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At the sound of his husband’s voice, Phoenix startles slightly, having spaced out staring at the evidence in front of him. "I am sorry, dearest, but I'm afraid I just can't function at this capacity. I need to sleep."
"That's fine, Miles. Go ahead and go to bed, okay? I'll be in there soon."
"Mhmm, I'll believe it when I see it, Phoenix Wright."
"Hey! What is that supposed to mean?!” Phoenix squawks indignantly.
"You know exactly what it means, love. Goodnight."
Phoenix rolls his eyes, though his dopey smile betrays any attempt at exasperation, "Goodnight, Mi. I love you."
"I love you too, Phoenix."
Soft shuffling follows Miles to the bedroom, and Phoenix can distantly hear the other man moving through his nightly routine. His eyes are dry, and his fingers are sore. He wonders if he really can stay up any longer, but he knows that the utter confusion surrounding his current case will only create more anxiety the longer it sits in his brain. He needs some kind of breakthrough.
…
Phoenix blinks rapidly, looking up from the folder he was rifling through to find that the living room has suddenly become noticeably brighter. The sun has barely started rising, the sky slowly lightening through the scattered clouds. The sight is breathtaking, and it comes with the realization that Phoenix Wright is totally fucked.
A stern voice sounds from behind him, "Phoenix."
"Woah! You scared me!"
Miles is glowering at him with his arms crossed, tapping his fingers in the way that Phoenix knows means he’s irritated and impatient, "I'll have you know I was quite disappointed to awaken and find that the other half of my bed was not only empty, but also cold and tidy."
"Hehe..." Phoenix rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.
"So, I ask you this, Wright: have you been working on this case the entire night?"
"...No, I was just-" Miles' sharp glare makes Phoenix shut his mouth, though Phoenix can't help but ruminate on how unfairly pretty Miles' eyes are, freed from the constraints of his burgundy glasses (assumedly left on the nightstand) and lit by the rising sun.
"You need to sleep, Phoenix."
"It's way too late now, Miles! I'll just wait until tonight- it'll be fine! I've pulled way worse all-nighters than this."
"Perhaps, but back then you were a decade or more younger. Now, however, you are in your thirties, and cannot pull such stunts anymore. If you do not willingly bring yourself to our bed so I can wake up properly, I will have to do it for you."
"What does that mean-?!" Moving far too quickly for the time of day, Miles scoops Phoenix into his arms, one hand braced under his knees and the other supporting his back. Heat floods Phoenix’s face at the display of hidden strength from his husband, frazzling what was left of his already exhausted mind.
He’s carried up the stairs and into their bedroom, promptly being dropped on the bed and landing with an “oof!” His brain has already started slowing, drifting into the exhausted allure of the comfortable bed and Miles’ presence. The other man kicks off his slippers and begins to climb into bed, before pausing and adjusting his slippers properly for when he gets back up. Phoenix watches this display with a fond smile.
Finally, Phoenix curls up under the covers and Miles joins him, breathing a sigh of relief and contentment and nuzzling into the junction between Phoenix's neck and shoulder. Phoenix feels his heart weeping with joy, and suspects that his chest might just burst with the amount of love, affection, and gratitude he feels. Instead, it seems to escape him through a yawn, relaxing whatever muscles were still tense and pulling his hand to his husband’s hair. He runs his fingers through soft, grey strands and wonders how he got so lucky, planting a kiss on the top of Miles’ head. Finally, Phoenix melts into the bed, quickly falling asleep alongside his partner.