Much Obliged, Sir!

******

Gumshoe leaned his head against the doorframe. +Smooth one, pal,+ he thought, inwardly chastising himself. He’d gone a long way toward making himself look like an idiot—even more so than usual. There was no way Edgeworth couldn’t figure that one out. Edgeworth was the darling of the entire institution of law; imagining that he couldn’t piece together that Gumshoe did have a –potential- interest was an insult to the man.

There was no way to handle this well. At least, none that was still available.

No, actually, there was absolutely no way to handle this well, even from the beginning.

A lot of rumors surrounded Edgeworth at the Police Department, as is commonly the case for alluringly secretive people. Gumshoe wouldn’t hear any of them, at least not any more than necessary (considering it to be unbecoming of professionals to spread gossip about their own.) Nevertheless, some things don’t even have to be mentioned explicitly. They’re written out much more clearly than that through people’s actions: a sideways glance, a furtive gesture. What Gumshoe had finally deduced hadn’t pleased him an ounce. Assuming Edgeworth really did swing that direction, then rejection wasn’t a mere acknowledgement of incompatible natures, but personal. And, to be honest, rejection was the only response he considered within the realm of possibility. Gumshoe was inconceivably outclassed in the –best- scenario.

The more realistic scenario, however, was still worse: Edgeworth wasn’t gay; he just had a penchant for pink suits and cravats. Furthermore, he would realize he’d made an error of judgment allowing the humble Gumshoe to stay. Naturally, Edgeworth would deduce that he’d permitted a damn-near stalker into his rooms and exposed himself to discomfort. Edgeworth… wouldn’t exactly like that.

Gumshoe found the idea absolutely intolerable. Edgeworth had finally made a truly warm gesture. To make him regret it would be… despicable.

+Shit.+ He bunched his hands into fists, pressing them against the wall in frustration. +I’ve gotta fix this one. It’s a worse mistake than the desk, this time.+ Upon reflection, the biggest mistake was probably long past. He should have known that becoming attached to a superior, especially one like Edgeworth, was unlikely to pan out in any favorable way. Then again, Gumshoe couldn’t exactly help himself. It wasn’t the eyes-met-across-the-room Hallmark romance deal, of course, but to be perfectly honest, Edgeworth was admirable. And for someone with standards as flexible as Gumshoe’s, the fact that he was a man didn’t really hit the top marks for significance. Gumshoe used to eat ramen and share his flat with cockroaches. Like -Edgeworth’s- worthiness would fall into question!

Gumshoe ran his bottom lip between his teeth. +I’ll just tell him the truth. Though I think he’s a swell guy, that’s not why I’m here, it’s not what I’m after, and he doesn’t have to sweat a thing. Not that I’d mind, that is, but that I’m not around to cause him any trouble. He ought to be all right with that, I think…. He’s never been unreasonable, don’t think. Urgph.+ He briefly considered a window escape.

In the dining area, Edgeworth was blowing at the soup in his spoon, eager for it to cool a tad more. He was enjoying it thoroughly. He didn’t actually get tomato soup particularly often; it was something he’d left behind when he was taken in by von Karma. He’d noticed easily that it had been the reason for Maggey’s visit. A recipe in her handwriting was still on the counter, the corner translucent from a small grease spill. Edgeworth was slightly touched, though still largely ambivalent. There was soup, and he didn’t need to make it himself. That was enough.

There was still the question of the man in the other room, however. That wasn’t quite as pleasant a scenario. Edgeworth sighed. For better or worse, he finally had a good grip on the nature of Gumshoe’s affection. When it came to people like Gumshoe, puppy-esque adoration and other affections were difficult to distinguish. People like that are simple enough to be terribly complicated, paradoxical as it was. And now what could he do?

For one thing, he –had- sworn Gumshoe could stay, and has far as he was concerned, his promises were—perhaps uniquely among humans—worth something. +A man who reneges on his word is a poor example of his species,+ Edgeworth thought. +Again, it was most foolish of me not to add a few more stipulations to that, but I didn’t. It would be… disgraceful for me to amend my original offer.+ He drank the morsel of soup. It was still a tad hot, but he was just impatient enough not to care.

+But then again, I made another promise, and longer ago than this one. When I accepted my position, I agreed to the corresponding statutes of behavior. The moment that this shifts to being an unprofessional situation, I have an obligation to sever it immediately. That, perhaps, would be grounds to send him packing. Perhaps to Phoenix’s,+ he considered. Then again, he didn’t know how professional it would be for Phoenix to take him, either. It did present grounds for a conflict of interest.

