Work Text:
Apollo’s… situation has taken some getting used to.
But it’s nothing the Wright Anything Agency can’t handle. Phoenix can wrangle a grumpy, early-morning Apollo out of bed and to the shops - since he can’t exactly be left on his own in his home, or at the office, or in the car while Phoenix does what he needs to do.
And so he tags along with the rest of the normally sized Agency, holding onto Phoenix’s hand (at Phoenix’s own insistence - because one of those child leashes would cause a tantrum from another dimension, but he still needs to keep him close by) and toddling along as he stares at the ground, looking where he’s stepping with his bright red shoes.
Trucy’s been asking Phoenix to take her swimming for ages but he hadn’t gotten round to it, what with having a toddler to supervise every hour of every day and a law office to run on top of that - though when Athena overheard her asking last night, she’d chimed in by saying that it would be a socially and physically stimulating enrichment activity for little Apollo, or… whatever that meant.
The shops are mostly empty since it’s in the middle of a weekday and most people are out at work. Whilst they say crime never sleeps, surely Japanifornia can deal with two less lawyers for a day. (He’d say three, but Apollo has been and probably will be out of commission for a while).
“Pollo,” Phoenix murmurs, tapping him lightly on his little shoulder. “What colour floaties do you want?”
Apollo looks up at the range of swimming gear and shakes his head.
“No to floaties?” Phoenix asks. “I’m afraid no can do, buddy. Gotta make sure you don't sink.”
He had nearly said ‘because you’re too little’, and mentally congratulates himself at avoiding the inevitable emotional storm from reminding Apollo that he is, in fact, tiny - and would need floaties even in the shallower part of the pool, just in case.
Apollo just shakes his head again, eyes suddenly teary and terrified - and while Phoenix momentarily panics thinking that he did say ‘because you’re too little’, it quickly becomes apparent that something is scaring him.
Not wasting even a second, Phoenix kneels down in front of him in the middle of the aisle and takes those tiny, clammy hands in his own, searching for any signs of hurt or injury other than the fear on Apollo’s wide-eyed face. He comes up short, however - the boy isn’t too hot or too cold and he doesn’t look to be in pain or discomfort. He’s just frightened.
“Hey, hey, Pollo,” Phoenix soothes quickly, putting on his best calm-in-a-crisis voice and squeezing Apollo’s tiny palm between his fingers. “Talk to me, kiddo. Tell me what’s going on.” Please don’t start sobbing in the swimming aisle, he doesn’t add.
He takes one of his hands away from Phoenix just to point at the swimming trunks, and then shakes his head vehemently. His shortened spikes of hair sway on top of his head with the motion.
“No to swimming trunks? Can’t let you do that either, kiddo. Public indecency.” Apollo doesn’t laugh, not even a tiny quirk of his lip. “Oh, buddy. What’s got you so upset, huh? Can you tell me?”
“No swimming,” Apollo stamps his foot against the floor. It’s less intimidating than he’d probably hoped it to be, given that he’s wearing little trainers that light up when he walks (courtesy of Trucy), and what was meant to be an act of resistance causes an over-the-top display of colourful lights to emit from his shoes. Even less intimidating since Phoenix can fit both of said shoes in the palm of his hand.
“You can’t swim? That’s fine, kiddo, I can teach you.”
The fear makes a lot of sense now. Phoenix remembers being scared when he first learned to swim, too - but a lot of that terror was probably because he shared a swimming class with Larry, and wasn’t convinced that he wouldn’t drown him by accident.
“No!” Apollo protests, this time keeping his feet firmly on the ground. “Not. Swimming.”
Phoenix sighs, but eventually acquiesces. Nothing is worth a full-blown tantrum in the middle of a shop, especially in the middle of the day, and he doesn’t want to make Apollo uncomfortable either. He wants to give him the best time he possibly can while he’s like this - but if he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to. (Like when Athena tried to do a themed baby photoshoot of him a few days ago. He was having none of that).
“Alright, buddy. No swimming,” Phoenix says gently. “Truce and Athena still want to go, though, so we’ll just sit by the side. They sell ice cream there. I’ll get you some of that. Sound good to you?”
Apollo considers for a second, that tiny brain of his working at light speed - and nods, his face softening into something content and excited. Likely at the prospect of ice cream rather than anything else, but there’s nothing wrong with a bit of bribery, right?
