Coming out to your best friend is hard enough, but when your best friend is Larry Butz...

Warnings:
Mild spoilers.
The suggestion of a same-sex relationship.
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      Phoenix glanced up at Larry, currently dangling uncomfortably from one of the bus's overhead straps and looking confused--what Phoenix privately thought of as Larry Butz Expression #2. #1 was, of course, the genial 'hey buddy how's it going' lopsided smile he wore a good seventy percent of the time, and #3 was Larry's unique 'my mind, she is blown!' face. (Lately, ever since Larry's misadventure with justice, he'd been thinking about officially adding #4, the outraged 'WHAT'D YOU SAY ABOUT MY GIRLFRIEND?!' expression.) "Hold on a moment, Miles," he said into his cellphone, and put a hand over the mouthpiece. "What, Larry?"

      "Uh, maybe I'm confused or somethin'--" quite possible, Phoenix thought "--but, uh, didn't we pass your stop like five minutes ago?"

      "I moved, Larry," Phoenix reminded him. "Remember, I told you last week? And again yesterday? And about half an hour ago?"

      "Oh," Larry said, frowning in concentration. "Gosh, Nick, you moved?"

      "Yes, Larry," Phoenix said with well-practiced patience. "I moved downtown."

      "Downtown? One of the big highrises? That's swank, Nick!" Larry's eyes radiated a dim and foggy awe. "Awesome!"

      "Thanks, Larry." Phoenix gestured with the covered mouthpiece of his cellphone. "But I'm on the phone right now and I really do have to take this call."

      "Oh! Oh, right! Sorry, Nick!" Larry's confusion faded back into Larry Butz Expression #1 and he turned his crooked faraway smile on the rest of the bus's passengers. Phoenix smiled a little and went back to his conversation, closing his eyes.

      He'd just said goodbye and folded up his phone when Larry said, "Hey, Nick?"

      "Yes, Larry?" Phoenix said, knowing exactly what was coming.

      "Didn't we pass your stop like ten minutes ago, Nick?"

      Phoenix couldn't keep the smile off his face. "No, Larry," he said gently. "I moved."

      Larry craned his neck, gaping up at the high ceiling. "This place is smooth, Nick!" he said with deep respect, ambling loose-jointedly along by Phoenix's side with his hands jammed in his pockets. His boots made hollow booming sounds on the marble floor. "You really live here?"

      "Yes, Larry," Phoenix said again, awkwardly shifting his briefcase and parka to his other hand and fetching his keys out of his pocket. "Let me check the mail before we go upstairs..."

      "Okay, Nick!" Larry turned in a fascinated loop in the middle of the lobby, staring at everything and nearly falling on his butt when he suffered a catastrophic failure of walking backwards. The doorman glared at the both of them, completely unamused, and Phoenix pinkened and hunched his shoulders. Was that man ever going to forgive him? Determined to ignore the eyes boring into him Phoenix straightened up, nonchalantly turned his back on the doorman's stand, and stabbed his key at his mailbox, the key clattering loudly over the metal door twice before he managed to get it into the lock.

      "Huh, Nick, that's weird," Larry said, abruptly goggling over his shoulder, and Phoenix jumped a little, even as the mail threatened to come avalanching out of the mailbox and forced him to grab for it. "Someone wrote 'Edgeworth' on your mailbox."

      Both hands full, mind elsewhere, Phoenix blinked down at the little door with the inset card that said 20E EDGEWORTH/WRIGHT on it. "That's because it's his mailbox, Larry," Phoenix said distractedly, fishing out a fat bundle of catalogs and envelopes and watching advertising circulars flutter to the floor.

      "Someone wrote 'Wright' on his mailbox?" Larry asked, aghast. "He must be pissed!"

      "Not particularly," Phoenix said, shuffling clumsily through the envelopes. "It's my mailbox."

      "Oh," Larry said, and fell silent.

      "Why do they keep sending him these catalogs?" Phoenix asked no one in particular, tossing them one after another into the waste bin under the mailboxes. "He never buys anything."

      "Uh, hey, Nick?"

      "There's the cable bill, I'd been wondering--what, Larry?"

      "Why did someone write 'Edgeworth' on your mailbox?"

      Phoenix tossed a credit card offer into the waste bin, then remembered that he needed to shred it and bent to fish it back out. "Because it's his mailbox, Larry," he said patiently. It was always better to let Larry figure these things out for himself.

      "Oh," Larry said again. And then: "But, uh, Nick, if it's his mailbox, why did someone write 'Wright' on it?"

      "It's my mailbox, Larry," Phoenix said again, starting to enjoy this a little despite himself. It reminded him a lot of the time in junior high when he'd given Larry a piece of paper with 'TURN ME OVER' written on both sides; Larry had stood there and patiently turned the piece of paper over and over and over in his hands for close to a minute, completely fascinated (much to Phoenix's initial amusement and eventual growing horror) before announcing that there had to be some reason he was supposed to keep turning this paper over.

      "Oh," Larry said. Deep, deep confusion reigned on his face, but even as Phoenix watched it faded into equally deep thought, Larry's eyes unfocusing. In Phoenix's mind the Jeopardy theme began to play, unbidden. Doo dee doo doo, doo dee doooo...

