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“You’re joking, right?”
Klavier picked at his guitar with a faux easiness, reclined in his too expensive lounge chair. The calm, hooded gaze trained on Apollo reminded him that while Klavier was his friend, he was still a Gavin. “Quite serious for once.”
“What the fuck, Gavin?” Apollo snapped, “Out of all the shit you could have pulled-”
“I am just saying that you should not take this case,” Klavier interjected with a wince. He continued to strum as he forced a grin and a lighter tone. “It’s not worth your time, Forehead.”
The sun cast everything in the office with a golden glow as it dipped behind the skyscrapers through the window wall. Apollo ignored how Klavier’s hair shone like spun gold, and how the blue shadows darkened his eyes to something with the illusion of sensuality. No, he didn’t notice any of that, because he was too busy holding back the instinct that had him throwing a punch at Mr. Wright after his first trial. He tried not to think of his innocent client or the investigation he could be holding and focused on keeping both hands planted on the table behind him.
When he’d heard Gavin would be prosecuting, he thought it might have been a boon for them. He’d come by for an honest opinion of the case and, well, did Apollo get an opinion.
“You’re trying to get an innocent man thrown in jail,” Apollo glared.
Klavier’s relaxed front faded, his strained, easy smile turning into a thin frown. “I am doing nothing of the sort. I am following the line of truth to the bitter end, as always.”
“Really?” The question hung in the air, Klavier’s office now more stifling than it had been during Machi Tobaye’s trial. “Because it seems like you’re trying to win.”
Klavier scowled. “Since when have I cared about winning?”
One of Apollo’s hands broke free of its containment and tapped his chin as he mocked thought. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe since I killed your record?”
“Someone thinks quite highly of himself.”
“I’m not wrong, Prosecutor Gavin. I looked it up.”
“...And you think quite lowly of me.” Klavier placed the guitar on its stand with deliberate care as he stood. He shoved his fists into his pockets as he turned to the cityscape below them, a petty attempt to save face. Waves of tension hit Apollo, and he accepted that he’d have to take an Excedrin to ward off the coming perception migraine. Klavier threw a glance over his shoulder, his voice ice as he said, “I wish you would have told me I cared for winning sooner, Justice, it might have saved me some heartache. And here I had hoped that you of all people knew I was more than a pretty-faced prodigy.”
Apollo swallowed his guilt and asserted, “No honest prosecutor would try to have a defense attorney—especially not his friend—thrown off a case.”
“Is that what we are?” He almost didn’t hear Klavier’s whisper. Part of him wished he hadn’t.
“My client is innocent and I’m going to prove it tomorrow,” He stated. Apollo pushed himself off the table and restrained himself from kicking over one of Gavin’s many stacks of files on the floor. “I’ll see you in court, Gavin.”
Halfway across the room, a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Damn Gavin and those nice, long legs. “Apollo.”
“What?”
“You cannot defend this case.”
Apollo smacked Klavier’s hand away as he spun to face him. He pressed close, the finger that threw objections across the courtroom now jabbing against Klavier’s designer-clad chest. “And why not, huh? If not it’s not to win, then what other reason could you have? I thought that after all we’d been through I could trust you to stand across from me in court and find out who killed that girl, but apparently, my judgment’s off. What about this case is making you lose sleep at the thought of my grubby hands touching it?”
Gavin’s jaw tightened at the accusation. “Why is it you do not trust me, or my judgment? As you said, we’ve been through so much already. I would think our track record is enough to settle this.”
“Are you in someone’s pocket, Gavin?” Apollo challenged.
Any facade of calm or coolness burnt to a crisp with the fury in Klavier’s eyes.
“Have you not considered that this may be about your well-being and not some imaginary slight against you? I’m sorry to break it to you, Apollo Justice, but I am not my brother. I do not take bribes and I do not throw money around to get what I want.” Klavier hissed and pushed forward, close enough for Apollo to see the minute dilations of his irises.
Apollo waited for his bracelet, still bridging the gap between their torsos, to react. It didn’t. “Then tell me why, Klavier. If it’s that important I deserve to know.”
They glared, and the room shrunk down to only the space between them.
Klavier broke first, leaning back and putting their height difference to good use. “Fine. You are stubborn as usual, Herr Forehead.”
He retrieved a few manila folders from the stack next to his lounge chair and nodded Apollo over to his desk. As Klavier flicked each folder open, Apollo’s gut churned. Eight autopsy reports sat in front of them, some recent, some not. With professionalism only crafted after years of working around dead people, Klavier explained, “All defense attorneys, all defending someone connected to the Cadaverini family. A mixture of guilty and not-guilty verdicts. All found a few days after their trials.”
Apollo’s stomach dropped a few hundred stories.
“The fact that you are handling this case and not a family lawyer says to me that they don’t want to be associated with your client. If you receive the wrong verdict, if you indict the wrong person on the stand…”
“They could kill me.”
“Ja.” Klavier played with the edge of the last folder he opened, eyes looking at something far beyond his office. “I pity any in the judicial process of this case.”
Apollo frowned as he connected the dots. Klavier had a lot more files than these in that stack. “Klavier, have they…”
“Killed more than defense attorneys? Yes. Detectives, judges, witnesses-”
“-Prosecutors?” Apollo asked. Klavier’s hard look at the floor made Apollo’s heart take the same fall his stomach had. Soon he was going to be out of organs.
Thank God he hadn’t taken Trucy with him today. In fact, Trucy wasn’t touching this case with a ten-foot pole.
“We’ve managed to keep public suspicion down. It helps that the hits are spread out across the state and the decade.” Klavier closed the files with much more reverence than when he’d opened them. “They have given me and the other government employees temporary protection. You are a public defender. You don’t have this luxury. Do not take the case.”
