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Klavier wakes up, for the first time in the six months they’ve lived with Apollo, before their partner.
It’s early Sunday morning. It must be early, because the sun is only just starting to peek through the blinds, and even Mikeko and Vongole haven’t started to stir yet, and the birds outside are chirping just loud enough that Klavier can faintly hear them from their spot in bed. They blink a few times, processing being awake this early, then focus their eyes on the man next to them.
They don’t often get to see Apollo like this: hair messy and strewn across his face, eyes closed—not exactly peacefully, as some may describe, more so squeezed shut as if he’s very focused—lips slightly parted, a stray eyelash resting on his upper cheek. Klavier’s almost afraid to move, like if they even breathe they’ll wake Apollo, and that’s the last thing they want to do.
Apollo isn’t afraid, though, and in his sleep he inches closer to Klavier, tucking his head under their chin, breathing rhythmically against their neck. Klavier gently puts an arm around Apollo’s back and is reminded, more than ever, how lucky they are to have him.
Apollo isn’t just pretty, though he is, oh he definitely is; soft brown hair juxtaposed with those fierce eyes, freckles scattered across his face and shoulders, a grin that could melt anyone’s heart in an instant. Honestly, when he told Klavier that he had only ever been in one other relationship, Klavier was shocked. He is absolutely gorgeous in a way Klavier can’t even begin to comprehend. The type of boy that belongs in art: music, (and plenty of that has Klavier written about him) old-fashioned oil portraits people linger at in museums, photographs to frame on the wall and daydream over. He’s stunning.
Contrary to popular belief, however, Klavier doesn’t actually care all too much about looks. And to them, Apollo Justice is so much more than a pretty face. He’s bold, he’s passionate, and he is so full of love in a way that makes Klavier’s chest all warm and their heart soft. He came into Klavier’s life like a shock, and to this day, Klavier still can’t believe that their flirting managed to get them where they are now.
After everything, Apollo was there. After the arrests of who had been two of the most important people in Klavier’s life, Apollo was there to help pick up the pieces and rebuild everything the way Klavier wants it to be, the way they need it to be. Apollo, with his patient eyes and loud affirmations. Apollo, who has held Klavier tight through countless breakdowns. Apollo, who is always willing to help a friend, even if he rolls his eyes about it first. Apollo, who despite being hurt so many times, still trusts people with his whole heart and soul. Apollo, Apollo, Apollo.
After a moment’s hesitation, Klavier presses a faint kiss to Apollo’s forehead and then carefully sits up, practically tip-toeing out of the room. How does Apollo do this every day without waking them up? They’re not even that heavy of a sleeper!
There’s no time to think about that, though—Klavier has a mission, and they are determined to get it done before Apollo wakes up.
They start by taking down the Halloween decorations. All of them. It is a very laborious task, because saying Klavier and Apollo went all out for Halloween would be an understatement. Starting October first, the entire house was decked out in any decoration they could find. Fake spider webs were hung in every corner and crevice, every throw pillow on every couch and bed was given spooky skeleton or carved pumpkin or black cat pillowcases, orange and purple fairy lights were strung in all of the rooms. Even their shower curtain was changed to a Halloween design.
But Halloween is over now; It is November first, and everything must go. Or, more accurately, everything must be replaced, and Christmas must take over.
Christmas is, by far, Klavier’s favorite holiday. They love everything about it, from the music—Mariah Carey goes hard year-round, in their opinion—to the decorations, big green trees (always real ones—can’t beat that scent) with red and green lights strung around them, made complete with ornaments of all types and stacks of presents underneath, to the festivities of it all: exchanging gifts with loved ones, eating together, ice skating, and the Secret Santa the Prosecutor’s office puts on, to the memories associated with the holiday. Oh, the memories.
The earliest Christmas that Klavier can remember was when they were seven and Kristoph was fifteen. It was late at night on Christmas Eve, and Klavier was supposed to be asleep, but Kristoph had sneakily brought them into his room so they could chat. The two of them talked about what they were hoping to get versus what they assumed they’d actually get, and Kristoph told Klavier all about high school, so Klavier told him how first grade was going, and they kept talking about anything and everything for hours until Klavier eventually fell asleep with their head on Kristoph’s chest. Their parents didn’t say anything about it when they woke the kids up Christmas morning, and Klavier and Kristoph always called it a Christmas miracle.
Then, of course, there was the first Christmas the Gavinners experienced as a band. They spent the day together, writing songs but not really working, drinking too much eggnog, making fun of each other for everything. Klavier was dating Daryan at the time—it was technically a PR thing set up by their manager, but Klavier would be lying if they said they didn’t develop a bit of a crush on him. Daryan, admittedly, did not feel the same way, but still let Klavier—okay, okay, now isn’t the time to reminisce on bad memories. Back to decorating.
