Dancing Sandwich Chair
Jun. 13th, 2013 10:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madra_liathSummary: Edgeworth gets stuck in a lawn chair. Unfortunately for him, somebody videos it. Written for the Phoenix Wright Kink Meme.
***
Edgeworth finished applying the sunscreen and carefully coated his nose with pink zinc powder. He donned a pair of stylish sunglasses and lay back in his folding sun chair. Aaah, this was the life. Really, who needed an expensive foreign vacation when he had everything right here in his own front yard? Hot summer sun tempered by a gentle breeze ju-u-ust cool enough to keep him comfortable, portable radio tuned to Classic FM, Pess sprawled on the grass right where he could pet him without moving, cooler full of imported German beer within easy reach. Edgeworth shifted a little, stretching out an arm to grab one of the cans. He sat up slightly and had a refreshing mouthful, then placed his drink on the ground and flopped back in the chair.
Edgeworth had no time to react, or even to realise his mistake. Instantly the chair collapsed and folded in two with him still stuck inside.
“Yaaagh!”
He fell over backwards, the metal frame of the chair painfully squeezing his bare arms and legs. Pess was barking the place down, startled by what had happened. Edgeworth struggled to push the chair back open but to no avail. He clawed frantically with his hands, rocking his body from side to side, and somehow managed to turn onto his side. Perhaps from this angle…
Edgeworth managed to bend his legs down around the frame of the chair and forced it open a little. He struggled to complete the manoeuvre but couldn’t get the leverage. Edgeworth grunted and tried again. He knew he could extricate himself if he just pushed a bit harder…yet that last bit of force he needed seemed completely unattainable. Who on earth decided to put such strong springs on a chair like this, anyway?! He paused in his efforts, bangs plastered to his forehead with sweat, and looked up.
Godot was standing just outside the low wall surrounding his yard, a blue and white soccer jersey slung over one broad, naked shoulder.
Edgeworth wasn’t thrilled at the thought of being indebted to Godot, but he didn’t have much choice. “Help me!” he called out. “I’m –”
He broke off abruptly. The other prosecutor was holding his cellphone out in front of him, pointing it at Edgeworth.
Oh, NO.
“Are - are you filming this?!” Edgeworth spluttered in disbelief. He renewed the struggle to get out of the chair. “How long have you been standing there?!”
Godot began to chuckle, a low, rumbling sound deep in his throat.
Furious, Edgeworth worked his legs frantically back and forth, the chair opening a little only to spring closed again as soon as Edgeworth eased off on the pressure. He rolled onto his front, tearing at the grass with his fingers, and managed to get his legs underneath him.
“Godot!” he shouted, voice muffled by canvas and plastic. “I swear I’m going to make your life a living hell!”
“Ha…!” came the reply. “You’re too late, Miles Edgeworth. Another hissing kitten beat you to it.”
Edgeworth tried to hop towards him and promptly fell over the cooler, its contents spilling across the lawn and slowly rolling towards the end of the yard. Edgeworth wound up on his back with his knees almost touching his ears.
“This is thirsty work,” Godot remarked, and out of the corner of his eye Edgeworth saw a bronzed arm reach over the low wall and grab one of the stray cans of beer. The sound of it being cracked open further fueled Edgeworth’s efforts to free himself so he could pour that ill-gotten beer all over the other man’s smug bastard head. He pushed and pushed, but on his back he had even less leverage than before. The thought that Godot was capturing this on video enraged him, and he knew damn well the visored prosecutor wasn’t planning on keeping it to himself.
“Pess!” Edgeworth called desperately. The collie had calmed down once the initial shock had worn off, and now trotted over, sniffing at the folding chair inquisitively. “Pess!” Edgeworth waved a hand in what he hoped was Godot’s direction. “Pess, sic ’em, boy!”
His faithful pet understood, growling angrily before charging away, barking his head off. Edgeworth smirked to himself – he had only trained Pess to go as far as the wall, and to bark, never bite, but Godot didn’t know that. He pictured the other prosecutor running for it, perhaps dropping his expensive phone in the process…
Pess’s barking was abruptly replaced with a whine of delight, and a moment later the collie reappeared in Edgeworth’s limited field of vision, happily crunching a dog biscuit.
How…why…?!
“I’m going to sell you to a vivisectionist!” Edgeworth bellowed.
