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“I swear to God, if he calls me “ liebling ” one more time, I’m going to snap his clavicle like a twig,” Apollo groaned as he rushed out of the courtroom. Confetti was still stuck to his gel-drowned hair. Cries of Herr Forehead resonated behind him, but these went unheard or purposefully ignored. With how loudly Apollo was fuming, it was hard to tell.
Trucy followed him, nipping at his heels. Feeling her top hat slip due to the speed of her gait, she held onto it with one hand. “Woah! What’s the matter, Polly?”
Before she could pry further, Apollo kicked the door of the defendant’s lobby open, giving way to Japanifornia’s blinding summer sun. Trucy winced at the light. He continued undeterred, stopping only to wait for the stoplight to turn red. She ran over there. “Polly! Seriously, what is up with you? We just won!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know!”
“Then?” Trucy asked, her hands on her hips. “Out with it, Apollo!”
Cars slowed to a stop. Apollo rushed forward, and she found herself, for the third time in the past few minutes, chasing after him. His temper sure gave her a workout. “Apollo Justice!” she yelled as they crossed. “Tell me what’s wrong!”
When they reached the other corner, Apollo turned on his heel to face her, ready to find some means of placating her. She, however, did not notice until she was too close and bumped into him. Instinctively, he held her so she wouldn’t lose her footing. She wrapped her arms around him with an iron grip. “Trucy, you okay?” he asked when, after a moment, she was still clinging onto him like the confetti in his hair. A haughty “hmph” from her gave him his answer. “Trucy,” he questioned again, “what do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m not letting go until you tell me what’s got you all worked up,” she proclaimed with a finality that reminded Apollo of her father in court. He groaned again.
He took a laborious step forward. Her elbow jutted into his hipbone. She squeaked at this turn of events. “Oh, come on ! You can’t be serious!”
“Mr. Wright asked me to make sure you got back to the agency, and apparently, I have no choice but to take you like this.”
“Or! Be a normal human being! And talk to me!” she cried, her sentences split between awkward steps.
It’s just two blocks. It’s just two blocks. It’s just two blocks. Apollo took three more steps before yelling, “I can’t do this!” All his anger escaped him in that one breath. Deflated, he whispered, “I can’t—I can’t do this, Truce. I can’t do this anymore.” He enveloped her in a hug, and she shifted her grip into a comforting one.
She yelped when she felt his shoulders shake, but didn’t mention it, rather nudging the attorney to the edge of the sidewalk near the window of a coffee shop, away from the few passersby on their way. Her hand stroked the little hairs that stuck out where his head met his neck. When his breathing evened out, she asked again, “Talk to me, Polly. Please . What’s bothering you?”
Apollo wanted to tell her all the way back at the courthouse. However, there was no way to confess the cause behind the rage in his chest without embarrassing himself to the grave.
Apollo hated Klavier Gavin. He hated his pretty face, his pretty winks, his pretty pet names, and that pretty lean he did to look him in the eye. He hated that excited expression the rockstar got whenever he found out they were working together, hated those lingering stares he gave him in court, hated how good of a sport he was whenever he lost a case. How could Trucy understand it? How could Apollo explain it?
“He calls me liebling ,” was what came out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Apollo felt heat rising to his face, so he buried himself in Trucy’s shoulder.
“Huh?”
“I mean,” he stammered, “Prosecutor Gavin, he - he’s the problem.”
Trucy pushed back, and Apollo missed the shelter of her shoulder, but let her out of the hug. “He’s so nice, though!”
Catching his reflection in the coffee shop’s window, he winced, realizing he looked like a mess. He wiped at his eyes and straightened the horns in his hair. The confetti was a lost cause, so he did not even try to fix that. “Well,” he sighed, fighting back the returning heat. “He’s too nice to me.”
A lightbulb lit up the young magician’s eyes. “Oh! You mean his flirting!”
