Do You Wanna Do Nothing With Me?

After a few seconds of subconsciously shimmying along to the funky rhythm, Clay manages to place the song. He whirls around to face Apollo, who was watching his reaction. "Aw, AJ, how'd you know I wanted to do nothing?"
"Because it's one AM, maybe?" Apollo responds just as the singers begin vocalizing, which Clay takes as his cue to grab a wooden spoon from the counter to use as his "microphone."
He holds still, dramatically, until the lyrics begin.

Notes:

The song is Do You Wanna Do Nothing With Me? by Lawrence. Happy Claypollo day!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Clay's stomach hurt. That is NEVER a good sign. When he sees Apollo is calling, he immediately knows something is wrong. Apollo would never call him while they were both at work, or at least, not without texting first to make sure he was free.

He answers the phone, his mind already jumping to the worst conclusions. "Apollo?"

Apollo doesn't speak for a moment. Clay can hear him gasping lightly for air, and suddenly Clay's heart is pounding in his ears.

"Apollo, what is it?"

"I'm at work. I'm- I'm not hurt. I'm fine." Another gasp interrupts Apollo's weak, broken voice. "Please come get me. I can't be here."

"I'll get there as soon as I can," Clay answers, but Apollo hangs up halfway through.

Possibilities run through Clay's mind, but he shoves them down as quickly as he can, focusing instead on what he needs to do now. It's the end of the day. Just a few moments ago, Clay was aching with exhaustion, almost ready to collapse, but now, adrenaline fills his body and he's never felt more awake.

He's made it to the bottom of the stairwell before he remembers that he's still at work.

Blackquill. Cosmos. Starbuck.

Starbuck!

He's near the front entrance, talking to who-cares-right-now. Clay flies towards him."Mr. Starbuck, I need to leave. Now. Cover for me, PLEASE!"

He stares into Mr. Starbuck's shocked eyes, pleading but runs away before his mentor can even finish nodding.

Clay climbs in his car and drives. And drives.

It's too quiet, and now there's nothing to distract Clay from this situation.

At the next red light, he calls Apollo on speakerphone, setting his phone next to him. He knows it's unsafe, but he just has to know if Apollo is okay.

Apollo picks up right away. "Clay?"

His voice is just as weak as before, and the sound makes Clay's heart plummet into his stomach.

"Apollo, I'm on my way. I'll be there in about 45 minutes."

"Okay," Apollo answers after a pause, obviously distracted. Clay wants to ask Apollo exactly what's going on, find out what he needs to do, but Apollo is panicking. He won't be able to answer such a broad question.

"Are you in any danger?" The question makes Clay grip the steering wheel a little harder, but it's something he has to know.

"No." Apollo takes a breath. "No, I don't think so."

Clay doesn't know how to feel about that answer.

"Okay, where are you?"

"At work."

"Where at work?"

"Oh." Apollo takes a moment to answer, as though he's trying to figure it out. "In the bathroom. I locked myself in."

He locked himself in.

"Apollo, are you having a panic attack?"

Clay's witnessed Apollo's attacks before, and they're not pretty. He has a tendency to shut himself away from anyone around him. Clay was the only one Apollo trusted to be around him.

It takes longer for Apollo to respond this time. "Maybe. Probably."

Clay really wants to ask what caused it, to try to reassure him, but Apollo is just beginning to ground himself. He can't risk Apollo slipping further into his panic. Also, the roads up ahead are much busier, and Clay isn't going to risk talking to Apollo while on them.

Clay rattles off a few things to Apollo that could help him calm himself, asking Apollo if he understood after each one. It's a sign of how bad Apollo's condition is that he doesn't snap at Clay for treating him like a child.

"Alright, Apollo, I have to hang up now. Are you going to be okay until I get there?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." Apollo's breathing is slower, deeper, as per Clay's instructions, but his voice sounds just as weak as when the call began.

"Bye. I'll be there soon."

Apollo hangs up without answering.

Usually, it’s his morning drive that is filled with traffic, honking, and suppressed road rage. The drive home is late enough that roads are mostly clear. However, he knows it’s rush hour in Los Angeles. Everything’s backed up. All he can do is sit in the car and wait.

20 minutes.

The ticked off voices heard over slow moving cars is better white noise than cheesy radio music.

Every part of his body is tense. He’s tempted to call Apollo again, but he holds back. His best friend first needs space.