Pess paid no attention to him, too busy enjoying the unexpected treat. Edgeworth wriggled around on his back and found himself staring up at Godot’s crotch. The other prosecutor was sitting on the wall, clad only in a pair of very small white soccer shorts.
“Get your disgusting naked body off my property!” Edgeworth roared.
“Relax,” Godot said with a smirk. “Have a beer.” He hovered his open can over the gap between the top and bottom of the chair and tilted it slightly. Edgeworth spluttered and coughed as lukewarm beer spilled onto his hair and over his face. The flow stopped and he managed to get his breathing back under control.
“Godot,” Edgeworth promised, outwardly calm but utterly livid, “when I get out of here, I am going to take that beer can, and use it to ram your cellphone so far and deep up your ass that your spine vibrates every time someone calls you.”
“Fantastic!” Godot replied. “Let’s do another take, but this time from a different angle.”
Edgeworth tried once more to get free of the chair, but his previous struggles had sapped his strength. His muscles were beginning to cramp from being bent double for so long. He moaned softly and gave up. Maybe if he stayed still for long enough, Godot would leave and he could try again.
And then he heard the voice of his saviour.
“Hey, pal, what’s going on? …Oh, no! Mr. Edgeworth!”
Feet thudded on the grass beside him, and a second later Edgeworth was lifted up, flipped over, and then his canvas prison opened, depositing him on the grass below.
Dick Gumshoe threw the chair aside and helped him up. “Are you okay, pal?”
Edgeworth stumbled, his legs weak from his ordeal, and ended up leaning heavily on the detective…which was a little unnerving, as Gumshoe was bare-chested and sweating a lot.
“I will be,” he growled, turning towards the wall. Godot was standing on the other side of it again, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.
“They’re going to love this on YouTube,” he smirked. “I think I’ll do a speeded up version with the Benny Hill theme as a backing track. What do you think?”
Edgeworth began to hobble towards him. “You’ll pay for this,” he swore through clenched teeth.
Godot responded with a mocking laugh and began to stroll off down the street. Edgeworth considered siccing Gumshoe on him, but one glance at the detective’s face told him there was no point – Gumshoe looked like he was watching Mommy and Daddy fighting. Edgeworth sighed and began to stretch out his legs.
“You sure you’re okay, sir?” Gumshoe asked.
“Yes, detective,” Edgeworth replied absently. “Thank you for your help.”
Gumshoe hovered for a few minutes before realising his presence was neither required nor desired. Edgeworth barely registered his “Well, see you Monday, sir”. A revenge plan had begun to take shape in his mind.
It took some effort, and no small amount of trial and error, but eventually Edgeworth found the safest way up, and most secure perch in, the large oak tree planted just outside the fence around Godot’s back yard. Just as he’d hoped, the other prosecutor was sunbathing naked, visor off and butt to the sun. Edgeworth smirked wryly, thinking of all the times he’d complained whenever Godot talked about this particular predilection of his. He lifted his camera and adjusted the zoom till he had a good shot, making sure Godot’s body filled the frame and that the image was nice and sharp. It helped that Godot was resting his head on his arms, eyes half-closed in the heat. Honestly, the man couldn’t have picked a more perfect pose if he tried…
Edgeworth roused himself from his thoughts and quickly got off a few shots, before carefully shinning back down the tree. As he walked back home, resisting the urge to skip, he mentally compiled a list of people who would particularly…enjoy a picture of a good-looking, naked Latino man. Jean Armstrong… Wendy Oldbag… the inmates of the women’s prison… the inmates of the men’s prison, come to think of it…
Really, the possibilities were endless.
On Monday morning at around eleven o’clock, Edgeworth took a stroll down to the eighth floor water cooler, which as everyone knew was the best one in the building. The fact that it happened to be almost right outside Godot’s office was purely coincidence.
He poured himself a cup of water and sipped it slowly, listening to a mumbled conversation coming from Godot’s office, followed by a phone being slammed down.
“Guten morgen, Herr Edgeworth,”, the new hire remarked as he passed by. Edgeworth nodded in acknowledgement, a small smile playing on his face. He hoped for Gavin’s sake that he didn’t use that fanboy German around Franziska.
“You! …Lord of the Rings,” Godot called as Gavin reached his door. “From now on you’re my secretary. Screen all my calls, ¿entiende? Don’t put anyone through till you get a name and check with me.”
Edgeworth chuckled to himself and began the long hike back up to the twelfth floor. Knowing Godot was being thoroughly pestered by his brand new fanclub just about made up for the fact that “dancing_sandwich_chair.mpeg” was the latest popular email forward.