Apollo squawked, turning away from his reflection. She’d noticed? She’d noticed. Had he corrupted her? Her eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t born yesterday, Polly.”
“All right, fine,” he crossed his arms in defeat. “Yes, I mean his flirting.”
Again, Trucy’s expression took on shock and confusion. “Isn’t it all harmless?”
That was the problem. Apollo knew it was harmless. It was playful and meaningless and cruel.
The thing was, Kl— Prosecutor Gavin didn’t strike him as someone mean-spirited. How could someone fair and bright do something so heartless? Apollo couldn’t wrap his head around it, and he hated him for it. Because the rockstar knew. There was no way he didn’t know. He must have realized at some point how it affected the defense attorney, all this flirting and encouraging, touching and teasing, this dangling of bait knowing he would release Apollo from the hook if he ever bit it. Yet he continued to do it, making him more and more interested in him without caring about it—about him —for reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom.
Angry tears pricked at his eyes again. Trucy gasped and wiped them away. He gave her a watery smile, knowing that had been enough to clue her in. She was too perceptive, that one. “Hey, how about we stop at Eldoon’s before going home?” she offered.
The moment his hand met hers, she leaped through Japanifornia’s streets, dragging Apollo behind her.
Klavier stood in the defendant’s lobby, spinning in place and swiveling his head back and forth as he tried to scan every face as quickly as he could. After a manic moment of searching the quickly-thinning crowd to no avail, he sighed, sinking into the couch by the wall. He cradled his head in his hands.
“Hm. You are not usually one to mourn a lost trial.” Klavier saw the Chief Prosecutor standing in front of him from between his fingers.
He cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “This is no exception, Herr Edgeworth. I’m confident we convicted the right man in the end,” he assured, trying to breathe down his hurt to deal with it once he was alone.
It seemed he would have to deal with it much later than he’d anticipated. Herr Edgeworth sat down beside him on the couch. Klavier turned to face him better. “I see,” he said. Klavier nodded, hoping the other man would take his word and leave with it. Instead, he leaned toward him. “What troubles you, then?”
The rockstar swallowed wrong and started coughing out of sheer surprise. His boss patted at his back until he recovered his breath. “I hope you realize, Klavier, that such an act as this will only encourage me to press further,” he told him. If he did not work with him regularly, he would have missed the lightheartedness in his voice.
“ Es tut mir leid , Herr Edgeworth,” he wheezed. Another cough escaped him before he said, “it’s just that this is not the sort of thing you talk to a superior about.”
The Chief Prosecutor once again nodded and sighed, “I see.” He took off his glasses and his handkerchief. With the latter, he cleaned the former. As he worked, he asked, “I take it this is about Mr. Justice, then?”
Klavier almost broke out into another coughing fit. He’d noticed? He’d noticed. Had he really been so obvious?
Of course, he’d been so obvious! He tried every trick he’d learned since high school on the man from the day they’d met at that park with as little success as his frantic scan of the defendant lobby a moment ago. Well-timed winks, endearing nicknames, pick-up lines, the exotic German angle! Nothing had made even the slightest dent in Herr Forehead’s glare.
But Klavier couldn’t stop. For one, Herr Forehead had never asked him to cease his advances, and there was still a friendship at the core of their interactions. For another, Klavier would never forgive himself if he let him walk away without giving the fight of his life to earn his love.
Herr Forehead had saved him. He was the first person that saw the same cruelties in his brother that Klavier had suppressed his entire childhood, and finally held him accountable before the law. Being the most handsome man he'd ever seen and the wittiest man he'd ever talked to only served to enchant him further.
It was getting harder to maintain his morale, though. His chest burned with every sign missed or, he feared, purposefully ignored. How much longer could he chase after him after trials only to sit on this empty couch before his heart gave way entirely?
