Archive of Our Own ^beta

Khura'in was exciting, and it was home in many ways. But the time came for Apollo to return to his other home, Los Angeles.

He embarked upon the long journey, which stopped at Singapore before landing at LAX. Aged 26, Apollo had to admit that, of his two homes, America was the one where he saw himself settling down.

It was hard to decipher why when in Khura'in, he could live like royalty, create a noble and fair justice system, and rebuild a place that meant so much to him. He concluded that it was because, in America, he could just feel like a normal person sometimes — not a celebrity.

Trucy collected him from the airport — it was so strange to Apollo that she had become so grown up when his strongest memories were of her as a young, mischievous teenager.

She hadn't changed all that much though, he was comforted to hear, as she spent the entire drive to the Wright's apartment talking about her latest magic shows. She'd been gaining some fame in those circles in recent times.

When they got to the apartment, Phoenix was there. "Hey Apollo!" he said warmly, "can I get you a coffee?"

"Yes please, Mr Wright," Apollo replied, "that journey was pretty exhausting."

"Call me Phoenix, you're staying in my home, after all," Phoenix replied cheerily, and got to work brewing a coffee.

Meanwhile, Trucy quickly showed Apollo to the guest room. The apartment was large and nicely decorated — at long last, Phoenix's career was earning him the lifestyle he deserved. Apollo set down his bags and returned to the kitchen with Trucy. He sat down at an island counter to sip the coffee Phoenix had made him.

"Thanks for letting me crash," he said, "I'll start house hunting soon."

"Daddy, have you told Polly about the party yet?" Trucy asked.

"Oh, right!" Phoenix chimed, "we decided to throw you a little 'welcome-home' party round here on Friday if that sounds good to you."

Apollo was surprised, but touched by the kindness of his former boss, "Thanks, that's really kind of you."

Friday drew around and the fog of jet lag had slowly been leaving Apollo. His apartment hunting hadn't yielded much yet, but he didn't mind — he was just happy to be settling back in.

It occurred to him that he'd never actually asked who was coming.

"Hmmm, Daddy left the guest list around somewhere..." Trucy mused when he asked her and then started rifling through some documents, "Do you really need to know now? You'll find out in an hour or so anyway — ah, there it is!"

Apollo waited.

"So we've got Athena, Simon, Pearl, Miles, Ema, and Prosecutor Gavin."

"Gavin agreed to come?" Apollo asked with surprise, "Surely he has rockstar things to do?"

Trucy smiled wryly, "Actually, he was the first to reply. And he's been so excited! Miles says he hasn't stopped smiling in the prosecutor's office since he heard you were coming back."

Apollo was admittedly surprised by this, but he put it down to coincidence. He and Trucy set up the party without any further speculation on the topic.

When the doorbell rang, Trucy rushed to answer it. It was Klavier Gavin.

"Wow, you're the first one here!" she said.

"Ja, I guess it must be my German sense for punctuality," he replied. Klavier could see him hand her a bottle of champagne. "And where is our guest of honour?"

Trucy led him through the door, and Apollo could have sworn that Klavier's eyes lit up when they saw each other.

Klavier hadn't changed very much in appearance. His hair was in its classic drill shape, his face radiant with makeup and probably the most elaborate skincare routine known to civilisation, and he was wearing a mostly buttoned purple silk shirt with criminally tight leather pants. His fingers, neck and ears were adorned with silver jewellery.

"Hallo, Herr Forehead," he said, "it is an absolute pleasure to see you again."

Apollo, in jeans and a red t-shirt, suddenly felt underdressed for his own party. He didn't really want to engage with Klavier's flamboyant style of introduction, though he would admit that it was nice to see his old courtroom rival,

"How's it going, Prosecutor Gavin?"

"Why, all the better for being here," he said with a wink, "but yes, life has been good. I've just been getting through the most boring trial of my career, though. Shall we say, not all defense attorneys are quite so fun to work with as you," throughout all of this he never stopped smiling and, Apollo suspected, performing.

"You'll have to tell me about it."

"No, no, it would be cruel to bore you like that," Klavier said, unfaltering. But then lower, when he noticed Trucy's attention distracted by the door ringing once again, he leaned in and said, "but it would be a privilege if my dear Herr Forehead could fix me a drink."

The night wore on and Apollo found himself playing host—not that it bothered him. It was better to be kept busy than to let himself be the centre of attention. He did rounds of the room, refilling drinks and offering snacks. After maybe five rounds of this, he sidled up to Klavier and Ema.

"Herr Forehead!" Klavier exclaimed. He was slurring ever so slightly.

"Nah, I'm out," Ema said and started walking away, "I need to be so much more drunk to put up with this conversation."

Klavier rolled his eyes playfully and turned back to Apollo, "I hope you're not here to give me another refill. I'd much prefer your company," he smiled with less precision than usual. He was clearly rather tipsy.

"You're more of a lightweight than me, I take it," Apollo replied with his arms crossed.

"No, I just can't turn down a drink from a beautiful man," Klavier smiled wider, "and you've offered about a dozen times."

"Do I need to get you some water?" Apollo was stern.

"Hmmm," Klavier appeared to be thinking hard, but suddenly a devilish grin broke out across his face, "yes, but only if you feed it to me."

Apollo felt his face heat up, "And make a scene at my own party? You're insane."

"Good point," Klavier placed an index finger on Apollo's forehead, "You've always had a big brain behind that forehead."

Apollo batted his hand away. "Remind me to never invite you to anything ever again."

"So mean, Herr Forehead," Klavier put on a fake frown, "But that reminds me—I don't have your number. Can you pass me your phone?"

Apollo was a bit taken aback, but took his phone out of his pocket and pulled up the page for a new contact. He handed it to Klavier, who gently took it and started typing in his details.

"Text me some time so I get your number, ja?" he said with a wink, "that is my personal number—only a select few have the privilege of reaching me there. You should consider yourself lucky, Herr Forehead."

"I don't, but thanks."

Apollo was lounging on the Wrights' sofa the next day, browsing apartment listings on his phone. He then remembered that Klavier had wanted him to text him and opened his contacts.

He was confused at first when he found nothing under K. G, maybe? He checked and there was nothing there either. His confusion was replaced by bemusement when he checked special characters and found a number saved as "💜💜💜KLAVIER😘😘😘😘💜💜💜".

He quickly texted:

-Someone had too many tequilas last night.

And went back to looking at apartments. About two minutes later, he got a reply.

-Ach, you wound me, Herr Forehead
-You shouldn't have plied me with alcohol, then

-Surprising you knew who this was.
-I imagine you ended up giving your number to half of LA after yesterday.

-No need to be jealous, it was for you only 🥰 I told you that you were one of a select few

Apollo chose to ignore the teasing.

-As for plying you with alcohol, you could have said no.
-Was just offering top ups. It's called being a good host.