The living room is almost completely Christmas-ified now: Klavier’s lined the whole room with warm white string lights, and has strung pretty green garlands (that Mikeko is definitely going to try to eat) around the TV and windows. They’ve hung up stockings for both the people and pets, and have cleared a space for the tree that they have not yet gotten. …Klavier isn’t sure if they want to know how Mikeko will react to a real Christmas tree in the house, but they’ll find out soon enough. Hopefully he won’t try to climb it—Klavier’s never had a cat, but they saw that happen in a movie one time, and honestly, Mikeko is probably insane enough to try it for himself.
Speaking of that cat, he’s currently meowing at his empty food bowl, but Klavier doesn’t fall for it—they know it’d be futile to give in. The bastard refuses to eat unless it’s Apollo feeding him. Always has. Everyone assumed he’d eventually warm up to Klavier when they moved in, and he mostly has—he lets Klavier hold him, and falls asleep on their lap, and even loves Vongole—but it’s been half a year, and Klavier still isn’t allowed to feed him. It might be a lost cause at this point. So instead, Klavier just scoops him up into their arms and gives him kisses, and he seems mostly content with that, even if it isn’t Meow Mix.
“Hallo, hi Schätzchen,” Klavier coos, kissing the top of Mikeko’s head and scratching his chin. “Hii, pretty.”
A reply of “Hey,” comes from behind them, in that unmistakable, lovely voice.
“Apollo!” Klavier grins, spinning around on their feet to see him, much to Mikeko’s dismay. “Good morning, I love you,” they say in a sing-songy voice, balancing the cat on one arm and carding their other hand through Apollo’s messy hair.
“I love you too. What the fuck did you do to our living room?”
“It’s Christmas.”
Apollo crosses his arms over his chest with a purposely loud sigh. Voice still tangled with sleep, he says, “It is November first, Klavier.”
“That’s what I said. Christmas,” Klavier grins, but their face suddenly drops. “Don’t tell me… you’re one of the people who hate Christmas?”
“I don’t hate Christmas,” Apollo assures them, “when it’s December. It hasn’t even snowed yet. We didn’t decorate for Halloween until October first.”
Klavier nods. “But now Halloween is over, so it’s Christmas.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Apollo chuckles, stealing Mikeko out of Klavier’s arms. “Are you hungry, sweetheart? Klavi didn’t feed you breakfast?” he teases, knowing damn well how picky Mikeko is about that stuff.
“I’m deeply sorry,” Klavier jokes, “but I’ll make up for it by making you breakfast, Liebling.”
“What’s your favorite Christmas memory?” asks Klavier between bites of blueberry pancake.
Apollo replies, without skipping a beat, “Last year. The Agency’s Christmas party, remember?”
“I do. Gott, I had the biggest crush on you, you know,” Klavier laughs.
“You had a crush on me? That’s so embarrassing.”
“Still do. What made last year your favorite?”
“I know it was all really hectic, and literally nothing went how it was planned, but… I felt like I was at home. Like I was with my family. And that first realization that these people are my family was a feeling I could never replicate,” Apollo explains, chuckling quietly.
Klavier pauses to think for a moment. Last year was disastrously great. “Remember when the karaoke machine broke in the middle of Ema’s song and everyone blamed you?”
“Yes! It was not my fault that Mr. Wright ordered a karaoke machine on Wish dot com!” Apollo laughs, and he has such a pretty laugh. “Remember the murderous cake pops?”
“That would never have happened if you didn’t keep it a secret that you were allergic to peanuts,” Klavier points out. Apollo gasps like he’s just been betrayed.
They go back and forth like this for a few minutes, remembering stories from that day—from Simon almost burning down the building trying to make cookies, to the power flickering because of the heavy wind and everyone screaming, to Athena inviting the girlfriend nobody knew she was dating—and laughing the whole way through.
And then, Apollo goes quiet. Purses his lips. Looks like he’s thinking really hard about something, before he says, “Didn’t you agree, last year, that you’d host the Christmas party this year? Because it was supposed to be me, and I said I’d never in a million years want to host that, and you offered.”
Klavier vaguely remembers. They remember Edgeworth swearing he refuses to host it in the Prosecutor’s Office— “I already host Secret Santa. I am not adding any more on.” —and Mr. Wright joking that it’d probably be bad luck if he hosted it again. Their place is a good size, so it seemed like the obvious choice at the time. They and Apollo hadn’t even officially gotten together yet.
“Seems like your worst nightmare will come true, ja?”
“Klavier, I love you, but we are not hosting that party.”
…Needless to say, there’s quite a bit of cleaning to be done in the Gavin-Justice household after the holidays.