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i.
The first time it happened, Apollo had been wholly unprepared.
In his defense, he hadn’t given very much thought to what Klavier would be like first thing in the morning, and they had been rather...preoccupied...the previous night. So to say he’d had any expectations would be generally incorrect.
But not having expectations didn’t mean he couldn’t be taken by surprise, and so, when he stumbled into the kitchen after waking up tangled in the sheets of a far-too-empty bed, the sight of Klavier Gavin, hair loose around his shoulders, wearing nothing but a pair of plaid pyjama pants and singing at the top of his voice as he flipped pancakes with more dramatic gestures than were strictly necessary, left Apollo unable to do anything but freeze in place, dumbfounded.
“Sorry, not sorry ‘bout what I said, I’m just tryna have some fun...” Klavier tossed his hair and pointed towards the living room with the spatula. “Don’t worry, don’t worry, don’t lose your head, I didn’t mean to hurt any—”
In the middle of the lyric, he twirled around, and broke off abruptly as he made eye contact with Apollo, who hadn’t moved an inch and was probably doing a very good impression of a pop-eyed goldfish. Immediately, his face broke into a sunny grin, and he strode across the kitchen floor, pancakes forgotten.
“Ah, schatzi! You’re awake!” Klavier leaned in and pressed a kiss to Apollo’s forehead, brushing aside the strands of brown hair that were dangling into his eyes. “I suppose this will interfere with my grand plans to bring you breakfast in bed. Another time, perhaps.” He punctuated the statement with another kiss, this time on the lips, and Apollo laughed, despite himself.
“Is this how you are...every morning?” he inquired, shoving Klavier gently back in the direction of the stove. The taller man chuckled, and picked up the spatula once more, prodding at the pancakes.
“Nein, only when I wake up in the arms of a short, shouty defense attorney.” He looked over his shoulder and gave an exaggerated wink. Apollo felt a blush bloom across his cheeks, and rolled his eyes affectionately.
“You’re ridiculous. I can’t believe I slept with you.”
“But you don’t regret it.”
“...no. Never.”
The ensuing breakfast was surprisingly delicious, and somewhere along the line, Apollo forgot to ask about the song he’d interrupted.
ii.
The next time was only about a week later, and Apollo was already beginning to see that this was going to be a recurring event.
Pushing open the door to Klavier’s soundproofed office, he was greeted by a deafening wave of music, blasting from the several oversized speakers that the prosecutor seemed to use in place of a desk. Apollo’s grasp on the stack of papers he clutched to his chest tightened, and his attention was caught by a blur of motion off to one side. He stepped fully into the office, letting the door swing shut behind him—no point inflicting the noise on the rest of the building—and leaned against the wall, gritting his teeth at the volume but appreciating the voice that rose clearly above the music.
“Yes, let this be a sign! Let this road be mine! Let it lead me to my past….” Klavier was standing on top of one of his speaker-desks, clutching a tube of hand cream as if it was a microphone, his eyes squeezed shut as he belted out the lyrics. He tipped his head back as the music reached the peak of a crescendo, as if he were on stage in front of thousands of people, not sequestered away in the Prosecutors’ Building.
“And bring me home….at last!” He held the final note, voice shaking with emotion, and remained still, statuesque, as the music cut off. Apollo felt the silence ringing in his ears, and slipped the papers into the dedicated to-file basket by the door. He hesitated for a moment, before bringing his now-free hands together in a round of applause.
Klavier startled, flinging the hand cream halfway across the room as he spun around to see who his unexpected visitor was. As Apollo watched in sudden shock, his feet slipped on the tablecloth he’d draped over top of the speaker he was standing on, and he tumbled to the floor ungracefully.
“Klavier! Are you okay?” Apollo was at his side in a moment, concern shining in his eyes.
“Herr Forehead! I wasn’t—ouch—expecting you until lunchtime.” Klavier tried to shift into a sitting position, wincing as he arranged his legs.
“I had some papers to drop off—but are you sure you’re alright? That looked like a nasty fall.”
“Are you worried about me? That’s adorable—but yes, I’m fine, as you’re so fond of saying. Just a twisted ankle, I think.” He stretched his right leg out in front of him, eyeing the swelling joint. “...could I perhaps bother you to get me some ice?”
Apollo sighed, and dropped his head to rest on Klavier’s shoulder. “Yes, but if you can’t walk tomorrow, don’t blame me—and I’m not carrying you anywhere!”
The blond man pressed a hand to his chest, eyes wide. “You wound me, I had no plans to ask such a thing! Although…” he trailed off, considering. Apollo fixed him with an exasperated look.