      "Hey!" Larry yelped, loud enough to echo through the lobby and draw another glare from the doorman. Larry Butz Expression #3, Phoenix thought. "Hey, wait a minute, Nick!"

      "Yes, Larry?"

      "You... you guys are using the same mailbox?!"

      "Yes, Larry."

      Larry's eyes unfocused again. Phoenix half-expected to see steam coming out of his ears as he chewed on this bit of information. Doo dee doo doo, doo dee dooooo, doo dee doo dee DOO! doo-doo-doo-doo-doo... "Man!" Larry finally said, surfacing, and Phoenix waited to see if he'd drawn the correct conclusion. "You'd think a place as swanky as this wouldn't make you have to share mailboxes, Nick!"

      Nope.

      The corner of Phoenix's lips twitched. "Yeah," he said, trying not to laugh. "They only make you do it if you share an apartment, though."

      "Oh, well then, that's oka--" and Larry suddenly shut down like someone had kicked his plug out of the wall. The indignant expression vanished, replaced by total blankness, and the pupils of his eyes shrank down to tiny dots.

      Phoenix repressed a sigh and reached out to catch Larry's sleeve. "Come on, Larry," he said gently, and towed the completely unresponsive Larry toward the elevators, Larry following docilely behind him. The Jeopardy theme was very loud in Phoenix's head now, doo dee doo dee DOO! doo-doo-doo-doo-doo..., and he pressed the call button and waited for the elevator with Larry's sleeve still caught in his hand.

      The closing elevator doors decisively cut off the doorman's suspicious stare, and Phoenix positioned Larry against the wall of the elevator and hit the button for the twentieth floor.

      Phoenix steered the catatonic Larry to a corner of the kitchen, out of the way. "There," he said, patting Larry's shoulder. Larry continued to stare through him dumbly, his jaw slack. "I'll just leave you there," Phoenix said, "and you can come get me when you're done."

      Larry didn't so much as blink. Phoenix rooted through the fridge, popped the tops off two beers, put one on the counter next to Larry, and left the kitchen. He put his briefcase on the coffee table, took off his suit jacket and draped it over the arm of the couch, loosened his tie, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and paused to listen. Nothing. Taking a sip of his beer Phoenix leafed through the mail again.

      He was about halfway through the beer and engrossed in his bank statement--he had so much more money now that he didn't have to pay rent on an apartment every month!--when the explosion came from the kitchen. "WHA-WHA-WHAAAAAT?"

      Ding! Phoenix thought. Dropping his bank statement onto his briefcase he carried his beer back into the kitchen. "Yes, Larry?"

      Larry pointed a shaking finger at him. "You and Miles are sharing an apartment!" Larry said accusingly.

      "Yes, Larry," Phoenix said patiently. This was going well.

      Larry boggled at him. "Did you get evicted or something, Nick?"

      "No, Larry."

      "Huh." Larry looked blank. Phoenix took another sip of his beer. Larry looked blank. Phoenix wandered over and leaned against the counter next to the sink. Larry looked blank. Phoenix turned around to put his beer bottle down on the counter next to the silver tea service. Larry's eyes flew open wide and he howled out an echoing "AAAAH!" Phoenix jumped and nearly banged his head on the cabinet.

      "Yes, Larry?" he asked cautiously, turning back around, hand still up to protect his forehead.

      "You're living with Miles!" Larry announced, eyes wide in shock. Larry Butz Expression #3, twice in less than half an hour. Not precisely a record, but an achievement.

      "Yes, Larry," Phoenix said, letting his hand drop. Oh, this was going well.

      Larry narrowed his eyes at Phoenix. "Is this some kind of sneaky lawyer trick where you're keeping an eye on him all the time in case he does something evil?"

      "No, Larry."

      Larry crossed the kitchen in a single long-leggedy bound and grabbed both of Phoenix's shoulders, his eyes wide and watering just a little. "TH-THEN I'M VERY HAPPY FOR YOU BOTH!" he cried, squeezing Phoenix's shoulders.

      "... thank you, Larry?" Phoenix said, remaining unconvinced that Larry had any idea what he was talking about. Larry's clueless joy was infectious, though, and Phoenix couldn't resist smiling and reaching up to pat one of Larry's arms.

      "Oh, man, Nick," Larry burbled, giving Phoenix a friendly shake that made him very glad he'd put his beer down. "You never told me, you shoulda told me--wait, did you tell me? 'Cause if you did I forgot."

      "No, Larry," Phoenix said. "I didn't tell you."

      "Well, then, you shoulda told me!" Larry cried, his eyes wobbling. "I coulda made you a housewarming present or something!"

      "You still could," Phoenix suggested.

      "I will!" Larry announced, and let go of Phoenix's shoulders to spin around and grab his beer.

      Just the thought of Miles' theoretical reaction to a Larry Butz Original made Phoenix have to choke back a laugh. Visions of music boxes shaped like police headquarters floated unbidden through his mind. With little drawers for attorney's badges. And a sharp point, convenient for murdering people--Phoenix winced a little. "Thank you, Larry."

      "Man, Nick," Larry said again, chugging off half his beer, his eyes still wide and awed. "That's wild."

      Privately Phoenix thought that Larry didn't know the half of it, but all he said was "Isn't it? Come on, I'll show you around."

      "Awesome!" Larry said respectfully, following Phoenix out of the kitchen.

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