Then the realization that Apollo is at work dawns on him.

Last night had been less stargazing and more comforting. Apollo had buried himself in Clay’s arms, half crying about what transpired in the trial and half screaming about how Mr. Gavin had been behind everything.

But what his mind immediately went to was one Phoenix Wright. He’d never met him. Today would be that day, he guesses. Clay could have pulled out his hair when he realized how Apollo’s boss had let him stay in the employ of a murderer and evidence forger. How Apollo’s boss had given him more forged evidence to present to incriminate Apollo’s FORMER boss. His head pounds so hard that he wrestles his visor off and tosses it into the backseat. Even in October, he’s sweating bullets. Thinking about how Phoenix Wright had turned Apollo’s world upside-down is NOT helping.

He finally turns off on the exit with gritted teeth.

10 minutes.

Trying to obey traffic rules makes him anxious, but getting into an accident or being pulled over could spell worse. He needs to get to Apollo as quickly and as safely as possible. He needs to get to Apollo.

His eyes sting while blinking tears away. If he shows up crying, it will make Apollo cry even more. Standing strong for his best friend is important to him, and he’s been doing it his whole life. He takes a deep breath.

He’s Clay Terran, and he’s fine.

Clay pulls in front of the building that houses the Wright Anything Agency and hurriedly runs upstairs.

The Wright Anything Agency’s sign is wonky but readable. Someone had just taped over Talent with Anything in large block letters. After deciphering that, he resists banging on the door. Three tense knocks. That’s all he can manage without breaking down the door. Or picking the lock. He’d done that a lot in high school and college; it wasn’t as difficult as cooking.

A teenage magician opens the door reluctantly, exposing only her eye to him.

“We’re not taking cases at the moment.”

“I’m here for Apollo,” he gulps down his anger while trying to sound amicable. “So... Please open the door.”

The “please” comes out strained. His heart is wrenched dry at the moment, yearning to simply make sure his best friend is fine. If he was sound of mind at the moment, he’d remember this girl’s name. He’s drawing a blank with how worried he is.

Shallow breaths come from inside the office, and a raspy recognizable voice softly says, “Let... Let him in...”

It takes every fiber of his being not to break the lock and get to Apollo. The girl swiftly opens the door, and he’s met with his best friend being held by that godforsaken waste of a lawyer. His eyes dart to the bathroom door. It was supposed to be locked, but the slimy Phoenix Wright, of course, couldn’t give Apollo any privacy. He’d known Apollo for less than a year. He had NO right to break the door down.

Clay regrets not breaking down the entrance to the Agency to give Mr. Wright a taste of his own medicine.

As soon as he enters, he rushes over to his best friend. The astronaut could have yanked Apollo away from Phoenix without fail, but Apollo immediately pushes his boss away in favor of jumping into Clay’s arms. It’s the most relief he’s felt since the initial call, but his arms protectively tighten around Apollo.

Before any words are exchanged between everyone in the office, he can tell the girl is frightened. With the wave of relief, he remembers that this girl is the daughter of Apollo’s boss. There’s a feeling of pity for her as she hides behind her father.

Clay has heard tall tales of Phoenix Wright, the ace attorney with many turnabouts under his belt. With how he looks now, the lawyer is simply a shell of that story.

It reminds him of his father after his mom died. Drained. Too lazy to shave. Baggy clothing.

“'Pollo, you know this kid?”

That’s a stupid question to ask. Who jumps into a person’s arms without knowing whose arms they belong to? And who asks a person something that stupid in the middle of a panic attack?

“Clay Terran. Apollo’s best friend.” It’s the best introduction he can manage without cursing Apollo’s boss in front of his daughter.

He glances at the girl, hiding behind both her father and her cape. Clay isn’t normally this terrifying. Interacting with kids had always been easy, but his aura is probably sending a chill down her spine.

Apollo is still incoherently sobbing into his jacket, desperately gripping onto Clay as if he was about to fall. Normally, he’d insist on keeping his jacket clean, but that barely matters. What matters is getting Apollo out of his office and to his apartment, stat.

“Ready to go, AJ?” He wants to make sure his best friend can get out of this Agency without causing more tears.

When Apollo nods into his shoulder, Clay shoots one last hate-filled look at Phoenix Wright. The father breaks eye contact instantly, looking to the ground in shame. Good. Next time, he should let Apollo be rather than forcing the attorney to be his puppet. Mr. Wright had stuck his nose in where it shouldn’t have been. And if he did that sooner with Kristoph, Clay believes this exchange wouldn’t be happening. Apollo would have still admired him. Just like Clay and Mr. Starbuck.