Klavier nodded in his boss’s direction, trying his best to present the pain he had not finished tucking away as solemnity. The Chief Prosecutor put his glasses back on. “ Ja , it’s about Herr—uh—Justice.” He thanked his lucky stars in one breathless sigh that he stopped himself before using the nickname in front of his boss. A sudden realization revitalized the panic in his chest. He lifted his hands up to his shoulders. “But I—I promise it’s not compromising my prosecuting ability, you shouldn’t worry—!”
Herr Edgeworth cut him off with a chuckle. He placed a hand on one of Klavier’s upraised shoulders. “That did not even cross my mind,” he assured. His hand retreated to his coat’s pocket. “I do not fault you for your interest in the man across from you in court. It is a,” he cleared his throat, “more common trend among prosecutors than you’d believe.”
Klavier wanted to keep his job, so he averted his eyes from the Chief Prosecutor’s hand worrying his sleeve. “I mean it when I say you shouldn’t worry. This is a silly thing.”
“Forgive my bluntness,” his boss said, again clearing his throat, “but love is not silly.” Klavier felt his face heat up. He returned to his original position on the couch with his head in his hands, mostly to hide his cheeks. “Oh. I apologize,” Herr Edgeworth added, noticing what he’d hoped he wouldn’t. “I did not mean to—”
“It doesn’t matter, Herr Edgeworth. He’s indifferent at best.”
The other man sighed. “I wouldn’t give up on him just yet,” he said after a moment of thought. Klavier raised a brow. “I’ll admit, it’s not my style, but you should consider talking to him.”
The rockstar prepared himself to present a counterargument, but the Chief Prosecutor had his position for a reason. He waved his index finger as he said, “Tsk tsk. You’ll be seeing him tonight, yes? To celebrate today's trial?”
“ Ja . At least, I think. I meant to arrange it with him, but,” Klavier gestured to the empty defendant lobby, “I didn’t get the chance.”
“Well, Klavier, it is a pattern by now,” Herr Edgeworth reasoned. When the rockstar shrugged his shoulders, he patted his back reassuringly. “Wright once told me the agency's door is always open for you, and I’m sure Mr. Justice shares the sentiment. Take the opportunity to talk to him at dinner.”
With that, the Chief Prosecutor stood. Klavier followed after letting out one last long sigh. “ In Ordnung , Herr Edgeworth. It is worth a try.” It was the one thing he hadn’t tried, after all.
Looking pleased, his boss started heading toward the door. Klavier caught up to him and gave him a small smile. “ Danke . You didn’t have to—”
His boss shook his head. “I did,” he said, with an air of certainty that reminded him of his objections in court. “ Viel Glück ,” he added as he walked toward his parked car.
Good luck indeed. I’m going to need it .
Apollo stood up from his desk in a huff after having read the same paragraph in front of him for the past five minutes without retaining a single word of it to answer the knocking at the Wright Anything Agency’s door, grateful for the distraction. If he were not beating himself up for being unable to concentrate, he would have questioned who was on the other side since the Wrights never knocked.
Kla—Prosecutor Gavin, of all people, stood on the other side. “Guten Abend, Herr Forehead,” he greeted, leaning down, his lips falling into their natural thin grin.
Apollo forced his eyes away from those lips by turning around and walking back in. His gratitude was gone. He would rather try to read that paragraph again. “What’s your business here, Prosecutor Gavin?”
Another chuckle escaped the man, but something about it sounded off. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our routine, liebling ,” he scoffed, mock offended. “I’m here to take you out for dinner. You know, like we always do after trials.”
Of course . He’d been so focused on trying to block out the disastrous walk out of the courtroom today that he’d forgotten there had been a trial at all. “Let me just lock up real quick. Mr. Wright and Trucy are out,” Apollo said, going to his boss’s desk to get the keys for the front door.