“Okay,” he murmurs quietly, and Phoenix stands back up - not before giving his brown hair a quick and affectionate ruffle. Apollo goes back to absentmindedly looking about and dragging his feet along like he didn’t go to bed at 8PM last night and kept the rest of them awake with annoying (but at the same time, adorably sweet) little toddler snores.
(Though, knowing how quickly kids can change their mind along with how quickly being denied can turn into an outburst, Phoenix discreetly picks up a pair of swim shorts and floaties for Apollo. …Just in case).
As it turns out, Apollo quite likes the swimming pool.
Well. He likes the building it’s in, where there’s a small area by the poolside for people who aren’t getting in, and he seems to like the small bowls of ice cream that are sold at the counter. The pool itself, not so much - but he’s distracted enough by his ice cream and tiny spoon that he seems happy enough, and Trucy and Athena are content to go off in the pool without them.
Phoenix has their swimming kit in a backpack by his feet just in case, but Apollo is surprisingly calm and peaceful enough that he’s happy not to push the issue again. He’d been so upset earlier that Phoenix is desperate to get to the root of the problem - but he can’t do that now. Not when he’s so vulnerable, so small. Not when Phoenix is his primary caretaker and his first job is keeping him safe and happy (definitely, certainly, absolutely not prying into his past. Back-to-normal Apollo might never forgive him).
He swings his feet off the edge of the chair, and Phoenix has to hold back a coo at how his little legs don’t reach the floor whilst he pokes at the slowly melting ice cream with the spoon.
…Trucy used to do that, he thinks. Much to his own chagrin, of course, because he would end up being the one to clean melted ice cream out of her sticky hair - but his heart seizes at the likeness. It’s not just how Apollo’s little eyebrows scrunch up in concentration the same way as his sister, but how similar they are as people. How much they’ve grown up alike despite being separated for so long.
He’s so caught up in the resemblance that he doesn’t notice Apollo giving him alarm-bell eyes as he’s approached by a probably well-intentioned lifeguard coming off duty. It must be weird for him to be cooed over, Phoenix thinks, but he’d be a hypocrite if he said that he didn’t find tiny Apollo sweet enough to coo at, too.
“Hello, young man!” She says as she walks up to Apollo at their table. Apollo shoots him a look that says, help! And Phoenix can’t do much but give him an apologetic glance back that says, she’s doing her job! “Having a father-son day out, hm?”
“Sorry, he’s, uh… shy,” Phoenix cuts in. Shy is definitely a word for it. He can’t exactly say sorry, he’s twenty-three. “But yeah, that’s what we’re doing.”
The woman lightheartedly reaches out to tickle underneath Apollo’s chin. A very nice gesture for an actual two year old, but presumably very off-putting for a twenty-three year old Apollo, stuck in a form that’s too young, too small, and too cute to the general public. Phoenix makes a mental note to give Apollo a treat later for restraining himself and not swatting at her fingers or- god forbid, biting her, like he’s been prone to doing lately when somebody gets too familiar.
“You’re very sweet, aren’t you?” She asks with a smile. Apollo doesn’t say anything back and so she turns to Phoenix. “He doesn’t feel like swimming today?”
“He, ah,” Phoenix pauses. “Not feeling up to it today, I’m afraid, but we mostly came for the ice cream.”
There’s no easy way to explain that he’s actually here with his junior employee under the influence of magic who refuses to explain his aversion to swimming. So the next best option is, evidently: he’s here with his son who’s being fussy.
It’s a regular, normal interaction - one that can’t have lasted longer than twenty seconds, and would otherwise not stand out in Phoenix’s day - but when he looks back to Apollo, the kid is staring at him, brown eyes wide and glassy.
“Hey, buddy. You feeling okay?”
Apollo drums his little fingers on the table, glancing back and forth between Phoenix and anywhere but Phoenix, his rounded face rife with indecision. He doesn’t respond to the question, doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s heard it - just lets silence fall in a blanket over them both until he finally manages to pipe up.
“Wanna try,” he mumbles quietly.
“What, my ice cream?” Phoenix slides his bowl over to Apollo’s side of the table, only to be met with a frankly adorable pout, a frustrated huff, and then a determined finger pointing in the direction of the pool.
“Want. To. Try,” he says again, more emphatically, taking the time to sound out each word like Phoenix just isn’t getting it.
…And he is, really. He understands what he’s trying to tell him, and if this were any other kid, it would be as simple as just wanting to go in the water - but Apollo didn’t want to, was exceedingly opposed to it earlier, and Phoenix has a sinking feeling that this is a need to prove himself rather than any actual desire to try swimming.