He plunked the soup spoon back into the red depths of the bowl, cursing inwardly. +But who says it’s in contradiction to the codes of conduct? That would be implying something which is simply untrue. There is nothing between the detective and myself, and thus no reason to claim that the situation is errant. Besides, to use that excuse would open me to suspicions I’d rather not suffer.+ Edgeworth, however, was sadly unaware that people’s perceptions had already been formed. Thankfully, those selfsame people were unaware that they were fully validated.

Edgeworth had no soul-searching to do in that respect. He was homosexual, knew it, and was intelligent enough not to cause himself unnecessary consternation regarding. Oh, certainly it had resulted in an awkward adolescence. There was something odd about growing up and realizing that girls no longer spurred in him a fear of cooties, but instead apathy, at least where romance was concerned. There was no huge moment of revelation, no shout of “Eureka!” Instead, there was just a quiet comprehension that his life was going to be a tad more taxing than usual (at least in that respect) and he was as well to get used to it.

That made Gumshoe a problem. The man himself? Not at all. Edgeworth, despite his harsh words, didn’t mind Gumshoe. The man was an idiot, and often showed it, but he was a detective, not a king. He was an average man in many respects, took a job at least ostensibly befitting of his skill set, and lived his life as close to his means as possible. That was precisely what Edgeworth liked of his inferiors. Unfortunately, Gumshoe wasn’t so distant now, and his emotions couldn’t be as handily ignored as usual.

+Damn.+ Edgeworth hadn’t thought Gumshoe to be the type, especially given his obvious interest in a few females, Maggey included. No wonder he lost cases to Phoenix; his mind just didn’t leap to the wildest conclusion possible at a moment’s notice. There he’d been, presuming that Gumshoe was just an average Joe in all meaningful respects. That supposition had led him to a varnished desk, a bowl of soup, and a very abashed detective just a room away.

+Well then, a conversation might be in order. Communications can usually clear up these… strange patches.+

He finished his soup. It gave him a personal excuse not to take initiative. To be completely fair, he wasn’t exactly sure where to start, besides knowing that he didn’t want to do it.

Eventually, Gumshoe strode into the room. He had the aura of a locomotive striving to make up lost time. He came up to where Edgeworth was reading the paper (Edgeworth’s second method of procrastination) and laid his hands roughly against the table, causing Edgeworth’s teacup to rattle briefly. “Alright, pal. Let me clear this up before it gets outta hand, ‘cause otherwise, maybe it’ll never happen, and that would be a mistake.” +I’ve gotta do this now, or I’ll probably never have the balls….+ “I want you to know that I’m not here to cause you any problems, no matter what you might think, and I’m certainly not here to… well, though—.”

“Stop for a moment, might you, detective?” Edgeworth inquired sharply. Earnestly, it wasn’t less a command than anything else he’d uttered. “I would ask that you consider a few things before we speak further.”

Gumshoe’s lips clamped together. He knew that if a single word escaped his lips, it’d do him no more credit than silence.

“Excellent. Now, I would like for you to think for a moment about what transpired. I’m going to hope that we can avoid self-deception and strike at the core of the situation at hand. Your preferences extend to the point where I could, hypothetically, be considered an object of interest. You aren’t shaking your head, so I’ll assume we can both take this at face value,” Edgeworth said emotionlessly. He’d set down his paper, instead keeping both hands free. “Very well, then, detective Gumshoe. Before anything, even a fervent apology, pours forth from your lips, let me continue.

“There are professional considerations to be weighed in here. You may not be employed currently, but you certainly will be soon. In fact, you have your job again before you leave, given the delays between hours worked and paychecks issued. Therefore, anything we say or do must be done with the understanding that we have an interrelationship within the workplace which cannot be disrupted. Naturally, some things are not explicitly barred, but that is meaningless to me. I would not stand to see anything meddle in my effectiveness as a lawyer regardless of technicalities.”

Blinking once, Gumshoe found himself transfixed. Listening was proving, in fact, harder than speaking. It made it more difficult to gauge the proper behavior.

“Additionally, we both work for a traditionalist and, revisions be damned, archaic institution. That is part of what the von Karmas adored about the law—part of why I was raised in it. I doubt that even you would contest the point. While the rest of the world heaves onward with its strange spurts of advancement, there is something old-fashioned about the law which delays such things from immediate effect within its hallowed halls. Social progress can easily be considered one of these things. After all, we live in Los Angeles. It might not be San Francisco or Seattle, but I feel confident in believing it to be somewhat progressive. I furthermore am quite assured in believing that such a thing doesn’t matter a whit when it comes to the police department or the prosecution sector.”