***
Edgeworth finished applying the sunscreen and carefully coated his nose with pink zinc powder. He donned a pair of stylish sunglasses and lay back in his folding sun chair. Aaah, this was the life. Really, who needed an expensive foreign vacation when he had everything right here in his own front yard? Hot summer sun tempered by a gentle breeze ju-u-ust cool enough to keep him comfortable, portable radio tuned to Classic FM, Pess sprawled on the grass right where he could pet him without moving, cooler full of imported German beer within easy reach. Edgeworth shifted a little, stretching out an arm to grab one of the cans. He sat up slightly and had a refreshing mouthful, then placed his drink on the ground and flopped back in the chair.
Edgeworth had no time to react, or even to realise his mistake. Instantly the chair collapsed and folded in two with him still stuck inside.
“Yaaagh!”
He fell over backwards, the metal frame of the chair painfully squeezing his bare arms and legs. Pess was barking the place down, startled by what had happened. Edgeworth struggled to push the chair back open but to no avail. He clawed frantically with his hands, rocking his body from side to side, and somehow managed to turn onto his side. Perhaps from this angle…
Edgeworth managed to bend his legs down around the frame of the chair and forced it open a little. He struggled to complete the manoeuvre but couldn’t get the leverage. Edgeworth grunted and tried again. He knew he could extricate himself if he just pushed a bit harder…yet that last bit of force he needed seemed completely unattainable. Who on earth decided to put such strong springs on a chair like this, anyway?! He paused in his efforts, bangs plastered to his forehead with sweat, and looked up.
Godot was standing just outside the low wall surrounding his yard, a blue and white soccer jersey slung over one broad, naked shoulder.
Edgeworth wasn’t thrilled at the thought of being indebted to Godot, but he didn’t have much choice. “Help me!” he called out. “I’m –”
He broke off abruptly. The other prosecutor was holding his cellphone out in front of him, pointing it at Edgeworth.
Oh, NO.
“Are - are you filming this?!” Edgeworth spluttered in disbelief. He renewed the struggle to get out of the chair. “How long have you been standing there?!”
Godot began to chuckle, a low, rumbling sound deep in his throat.
Furious, Edgeworth worked his legs frantically back and forth, the chair opening a little only to spring closed again as soon as Edgeworth eased off on the pressure. He rolled onto his front, tearing at the grass with his fingers, and managed to get his legs underneath him.
“Godot!” he shouted, voice muffled by canvas and plastic. “I swear I’m going to make your life a living hell!”
“Ha…!” came the reply. “You’re too late, Miles Edgeworth. Another hissing kitten beat you to it.”
Edgeworth tried to hop towards him and promptly fell over the cooler, its contents spilling across the lawn and slowly rolling towards the end of the yard. Edgeworth wound up on his back with his knees almost touching his ears.
“This is thirsty work,” Godot remarked, and out of the corner of his eye Edgeworth saw a bronzed arm reach over the low wall and grab one of the stray cans of beer. The sound of it being cracked open further fueled Edgeworth’s efforts to free himself so he could pour that ill-gotten beer all over the other man’s smug bastard head. He pushed and pushed, but on his back he had even less leverage than before. The thought that Godot was capturing this on video enraged him, and he knew damn well the visored prosecutor wasn’t planning on keeping it to himself.
“Pess!” Edgeworth called desperately. The collie had calmed down once the initial shock had worn off, and now trotted over, sniffing at the folding chair inquisitively. “Pess!” Edgeworth waved a hand in what he hoped was Godot’s direction. “Pess, sic ’em, boy!”
His faithful pet understood, growling angrily before charging away, barking his head off. Edgeworth smirked to himself – he had only trained Pess to go as far as the wall, and to bark, never bite, but Godot didn’t know that. He pictured the other prosecutor running for it, perhaps dropping his expensive phone in the process…
Pess’s barking was abruptly replaced with a whine of delight, and a moment later the collie reappeared in Edgeworth’s limited field of vision, happily crunching a dog biscuit.
How…why…?!
“I’m going to sell you to a vivisectionist!” Edgeworth bellowed.
Pess paid no attention to him, too busy enjoying the unexpected treat. Edgeworth wriggled around on his back and found himself staring up at Godot’s crotch. The other prosecutor was sitting on the wall, clad only in a pair of very small white soccer shorts.