It’s a want to not disappoint Phoenix. A longing for somebody to be proud of him. And Phoenix just can’t have that, not when he’s so small. He’s still inwardly worrying about any lasting effects the charm might have on Apollo, and he doesn’t want to force him to struggle through doing something he doesn’t want to just because of some misplaced notion that his caretaker might be unhappy with him.
Not for the first time today, he finds himself both wondering where this innate need for affirmation was born from, and how he can start to try fixing it.
“Kiddo,” Phoenix starts gently, as though he’s trying not to startle an animal- “You don’t have to make yourself, okay? No-one’s gonna be upset or disappointed. I’m enjoying sitting here with you, just like this.”
Apollo shakes his head stubbornly. “No.”
“...You sure? You really don’t have to. The lady was just trying to make small talk, buddy, I promise you nobody’s gonna be let down if you don’t get in. We’re having a good time up here, right?”
“Want to,” he insists. And Phoenix is going to be the responsible one, going to refuse his request for his own good… until Apollo’s eyes start to tear up, looking uncannily like Trucy, and ‘no’ just won’t come out of Phoenix’s mouth.
Wanting to avoid an unforeseen tantrum in the middle of a public place (and, he supposes, not being able to withstand tiny Apollo’s puppy-dog eyes), Phoenix slings the backpack full of swimming kit over his shoulder and leads Apollo to the changing rooms, where he forges ahead with a triumphant step and a dogged determination.
The first thing Apollo says when he’s ready to swim is that there are, under no circumstances, any pictures to be taken of him in his matching red swim trunks and floaties.
(He’s just lucky Phoenix can’t take his phone to the pool with him, because he’s simply too cute to not want to document it forever).
The pool is just as empty as the shops had been this morning, giving Apollo the privacy he most likely wants to even attempt swimming. The only people really giving them a second glance are Athena and Trucy, but they’re far away and occupied by the water slides enough that Apollo doesn’t mind.
Apollo seems perfectly fine, toddling over to the pool with a subtle excitement in every little step he takes towards the water - all until he reaches the edge.
He sits down, hands gripping at the floor as though he’s scared of accidentally falling in, even though the ground is completely flat.
“Need some help getting in, Pollo?” Phoenix asks as he slips into the pool, and keeps enough distance from Apollo so he doesn’t splash him by accident before wading slowly over to where he sits perched on the edge. His tiny, chubby hands grip onto the floor and while he does manage to hang his legs over the side, they’re too short to even touch the water.
The water is only waist high on Phoenix. If Apollo was back to his regular size, he’d easily be able to stand up - but Phoenix supposes it must look so much scarier when he’s so small. What is shallow for him is probably three Apollo’s tall right now, and whatever had frightened him earlier must be coming back in full force.
“I know, buddy. You’re alright,” Phoenix offers his best attempt at a reassuring smile. “I can touch the bottom here, see? You’re nice and safe.”
If the way Apollo’s lower lip trembles is any indication, he doesn’t seem very convinced.
“You don’t have to get in, kiddo. But you already did the hardest part, right? Came down here all by yourself, so brave,” he murmurs as softly as he can while still making sure Apollo can hear him over the noise of the pool.
Despite the praise, Apollo still seems nervous. He peers over the edge of the poolside, watching intently as Phoenix creates tiny ripples in the water with his hands - fascinated but at the same time hesitant.
It’s probably a lot for him. Phoenix was never one for the ‘throw him in the pool, he’ll learn how to swim’ sort of parenting style, especially after going into his first ever trial without knowing what a court record or a cross-examination was. The last thing he wants to do is make Apollo distrust him. He’d done enough of that when they first met.
“How about this,” Phoenix says gently. “I’ll hold you close to me, okay? Then you can come off from the side, still nice and dry, and see how you feel.”
Apollo seems a lot more agreeable to that, since it’s less of doing something that frightens him and more of a simple hug. He’s been more open to being held recently, especially since visiting Kristoph - he doesn’t cry like he used to, doesn’t even protest unless he’s grouchy or doesn’t want to be touched. On occasion he’ll even seek out comfort himself, wandering up to Phoenix at the Agency and tugging on his jacket until he picks him up from the floor and wraps his arms around him. (Actually, it's a common enough occurrence now that neither Trucy nor Athena question a half-asleep Apollo settled on his hip whilst he's working).
