then said in a small voice, “Can I have me time when we get home?” Ah. Right.

“Of course you can. Want to sit and play your game while we wait for Phoenix’s mom?” He nodded, and the boys sat at the table. Phoenix quietly watched Miles dominate at Tetris. Gregory played it too, on rare occasions; he was amazed at how fast Miles had the blocks falling at times.

Rain arrived a bit later, carrying Phoenix’s backpack and blanket. She kissed her son on the forehead as they got buckled into the car. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow… afternoon?” She looked over at Gregory for confirmation, to which he nodded. “Afternoon.”

Gregory rolled down his window after she rapped on the glass. “Thank you again, Greg. I’ll see you tomorrow. He can have lunch at your place, that would be fine.”

“Roger that. Be seeing you.”

 

It wasn’t uncommon for Miles to sit in the dark in his room after an eventful day. He should’ve expected this, honestly. After the cake and condiments were haphazardly put in the fridge, Gregory took Miles upstairs to his room, helping him get situated. His bedside lamp on, the overhead light off, Pess held in his arms. Pete, his robotic parrot toy, sat vigilantly from his perch on the dresser, the gift bag with his new presents beside him. “Take as much time as you need, okay? Phoenix and I can handle ourselves for a bit.” He gently stroked his son’s hair and kissed his forehead, and left him to his own devices.

“Sorry about that, son. Miles gets tuckered out after such a busy day, he needs some alone time right now.” He told Phoenix as he descended the stairs.

Phoenix, sitting on the couch, looked over in his direction. “Oh, it’s okay, Miles’ dad! I know. We let him have alone time in the laundry-room when he’s at my house. I always put a blanket in the dryer for a couple minutes to make it warm and fluffy for him!”

That almost made a tear come to his eye, hearing that these boys cared so much for his son. “Miles is very lucky to have you, Phoenix.” He patted the boy on the shoulder on his way to the recliner.

“I’m lucky to have him too! He’s nice, and funny, and he doesn’t make fun of me when I spell something wrong.” His smile could light up a room. “I dunno if he told you, but he gave me one of the valentines from his bag on Valentine’s Day. He gave one to Larry too, I think? But he got a buncha candies from the girls—I think it’s cuz he helps them with book reports—and we didn’t get any, so he gave us some of his! It made me really happy.” Maybe it was a trick of the light, but he could’ve sworn Phoenix was blushing a bit. It must have meant a lot to him, for him to be bringing it up two months later.

He didn’t want to presume anything, given how young these boys were, but… he wouldn’t be surprised if their close attachment to each other wasn’t just platonic. Phoenix was the first child Miles had shown any interest in whatsoever. And he didn’t think it was common for boys to make flower crowns for each other for fun.

“And he compliments my drawings, and helps me understand multiplication better, and we always play together on the playground! Even when he just wants to read, I’ll draw in the dirt with him.” He was making circles in the fabric of the couch with his finger. “Larry likes to ditch us at recess to go play with the girls.”

“Would you like me to find you some crayons and paper?” Gregory asked, getting up before he received an answer. “My couch isn’t the best drawing surface, I’ll admit.” He chuckled, and Phoenix smiled along.

“That would be great! I can draw Miles something to show when he comes back!”

He went and grabbed some printer paper, and the bin of crayons from where he kept Miles’ coloring books. He also brought two juiceboxes, setting everything on the coffee table. He then went to brew tea for himself in Miles’ teapot.

“Does Miles ever talk about me?” Phoenix asked from across the open-concept room as he scribbled away.

Gregory couldn’t suppress his laugh at that. “Of course he does! I have your art on my fridge!”

“What does he say?”

“That you’re his best friend.” He had to think a bit after that, about things he could actually say his son told him without sounding mean. ‘He’s not very careful, and talks without thinking, and cries a lot. But I like him very much.’

“Anything… else?”

“And! That you help him with all his art projects, which, thank you, by the way. That you always win in gym class. That you’re funny, and kind, and honest. And generous, and a sensitive soul.”

He heard Pess’ collar jingling down the stairs, followed by a “Oh hey, Miles! Look, I’m drawing that villain from the new Signal Samurai episode!” He turned around from pouring his tea to see Miles sitting down next to his friend.

“Roundabout.” He still seemed a bit low-energy, sipping from the remaining juicebox left for him. He had once described it similar to a mechanic in his videogame, that if he uses up all his ‘moves’ then he ‘struggles’. “It looks nice.”

“Thanks!” They all existed in contented quiet for a few minutes, until Miles finally had the energy to talk more.

"I like how you did—" The doorbell sounded through the room then, and Miles audibly cringed. He needed to get a door knocker soon, and remove that damn doorbell.

Gregory set down his tea to go open the door, being greeted by the tall detective on the other side. He had forgotten to turn on the porch light for him, so he was standing in the last rays of sunset. “Tyrell! I’m so glad you could make it. Please, come in.”

“Couldn’t… pass up the opportunity.” He grinned as he crossed the threshold, Miles getting up to come greet him as well. He kneeled down to be on Miles’ level, but not in his face like their first meeting. “Happy birthday, Slick. Got you… something.”

“If it’s another sucker, that’s not much of a present.”

“That’s thoughtful, Badd, but Miles has had more than enough sweets for today.” Gregory interjected, patting his son’s shoulder.

“No, no, something… special.” He dug around in his pants pocket, finding what he was looking for and fastening it to Miles’ button-up. Taking his hands away, he could see it was a crude defense badge made from thin cardboard. “Since you’re already… a li’l son of prattlement. Wouldn’t want you to wait… for the real deal.”

It seemed his son had his energy back, as he was slightly flapping and flexing his hands in excitement. He looked up at his father. “Now we match for real, papa!”

“It looks like we do! But what do you say to Mr. Badd?”

Miles did something neither of the adults expected. He threw his arms around Tyrell’s shoulders and hugged him, accompanied by a loud “Thank you! Thank you for coming!” Too excited to enjoy his special guest's company, he ran back to his friend to show him his new gift. The detective was still kneeling on the floor in shock, with Gregory not much better.

He went to go get his cup of tea to calm himself down while the boys gushed about his son’s new badge. Tyrell finally got back on his own two feet, joining him in the kitchen.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know. Just you being able to come was enough for him.” He told the man in hushed tones. The kids were working together to put The Great Mouse Detective on on the television to celebrate.

“I know that. Just… thought he deserved… more than that.” He pulled out his hand mirror and used it to check the clock on the oven. 'Checking for blind spots' was for more than just danger, it seemed. “I should… be heading out. Thanks for… having me.”

“Let me walk you out. Boys, can you say goodbye to Mr. Badd?” He called over to the kids as they made their way to the front door.

“Bye!” “Bye, Mr. Badd!”

He closed the door behind him, leaving them alone on the porch. He had forgotten to turn the light on again on his way out, bathing them in relative darkness. Alone, together.

“That really was sweet of you, Tyrell.” He gently touched him on the arm.

The man finally decided to take the candy out of his mouth. With how dark it was, he couldn’t tell what color or flavor he had. “‘Least I could do. He’s a good kid.” He held the stick between two fingers, similar to how one would hold a cigarette. “I just knew he wouldn’t appreciate a plastic police badge. Had to come up with something.”

“Well, thank you again.” Maybe darkness made people braver. A way to say what one truly thinks. “Especially for all the help you’ve given me.”

“'Least I could do, Edgeworth.” He repeated with emphasis. “I’d rather work with you and keep innocent people out of jail than work with a corrupt DA. Why do you think I always work with Faraday if I can help it?”

“I’d rather work with you, too.” He paused, deciding if this was a good idea. 'You broke your rule for me.' Well, he wouldn’t know unless he tried. “Can I tell you a secret?” He whispered.

A questioning noise came from deep in his throat.

He squeezed Tyrell’s arm where he still had a hold on it. “I have quite the sweet tooth, too.”

That rare smirk was back. “That so?”

“Yeah. How come you never offer any to me?” He could feel a smile on his face.

“Well, what flavor you want?” He could tell they weren’t talking about the lollipops in his pocket.

“Surprise me.”

The taste of artificial blueberry blossomed on his lips. His eyes had closed in anticipation, and he enjoyed the enhanced feeling of the man’s stubble against his skin. Tyrell’s free hand cupped his cheek, pushing his glasses up a bit for a better angle.

It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds before the man pulled away. “All you had to do was ask.” He whispered, his breath ghosting over Gregory’s face.

“Well.” He was at a loss for words as he adjusted his glasses. “Thanks for giving me some— sugar.” He couldn’t keep the chuckle out of his voice as he said that last word.

The detective snorted. “That was bad, even for you.”

Gregory took the lollipop out of his hand, putting it in his own mouth. Braver, indeed. “Get used to it. This is… what happens when you... get with a dad.”

“Yeah. Should’ve expected that.” He pecked him on the lips one last time, then pushed away to start his way to his car. “I’ll call you, Gregory. See you.”

“See you, Tyrell.” He waved him off as his car pulled out of the driveway, then went back inside. He had a feeling he had forgotten to say something, though.

He was mulling it over as he brought the tea-set over so that Miles could keep his routine of his nightly cup of tea, setting it on a free space on the coffee table. He was just about settled in his recliner, ready to watch Basil of Baker Street solve the same crime he’d seen countless times, when he overheard Phoenix mutter, “Y’know, Miles, I thought you only had one dad.”