“No.”
“But Apollo…”
“I’m getting your ice now! Try not to hurt yourself even more while I’m gone, okay?”
Klavier grinned. “Are you sure you don’t want to kiss it better?”
“Ugh...so high-maintenance...this is what I get for dating a rockstar.” Apollo rolled his eyes, but was grinning regardless. He leaned in to kiss Klavier’s cheek, and stood up. “But really, ice. And then, I do actually have some paperwork to talk to you about.”
iii.
Three times was a pattern, and so when Apollo walked past the doors of Courtroom no. 3 and heard the soft singing coming from inside, he paused briefly, before slipping through the crack in the doors as quietly as possible.
Klavier sat on the prosecution bench, eyes trained on the deserted gallery, papers still spread across the glossy surface from the trial that had concluded a half-hour previously. The lyrics that echoed throughout the empty courtroom had a mournful air, and, for once, Klavier seemed to have dropped the constantly-cheerful persona he adopted in public.
“Here they talked of revolution; here it was they lit the flame. Here they sang about tomorrow...and tomorrow never came.”
His voice shook, and Apollo could swear he saw the glint of tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. While the song was unfamiliar, the emotions in Klavier’s voice were very much not so, and he silently approached the bench, trying to think of how to avoid a repeat of the last time he’d interrupted his boyfriend’s impromptu musical performance.
“From the table in the corner, they could see a world reborn,” Klavier gestured vaguely towards the judge’s bench, overlooking the whole courtroom, and let the volume of his voice rise with the music he could doubtless hear in his head. “And they rose with voices singing...and I can hear them now…”
Apollo was now close enough that he could reach out and place a hand on Klavier’s shoulder, which he did, gently, so as not to startle the man. His efforts were in vain—at the touch, the prosecutor jumped, flinching away. His head whipped around, blonde ponytail nearly smacking him in the face with the speed at which he turned. It would have looked hilarious if it were anybody else—as it was, Klavier somehow still managed to make it look strangely cool.
“Herr Forehead! You keep sneaking up on me!”
Apollo grimaced. “I thought we were done with that nickname?”
“Now, why would you think that?” Klavier smiled, a little strained. He would have been convincing to anybody else—but Apollo had never been someone that Klavier could fool. He frowned, and jumped up onto the prosecution bench beside Klavier.
“Really, what’s up? I’m pretty sure that singing sad songs in empty courtrooms isn’t typical of you—though I could be wrong.”
Klavier chuckled, softly. “Nein, this is not a frequent pastime for me, I’m afraid. I suppose I have just been a little...melancholy, today. There’s nothing in particular that’s the matter, but...on occasion, I find that the view from this bench brings back memories of...trials past.”
He didn’t need to specify which trials—Apollo had been there for each one. Had stood on the opposite side of the courtroom, and slowly dismantled Klavier’s hopes that first his best friend, then his brother, had been innocent.
As if reading his mind, Klavier turned to him, concern in his eyes. “You know I don’t blame you, ja? Their actions were their own—and I can never repay you for helping me uncover the truth behind them.” He found Apollo’s hand on the edge of the bench and twined their fingers together, leaning towards the shorter man. Apollo rested his head against Klavier’s shoulder.
“You don’t have to repay me at all. I just did my job—and it wouldn’t have been possible without you, either.”
Klavier didn’t reply, but his eyes drifted shut and a soft smile turned the corners of his lips up. They stayed there, in the quiet courtroom, until the noise beyond the doors had faded to nothing and the sky above them dimmed to show the first evening stars.
iv.
Apollo woke to the sound of soft singing.
It wasn’t the first time, but he still had to take a moment to piece together his surroundings—he wasn’t quite used to the angle of the sun through the window, the soft duvet, the mingled scents of unfamiliar laundry detergent and hairspray that settled in the room. He kept his eyes closed, letting the music drift over him as he floated in the half-space between sleep and true wakefulness.
“...can’t go back; and moods that take me and erase me; and I’m painted black…” Klavier’s voice was beautiful like this, Apollo thought, not overshadowed by screaming guitar and aggressive drums. Just him, vaguely raspy from sleep, and quiet enough to be almost an afterthought in the soft chorus of morning sounds.
“You have suffered enough, and warred with yourself, it’s time that you won…”
It didn’t seem right to interrupt the moment, and Apollo was sure that it was still early, judging by the cool quality of the light that his closed eyes weren’t quite keeping out. So he exhaled, slowly, softly, and pulled the duvet more snugly around him, and let Klavier’s singing lull him back to sleep.
v.