“Oh! A shame I missed the Fraülein… and, uh, Herr Wright, of course. I’ll have to drop by some other time to say hello.” Prosecutor Gavin was still somewhat uncomfortable around Mr. Wright. It didn’t surprise him, knowing their history. Their relationship had improved when he recovered his badge, but Apollo’s bracelet still tightened whenever the prosecutor joked that it was all in the past.
“Actually,” Apollo started, fiddling with the keys in his hand, a dangerous idea popping into his head when it hit him that the rockstar was in same the room as him since he’d stormed out of the courtroom. “Why do you do that?” Upon noticing Prosecutor Gavin’s confused expression, he clarified, “Take me out for dinner after trials?”
The rockstar’s face lit up. “To celebrate, of course!”
“But I beat you today,” the defense attorney retorted. “I beat you most of the time,” he added a second later.
Prosecutor Gavin scoffed, “Ach, I’ve never cared about my record.” His face softened as he continued, “What matters is that we uncover the truth, not who does it.” Not a word of that triggered Apollo’s bracelet. Huh.
Still, the defense attorney wasn’t quite satisfied with that. “So, it’s because we’re colleagues? In the pursuit of justice and stuff?” he asked, trying his best to sound casual. He sidestepped the desk and started making his way back to the foyer.
The prosecutor raised an eyebrow past his bangs but indulged him. “Well, we are .”
“But do you do this with all defense attorneys that beat you?”
“You should know better than to try to bluff me, Apollo Justice,” Klav—Prosecutor Gavin said, his voice dropping and a twinkle taking over his eye that Apollo rarely saw outside of court. He hated it. “What is it you want to know? Ask me directly.”
“What are we, Prosecutor Gavin?”
The prosecutor took a step back. If Apollo didn’t know him better, he would think he startled him. “What do you mean? We just agreed we’re coworkers.”
He responded with a yell, “Then start treating me like one!” The man in front of him did not flinch at his volume. He’d heard him yelling “Objection” at a similar volume enough times in court, he supposed.
“ Entschuldigung ?” He had the audacity to look shocked.
Apollo pointed at him. “Oh, yeah, like with the German! I know what liebling means! My phone has Google Translate, you know!” he revealed, crossing his arms.
A bright red spread across Klavi—Prosecutor Gavin’s face. Anger was not the reaction he was expecting from him.
The rockstar said nothing, blinking rapidly, allowing the defense attorney to continue to spiral. “And you know what? It’s pretty cruel of you. Using those pet names, giving me that nickname, and then turning around and saying we’re coworkers? What kind of coworkers do that? And taking me out for dinners! What, like they’re dates? Why? It doesn’t matter to you! It doesn’t matter to you at all!”
Klavi—Prosecutor Gavin stepped closer, seemingly deciding to finally intervene with a frown twisting his face. “Herr Forehead, I need you to calm down.”
“No! I need you to stop!”
Klavi— Prosecutor Gavin was standing right in front of him. Apollo was about as many inches as they were apart from punching him in the nose where he knew it would hurt. First, he went around and flirted with him shamelessly, and now, he was trying to say it was all in his head? The gall of this bastard!
Klavie— PROSECUTOR GAVIN cupped his cheek with one hand, even though Apollo was sure his skin was hot enough to burn the other’s palm.
"Stop! Just stop it! Stop being so nice when you don’t mean it!" he yelled, his voice cracking. He closed his eyes, all his desire to inflict some pain sinking into the tears he felt bubbling from the knot in his throat. As he took some deep breaths to recenter himself, his attention centered on the hand on his cheek, finally processing its existence. Oh. Oh, that wasn't playful. That wasn't teasing and meaningless.
Klavier cared .
That yell tore through Klavier's heart. It hurt to hear Herr Forehead so conflicted. He was about to lift his hand from his cheek, but before it could part more than a few inches, Herr Forehead's own hand held his in place, his eyes still closed.
Klavier inhaled sharply. Oh. Oh, that wasn't annoyance. That wasn't being brushed aside or ignored.
Apollo cared .