He almost choked on the candy in his mouth.

Notes:

- Rain Wright = advise/decision, "right as rain", juxtaposes Phoenix’s flame-based name
- Paninya Butz = "pain-in-the-butt"
- The beanie babies in Gregory’s office are Curly the bear, Valentino the bear, and The End bear
- The case Tyrell discusses is about my friend’s OC, Paz Iwasaki, and he’s writing a companion fic, Faster than the Eye!
- The Pokémon plush Phoenix gives Miles is the Plushplush/Pokédoll Porygon2, and the cards are Jungle Set Spearow and ___’s Pikachu. The Weepinbell he references is Jungle Set Weepinbell
- The valentines story is based on an official promotional piece from DreaMaga magazine

Chapter 4: Bona Fide

Summary:

Sincere good intention regardless of outcome.

Notes:

For people reading this fic as chapters come out, I highly recommend rereading Chapter 1, as it has been revised to add more detail and more context to Gregory's life and experience. Such as including the height of the AIDS crisis that he would have lived through in LA in the 1980s.

Miles was at a sleepover for the night. Gregory was busy cooking dinner, just starting on heating the stock. And Tyrell would be coming over.

It was not a date. They had not put a name to whatever their relationship was—if it was a relationship at all—only having shared a few small pecks in the last month. They had been particularly busy lately. It was just the detective coming over for dinner. Just dinner; No investigation to accompany it. A first for them.

Gregory had finally realized the elephant in the room, weeks ago by now. He still needed to tell Tyrell he was transgender. He had completely forgotten, it entirely slipped his mind; It was a part of himself he didn’t often think about these days. He had been mulling it over and spiraling over it since then, trying to figure out how best to do this. If he should even go through with this in the first place. He at least knew Tyrell would be supportive of him as a person... hopefully.

The wine finally evaporated, and he was taken out of his thoughts by the attention-heavy portion of the recipe. That was part of why he had decided on a risotto recipe, to distract himself with having to fuss over food. A small part of him also wanted to impress Tyrell.

He didn’t know how long he had been stirring—but the dish was almost complete—when a knock sounded at the door. He was so glad he had gotten rid of that damn doorbell. He had to leave him waiting for a few minutes, with the man even calling his landline trying to get his attention. After the cream was stirred in, he finally ran to open the door for him.

“Tyrell, I’m so sorry for making you wait out here so long!” He wiped his sweaty hands on his apron as the detective entered his home. “I couldn’t stop manning the stove, I hope you understand.”

He had forgone a sweet in his mouth for the evening. “I’ve gotten lost making crêpes before, I get it. Thanks for leaving the light on this time.” He chuckled, giving him a quick kiss. “You look good in an apron.” He commented as he made his way to the kitchen table. 

He didn’t know Tyrell cooked. One more thing in common. “I’m sure you’ve seen me in this before.” He maneuvered around the kitchen as he plated the mushroom risotto for the both of them, adding garnish and setting the dishes at their places on the table.

“Yeah, but I’ve never been allowed to appreciate it.” He took it upon himself to pour glasses of red wine for them, while Gregory removed his apron and washed his hands. He chose that wine to pair well with their meal, and he also needed a little liquid courage tonight. “‘Til now.” He added with a smirk.

He blushed at that. He took the proffered glass as he sat down, taking a sip and directing his attention to the food. “I hope you like mushrooms. I never get to cook this, Miles hates them.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it. Your cooking is the best I ever get.” He let out a little moan as he took his first bite. Gregory couldn’t tell if that was genuine or just put on to prove a point. “See?”

“I’ll be sure to give Julia Child your regards, then.” He laughed, and began to eat. They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, quietly enjoying each other’s company.

“Y’know, I could make you breakfast sometime. Show how much I appreciate you wining and dining me.” He swirled his glass absentmindedly. “You cook dinner, I cook breakfast. Match made in heaven.”

“Wouldn’t that require you to stay ‘til morning?” Gregory questioned.

“If you’ll have me, I’d love to spend the night with you.”

Well. It was time, then. “Then we should… discuss some things before we move any further.” His fork scratching against the plate was loud in his ears.

“Right, sorry. You have Slick to think about, can’t just jump into things willy-nilly.” He set down his fork as well. “Wanna talk now?”

“It can wait until after dinner.” Wouldn’t want to spoil the meal.

The rest of the meal went well, talking about their busy days and lives outside of each other. Tyrell enjoyed playing pool on the weekends, apparently. It was good to get to know more about the other man. Maybe he could invite him to bowling night sometime, or they could go to a bar and play pool together.

He shouldn’t get his hopes up.

After their dishes were cleaned, they returned to the kitchen table and refilled their glasses. “What did you want to talk about, exactly?” Tyrell asked, leaning forward in his seat. Giving him his full attention.

“Before we… move forward, with—” he gestured between them, “this, there’s something I need to tell you. And if this changes how you feel about me, I… understand.”

His face took on a sharp edge, his clasped hands tightening. “You’re not married, are you? Cuz I’m no homewrecker.”

He spluttered, shocked by that response. “Of course not! Why would you ever think that?! I’d never put someone through that!”

“Well, what else would it be? Cuz your son clearly didn’t pop out of thin air.”

“I—” He was starting to understand what his son meant when he said it was physically hard to talk at times. “No, nothing like that.”

When it was clear he wasn’t going to continue, instead choosing to take long sips of his wine, the detective spoke up. “What, then?”

“... Turn your thinking around, Tyrell.” There was no way he could just come out and say it. The potential danger was still too great in his mind. He decided on a different tactic. “You’re correct, Miles didn’t come from nowhere. But if I never had a wife, what other options would I have?”

“... Girlfriend left you with the kid?”

“I’ve never gotten anyone pregnant.”  It was like they were bouncing ideas off each other while investigating, like they always did. 

“Surrogate?”

“What did I just say?”

“That’s— Well, I guess you’re right about that. Sure.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. He loved how Tyrell’s mouth slanted when he was thinking especially hard about something. “He’s not adopted, is he?”

“No, he’s my biological child.”

“Well how the fuck else would—”

“Turn your thinking around, Detective.” He cocked his head to the side. “I’m sure you can crack this case.”

His voice was laced with frustration, throwing his hands up. “What does this have to do with anything?! The only other way he could be your kid is if you got pregnant and—” He could tell the moment it clicked in his mind. His eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Yeah. ‘Oh.’” He looked down at his hands, unable to look at him. “I understand if that… changes how you view—”

“Gregory.” Tyrell’s hands came into view and held onto his own. He looked up at him, and only saw concern and… sympathy. “You being transgender doesn’t change anything for me.”

His vision was getting blurry. “I was so scared to tell you. I didn’t want to lose you.” ‘Or worse’, he thought to himself. “You’re the… first person I’ve ever told.” Since college, at least; or his doctors, who barely knew him. This was different.

He smiled. “Thank you for choosing to tell me, it means a lot. But I don’t give a shit about all that, okay? You’re still as much of a man as always.” He reached up to wipe Gregory’s tears away. “Hell, maybe even more of a man. I know I wouldn’t be able to handle fuckin’ childbirth, that’s for sure.”

He let out a watery chuckle. “I wouldn’t wish that pain on my worst enemy.”

Tyrell circled the table and went to hug Gregory, with them moving to the couch to sit more comfortably while he calmed down. They sat together for a while, with the detective rubbing his back comfortingly.

“Was that all?” He asked it so nonchalantly. He really didn’t mind.

“... For now, yes.” He leaned his head on the detective’s shoulder. “We still need to talk about how Miles plays into this. But that can wait.” He didn’t want to think about the logistics just yet.

There was a long pause. “... How do you think he’ll react? Whenever we do tell him.” Which would not be anytime in the near future. He didn’t want to put this change into his son’s life only for it to fall through in a few months. He desperately hoped that wouldn’t be the case, though.

“I hope well. It’s hard to know. Change can be very hard for him sometimes.” He sighed.

Tyrell wrapped his arm around his shoulders. “Then I’ll do my best to act like nothing’s changed, when he’s around.” That meant the world to him.

“Thank you, Detective.” He tilted his head to kiss the underside of his stubbly jaw, the closest thing available. “... Would you like to stay the night?”

“How forward, Mr. Edgeworth.” The other man chuckled.

“You and I both know that’s not what I meant.” Gregory playfully slapped him in the chest in retaliation. “I meant, we can watch something. And you wouldn’t have to drive home at midnight.”

“I’d love that.” He smiled and wriggled to get more comfortable on the couch, jostling Gregory at his side. “I’m a sucker for rom-coms, y’know.”

“You don’t say.” He never got much of a chance to watch any of his romantic movies, as Miles didn’t usually care for them. He got up to rummage through his collection, eventually deciding on It Happened One Night. He set it up, hit play, and cuddled up next to his… well, they still hadn’t put a name to it. They had time to figure that out.

 

The topic had started with Rain. She was asking if either of the other parents utilized summer camp, and which ones, since she didn’t want to keep Phoenix cooped up at home if she could help it. During the summer, Gregory normally brought Miles along to the office, or occasionally had the babysitter watch him if he had a particularly gruesome case to work on.