Klavier replaced the files on top of the stack while Apollo tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He crossed his arms, more as a way of hugging himself than anything. The buzz of cheap fluorescents filled the silence as it got late enough for the motion sensors to kick in.
Once he'd reorganized the files, Klavier leaned against the amplifier Apollo was using as an anchor. His eyes were kinder, now, his usual half-lidded rockstar smirk replaced with drawn eyebrows and a soft-looking frown. He wished the guy hadn’t made him reckon with his mortality. Otherwise, he might have gotten the nerve to kiss him.
Instead, he whispered, “I’m not dropping the case.”
“What?” Klavier’s gentle concern turned into grief that stabbed Apollo’s empty chest cavity while he waited for his heart to get the elevator ride back up.
Apollo tried to keep his voice steady while he explained, “Klavier, my client’s innocent. He was at the wrong place at the wrong time. I can’t give up on him, and I can’t pass this off to another defense attorney.”
“And why not?”
“Why haven’t you passed it off?”
“Because if it’s not me it will be one of my co-workers.” Klavier hardened again, the sadness evaporating into anger. “But-”
“It’s the same for me, Klavier! Some other defense attorney will have to take my place-”
“I don’t care about other defense attorneys!” Klavier swung his fist at the wall, stopping short of a sheet of glass and guitars. He redirected and slammed the amp instead. “Everyone close to me has left, Apollo, and I will not let you pursue a suicide mission for the sake of righteousness.”
The admission had even the fluorescents stuttering for something to say.
Being selfish was not something Apollo Justice was allowed often. Klavier was begging him, telling him that he cared, and implying something that Apollo wanted to tear apart until he got to its core. He could probably convince Klavier to drop the case too if he agreed. They could take care of each other and let others deal with this Cadaverini mess.
Then he thought of other attorneys. Attorneys less experienced, attorneys less likely to risk their neck for their clients. Even Payne could take over the prosecution and get a guilty verdict.
Apollo swallowed and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Klavier.”
The anger melted off of Klavier, leaving raw understanding. His eyes searched Apollo, a spotlight he loathed and loved at the same time. In a swift pull, Apollo was wrapped in his friend’s arms, nose buried into a shoulder that smelled like too-expensive cologne and evergreen.
“I’m really, really sorry,” Apollo repeated, muffled into the fabric of Klavier’s blazer.
Klavier turned his face into Apollo’s head and murmured, “If you turned away, as much as I want you to, I don’t think you would have been Apollo Justice.”
“Unless you want tears and snot on your jacket you’re gonna quit that right now,” Apollo choked out an already wet laugh. Klavier squeezed, and Apollo wrapped his arms around Klavier too, fingers fisted into the soft fabric of his blazer.
He felt Klavier chuckle against his hair before pulling away. Apollo sniffled and blinked until he felt composed. While Apollo wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand he wondered if this was what they’d always be. It wasn’t a lot. Maybe it was enough. Hell, it was a lot more than he ever expected.
Once Apollo could see through his damp eyes, he watched as Klavier twisted a ring on his finger, eyes once again distant and heartsore. Then the twiddling stopped, and his eyes widened as he nodded. With that, a sullen smile became a smirk became a grin. “I should have anticipated this. Prevention is better than a cure and such, but, there is no stopping Justice. Come, Herr Forehead.”
Klavier guided him to his fancy lounge chair and shoved him down. Apollo assumed this was the nicest method of getting him out of the way. He settled in while Klavier typed up a storm on his (obnoxious) computer, rummaged around his desk, and left schmoozing voicemails.
“Uh. Prosecutor Gavin. What are you doing?” Apollo asked, nestled tight into the ergonomic leather.
“Ach, and we’re back to Prosecutor Gavin…” Klavier’s beam didn’t falter. He hummed. “Calling in favors. Are you still in contact with the Kitakis?”
“Klavier, we're not utilizing gang wars. They’re clean now,” Apollo chided, ignoring the backlog of texts from Wocky saying otherwise.
“Ja, ja, of course. Their name still commands respect, though, if I am following our informant’s report. Perhaps stay with them for a month?” Klavier was going through his filing cabinets now. “With their name and requesting that Frau Skye keep an eye on you during the day, with her guards…”
“Ema’s not the detective on this case though.”
“If my string-pulling works out, she will be a useless secondary with as much access to forensics supplies and Snackoos as she desires for three months.”
“That’s a lot.”
Klavier chuckled, “That’s a decade’s worth of weight being pulled. Plus, I will not hesitate to mention to our new chief prosecutor that his paramour’s employee might be targeted.”
“You don’t have to do all this, Klavier.”
Klavier turned and strode over to him, leaning like he always did until he met Apollo’s eyes. His easy grin, the first appearance of it that day, warmed something deep in Apollo’s chest. “If I cannot keep you from this case, then I will do all I can to support you. This is what I can do, so this is necessary.”
Being selfish was not something Apollo Justice was allowed often. He had too much to lose, too much to care about. Still, Klavier looked at him with something. Something that Apollo wanted to break down into its essence and let it cradle him or devour him whole. God, Apollo wanted to be selfish. Just this once.
So he pushed forward, pressing his lips against that smile, and lingered. He took in the taste of bubble gum flavored lip balm and oh, the sensation of soft lips melding with his own, and the smell of expensive cologne and evergreen. Klavier cradled his cheek as he tilted into the kiss, his skin warm and rings cool against Apollo’s jaw. Apollo delayed his withdrawal with one last peck to Klavier’s upper lip.
Apollo forced himself not to shrink back into the leather as Klavier’s eyes blinked open. True to form, though, any shame melted away as Klavier grinned. “Well, I was already convinced, but now I really have to make sure you make it, Forehead.”
Apollo gave his arm a light smack, but couldn’t help his small spark of hope and a smile back.