He carefully leads his best friend out the door of the office and to his car without a goodbye.

Clay has to take a few deep breaths before he begins driving. He can't risk Apollo's life by being angry, no matter how righteously so.

"You buckled up?" Clay asks.

There's a soft click, and then Apollo says, "Yes."

"Okay, AJ, I'm gonna take you home now. Will you be okay for the ride?"

"That's why I called you here," Apollo says in some weak attempt at a joke, but then he adds, "Can- Can we go to your place?"

Clay takes a second to process the question, but then he nods, no questions asked. Apollo explains anyways.

"I don't," His voice cracks and weakens. "-don't wanna be home right now."

Clay can't ask about that. So instead he reaches over to Apollo's side of the car and does his best to wrap Apollo in a hug.

"I'm fine, Clay," Apollo protests, despite melting into the hug. "Just drive."

Clay finally feels somewhat calm, so he releases Apollo and begins driving. A few moments of silence, interrupted only by Apollo hiccuping and gasping for air.

"Do you want to listen to music?" Clay asks.

"Not right now."

Clay doesn't tell Apollo that he can feel a flash of pain with every pitiful sound Apollo makes. He doesn't need to know that.

Barely a minute later, Apollo grabs onto Clay's arm, just holding it while Clay drives. Clay understands right away, of course. As soon as he reaches a red light, he scrambles to take off his jacket and hand it to Apollo, who immediately hugs it as though it were Clay himself.

Clay's heart breaks at the sight of Apollo, normally so proud and stubborn, now rendered helpless and broken.

It doesn’t take as long to get to his apartment, but the ride felt twice as long as the first one where he anxiously waited in traffic. Every choked sob and gasp blurred Clay’s vision and sent spikes through his heart. As soon as he parks in the garage, he yanks the keys out of the ignition and darts from the car toward the passenger side, carefully making sure not to startle Apollo with more loud noises.

When he opens the door, he leans down with a soft smile. “Can I take that back now? You’ll get to hug me instead.”

Apollo’s still tearing up somewhat, and it pains Clay to see how his puffy eyes are almost as red as his vest. He plasters a stronger smile for Apollo’s sake.

His best friend doesn’t speak as he returns his jacket. Clay pulls it on and then opens his arms which Apollo instantaneously fills. The sobs still ring in his ears.

They won’t get upstairs like this...

Unless.

Clay pulls Apollo out from the passenger seat and picks him up. The attorney, who normally objects to such affection in public, recognizes what is happening and places his arms on top of Clay’s shoulders. Clay bumps his hip into the passenger side door to lock his car. Apollo weighs nothing compared to how heavy his heart feels, and the two are completely silent as Clay makes his way to his apartment.

The astronaut can feel his jacket being grasped onto tightly. Damp stains on his chest are from Apollo too, and he doesn’t mind. It doesn’t take much effort to shift his best friend onto one arm while he unlocks his apartment door.

As soon as they enter, Clay manages to wrestle off his jacket with a little help from Apollo.

Seems that Apollo only cares about hugging him. That’s comforting.

He slips out of his sneakers and carries Apollo to his bedroom, falling back onto the mattress. His best friend kicks off his shoes, though Clay would have preferred him doing that at the door, and inhales slowly while burying himself into Clay’s chest.

Clay realizes he hasn’t asked about why Apollo’s panicking. He can’t be bothered to ask it now, though, because it might trigger another attack.

He holds Apollo as close as possible, slowing his own breathing to calm the other’s. As Clay softly pets Apollo’s hair, he notices the tremble in his best friend’s body. The jerking and the wetness on his jumpsuit sends a chill down his spine. Apollo’s crying again. He presses Apollo ever closer to him, quietly shushing him in the kindest manner possible. Clay allows Apollo to continue crying despite his own heart’s agony.

Clay loses track of time while comforting his best friend. He’d stopped crying and simply stayed in Clay’s strong hold, nuzzling into his chest. He doesn’t mind.

Apollo whispers, “You didn't have to look at Mr. Wright like that, Clay...”

If Apollo is defending his boss after all the shit he’s put him through, Clay makes sure to knock some sense into him.