Paninya suggested the YMCA, as that was where she took Larry. Thinking about it, that might be a good idea for Miles as well. It was especially good if one of his friends was already attending. He wanted his son to get to play and have fun and… be a kid. Just like Phoenix shouldn’t be holed up at home all summer, Miles shouldn’t be holed up at his firm.

What had changed, for him to prioritize his son’s development over his own wishes? He loved spending time with him at work. But ‘spending time’ generally meant more than existing in the same room. He wanted to have his summers with Miles. But Miles was growing up, he had friends now and was blossoming into a wonderful child, and Gregory didn’t want to stifle that. If he could spend his summer break playing with his friends, that was what was best for him. Not sitting around in a boring law office.

With fourth grade officially over, Miles hopped into the car with a big grin on his face, showing his father his first-ever signed yearbook. He wanted to celebrate how far his son had come, so on Father’s Day that weekend he decided to take him out for icecream. The day had started with Miles giving him a small circular wooden box, childishly painted with a sunflower on the lid. It was obviously the box he had painted at Larry’s birthday party. “Cuz your badge is a sunflower!” Miles had proclaimed. “Phoenix helped me paint it.”

Gregory adored it. “It’s wonderful, Smiles.” He ruffled his son’s hair and hugged him tight. “This will be perfect for my ties.”

After doing their errands around town, as they usually did on Sunday mornings, they stopped at an icecream parlor. “So, kiddo, are you excited for summer break?” He asked as he swirled his hot-fudge sundae.

“So excited!” He picked off the cherry from his sprinkle-covered cup and dropped it in his father’s instead. He never enjoyed maraschinos, despite loving cherry-flavored candy. “We’re gonna have so many sleepovers and playdates!”

“We already planned one for tonight.” The parents were still a bit iffy on the idea of weekday sleepovers, but Sunday wasn’t the worst; They had set up a plan for tomorrow.

 “Yeah! It’s gonna be so fun!” His eyes were shining, his smile bright.  “And I’ll get to spend more time with you! And work at the office with you again, now that school’s out!”

His heart sank. He didn’t understand how his son was so happy sitting in a law firm through the nicest part of the year. He should be out playing, like other kids his age. Maybe Gregory should have considered summer camp sooner, then this wouldn’t have happened.

He knew his son loved being with him; He loved spending time with Miles, too. But at the firm, he would just spend his time reading, or watching television, or playing chess or Minesweeper on the computer; All activities he could do at home, when Gregory was off work. He wouldn’t be missing anything.

“About that… I was thinking about summer camp this year!” He put on a mask of enthusiasm, hoping his son would be receptive to the idea. He knew change was hard for him. The boy was clearly surprised, then his face dropped. “Hey, it’ll be good for you, bugaboo. You’ll get to go to so many fun places, and do so many fun things!” None of this seemed to help. Ms. Butz had suggested taking all the boys to the Y the coming morning, having this week be a sort of test-run for the idea. He needed Miles to be okay with this. “Phoenix and Larry will be there too.”

His son continued to look down at his icecream, picking the sprinkles out with his spoon. “Can I still go to the office with you… sometimes?”

… He could rarely deny his son anything. And it was even harder when he wanted the same thing. His resolve crumbled. “If I have a lull in cases, of course you can, Miles.” He smiled, eating the cherry the boy had given him. “Let me guess: want to spend time with Mr. Fender?” He said, trying to lighten the mood.

There was a pause as Miles swallowed the icecream in his mouth. “Him too, I guess.”

He hoped he was making the right decision.

 

He was on time for his bar date with Tyrell, if his watch was correct. This wasn’t their first date, but it was the first in a public space. The place was classier than a dive-bar, with an actual menu to peruse rather than a sheet of paper. He was looking through the options, the drinks and food to order, when someone sat beside him and took the menu right out of his hands.

With a playful smile on his face, he looked over at who he knew would be Tyrell. He was in his usual button-up and suspenders and slacks, probably having come here directly after work. At least he took off his trenchcoat. He was looking at him with a grin, a lollipop stick poking out the corner of his mouth. In this context, it really looked like a cigarette. “Is this seat taken… handsome?”

He tried his best to dress nice for tonight—casual but appealing. Jeans, a white tee, and an open short-sleeve plaid button-up. Not that different from what he usually wore in the warmer months. With how Tyrell’s gaze raked over him, he could tell he liked it. “Fancy seeing you here.” He took the detective’s hand in his own, worried that a kiss might draw attention. They came to the bar for privacy, but it was still better safe than sorry. Neither of them could chance going to a gay bar. “Now can I have my menu back so I can order for us?”

They started with an Old Fashioned for Tyrell and a Cable Car for himself, as well as a plate of sliders. He didn’t know how much they were going to drink tonight, but this place was their dinner, so he knew he needed to order them something to eat. Probably not the best thing to pair with rum and whiskey, but the options were limited.

“I expected you to order something… sweeter, if I’m being honest.” Gregory joked as their drinks arrived.

“It’s… got sugar in it!” It lessened his point when he took his sucker out of his mouth and dropped it in his glass, swirling it around. He really hoped that was orange-flavored. “I’m sure I’ll have a drink with an umbrella in it by the end of the night.” That earned him a chuckle.

They talked about anything and nothing while they ate and drank, the liquor adding a pleasant fuzzy feeling. His thoughts were muddled, like the sugar in Tyrell’s drink. He quite enjoyed it. After a second round, and both being thoroughly tipsy, the detective stood up and grabbed Gregory’s hand, trying to pull him towards the decently-populated dancefloor. He held his ground, protesting, “Tyrell, I don’t think that’s the best idea!” He was laughing as he said it.

“Why not? Got two left feet?”

“Not exactly—” As soon as he said it, the other man pulled harder and got him to his feet. “This isn’t my kind of music! I can’t dance to this!”

“It’s not mine either, but we can still try. C’mon, let’s go dance to some trash pop music.”

Gregory finally relented, letting the taller man lead him.

They were incredibly awkward, but with the alcohol flowing through them, they didn’t much care. He had no idea what he was doing, and he doubted Tyrell did either, but they held hands and moved their bodies to the bouncy beat. He couldn’t remember having this much fun in a long time.

After the detective complained about his knees, they decided to take a break. They ordered a plate of mozzarella sticks to go with their third round of drinks, Gregory sticking to his usual while Tyrell ordered a Sex on the Beach. It even came with a little umbrella.

“Sue me, it’s tasty.” He chuckled as he plucked the cherry out of his drink, dropping it into Gregory’s with a wink. It seemed someone else didn’t enjoy maraschinos. “So, what music do you listen to?”

“... Don’t laugh.” He glared when the detective couldn’t hide his snicker. “But… I’m partial to swing. I only really know how to lindy-hop.”

“Oh god.” Tyrell groaned, almost falling backwards off his barstool before Gregory caught him. “You really got roped into that swing trend a few years back?”

“It’s good music! You can’t tell me you can’t appreciate a good big-band song.” Or ska, but he felt that might actually get the man to laugh in his face. “Let me guess, you’re more of a rock fan?”

“Damn right, it’s the only good thing on the radio anymore.” His point of being into harder music was undermined by the fruity cocktail in his hand. It was such a juxtaposition that Gregory couldn’t help bursting out into laughter, with Tyrell joining along until they didn’t even know what they were laughing about anymore.

After they finished their bar food, Gregory asked the detective if they could play a round of pool. He hoped the glint in his eye meant what he thought it did. He had never played much pool, seeing as he almost never went to bars anymore, and Tyrell took note of this very quickly. He hadn’t managed to strike a single ball, and the alcohol wasn’t helping.

“Here, let me help.” He set his cue back in the rack, seeing as this game was a wash, and took his place to the side of the other man. He set his hands atop Gregory’s, showing him how to properly hold the stick, and explaining how to aim to hit his target. He wasn’t listening much, with Tyrell almost draped over him.

The detective looked around them, seeing that the crowds were dwindling, or too busy dancing to pay them any mind. He moved to be behind him, his chin resting on the man’s shoulder, as he hit the cue ball and ricocheted three balls into the pockets. He could feel the man’s chest pressed against his back, but could tell Tyrell was being especially careful to not have any lower contact. Plausible deniability.

This heady feeling running through him was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Another hit, and two more balls were sunk. His body felt like melting jelly as he moved where Tyrell wanted him. The taller man’s hands tightened over his own as he made the next shot, sinking another two. He was not absorbing any of the ‘lessons’ he was being taught about the art of pool.

“Winner winner.” He could hear the grin in his voice. At Gregory’s oblivious, questioning hum, Tyrell continued, “You sunk the nine.” He hadn’t moved from his position against him, despite the game being over.

“I didn’t— actually do much.” His rebuttal was weak even to his own ears. He couldn’t tell if his speech was slurred from the alcohol or something more.

“You didn’t have to. I got you.” He leaned his mouth into Gregory’s neck, not quite kissing, but almost. “... Would you like to head back to my place? It’s not far from here.”

He could tell what he was proposing. It was obvious. “I’d love nothing more.”

 

[T.B.]: Hey honeybee.

[G.E.]: You know, my PDA is SUPPOSED to be for work talk only.

[T.B.]: Couldn’t help myself. Only way I knew you’d respond quick. Plus I love riling you up.

[G.E.]: What is it, you menace?

[T.B.]: Mind if I come over tonight?