"Herr—" he started, but Herr Forehead opened his eyes and gave him the most teary-eyed glare he'd ever seen. He never wanted to see it again. "... Justice," he substituted, playing it off as best he could. "Apollo." It was a pretty name, now he heard it in his voice. He should use it more often, though he loved the nickname he'd coined, and now a part of him thought the other attorney might, too. "There's been some miscommunication between us, I think."
Apollo’s pupils moved sharply to the side, where Klavier’s hand was still pressed against his blushing cheek. The color deepened upon seeing his fingers perched on the rockstar’s hand as if he hadn’t realized he’d done that. Klavier would be lying if he tried to pretend it wasn’t taking all his effort to keep from staring in wonderment, too. He also would be lying if he tried to ignore the blush and warmth going up to his ears. “I… think so, too,” he replied after a moment, still looking at their hands on his cheek from the edge of his vision.
“Apollo,” he repeated, drawing the other’s gaze to his. Oh, he would definitely have to do that more often. “My intentions were never to mock you. All those little things I do matter to me. A lot actually.” At this he turned away, fluttering his eyes just so. He felt the skin against his palm heat up just a tad more. He held back his smile. He looked up again. “ You matter a lot to me.”
The attorney fixed the same starstruck expression he’d given to their hands to him. Klavier was pretty sure that look could kill. It took all his will not to evaporate right then and there. “You matter a lot to me, too,” he breathed. The air mouthing those beautiful words ghosted right over his face, minty-fresh. While his brain was still processing what Apollo had said and all its myriad implications, the defense attorney took his other hand and pressed it against his other cheek so his face was between the rockstar’s hands. His blue eyes couldn’t help themselves and traveled to his lips. He saw more than heard him ask, “Kiss me.” He wasn’t sure Apollo even voiced the request.
Klavier’s heart was on the tip of his tongue. He couldn’t believe it. He’d dreamt of this moment a hundred times, but he never envisioned it quite like this. This was far more true to Apollo than his mind could hope to conjure, and it was glorious . With both his hands cradlings his face, he drew it closer to his own, tilting a bit on his end.
When they met halfway, something aching deep within both of them broke and pieced itself back together properly, like a broken bone healing back right. Neither was quite aware of which lips parted first, which hand reached for which waist, which voice brought a sigh to life. It didn’t matter, in the larger scope of things. Nothing mattered but the quieting of all their fears, the fulfilling of all their late-night dreams, the catharsis they both found in the leap they’d taken together.
Apollo stumbled out of it first, falling back onto his heels. When had he gone on his tiptoes? Wide, dumb grins spread across their crimson, burning faces, inches from the other. Prosecu—Klavier, after one deep breath, leaned in again, but the defense attorney held him by the shoulders, chuckling at the pout he gave him in response with his slightly swollen lower lip. “Knowing you, there’s a reservation waiting for us in a fancy restaurant somewhere,” he explained, a laugh on the edge of his throat.
“ Achtung ! How can you be thinking of dinner right now?” Klavier whined, eyes not once leaving the other’s lips. Apollo gave him one quick kiss—just to indulge him, he kept telling himself, and not because he also didn’t quite get his fill from their first—then drew back fully from the prosecutor’s embrace. Klavier whined again.
“Well, you don’t want us to miss our first date, do you?” he fired back.
The rockstar gave him that stupid excited expression he always got when they found each other in crime scenes. Oh, he wanted to kiss it right off. But, no, one of the two had to be the adult here. Klavier rushed to the front door, and held it open for Apollo with a flourish. The defense attorney chuckled, kneeling to pick up the keys he’d dropped—he hadn’t even noticed they slipped from his hand until he’d seen the open door—and then going to him. Klavier crossed after him, and waited as he locked it.
Then, they walked down the hallway, hand in hand. And sure, Apollo knew they were way too old for all these embarrassing high school antics, but they giggled all the way down.