“But he... he’s the one who let you work for that fucking maniac for over a year! Who the fuck does that?!”

The curse words slip out unconsciously.

A weak laugh stops Clay from laughing very hard. “Yea, he just didn’t have all the evidence he needed to get him.... But god Clay, I could’ve.... I could have di-“

“I know.” Clay tightens his grip. “I’d never let that happen.”

For a moment, Apollo is rendered speechless. Being genuine like this is normally saved for stargazing night, not all the time. However, Apollo deserves Clay’s kind words right now.

“I don’t deserve you, Clay,” His breathing brings Apollo to a calmer state. “You’re such a good best friend.”

“C’mon, it’s in the job description. Always here for you when you need me.” Clay plants one kiss on Apollo’s widow’s peak.

Somehow, he’s sure that Apollo’s smiling into his torso.

“Now, you’re probably tired. You want to sleep?”

Apollo nods and cuddles Clay, against his belief that Apollo would rather have Clay leave to sleep alone. The astronaut stares at the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling and drifts to sleep, arms still wrapped around Apollo protectively.

After falling asleep cradling each other, Clay wakes with a crick in his neck and an Apollo half asleep on top of him. Today hasn’t been the greatest of days for his best friend...

Wait, is it still today?

Clay pats his pockets softly to find his phone, making sure to keep quiet and not wake up the attorney. His phone’s time is somewhere past 1 am, so it isn’t today as he first thought. That ordeal happened yesterday, and he hopes that Apollo turns out to be fine as they insist.

His stomach fails to stay quiet, however.

Apollo stirs. Curse his stomach for disturbing the peace. He sighs, wondering what he can find at such an hour.

Didn’t he skip dinner to pick the attorney up? He’d have to eat something soon before work started...

Before he can figure out what quick meals he has in his cupboard, Apollo mumbles, “Are you hungry, Clay?”

“More like starving. I haven’t eaten since noon yesterday.” Clay arcs his neck awkwardly to look at Apollo on top of him. “But I’ll cook this time. I promise I won’t do terribly.”

“You? Cooking?” Apollo says incredulously, earning a gasp from the astronaut beneath him.

Clay is notoriously bad at cooking, or even being in the kitchen. Within its vicinity, he’ll somehow burn his fingertips or get a cut while using a knife. Anything he makes will surely burn to a crisp. Even if he follows the recipe to a T.

“It’s just uhhh... I think I have a few boxes of mac and cheese. I can do that much.”

Somehow, Apollo gets heavier on his chest. It nearly compels Clay to stay right there and cuddle him, but he knows that he has to eat something rather than nothing at all. He sighs.

“The only thing in your kitchen is boxed mac and cheese?!”

"I bought the fancier type this time, AJ! I swear it'll be good.” He tries to use his signature puppy dog eyes to butter him up… which doesn’t work.

"Just let me cook!”

"’You sound half dead, Apollo."

"If I ate your cooking, I'll be completely dead.” One cute tiny joke makes Clay’s heart leap out of his chest. Apollo weakly laughs, but that much is enough. He’s smitten.

"Fine," Clay gives in. "But I'll do any heavy lifting for you."

"It's mac and cheese," Apollo says in disbelief.

"Yeah, and I'll drain the water from the pasta for you!"

Clay gives a goofy grin, but he means it entirely. He can see Apollo's fingers trembling slightly from exhaustion, and he will not let Apollo hurt himself cooking for him.

Apollo rolls his eyes, of course. "Whatever you say. Oh, but remind me to argue with you about this later."

So, he admits that he's too tired to argue about pointless things now...

Clay doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he walks to the kitchen and fills one of his few pots with water to set it on the stove.

"Your water, my liege." He gives a bow.

"Is that really necessary?"

Apollo turns the burner on, hiding a small grin at Clay's antics. "Absolutely."

Clay sits down on the counter, hoping that Apollo will follow suit. He does so after a pause, making Clay smile in relief.

"So, Apollo... How long are you planning on staying?"

Apollo flinches. "I... I haven't thought about it. I'll probably leave tomorrow."

His voice is far too hesitant. It worries Clay. Apollo Justice is supposed to be sure of himself, he's supposed to laugh at Clay's question and make a dumb joke, or give a far too serious and precise answer.

Clay should have realized that some of Apollo's troubles were tied to his own home, somehow. He fucked up.