He didn’t remember when that petname started. ‘You’re sweet… and always buzzing around… and not afraid to sting,’ Tyrell had said one night. He was mulling the proposal over, beginning to type a reply, when he was brought back to reality. “Who are you talking to?”

He almost threw his personal digital assistant in his shock, turning in his recliner to see Miles staring at him with big grey eyes. 

“I— was responding to Mr. Badd about a new lead in my case.” Gregory bluffed, not knowing why his first instinct was to hide this. It wasn’t like Miles caught them kissing or anything!

“I was in your office today, papa. Your case is an open-and-shut petty theft.” He huffed, crossing his arms. He had picked up too much courtroom-talk from his father, that was for sure.

“I-I meant for IS-7. Mr. Tangaroa’s case!” Why was he digging himself deeper? The man came over all the time!

“I haven’t heard you talk about that case in months.” Miles rolled his eyes, holding out his hand expectantly. “Give it here.” Now it really was like he was being scolded!

He glanced down at the device, seeing that Tyrell had sent more innocuous messages and the petname was now out of view. He hung his head in defeat, and handed the PDA to his son. 

There was a long pause as his son read. Longer than necessary. “... He’s just— asking to come have dinner with us? That was what you lied about?” He sounded confused, almost laughing. He’ll make a wonderful, infuriating attorney someday.

“I lied under oath. I’m sorry, Miles.” It wasn’t like he never lied to his son, that was part of being a parent. But this was why he rarely tried to do it outright around the boy; he’d always figure it out.

He giggled, “Then I’ll have to think of a fitting punishment.” Most likely an empty threat. He crawled into Gregory’s lap, tilting his head back to look up at him. “Why, though? Mr. Badd comes over all the time.”

“I— I don’t know, son.” He rested his chin on top of his son’s head when he went back to looking at the device, buzzing with a new message. “I… think I need a better work-life balance. I shouldn’t be looking at my PDA when I should be spending time with you.” He gave his son a little squeeze to accentuate his point.

“But you need that! What if you get a new case?!” Miles sounded scandalized. His priorities may be a bit misaligned.

“Nothing’s more important to me than you, bugaboo. I hope you know that.” He picked his son up and stood from his chair, spinning around with him to make him squeal and giggle before coming to a halt before either of them got dizzy. He was beginning to get too heavy for him to do that. “Now, what did Mr. Badd say? Since someone confiscated my device.”

“That he’s ‘in the mood for Japanese.’” He answered matter-of-factly as he handed the PDA back. That absolutely had a double-entendre hidden in it somewhere; He was just glad the detective hadn’t said anything explicit.

He cleared his throat as he tried to get his blush under control. “Well, we can absolutely order sushi tonight, if you’d like.” At the boy’s nod, he continued, “How about you go look through our takeout menus and decide what you want, and I’ll let Mr. Badd know?” He gingerly set Miles down on the ground, following him into the kitchen as he sent Tyrell a message.

[G.E.]: If you meant that how it sounded, Miles is here tonight.

[T.B.]: I know. I really AM just craving sushi. How did you take it? ;)

 

Gregory was picking Miles up from the Y after work. It had been over a month since he started going to summer camp, but his son hadn’t said much about it. He hoped the three boys weren’t being picked on by other groups, he knew how cliquey preteens could be.

He was sitting in the parking-lot, having gotten there early to snag a spot. Resting his head against the steering-wheel, he let his mind wander. He had been doing that a lot, lately.

It felt like he was going behind his son’s back, sneaking kisses with Miles none the wiser. But it was still far too soon to tell him. He couldn’t have this blow up in his face. To him, Mr. Badd was simply a detective that came by to help his father with work, nothing more. He had been spending more time at their house, though. And he knew Miles was observant. He hoped he hadn’t put the pieces together already.

The back door opened, with a canvas drawstring backpack being tossed onto the opposite seat. Miles hopped in and buckled himself in, his hair damp and sticking to his face. He crossed his arms and curled himself into a ball, not even giving his father a ‘hello’.

Seeing as something was definitely wrong, Gregory got out of the driver’s seat and moved to the back seat. He brushed his hair out of Miles’ face as best he could, he knew his son didn’t especially like his hair being wet. “What happened, Miles?” He asked, concerned.

He lifted his head from his knees, his eyes glassy. “Phoenix ditched me at swim time.” He sniffled. “I just wanted to sit on the edge and kick my feet, but he wanted to swim! And… then some older kids pushed me in the pool.”

“Oh, dear.” He moved to hug his son, but the boy turned away as best he could, still being buckled in. Gregory rubbed his back instead. “Is this… the first time this has happened?”

He rubbed his runny nose with his hand. “Not… exactly. Phoenix and Larry have ditched me a lot, to go do arts-and-crafts… and they’re making new friends, and I’m— not.”

“Are the other kids picking on you, Miles?” He asked seriously, getting to the heart of the matter.

“I didn’t think so… until today.” He grabbed for his bag, which his father handed over, so he could hug something to his chest. “They would say I have… ‘unique style’, and that they ‘liked my bowtie’, but they never wanted to play with me. I thought they were trying to be my friends… But Larry said they were just making fun of me.”

The kids at his school had never really bullied him over his fashion sense, from what Gregory heard from teachers. After all, he had been dressing this way since… first grade? The young children grew used to it quickly, seeing him dressed so formally every day, so he was never picked on for it. But the YMCA was full of new, older kids for him to meet, who didn’t know him. All they saw was an awkward boy in khakis and polos. He always feared this would happen, but he had hoped his friends would be there to protect him.

“... Are the kids picking on Phoenix and Larry, too?”

“Yeah. But not as much.” He rubbed his cheek against the canvas in his arms. “The girls make fun of Larry for… ‘trying too hard.’ And the boys make fun of Phoenix when he cries.” He paused, seeming to think. “There’s some kids that are nice, at least…”

“I’ll talk to the staff about this.” He stated, firmly. He would protect his son as best he could, always. “Do you… still like summer camp, though?”

The boy thought for a moment, then gave a shrug. “Maybe they’re just picking on us because we’re new. Maybe it’ll get better.”

Gregory was silent for a while, running his fingers through his son’s hair. At least he had a positive outlook on it. “Is that what you want, Miles?”

He buried his face into his backpack, muffling his voice and hiding away. “No one ever made fun of me in the courtroom…” He could barely make out.

He decided, then and there, that he would let Miles come to work with him more often—if the cases weren’t too graphic. They would play it by ear, if Miles wanted to spend more time at one place or another. He knew his son loved spending time with his friends, and he did have fun at the Y, if this was the first Gregory was hearing about any of this. He just wished other kids were as understanding as Phoenix and Larry.

Gregory talked to the summer camp staff about Miles being picked on, making it clear this was not to be tolerated. He took his son to his office, the detention center, and the courthouse, three days a week. It would be weeks before Miles felt comfortable enough to return to the YMCA for the majority of the week. He heard the three of them discussing it during sleepovers and playdates, and talking about the new friends they were making. At least the children at summer camp quickly learned it wasn’t fun to pick on them anymore.

Miles still seemed to be the odd one out, but he found a few children to be in his corner. Larry and Phoenix said they would introduce him to their own little friend groups, as well. He didn’t hear about any more bullying after that; but no new children were ever invited to their playdates or sleepovers, either.

 

Miles had been begging and pleading to see the movie ever since they saw that hot pink billboard. Meet Elle Woods. She's a lawyer with a heart of gold… and a mane to match! Legally Blonde, a comedy centered around law school; of course Miles would latch onto it. Gregory couldn’t deny that his interest was piqued as well. Knowing Tyrell loved romcoms, he thought to ask him to come along as well.

“Legally Blonde? The hell? Why are you… seeing a movie for teen girls?”

“It’s for Miles.” He hoped his crossing his arms came through in his voice. “He’s been begging for weeks now. Would you please just come see it with us?”

“Is this a date… Mr. Edgeworth?” He could picture the grin on the man’s face. He continued through Gregory’s stammering, “But… you do know it’s… PG-13, right?” 

He hadn’t thought to check that. He was too focused on indulging his son’s special interest.

“... But I already promised him.” He hung his head as best he could with the phone still held between his cheek and shoulder. “It’ll be fine. It’s a comedy, not a slasher.” He hoped. Was nudity allowed in PG-13 films? “Please. Just come see this with me— us?” He quickly corrected.

There was a long pause, and Gregory expected he was trying to let him down easy, but he responded, “... Sure. Anything for you—r kid.” He coughed awkwardly. “Your kid.”

“Then it’s a date.” He couldn’t believe he could now say that and have it mean something besides a work meeting.

That coming weekend, Tyrell met them at the theater, having already purchased their tickets. “Oh. I thought it was just the two of us.” He couldn’t place the tone in his son’s voice. Surprise, perhaps? Regardless, the usher eyed them suspiciously, what with two adult men and a young boy going to see a comedy aimed at women. They were an odd sight for sure, as they got to their seats among a sea of girls.

Miles sat to his father’s left, picking popcorn out of the bucket in Gregory’s lap as he watched, eyes glued to the screen. Usually when watching movies, Miles would talk through them, about the little details or his opinions; but not this time. He was too engrossed, it seemed, seeing a film about his favorite thing in the world.