+Well, I don’t know if that’s totally fair,+ Gumshoe thought. The department had its share of lovers and crazies; who was to say that only specific deviances from the norm where considered passable? Then again, even Gumshoe realized that Edgeworth operated under different standards. It was as Edgeworth had remarked: the technical allowances meant nothing to him. His duty was of a purer sort than that. +I never thought I’d find his virtue… irritating.+

Edgeworth crossed his arms, which was never exactly a clear sign from him. “Therefore, whatever is it you intend to claim or say, only do so with the understanding that your position, and my own, is precarious. However, feel free to relax if you believe that I intend to expel you from this place. Your fancies are meaningless to my offer of hospitality.” +Gossip would probably fester more if I drove him out than if I let him stay. Accursed people….+

“… Oh. That’s… great!” Gumshoe’s worried expression broke into a smile. “I gotta admit, I was a bit worried about that.” He leaned back, scratching the back of his neck. “I know I’m not exactly ‘smooth,’ but I was hopin’ this wouldn’t turn out to be a total disaster, pal!”

Displaying no warmth, Edgeworth continued sitting disinterestedly. +H’nph.+

“Look, I didn’t mean for this to get so weird—that wasn’t what I had wanted at all. I just invited Maggey over to help me make something to eat, and I think you’re a good guy. Anything past that, er,” he attempted, laughing bashfully, “wasn’t what I was getting at. Not that it’s something I’m averse to, of course, it’s just, well, it’s just like you said!” He collapsed into one of the other chairs situated around the table. “I’m glad we had that cleared up, pal. I promise, no more weird. Not if I can help it, anyway!”

To be honest, Gumshoe didn’t view it as something escaping his grip. As far as he was concerned, Edgeworth had been out of his league since the day they’d met. Thankfully, Gumshoe was the kind of person who took that kind of inequity with grace, or at least the closest approximation he could manage.

Edgeworth, however, felt a tad differently. He couldn’t explain why it bothered him so terribly, but he was discomfited by the prospect that Gumshoe could let it go so easily. Then again, there wasn’t a particularly good follow-up to his blatant shut-down, was there? This ought to have been exactly what he was seeking: an end to the awkwardness and a chance to move on as if nothing on Earth had changed.

Still, he didn’t exactly enjoy the idea that he could be written off so brusquely. “You’d be terrible at jousting.”

Those were not precisely the first words that Gumshoe expected Edgeworth to impart. “Huh? Isn’t that the stuff with the… horses, pal? ‘Cause then you’d be right, since I don’t know a thing about ‘em.”

“I mean because you surrender easily.” His tone remained consummately terse.

Gumshoe looked to both sides, suddenly wondering if he’d misinterpreted something from before. “I’ve heard a lot of people say a lot of things about me, but that’s not usually one of ‘em. In fact, more often I tend to hear, ‘Give it up, damn you!’ Which I sort of supposed was the literary opposite, pal.”

Edgeworth’s arms remained in their unwelcoming position. “So you hoard your tenacity for the workplace? If that’s the case, it’s no surprise to me you’re single,” he remarked. +You eat on less per year than I spend on stationery, but you’re still about as eager as a lungfish. I’ve seen you work harder for a half of someone’s sandwich. Don’t tell me I rank lower on your scale than a fraction of a lunch? … Blast! Caring is –not- on my list of priorities!+

“I think I might be single,” Gumshoe ventured, very slowly, but very accurately “’cause I often get a lot over my head, pal.” +Often without realizing it.+ Confusion was evident throughout his features for the obvious reason.

+And I think I was right—you are infectious,+ Edgeworth thought bitterly. “Perhaps I didn’t impart my meaning as clearly as I had intended,” he said. If Gumshoe made him adventuresome enough to bring another person into his home, then he made him brave enough to take another risk. Then again, considering how roughly Gumshoe’s presence had gone, perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to gamble further. “I was merely trying to explain that you would need to be quite careful. I never gave you an outright refusal.”

+… WHAT.+

“… Or acceptance, either,” Edgeworth continued, realizing that he ought to tread more carefully. “I am simply presenting you with the fact that you have options.” Perhaps that didn’t help.

Gumshoe was leaned back in his chair, awed. +I can’t believe it…!+ He then lurched forward, exclaiming with excitement, “You serious, pal? ‘Cause if you are, then I’m your man! You can count on me,—!”

“Miles. If this is to go anywhere, you should at least be willing to use less formal appellations.” He coughed. “And this is to be handled properly, as noted. You don’t get your usual allotment of mistakes. This is far more delicate than your usual endeavors.”

+More delicate than murder cases?+ Gumshoe thought. Then again, he wasn’t a total fool. Edgeworth was clearly high-maintenance.

(To be continued… hopefully faster than last time, blarg.)