In lieu of a verbal answer, Apollo sticks his arms out in Phoenix’s direction - and he wastes no time in scooping him up, resting a supporting hand on his back and securely settling him against his chest. He takes a couple of steps back into the water, still holding Apollo snugly.
Apollo’s arms curl into his body, chin resting atop Phoenix’s shoulder, and he’s high up enough that his toes can just brush the surface of the water.
“That’s it, Pollo, there we go,” Phoenix cheers softly, patting him gently on the back. “Wanna try kicking your feet in the water?”
Apollo shakes his head rapidly before hiding away in the crook of Phoenix’s neck, burrowing his eyes away so he doesn’t have to look. Phoenix grimaces internally as he realises that while he was just looking at the edge, the kid probably had a view of the wide expanse of the rest of the pool and all its expansive, overwhelming depths. Which is… not ideal, if the water made him nervous.
He wastes no time in returning to the edge of the pool and setting Apollo back down in his safe place, where he brings his knees up to his chest and tries his best to wrap his too-short arms around them.
Though a couple of seconds after sitting back down, he looks… fine. Like he was scared of the water a moment ago but now less so: he’s realised that while he was scared, Phoenix can take him in and out of the water at will, can take away the thing that’s scaring him in mere seconds if he wants to.
Obviously an actual two year old wouldn’t have the critical thinking skills to realise this, and he’d have a much harder time if he’d been trying to teach any other child - but as much as he struggles to present them, Apollo still has his smarts, his wit, his critical thinking abilities. And now that he’s calmed down, it’s like he knows that there’s no danger to him when Phoenix can pick him up and set him down wherever he likes.
“You don’t have to go back in if you don’t want. Remember, you have nothing to prove to me,” Phoenix says kindly, stroking his dry hair. “But look at that, huh? If you don’t like the water, I can take you out straight away, all safe and sound. I’ll keep you safe, kiddo, I promise.”
Apollo nods slowly, those tiny round eyes darting about as though he’s still considering his options. Though it doesn’t take long for him to reach his arms out again, curling his fingers into Phoenix’s shoulder once he picks him up in the same position.
He seems less opposed to it all the second time, feeling safe in the knowledge that Phoenix has him protected and firmly anchored in his paternal hold. He twists his head back and forth to look at the edge of the pool, then over to the deep end, then to the table they were sitting at earlier, and finally into the depths of the rippling water underneath him.
“There we go, buddy. I’m so proud of you for trying again,” Phoenix says, smiling into his hair. Logically, he knows that it’s still twenty-four year old Apollo’s brain in that tiny, adorable little head; but it’s so difficult not to praise him, not to treat him like he really is as little as this.
Before all of this, he’d never really realised how sensitive Apollo is. Not that he shows it to anyone - he’s always careful to keep his true, vulnerable feelings hidden underneath a solid layer of coolness and neutrality, safely away from anywhere they could be used against him.
But seeing him so small, it’s difficult not to notice everything. To spot the tiny little things he can’t quite keep concealed in a body that constantly needs help, comfort, and security. He doesn’t like to be teased, doesn’t like to be embarrassed, and it has Phoenix lying awake at night re-evaluating every time he’s jokingly mocked Apollo and wondering how many times it’s hurt him without him realising.
He’s not sure he praises him enough, values him enough in the office. Little Apollo’s face lights up whenever Phoenix congratulates him for brushing his own hair but he doesn’t even remember the last time he complimented Apollo as an adult - and the thought has him pressing a quick kiss to Apollo’s wispy hairline, absentminded enough that the boy can’t sense any of the meaning behind it.
…He makes a mental note to be nicer to Apollo, even when he’s not as small as this. Maybe this was what they needed: an opportunity for Apollo to show, if accidentally, everything he wants; and an opportunity for Phoenix to give that to him, to build their trust and cement himself as a figure of not authority, but kindness. Care. (And maybe even a figure of paternity, but that’s neither here nor there).
Teaching Apollo to swim hadn’t really been on his list of things that he thought he needed to teach when he first gained a protege - but there’s no harm in it, he supposes. He’s probably taught him more this afternoon than he has in most of his law career.
“Wanna try kicking your feet in the water?” Phoenix asks again, softening his voice so much that he has to speak right next to Apollo’s ear.
This time, he does - stretches out his little legs and dips his toes in the water, and every flicker of emotion shows on his face. He’s startled at first, then gradually getting used to the feeling, then smiling softly as he starts to splash, still held up safely in Phoenix’s arms.