“Get your disgusting naked body off my property!” Edgeworth roared.
“Relax,” Godot said with a smirk. “Have a beer.” He hovered his open can over the gap between the top and bottom of the chair and tilted it slightly. Edgeworth spluttered and coughed as lukewarm beer spilled onto his hair and over his face. The flow stopped and he managed to get his breathing back under control.
“Godot,” Edgeworth promised, outwardly calm but utterly livid, “when I get out of here, I am going to take that beer can, and use it to ram your cellphone so far and deep up your ass that your spine vibrates every time someone calls you.”
“Fantastic!” Godot replied. “Let’s do another take, but this time from a different angle.”
Edgeworth tried once more to get free of the chair, but his previous struggles had sapped his strength. His muscles were beginning to cramp from being bent double for so long. He moaned softly and gave up. Maybe if he stayed still for long enough, Godot would leave and he could try again.
And then he heard the voice of his saviour.
“Hey, pal, what’s going on? …Oh, no! Mr. Edgeworth!”
Feet thudded on the grass beside him, and a second later Edgeworth was lifted up, flipped over, and then his canvas prison opened, depositing him on the grass below.
Dick Gumshoe threw the chair aside and helped him up. “Are you okay, pal?”
Edgeworth stumbled, his legs weak from his ordeal, and ended up leaning heavily on the detective…which was a little unnerving, as Gumshoe was bare-chested and sweating a lot.
“I will be,” he growled, turning towards the wall. Godot was standing on the other side of it again, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.
“They’re going to love this on YouTube,” he smirked. “I think I’ll do a speeded up version with the Benny Hill theme as a backing track. What do you think?”
Edgeworth began to hobble towards him. “You’ll pay for this,” he swore through clenched teeth.
Godot responded with a mocking laugh and began to stroll off down the street. Edgeworth considered siccing Gumshoe on him, but one glance at the detective’s face told him there was no point – Gumshoe looked like he was watching Mommy and Daddy fighting. Edgeworth sighed and began to stretch out his legs.
“You sure you’re okay, sir?” Gumshoe asked.
“Yes, detective,” Edgeworth replied absently. “Thank you for your help.”
Gumshoe hovered for a few minutes before realising his presence was neither required nor desired. Edgeworth barely registered his “Well, see you Monday, sir”. A revenge plan had begun to take shape in his mind.
It took some effort, and no small amount of trial and error, but eventually Edgeworth found the safest way up, and most secure perch in, the large oak tree planted just outside the fence around Godot’s back yard. Just as he’d hoped, the other prosecutor was sunbathing naked, visor off and butt to the sun. Edgeworth smirked wryly, thinking of all the times he’d complained whenever Godot talked about this particular predilection of his. He lifted his camera and adjusted the zoom till he had a good shot, making sure Godot’s body filled the frame and that the image was nice and sharp. It helped that Godot was resting his head on his arms, eyes half-closed in the heat. Honestly, the man couldn’t have picked a more perfect pose if he tried…
Edgeworth roused himself from his thoughts and quickly got off a few shots, before carefully shinning back down the tree. As he walked back home, resisting the urge to skip, he mentally compiled a list of people who would particularly…enjoy a picture of a good-looking, naked Latino man. Jean Armstrong… Wendy Oldbag… the inmates of the women’s prison… the inmates of the men’s prison, come to think of it…
Really, the possibilities were endless.
On Monday morning at around eleven o’clock, Edgeworth took a stroll down to the eighth floor water cooler, which as everyone knew was the best one in the building. The fact that it happened to be almost right outside Godot’s office was purely coincidence.
He poured himself a cup of water and sipped it slowly, listening to a mumbled conversation coming from Godot’s office, followed by a phone being slammed down.
“Guten morgen, Herr Edgeworth,”, the new hire remarked as he passed by. Edgeworth nodded in acknowledgement, a small smile playing on his face. He hoped for Gavin’s sake that he didn’t use that fanboy German around Franziska.
“You! …Lord of the Rings,” Godot called as Gavin reached his door. “From now on you’re my secretary. Screen all my calls, ¿entiende? Don’t put anyone through till you get a name and check with me.”
Edgeworth chuckled to himself and began the long hike back up to the twelfth floor. Knowing Godot was being thoroughly pestered by his brand new fanclub just about made up for the fact that “dancing_sandwich_chair.mpeg” was the latest popular email forward.