This absolutely was a PG-13 movie, though. So many innuendos and a more mature plotline, not to mention the sexual overtones. But he doubted his son was focusing on any of that over the law details. The movie was decent, at least; seeing a ‘dumb blonde’ get into Harvard and use her feminine knowledge to her advantage was a fun watch.

Tyrell, to his right, watched slumped back in his chair, arms crossed, occasionally eating a fruit snack from the packet he had purchased. He had that hard look on his face, like when they were gathered around the dinner table investigating; when he was focusing very hard. Gregory leaned closer to him, since it was clear his son wasn’t paying him any mind. “Are you enjoying the movie?” He asked.

Tyrell snapped out of his trance, looking over at him with wide eyes. Then he blushed, of all things; it was fairly hard to see in the dark. “... It’s good.” He huffed.

Something clicked in his mind. “Are you— embarrassed?” He quietly laughed.

“A li’l…” He looked back at the screen. “I try to keep this kind of thing… secret.” It didn’t fit his tough guy persona he presented for the public.

He gently patted the other’s man’s hand. “Well, I’m glad. I’m enjoying myself too.” His favorite entertainment at the moment wasn’t even the movie playing, but getting the tall, imposing man to fluster.

As he was taking his hand back, Tyrell grabbed hold of it, setting their joined hands on his leg. He quickly glanced back at his son, before realizing that the popcorn bucket was obscuring their hand-holding. He breathed a silent sigh of relief.

The other man was looking at him with a cheeky grin on his face. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who enjoyed flustering the other. Still, Gregory squeezed his hand for a moment, saying, “Thank you, for coming with us.”

Tyrell squeezed his hand back. “Anything for you.” He glanced his way and gave him a little wink. “And… for your kid, too.”

 

“Moshi moshi. Er, I mean— Allo.” A loud groan. “Ugh, how do I answer the damn phone anymore?” Gregory couldn’t help but chuckle at that. 

“Nee, Oton,” he began, as he always did when he called his parents, “I wanted to ask you something.”

Josiah, on the other side of the country, grumbled as he gave his son his attention. He could tell his father was sitting up in his rocking chair. “What can I do ya for, Greg?” His strong southern accent was infectious, always making Gregory’s come out more when he talked to him.

“I wanted to ask about you and Anastasia.” His parents had amicably separated not long after Miles was born, but Gregory was too busy with a newborn to pay it much mind. They still lived together, to his knowledge, alongside Josiah’s new wife, a lovely Russian woman. She simply appeared in one of their phone calls a few years ago, and that was how he found out about his father’s new partner.

“What about ‘er?” His voice had a strange lilt to it, like he expected his son to disapprove of his longstanding relationship. That was far from the case, even if Gregory didn’t comment on it often.

“How— How did you fall in love? As middle-aged adults?” He knew he wasn’t quite middle-aged yet, but he was nearing that milestone every day.

His father let out a loud belly laugh. “You? Asking me for advice? Thought I’d see pigs fly before I’d see that!”

“I’m being serious!”

“I hear ya, I hear ya!” He took a moment to get his breathing back under control. “Well… after your ma settled on divorce—which was well within her right to—we just kept on living t’gether as friends. Still do.” They had met in highschool, if Gregory remembered right. Friends turned lovers. “I’on’t right remember how me an’ Asya met, ‘sides a lotta alcohol involved. A bar, I guess. She was gettin’ involved in local life and whatnot, and I happened to be there at the right time, right place.”

“But how did you know you were in love with her?” He fiddled with the cord on the landline, twirling it around his fingers.

“We hit it off, ‘course! I just thought we’d be good friends—she was way out of my tax bracket—but she was very forward 'bout how she felt about me.” That didn’t surprise him, given what little he’d heard about his stepmom and stepsister. Russian right down to the bone. “She courted me, son! I dunno what t’ tell ya.”

“I’m— not in the need for advice on courting, actually.”

“Ya got a beau and didn’t tell us?!” His parents had always been supportive of him in every aspect of life, of course he was going to tell them eventually! Once things were set in stone.

“We haven’t put a name to it yet!” He huffed, feeling like a petulant teenager talking about their first crush. “I… I wanted to hear how you feel about Anastasia. How you love her. To see if I really do love him.”

There was a long pause, then: “Here, lemme— Asya! Horn for ya!”

He had only ever heard her in passing, exchanging small greetings or the odd comment. Her Russian accent beginning to mix with a southern twang was a bizarre combination. “Allo. Anastasia Edgeworth speaking.”

“Pleasure to properly meet you, Anastasia.” He couldn’t believe this was the first proper conversation he was having with his stepmother. He hoped he could make a good first impression. “I… wanted to ask you about how you fell in love with chichi— m-my father, I mean.”

He braced himself for an awkward pause, for a scolding or an outburst.

But it never came. “Of course! I love telling people about my Dzhosey!” Josey??? He had never heard anyone call his father that before. “What would you like to know?”

“Well… How would you describe your feelings toward him? I’m in a bit of a bind and would like some advice.” He held the phone between his head and shoulder as he worked to brew himself some chamomile to calm his nerves.

“Firstly: You must understand how much of a brute my first husband was.” Ah, so they separated less-than-amicably. “Did not care for my opinions, or my culture, or my anything. I was only sex to him. It was very loveless marriage. But then Dzhosey came and swept me off my feet!”

“I hate to pry, but— How could you tell he was different from your first husband?” The ‘being used for sex’ part stuck out to him. What if that was all Tyrell wanted their relationship to be? As unlikely as it was, it lingered in the back of his mind.

“Dzhosey could not be further from that pig! He always asks for input, and spends much time learning and appreciating my culture. He treats me like person. He comes to like things I like. He uses his big strong hands to roll my balls of yarn for knitting! And I come to like things he likes, like his fishing and the whittling. I can simply sit besides him and be happy.” That put some of his worries at ease. He could definitely see some of himself and Tyrell in what she was saying. The petnames, the companionship. Treating each other as equals. “And he is so funny, with all the strange things he says! I have to ask him or Miss Keiko what his sayings mean all of the time, but I am learning!”

“I’m very happy for you, Anastasia. You and my father seem very happy together. Your advice has helped me greatly.” With his tea finally brewed, he took a sip as he waited for the woman to end the call.

“Call me Asya! We are family!” She definitely spoke her mind, that was for sure. Before he could get a word in edgewise, she continued, “And be sure to let your lover know how you feel! Hit him over the head if you must, that is what I had to do!” His parents must have told her about him, if she knew he was interested in a man. He was glad she was as supportive as them, she fit right in with his family, going above and beyond to let him live how he wanted.

He chuckled, “I will, I will. Thank you again, Asya. It was nice getting to talk to you.” He hung up then after a quick goodbye, staring down at his tea. He couldn’t keep hiding. He needed to talk to Tyrell, and lay everything out in the open. No more dancing around each other.

 

“What’s up, short stuff?” Gregory overheard Edward at his new reception desk, Miles having come over to him. School would be starting in a few weeks, so he wanted to spend more time at the office instead of the Y. Understandable.

“Could you— help me with something?” His son asked. When Eddie nodded, Miles pulled on his sleeve and led him to the sofa on the other side of the main room, with Gregory no longer able to see them from his office’s open door. He went back to his own paperwork, but couldn’t help but eavesdrop. It wasn’t often his son asked people besides him for help.

They were quieter than he expected. “Are you sure I’m the one you wanna be asking this?” Eddie interjected at one point. Maybe Miles was embarrassed about something and didn’t want him to know? That was okay, as long as Miles was okay.

“Uh… Have you tried telling him to come back with a warrant?” His assistant offered in a confused tone. That had to be a joke, right? 

Edward’s voice was the only one cutting the silence of Gregory's office, he couldn’t hear his son’s voice at all. Did he need to start packing his communication board again? “Well, he’s nice enough, isn’t he? He’s not doing it to spite you or anything.”

He continued after a moment, “I just think he’s trying to get to know you guys better.” Ah, perhaps someone was trying to become friends with Miles and the boys, and he was taking it as competition. Of course he’d go to his young assistant for that sort of help.

“I dunno what you want me to do, Milesy. Have you talked to your dad about it?” A short pause, then, “It kinda sounds like you’re out of other options here.”

“There has to be something!” Miles shouted, sounding incredibly frustrated. Gregory got up from his seat, but didn’t want to butt in. If his son didn’t want him to know, then he wouldn’t intrude.

“… You could ask Paz? He might have some ideas. I can give you his AOL… Wait, do you even have one of those?” Right, Mr. Iwasaki had been discharged from his extensive recovery not too long ago. He was glad the two teens had formed a friendship, Lord knows the boy needed the support.

He heard sniffling, and finally moved to the doorway to his office to better see what was happening. He could only see the backs of their heads from the angle, but Edward was rubbing his son’s back comfortingly. “I think this is just something you’ll have to talk to your dad about, if you want it to change.” His assistant looked over his shoulder at him pleadingly, Gregory’s signal to come help his son.

As he was walking over, Miles asked in a small voice, “Promise you won’t tell him?”

Eddie huffed a laugh and replied, “Of course not, I’m not a narc. It’s your conversation to have, bud.” Just what was troubling his son so deeply, that he didn’t want him to know about? He comforted his son as best he could, with the boy not letting any hint through to his father.