“There you go, buddy,” Phoenix laughs with him as he giggles lightly, most of his woes from earlier in the day seemingly forgotten. His fingers tighten against Phoenix’s skin and his brown eyes light up with joy; now he firmly believes that he’s safe, he can truly start to learn, to play. To trust that Phoenix will keep him out of danger and protect him.
“It’s cold,” Apollo shrieks into his shoulder, voice high-pitched with childlike glee.
“Yeah. We’ve gotta play to warm up, see?” He directs Apollo’s head with a gentle nudge over to where Athena and Trucy are having fun at the opposite end of the pool, diving down to the bottom and making waves in the water and cannonballing in (which Phoenix is 99% sure isn’t allowed, but whatever). “I’m not saying you have to do all that, though. Even I’d be scared to go down a waterslide.”
Apollo makes a scrunched-up, disgruntled face at the mention of a waterslide, but seems happy enough nonetheless. Phoenix lowers him slightly when he kicks his legs a bit harder, and pays the price of getting monumentally splashed once Apollo’s knees are submerged and he sees fit to get as much water as he can everywhere.
Despite being content in the water now, he’s still not overly okay with Phoenix letting go completely. With a bit of trial and error in what he feels ready enough to do, Phoenix ends up holding onto his waist and crouching down into the water with him.
This, albeit unintentionally, puts his face at perfect splashing height, and Apollo’s newfound favourite game turns out to be ‘see how much water he can get into Phoenix’s eyes’. (Coincidentally, this had also been a younger Trucy’s favourite game at bathtime… but there’s no point dwelling on that).
It’s probably not the best for learning to swim, and Apollo would make a lot more progress if Phoenix let him go - but, unlike most children, Apollo is going to be twenty-three in the (hopefully) near future, so it’s not like Phoenix is stunting his development. He hopes, at least.
When he’s back to normal, Phoenix thinks, will Apollo even try this again? He supposes he’s done the most difficult part; he’s gotten over his mental block about getting in the water, and is seeming to have a nice time now he’s sure he’s safe.
As soon as he gets over the soul-crushing embarrassment that he’s definitely going to feel once he’s back to normal, Phoenix wonders if he’ll let him take him back. He wonders if maybe, there will be some concrete and positive lasting effects from this - and Apollo will try again.
Apollo crawls up onto Phoenix’s bed that night, laying like a starfish on the mattress and taking up so much room that Phoenix has to shift over - not unlike when his old family dog would weasel its way onto his childhood bed for company, plopping itself unceremoniously right in the centre.
He flops down on top of the duvet, hair frizzy and still smelling of chlorine as he stares up at the ceiling, looking as innocently carefree as any regular toddler would. He’s missing the frown lines and eye bags that Apollo normally has, missing the deep set stress that constantly adorns his features.
“Still feels floaty,” Apollo says to the ceiling, lightly kicking his legs against the bed. “Like I’m still swimming.”
“That happens, buddy,” Phoenix laughs softly, reaching down to stroke a hand through his hair. And then he wonders: if it’s still adult Apollo in there, wouldn’t he know that? Phoenix had assumed that the refusal to swim was mostly due to his current… condition. Surely it would be scary to get into a pool when he’s at least three times smaller than the size he’s used to being, and Phoenix didn’t question needing to teach him how to swim because of it.
But now he thinks that Apollo might never have known how. And there must have, undoubtedly, been something to make him so afraid this morning.
It’s only when Apollo glares at him and pointedly accuses, “staring”, that Phoenix realises he’s been looking at him the entire time he was in thought.
“Sorry, kiddo. I was just thinking,” he says. “You were real scared this morning, huh? Wanna talk to me about it?”
“Um,” Apollo starts, breath hitching in his throat - and then those soft, brown eyes start to tear up. He’d shown incredible emotional control for his age today; Phoenix knows how hard it is for him at the moment to keep everything in check, and oftentimes things burst out against his will. Today, however, he’d been surprisingly calm.
And so it makes a lot of sense that now - after holding everything in all day - tears begin to swiftly roll down his cheeks. And Phoenix is just glad that he feels safe enough to do it; that Apollo views him as somebody he can lean on, somebody he can trust. That he sees Phoenix as someone he doesn’t have to be strong around.
He lets down the facade as Phoenix reaches over and picks him up from the bed, settling him between his arms and squeezing him close, resting his cheek atop Apollo’s tiny, warm head.