"Well, I want you to stay here forever," Clay says, as though he hadn't noticed a thing. Apollo can't know how worried he is. "But not like we're roommates, that doesn't sound as fun. More like a sleepover, but forever, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Apollo says softly, and Clay thinks maybe he overdid it with the goofiness and Apollo caught on. "Thanks, Clay."

Apollo smiles at him over the stove, a soft, relieved smile that sends Clay's heart soaring. He knows it's selfish, knows he's being a bad friend, but all he can think in that moment is how grateful he is to be the only one to see Apollo's soft side.

He shakes his head. Daydreaming about Apollo’s smile will most likely result in a blushing face. There’s something else he has to say.

“If you want to move out here with me, that’s always an option. I don’t mind.” Clay bites his lip before saying he prefers it that way.

Apollo sighs. “Tempting, but I’ll pass...”

“Really? After all the shit Mr. Wright put you through?”

He curses under his breath for bringing work up, but his best friend barely flinches. “He helped… As much as he could without YOU, but he helped. So I’m going to stay there. Will have to explain what happened though...”

The attorney is still defending his boss. Clay can’t help but grit his teeth at Phoenix Wright, but if Apollo is fine with it, he’ll accept what he’s hearing.

“Fine, fine. Not like I wanted you to move in anyway.” He harrumphs like a child, in hopes of making Apollo laugh again. Apollo chuckles.

“I’ll move in once you learn to cook by yourself.”

“I was literally offering to do that five minutes ago!”

“Assteroid, this is boxed mac and cheese. This barely counts as cooking.”

Clay grins at Apollo’s snarky remarks, the little shine of confidence in those words showing the Apollo he loves.

“And somehow, you gave yourself more work by doing it for me.” He hops off the counter, hovering over Apollo’s shoulder. “Is it ready yet?”

“I haven’t even put the pasta in yet! Impatient much?”

He laughs. “I haven’t eaten since noon, so yea. Just move over already! I’m making you pick the music tonight while I cook.”

Apollo looks dumbfounded.

They have wildly different tastes in music. He enjoys big brass and bass, jazz, funk whereas his best friend enjoys soft guitar or piano, indie. The only overlap they do have are musicals. But Clay only has one record of Miss Saigon.

He is sure that whatever his best friend will pick is most likely depressing, yet giving him agency over the record rack is thrilling.

“If you burn this, you are never allowed near a stove again.”

“Aye aye, asstorney!” He salutes, which causes the other to roll his eyes and walk away.

Since the water is boiling, Clay haphazardly tosses the dried pasta in. He smiles in satisfaction.

A few seconds later, the music starts playing. It's much more Clay's style than Apollo's, which is a surprise, but it's much happier than what Clay was expecting from him. After a few seconds of subconsciously shimmying along to the funky rhythm, Clay manages to place the song. He whirls around to face Apollo, who was watching his reaction. "Aw, AJ, how'd you know I wanted to do nothing?"

"Because it's one AM, maybe?" Apollo responds just as the singers begin vocalizing, which Clay takes as his cue to grab a wooden spoon from the counter to use as his "microphone."

He holds still, dramatically, until the lyrics begin.

"We're all looking for someone, that perfect girl,"

Clay pauses his singing to shout out, "or boy!" in his usual voice, making Apollo laugh. He decides to ham it up further.

"Who can take our hand and help us see the world,”

"Google Earth!" Clay manages to shout just before the next lyric begins.

"But I'm a little unusual, because you see,"

Apollo finally realizes what Clay meant with that last lyric and he snorts. "Really?"

"Don't interrupt!" Clay pokes Apollo's forehead and continues singing.

"I seek a different type of thrill for my romantic fantasy."

As the instrumentals kick up a notch in the pre-chorus, Clay begins shaking his hips and bobbing his neck. Apollo rolls his eyes, smiling, and sits down on the counter again, apparently ready to watch the show.

"And I must say, I'm looking your way-ay-ay-ay,”

He exaggerates the vocalist’s riff, causing Apollo to stifle a laugh.

“Cause you seem to like me baby, and you give me all the signs, there's just one activity on my mind:”

Clay forces himself not to think about the romantic lyrics too hard, instead putting his focus into making as ridiculous a face as he can while he holds the last note. Apollo holds his hands over his ears teasingly, but Clay knows he doesn't mind the loud volume of course.

As the chorus kicks in, Clay takes a step closer and interrupts the song for a few seconds. "Come on, asstorney, dance!"