 

“Y’know, it’s times like this I really wish I hadn’t quit smoking.” Tyrell groaned from his starfish position on the bed. Gregory had just returned from the en-suite, shoving the man’s limbs out of the way to lay beside him.

“I know what you mean.” He was feeling the same way as he muscled his way partly under the blankets, what with Tyrell laying on top of them. They both laid together in silence, staring at the ceiling, naked. He knew Tyrell’s mind always became blissfully blank after sex. How he wished his mind was the same; Gregory’s mind seemed blank, but only because his thoughts were going too fast for him to catch.

The other man shifted on the bed, pulling a hard candy out from under his pillow, like they were at some fancy hotel instead of Tyrell’s flat. “There’s one under yours, too… if you want one.” He commented around the sweet in his mouth.

“What are we, Tyrell?” He asked, still staring at the popcorn texture of the ceiling. He didn’t know why he asked it now, of all times. Naked in the man’s bed. But darkness made people braver, he had learned; he simply wanted things to be crystal-clear between them. Laid bare, the same as their bodies.

The taller man paused for a moment, then set his hard candy back in its wrapper, placing it on the nightstand. Propping himself up on his elbow, he turned onto his side to give Gregory his attention. “Where did this come from?”

“Do you only want me for… my body?” Despite his better judgment, he said the absolute last thing he wanted to.

A shocked scoff came out of his mouth, unbidden. “God no!" Tyrell slowly moved his hand, like he was coaxing some scared animal, until he began rubbing reassuringly along his bicep. “... How long have you been bottling this up?”

“I don’t know— Since that bar date, I assume. Maybe earlier.” He sighed, taking the other man’s hand from his arm to hold against his chest instead. Still staring up at the ceiling; it helped him get his thoughts in order. “I’ve been plagued with ‘what-ifs’ since then. What if you don’t feel the same? Or… Just waiting for the other shoe to drop. That this is too good to be true.” He sighed, resigned. “I just… thought you would have said something by now.”

“Gregory.” Tyrell’s other hand moved to his cheek, cradling him, turning his head to face him. “I’ve been holding myself back this whole time. I’ve been letting you call the shots.” His breath was laced with a quiet self-deprecating laugh. “I’ve wanted to ask you since that first dinner date. But you have your kid to worry about… So I held off.” His thumb rubbed gently against his skin. “You have the final say. Always. But I never wanted you to think I didn’t feel the same.”

Always so sweet, so kind. So unlike the persona he presented to the rest of the world.

“... Can you say it, then?” He asked in a whisper. He always expected his suitor to ask him, some lost fantasy of the little girl he once was.

With gentle movements, and easily-given permission, Tyrell moved his hand to softly trace mindless patterns against Gregory’s chest and scars. “I’d rather you say it.” He smiled shyly. “Let this old man live out his dream?”

They had talked a few times about their perspectives during the height of the AIDS crisis, both being attracted to men. Tyrell only had a few past partners due to the fear of contracting it, and knew some of them had ended up dead. Old wounds, slowly healed. Of course this would be a dream of his.

That got him to finally smile, after all this. ‘All you had to do was ask.’ Trying to keep his voice steady, he said what he’d wanted to for months: “Will you be… my beau?”

In the dim moonlight, he could still make out the taller man’s pretty blush. With a grin on his face, he leaned down to kiss Gregory. “Your boyfriend? ‘Think I’ve been that for a while now, honeybee.” He chuckled against his lips.

 

It would be an understatement to say he was surprised when he saw his opponent come into the courtroom with a baby carrier. It seemed he wasn’t the only lawyer to have the idea. Faraday’s apologies were quickly dismissed, and little Kay was entered in as his paralegal. Miles, sitting in the gallery, would get a glimpse of how court proceedings went when he was a baby. It involved a lot of the judge getting sidetracked.

He expected to only see her in court, but he was very wrong. He had forgotten how close Tyrell and Prosecutor Faraday were.

It was Filing Day at the firm, mid-October, when Gregory moved all closed case files from far-off months into different filing cabinets, away from the current case files. He preferred to make a day of it a few times a year, rather than filing them away in-the-moment; He had had too many run-ins with a recent closed file being needed for a new case.

A knock came at the door, despite there being a sign stating they were closed for the day. He ignored it until his PDA sounded, a message from the detective. He went to open the door, being greeted with the sight of his boyfriend with a sleeping newborn baby strapped across his broad chest. It was a good carrier, supporting her tiny head while letting the man’s hands be free; he wished he had had one of those for Miles.

“Someone needed a babysitter?” He chuckled. It was quite a sight seeing Tyrell sucking on a lollipop as the infant sucked on her paci. She couldn’t be over a month old.

“Knock it off!” He tried to swat at him, but was too far away. He looked down at the girl, making sure he hadn’t jostled her too much. “Faraday was on… investigation duty. Someone had to watch her.”

“And the police secretaries weren’t good enough?” He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms.

“He doesn’t… trust a lot of people… with her.” He gently stroked her black hair, which was quite long for such a new baby. “And… she gets fussy. Going out helps her.”

He looked at them for a moment; It almost looked like he could be her dad. Tyrell was surprisingly good with small children, despite his gruff exterior. It made warmth swell in his chest.

“Well…” He drawled, getting out of the way to let the other man in. “You must have come here for a reason, to bother me during work.” As Tyrell entered and made his way to the cluttered couch, he added, “I’m due for a break, anyway.”

“What kind of organization… is this, Edgeworth?” He snickered as he moved a stack of files aside to sit down. Papers and folders were scattered on every available surface, some messier than others. He had to go through every single one to check if it was ready for the closed case cabinets, after all. This is what he got for not having a secretary and having a recently-graduated teenager for an assistant.

“There’s a method to the madness, I promise.” He sat down next to the man, leaning against him slightly. “So, why did you come to visit?”

“Besides… seeing you?” He smiled down at Gregory, taking the finished lollipop stick out of his mouth. “I’ve been… having some thoughts. Good thoughts! Good thoughts, I promise.” He looked down at the little girl, who rubbed her cheek against his shirt.. “I… think I want to be more involved. In Miles’ life.”

He was taken aback by this. “W-Where did this come from?” They had only made things official a bit over a month ago! He thought Tyrell was fine being more of a wallflower in the boy’s life; For the time being, at least.

“I’ve been helping Byrne with this little thief.” She blinked opened her big eyes, looking towards Gregory as she yawned. They were incredibly green. “Stole all our hearts.”

“I can see why.” He smiled down at her. “Hello there, little one.”

“See you’re finally awake, you little bugger.” He gently pinched and wiggled her chubby cheek, causing her to squeal around her paci before settling down. “I’ve been helping with her since before she popped out. It’s… been a real journey, getting to take care of her. And I wanna be part of that in Slick’s life, too.”

Two sets of eyes were staring at him now, waiting for an answer.

“I— I’d love for you to have more of a presence in Miles’ life. But it’s his decision, at the end of the day.” He moved his hand to hold Tyrell’s between them. “But… We can try.” He wanted Tyrell to have a fatherly role in his son’s life. But if that wasn’t what his son wanted, that came first. Miles’ needs were first and foremost.

Kay, mostly awake now, began fussing and crying. Likely her feeding time, or a dirty diaper. But seeing as Tyrell hadn’t brought a diaper bag or anything, that signalled his time to go.

Gregory led them out, kissing his partner in the doorway. “See you.” He then turned his attention to the fussy newborn. “And I’ll see you in court.”

Tyrell took hold of her tiny fist, puppeting her and speaking in a high-pitched tone. “Watch yourself, or I’ll bribe the judge! With my cuteness!” He laughed and gave the lawyer one last kiss before leaving.

“To think, I could’ve had this…” The detective said under his breath, talking to himself. He could only guess what that meant.

 

It started slow. Tyrell staying after dinner to watch a movie with the family; Tyrell joining him in the car to pick Miles up from school; Tyrell spending time with the boy at the detention center when Gregory needed to talk to a witness. For the most part, things were going well. There were times Miles holed himself up in his room alone, but that wasn’t that out of the ordinary.

The boys were having a playdate at their preferred playground, the two men sitting beside each other on a nearby bench, watching them. The sky was just starting to turn a sunset orange, signaling that the fun would be over soon as the other parents came to pick their children up. Perhaps Tyrell could make crêpes for dinner again tonight, when they went home.

“I really do… enjoy this, y’know.” The man said, breaking their silence.

“Hm?” Gregory asked, glancing over at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Babysitting. It’s not, like… an obligation, or anything… if that’s what you think.” He turned his attention back to the kids, shouting, “Larry, no standing on the swing! You’re gonna break somethin' again!” His sucker puffed out his cheek where it stuck out the side of his mouth.

“Oh.” He didn’t know how to respond to that. He knew the taller man enjoyed spending time with Miles and baby Kay, and even Edward, but actually taking care of children was another matter. “Well, it’s nice to have another set of eyes with me. And your company doesn’t hurt, either.”

They fell into another comfortable silence, as the sun fell behind the trees. The boys moved to playing as the Signal Samurai, running around and waving sticks in the air.

“I… really wish I had… made different life choices. Better life choices.” Gregory tensed at that. He was sure the other man could feel it, with their arms being pressed together. “Not about us. Never… about us.” He added to assuage his worry. He was still staring ahead, watching the boys.