“C’mere, baby,” he murmurs quietly, the term of endearment slipping out on instinct. …Surely Apollo won’t mind, will he? Oh god, Phoenix thinks, what if it upsets him more? He doesn’t like being reminded of his current state but Klavier has called him that before and he was fine with it but he might not be fine with Phoenix saying it but at the end of the day he is a baby-
Apollo lets out a sob and curls into him, tightening his fingers as hard as he can in Phoenix’s shirt. It can’t have bothered him too much, then.
“I’ve got you,” Phoenix whispers into thin tufts of hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of his head. At this size, Apollo fits perfectly into the hug; bundled up against Phoenix’s chest and completely enveloped, protected. “You were so brave today, Pollo. I’m so proud of you. You know that, right? I’m very, very proud of you. I’m proud of you every day, I mean, you’re a very capable lawyer - but that’s a conversation for when you’re older.”
With a hiccup and a sniffle, Apollo buries his head in the crook of Phoenix’s neck.
“There you are, baby, I know,” Phoenix says, and while Apollo’s cries gradually start to fade, the need to hold him doesn’t lessen. “You’re safe here.”
“Was so scared,” Apollo blubbers, voice wobbling and rising in pitch with every clumsy sob that leaves him.
“Oh, kiddo, I know. Do you want to tell me about it? I’ll keep you safe from whatever’s scaring you, buddy, I promise.”
Apollo sniffles and shakes his head. “The- the river,” he says, so upset it’s almost unintelligible. “When I- when I was little, but, but-”
“But it’s too scary to tell me,” Phoenix finishes for him when getting the words out is too overwhelming. He rubs a comforting palm up and down Apollo’s back, bouncing him slightly in a comforting motion with his knee. It doesn’t surprise him that he can’t manage the words: if he struggles with simply saying longer words when he’s like this, it’s no wonder that he can’t articulate a memory that terrified him. Whatever happened with ‘the river’ might be fine for Apollo to deal with normally, but now is a whole other story.
“That’s okay, buddy,” he continues softly. “You’re too little to get it out now, that’s okay. Just breathe with me, I’ve got you.”
Phoenix pats his back rhythmically, feels his rapidly beating heart underneath that tiny ribcage and tries his best to soothe him through hushed assurances and gentle kisses pressed to his temple.
He calms down eventually, body already tired out from the pool and even more sleepy after tiring himself out crying. As Phoenix wipes the tears from his face with his sleeve he notices that the boy is already starting to drift off; he sniffles, yawns, and sleepily clutches at Phoenix’s shirt to get him to lay him back down.
“I know, buddy,” he whispers, shifting against the pillows so he can lie down too, still keeping Apollo flat and comfortable against his chest.
“Y’called me your son,” Apollo slurs hazily into his shoulder, already half-asleep.
Phoenix internally panics for a second. Has Apollo been hearing his inner monologue the entire time he’s been like this? Has Phoenix reverted into that old habit of muttering things under his breath rather than thinking them in his head and not realising? Because if he has, he has a lot of explaining to do. He’s been thinking of Apollo as his little boy ever since he first stumbled upon him on the Wright Anything Agency’s couch next to a worried and fussing Trucy.
Because… well, even after worrying that Apollo had heard all of that, it still doesn’t change his mind. The child drifting off peacefully on his chest, hair tickling his chin and tiny breaths fanning over his shirt is his in all but blood. He’s not just Trucy’s brother. He’s a sweet toddler, sure, but also an incredible, talented and earnest young lawyer who’s loud and stubborn and an invaluable addition to the office.
He doesn’t know if Apollo would think the same, and frankly, he’s almost too afraid to ask: but whatever the answer, he knows that he’d be proud to call someone like Apollo Justice his son.
He interrupts Phoenix’s thoughts with another sleepy mumble. “You told that lady. At the pool,” he murmurs, muffled since his face is squished against Phoenix’s shirt. “That I was your son.”
“I did,” Phoenix says, cradling the back of Apollo’s head in a cupped palm. “I… I did.”
“Hm,” Apollo says, seemingly too tired to comment on that at all, let alone use the necessary brain power to think about it. He nestles his head into Phoenix’s chest and sighs contentedly when the man rests his free hand in the small of his back, soothingly stroking between his shoulder blades with his thumb, and he tiredly smacks his lips together as he starts to fall asleep.
“Goodnight, kiddo,” Phoenix whispers.
Apollo hums again. “Still feel like I’m swimming.”