By now, Apollo was used to Klavier’s tendency to sing showtunes when he didn’t think there was anyone around. While he couldn’t say it was his favorite thing about his boyfriend, he was starting to think it was reasonably endearing.
Now, as he plucked the spare key to Klavier’s apartment out of the flowerpot by the door, he could hear the faint sounds of music coming from the window. Sighing, he unlocked the door and let himself in—no point waiting around, they were already dangerously close to being late for lunch.
“Every turn I take, every trail I track; every path I make, every road leads back…”
Apollo followed the sound of Klavier’s singing until he was stood outside of his bedroom door, the tinny sound of music from cell phone speakers nearly drowned out by the man’s voice. He pushed the door open, and noted the chaos of outfits strewn about, belts hanging from the bedframe and shoes haphazardly tossed from the walk-in closet. The music was louder, now, but there was no sign of the vocalist.
“To the place I know, where I cannot go, where I long to be!” The door to the ensuite bathroom swung open, and Klavier strode into the room, stopping short at the sight of Apollo. His singing cut off, and he hastily dropped the tube of toothpaste he’d been singing into. Apollo took in the state of his appearance, and rolled his eyes—Klavier had his hair half-done, his shirt unbuttoned, and was wearing socks that, while both black, were decidedly not from the same pair.
“You know, I don’t think Moana technically counts as a musical.”
Klavier pouted. “I haven’t seen you all day, and the first thing you do is challenge my music choices? Schatzi, please.”
Apollo laughed, and crossed the room. He pulled Klavier into a quick kiss, and then gestured to the chaos surrounding them. “I guess this is why you haven’t been answering your phone?”
“...oh verdammt, what time is it?”
“Not too late, I promise. At least, not too late if you actually pick something to wear, and stop singing Disney songs.”
Klavier sniffed disdainfully. “Is this my lot in life? To have my dearest boyfriend, the love of my life, disparage my musical taste? To be unfortunately enamored with somebody who does not respect genius when he hears it?”
Apollo was trying very hard to hold back his grin. “I only said that it doesn’t count as a musical, Klav. Not that it wasn’t a good movie or anything.”
“But that’s where you’re wrong! A musical doesn’t have to have been performed on a stage, you know. In fact--”
Apollo cut him off, the nicest way he knew how—muffling his protests with his own lips. When he pulled back, he looped his arms around Klavier’s shoulders, smiling softly.
“Do you think we could save this conversation until we’ve managed to make it out to lunch? While I do love hearing you argue about the most trivial things...I’m starving.”
Klavier met Apollo’s gaze, blue eyes shining bright. “Alright, I suppose. Because it’s you. Give me five minutes, ja?”
“Ja—I mean, yeah. Meet you downstairs?”
Klavier nodded, and pressed one more kiss to Apollo’s forehead. Apollo shoved him away playfully, and slipped out the bedroom door, pointedly ignoring the way that the singing started up again the second he left.
+vi.
The scene that Klavier was met with when he pushed open the door to the Wright Anything Agency, arms laden with takeout containers, was not one he had been expecting, to say the least.
The old TV had been pulled out from the corner of the room and divested of its usual coating of assorted magic props, and was displaying a scene of red-and-white-clad students dancing to some musical number. Lyrics scrolled along the bottom of the screen, and the instrumental track crackled out of the much-abused speakers.
The couch across from the TV, however, was conspicuously empty, apart from an abandoned popcorn bowl. Instead, the occupants of the office were clustered towards another corner, by the window, where….
Klavier really, truly wished he had a free hand to take a video of this.
Apollo Justice stood on top of his usually meticulously-neat desk, eyes shining, hairbrush clenched in his fist. He was singing at the top of his lungs, passionately belting out the lyrics to…
“We’re all in this together, once we know, that we are, we’re all stars, and we see that…”
In front of the desk, Trucy and Athena egged him on, joining him with the chorus (but being somewhat drowned out—there was a reason Apollo had a reputation for being loud). Klavier broke into a grin, and dropped the food he’d brought with him on the couch next to the popcorn. He strode across the room, joining the girls by the desk.
“We’re all in this together, and it shows, when we stand, hand in hand…” Apollo’s head turned, startled, in Klavier’s direction once the prosecutor began to sing. He looked monumentally embarrassed, but Klavier winked at him, and hopped up onto the desk to join Apollo. The shorter attorney groaned in exasperation, but conceded to finish the final line of the song as Klavier threw an arm around his shoulders.
Together, they sang the last words of the final chorus—
“ Make our dreams come true”