“Then— what, exactly?” The father asked, when Tyrell didn’t continue. 

“I wish… I knew my kids.”

“You have children?!” Gregory almost yelled in surprise, luckily catching himself and hoping the kids didn’t hear his outburst.

“Not like you do. I…” He took his green-apple lollipop out of his mouth, lazily holding it between his fingers. “The precinct doesn’t pay good. Officers gotta find ways to make rent, though, so… I donated to the sperm bank a couple times. When I was younger.”

Gregory’s mind ground to a halt.

He continued, “But I was young, and dumb, and wanted to be anonymous back then… And I think that was the wrong choice. It was hard enough getting the bank to let Byrne and his wife use my old donations for Kay, I don’t even know if mine ever got used besides that! I could have kids out there and I would never know it.” He ran his free hand through his hair. “I wish I was in my kids’ lives. Like I am with Kay.” He sighed. “But I can’t.”

That explained why little Kay looked next to nothing like her father.

“When did you donate?” He asked.

Tyrell took a second to respond, not expecting that kind of question. “What?”

“How old were you when you donated? How old could your potential children be?” With anonymous donorship, it was the child’s choice to learn about their father. How long would he have to wait?

“Lemme think…” He crossed his arms, his face scrunching up in thought. “‘Least a decade ago. Maybe… 12 at the oldest?”

“You’d have to wait at least six years to find out if you have any children then.”

The man made a considering noise, then after a moment, startled. “Wait, why do you know so much about this stuff?”

“Where do you think Miles came from?”

“So…” Tyrell finally turned to look at him. “Hold on, what bank did you use then?”

“Doe Cryo.” It was easy to remember, since it rhymed.

His eyes widened and his jaw went slack. “That— That’s the bank I used.”

Gregory’s expression mirrored the taller man’s at that. He thought back to the profile of the donation he chose: tall, with black hair and black-grey eyes. Similar enough traits to himself. Traits that matched Tyrell exactly.

“You mean—” Tyrell’s hands were shaking, watching the boys, watching Miles. “He…”

“I can’t guarantee it.” Gregory sighed. As much as he hoped it was the truth, they would have no way of knowing unless his son pursued it as an adult. “But… There’s a chance.”

With the boys coming over to them, he set his hand on his partner’s arm, hoping to calm his nerves. He had never thought about who Miles’ biological father was, this was definitely a shock. But he didn’t want to believe it; The chances were slim to none. It felt impossible, that the man he fell in love with just so happened to anonymously father his child. But there was still a chance, however small, that Miles could be Tyrell’s son.

“Hey, Big Badd, could we have some suckers?” Larry asked as the boys sat down in the grass in front of them, knowing their parents were on the way to pick them up. He was glad they knew to wind down.

“Uh… Sure, kid.” The man answered, still a bit frazzled. He dug around in his trenchcoat pocket, procuring a grape, cherry, and new mystery lollipop for each boy. He even knew their favorite flavors.

“Thank you, Mr. Badd!” Phoenix cheered, taking his grape sucker and quickly dyeing his tongue with it. The rest of the boys echoed his thanks. Larry always asked for mystery when he could, he liked the secret of it. And, of course, Miles happily took his cherry sweet.

“You want one?” Tyrell asked him as he put his green sucker back in his mouth. He couldn’t find any more blueberry ones in his coat, so Gregory accepted a blue raspberry one instead. The sweetness helped ease his nerves. He had a lot to think about.

“Y’know, Slick… Cherry’s my favorite, too.” The man told the boy, a small smile on his face; something new in his eye. 

 

Gregory was getting lunch ready for Thanksgiving. His birthday earlier in the month was uneventful, besides a gift from Miles and a kiss from Tyrell. The man had been coming over more and more often, he was at the house for almost every dinner, helping when he could. They barely bothered with the pretext of working on investigations at this point.

He was currently working to make pumpkin pie, while Gregory put the green bean casserole in the oven, turning off the preheating alarm. He was also making macaroni and cheese on the stovetop, for Miles’ main dish. It was hectic in the kitchen, but they made a good team, moving together like a dance. 

They didn’t usually do much for Thanksgiving, since it was just the two of them. No reason to make a buffet or carve a turkey. But with Tyrell’s help, he got everything done much quicker than expected, and they even had homemade pie this year!

He looked like he belonged here, moving around the kitchen and house like he was already a part of their home. It scared him, how quickly his feelings had solidified. He couldn’t imagine not having Tyrell in his life at this point.

With a lull in their tasks, the taller man leaned against the counter and wiped his hands on the apron he brought from his flat: heavily stained, with faded text reading KISS THE COOK across the chest. He wasn’t sure how, but Tyrell had managed to get pumpkin purée on his cheek.

“Here, let me get that for you.” Gregory smiled, leaning over the man and boxing him in with his arms. He had to get on his tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He wiped what remained with his thumb as he moved to kiss his lips, the taste of pumpkin-spice blooming on his tongue. Kiss the cook, indeed.

A plate shattered. Startled, they both looked over to see Miles staring at them, tears welling in his eyes. He must have heard the oven beeping when it was done preheating and came down to start setting the table.

“Miles—” He started, moving towards him, when the boy bolted away. This was not how he planned to tell him about this.

“Fuck.” Tyrell helpfully supplied, sucking on his teeth as they were left alone.

“I’ll… I’ll give him some time alone. To process.” Gregory sighed, resting his forehead against the man’s chest. Arms came to wrap around him comfortingly. “What am I even supposed to say?”

“The truth.” The taller man answered. “You know that’s what he wants.”

“I-I planned on sitting him down and telling him— Who am I kidding, I had barely planned anything. I have no idea what I’m doing, Tyrell.”

“You knew you’d have to tell him eventually, Gregory.” He rubbed his back and held him. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too.” Tyrell was right, he knew. After a moment, he continued, “C’mon, I’ll go with you and we can explain.” With one last squeeze, he let go of the shorter man.

Wiping at his eyes, he stepped back and took a deep breath. “Okay.”

They made their way upstairs, seeing Miles’ bedroom door wide open. That wasn’t how he usually had alone time. Peering into the room, he didn’t see his son anywhere. He looked out the window; he wasn’t in the backyard either. They scrambled through the house, looking everywhere that he could possibly be, but Miles was nowhere to be found.

His shoes were still by the front door. All his jackets were hung up in his room. Pess was asleep in her dogbed. He took nothing with him.

“... He eloped again.” Gregory finally realized.

“What do you mean, ‘he eloped?’” Tyrell asked as Gregory went to rummage in various drawers and cabinets. “What’s that mean?”

“I thought he grew out of this! He hasn’t done it in years!” He used to wear an identification bracelet for times like this, but Gregory had stupidly decided to stop with that. It was a very bad idea, in hindsight. Finding what he was looking for, he handed Tyrell a sheet of paper.

“What’s this?” He asked, looking it over.

“Miles’ Autism Elopement Alert form, for when he runs away. You’re a detective, I thought you could inform the first responders while I go look for him myself.”

“When was the last time you updated this? It says he’s seven!” Fuck. Taking the form back, he scribbled out the outdated information and wrote what was accurate, such as his weight and height, but they were wasting precious time.

He took one of the photos from Miles’ ninth birthday party in his baby book out, handing it to Tyrell. “There. Everything’s accurate.” He was already tugging on his shoes and slipping into his jacket. His son’s communication board held tightly in his hand. “Check the park first, I’ll check the school.”

He was glad there weren't any bodies of water in the area besides neighbors’ locked pools. And with how obsessed he was with Signal Samurai, he knew Miles would follow crossing rules. He didn’t know what he would do with himself if his son ended up dead.

Tyrell nodded at Gregory, following his lead as the father left.

Maybe it would’ve been a good idea to bring Priscilla, but she wasn’t a sniffer-dog, just a lapdog. He asked anyone out-and-about if they had seen Miles, but most were too busy with the festivities of the day to have noticed anything. He was frantic.

Hearing police and EMT sirens in the near distance, he knew Tyrell was doing as he had asked of him. As he came to the chain-link fence that surrounded the school’s playground, he saw a child sitting alone on a swing. He ran at a breakneck pace, hoping and praying that it was Miles.

No coat. No shoes. Grey-black hair. It had to be.

He ran to him, hugging him before the boy whined and pushed him away. Gregory looked him over, he was luckily unharmed, but shivering. It was a brisk November day, after all. He took his coat off and draped it over his son’s shoulders.

He kneeled in front of him, not giving a damn about the gravel digging into his legs. “I’m sorry, Miles. I’m so, so sorry. Would you please just talk to me? I’ll explain everything.” He quietly asked, setting the board in his lap.

It took him a moment to begin, it had been a while since he had used his communication board. «How L-O-N-G? When did this S-T-A-R-T? How L-O-N-G have you been do-ing this?» He rubbed his eyes with his hand before looking at his father for an answer.

No point in lying any more, that would only make things worse. “... We kissed on your birthday. But we didn’t make it official until a few months ago. We’ve been partners since… Late August.”

«Why? Why did you L-I-E to me?» His face was so red, he looked like he wanted to run again. Good thing Gregory was in front of him.

“I didn’t want things to change for you, son.”

«But they did.» Miles stated with finality.

He hung his head. “Yeah. They did.” He sighed, “I thought it could be a gradual thing. That’s what we were hoping for, at least. I didn’t want to tell you in case we broke up.”

«You thought you were P-R-O-T-E-C-T-ing me.» He could tell his son was angry. And hurting. Gregory was feeling the same way, at himself; He nodded. Miles took some time to continue, his tears falling onto the laminated board. «I don’t like how T-H-I-N-G-s have C-H-A-N-G-ed. You don’t S-P-E-N-D T-I-M-E with me any-more. All you do is S-P-E-N-D T-I-M-E with him now. You… You L-O-V-E him more T-H-A-N me.»

“Of course not, Miles! Nothing is more important to me than you.” He instinctively moved his hands to comfort the boy, catching himself. “Can I please hold you?” He shook head vigorously in response, and Gregory set his hands in his lap, wringing them. “You’re my whole world, Miles.”

«But that-’s how it F-E-E-L-s to me. Because we don’t have T-I-M-E to-G-E-T-H-E-R any-more, he is always there now. Like at the M-O-V-I-E. I… I want my father again.» He didn’t realize how much seeing Legally Blonde together meant to him. Or simply having time for just the two of them. Miles could only truly be himself around specific people, like his father or Phoenix. He had been having to pretend this whole time, when Tyrell was around.

He always knew in the back of his mind that it was a bad idea to keep this a secret from his son. Time to face the music.

He continued, «Mr. B-A-D-D is W-E-I-R-D now. I don’t like it. And you are W-E-I-R-D when he-’s here.» 

“I know, we’ve been acting differently. I’m sorry.” Gregory had been blinded by love to see how this was impacting him.

«I want him to go B-A-C-K to N-O-R-M-A-L. Or go A-W-A-Y.»

“Do you… want Mr. Badd and me to stop seeing each other?”  It twisted his heart to ask, but Miles’ opinion mattered most, no matter how much it hurt.

The boy thought for a minute, then shrugged. «I don’t H-A-T-E Mr. B-A-D-D. I think. I don’t know. But why is he like that now?»

He was not going to explain the bombshell they had realized last month. “He… He wants to be a father figure to you. He wants to be a part of your life, like he’s a part of mine. He already thinks of you as his son.”

That made Miles furious. He didn’t understand why. «What about my M-O-M?» He had to spell the word out, since his father had removed the unnecessary word when he first printed it out.

Gregory paused, thinking he had misread for a second. “Your… mom?”

«My M-O-M! Who D-I-ed!» Ah. His lies really had been piling up. «Do you H-A-T-E her? Is that why you N-E-V-E-R have P-I-C-T-U-R-E-s of her?»

“Do— Do you feel like I’m… cheating on your dead mother?” The boy took a moment to wipe his eyes, then nodded. “Why would you think that?” He had never asked about his mother before this.

«… Because every-1 is W-E-I-R-D to me on M-O-T-H-E-R-s D-A-Y.» He hadn’t thought about how his lie by omission might impact his son. He was sure adults showered him in sympathy over his father’s white lie; Gregory had grown up the same way, but he knew it was a lie, unlike Miles. “... I was just connecting the dots.” He continued in a small voice, rather than using the board.

“Oh, Miles.” He hated that he couldn’t touch his son. He needed the comfort, as much as he assumed the boy did. “No, no, that’s not it at all.”

“Then what?” The boy asked, sounding both snappy and defeated. Gregory continued to fidget with his hands. “Why do you never talk about her?”

He knew he would have to explain this to his son at some point. He just didn’t expect it to happen now. “Well… It’s a long story.” Miles continued to stare at him, waiting for him to continue. “How about we go back home, and I’ll explain there? It’s awfully chilly out here.” He didn’t have his coat on, and his tee wasn’t doing much to help. 

The boy slowly nodded, and got up from the swing. He refused to be picked up, despite only having socks on his feet. He held his father’s hand instead as they walked home, Gregory calling Tyrell to let him know he found Miles. He would be making him wear his bracelet after all this.

Back at home, with Tyrell pulling into the driveway not long after, the boy sat on his bed with his precious Pess in his lap. Gregory closed the door for privacy, since he doubted Miles wanted the detective near him right now, while Tyrell dealt with making sure their food was still good for lunch.

The father sat beside Miles, their sides touching. He gently pet his son’s hair after receiving permission. He took a few minutes to think of how to word it. “So… Remember a few years ago, when I explained to you that boys can like boys, and girls can like girls?” He nodded, sniffling. “Well… Sometimes, a boy is born a girl, or a girl is born a boy. Does that make sense?”

His face scrunched up as he thought. “Like… Like if I was me, but I wanted to be a girl? And wear dresses and makeup and stuff?”

Gregory nodded. Close enough. “Yes, exactly.”

He waited for him to continue asking questions, when his face changed in recognition. “You… You were a girl? And that’s why I don’t have a mom?” Eureka. He had such a smart kid.

“That’s right, Miles. It’s called ‘transgender.' I was born with a different name, and grew up a girl until I realized I was a boy. I gave birth to you.”

“Like a seahorse?" Gregory couldn't help but laugh at that. "But then…” He had stopped crying on the walk home, just puffy eyes and a runny nose now. “If you’re my— then who’s my dad?” He always loved solving a puzzle.

He chuckled lightly, more a breath than anything. “We don’t know, son. I used a sperm bank; that’s a place where doctors help people get pregnant.” It was the simplest explanation he could give. “The person who donated their sperm to make you was anonymous. We don’t know who your father is. But when you’re an adult, you can ask them and find out, if you want.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because… I didn’t think it would matter to you. I didn’t think it would impact you. Which I was wrong about, and I’m sorry. But I was scared you would tell other people, and I didn’t want that to happen. I want to keep my secret a secret if I can, okay?”

He rubbed at his reddened eyes, and nodded. “I know I’m not very good at keeping secrets. I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t tell me.” Gregory wrapped his arm around his son, squeezing him in a side-hug.

“Don’t apologize, son. It’s okay. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’m sorry I kept so much from you. I should have let you know first-thing what was going on between Mr. Badd and me.”

They spent a few minutes in content silence, letting Miles take everything in. “I’m… happy that you’re happy.” He leaned into his father, hugging him back.

“You make me so, so happy, Miles. And Mr. Badd makes me happy, too.” He picked his son up and stood. He was definitely getting too heavy for this, and that made something sting in Gregory’s heart. “Would you like to go down and eat lunch, and you can talk to Mr. Badd yourself?”

The two went downstairs, seeing that Tyrell had spent the free time making turkey sandwiches for everyone. Much more cost-effective than an entire turkey. Miles squirmed to be let down, going up to the man.

“Mr. Badd?” He asked, getting his attention. “Stop acting so weird around me. You’re not my dad.” He was always so blunt. Gregory was used to it, but it seemed Tyrell wasn’t, since his eyes widened.

“Stop butting into my time with papa. We can spend time together, but not all the time.” He was fidgeting with his hands, trying to calm himself down. “Can… Can you please just talk to me before you start doing things like that, and being all weird? Then maybe I’ll be okay with it.”

Tyrell knelt down to the boy’s level, with the butter-knife still in his hand. “‘Course I can do that, Slick. Thanks for cutting to the point.” He paused, eyes flickering between Miles and Gregory. “Are we… good, now?”

“That depends.” The boy’s eyes sharpened. “Do you love my papa?” He crossed his arms, scrutinizing the man. He seemed much larger than the tall man in that moment.

“I— I do. A lot.” His cheeks turned a rosy pink, admitting that. “But I know you’re a package deal. I’d never want to steal your dad from you, kid.”

He glared at him for a bit longer, then nodded in finality and dropped the act. “Then we’re okay. Can we eat now?”

Getting up from the floor, Tyrell playfully ruffled the boy’s hair. “Sure we can. C’mon, you can help me plate everything.” Miles followed after him, Tyrell picking him up—with permission—to sit him on the countertop to help, even though the boy was tall enough to not need the vantage point. He was still new to this whole thing.

“You know about my papa's secret, right?” He overheard Miles quietly ask as he spooned helpings of casserole onto three plates, Gregory working on the forgotten turkey sandwiches.

It took Tyrell a moment to realize what he was talking about. “Oh, that secret. Yeah, I do.” He glanced the man’s way with a smile.

“Good.” He offered the man a handshake, of all things. “And thanks… for making my papa happy. Me and my papa happy.”

The detective happily shook his small hand. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, kid.”

Notes:

- Josiah = support from Yahweh/God
- Anastasia = resurrection
- Anastasia’s existence is due to an offhand line in AA2 (english version only) that states Miles has an aunt, so I gave him a step-grandma and step-aunt. She will reappear in a later chapter
- I strive to make this fic as accurate as possible to real life. However, considering the amenities of the airplane shown in AAI, I must assume that 9/11 did not happen in the AA universe, so that major real-life event was omitted. Also, based on the AA wiki, it is possible that Kay’s birthday is 9/11, which is the case in this fic, since I found it funny
- Miles’ elopement tendencies are inspired by “Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death” and his habit of running from extreme changes in his life
- Miles’ communication board is the F. Hall Roe communication board

Notes:

Title from Stephen Burt's "Kudzu" (1999)

Comments/Kudos GREATLY appreciated!! I'd love to hear people's thoughts!

NOT abandoned, just very busy. Will hopefully update by year's end.