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Apollo was briefly awoken from a celebratory post-trial slumber by the sound of rapid-fire high-pitched sneezes— which was not, for a pet-owner, all that uncommon or bothersome in the slightest. Without opening an eye, a groan grumbling beneath pursed lips, he waved his hand around blindly to push Mikeko away from his face. But when his fingers met their plush target, he received the indignant mrrp of a cat, who was now also briefly awoken. Mumbling out some half-coherent apologies as he stroked the fur beneath his fingers, he peeked one hazy eye open and craned his neck upwards to see over the giant mass of a sleeping Mikeko pile.
And there stood Klavier in her courtroom clothes, hunched over halfway between the door and the bathroom and rubbing her eyes. Even as Apollo squinted his vision into focus, she looked kind of awful. Long, blonde hair pulled upwards into a helplessly messy bun, just for the sake of freeing it from her face, even as stray, stringy locks drooped and snaked down her temples and neck. She peered through barely-opened eyes threatening to burst with water, every second of pause punctuated with a sniff, or a sneeze, or a sigh as she stumbled forwards to the bathroom door.
“Klav? Are you okay?” Apollo sat up on his side slowly.
“Oh, häse,” Klavier let out a breathy bout of laughter, the sheer amount of congestion in her voice blaring fiery red signals against the question without another word. He shot up further, ushering the blankets off himself; Klavier stepped back and held up her hands defensively at the motion. “ Nein, nein— I’m alright, it’s just… allergies. I’m just going to take something before I go.”
“Don’t you have, like, perfect genetics? What are you even allergic to?” Apollo rolled his eyes and hopped over Mikeko to the other side of the bed, where the other hovered nervously. Walking closer, he gently reached up a hand to cup Klavier’s face, running a thumb over flushed brown skin, burning far before the tint of blush began to seep into her cheeks. On any other occasion, it would be sweet how she still swooned over such a simple gesture.
With a crooked smile, Klavier cast her eyes aside. A hand hesitantly reached to tuck one piece of hair behind a decorated ear as she murmured, “Oysters?”
And she winced as a simple, unamused stare met her in response.
“You’re burning hot. And not like that, I mean,” Apollo sighed, finally dropping his hand with a slight shake. Out of the corner of his eye, Klavier wilted even further for a moment before seizing up in another bout of sneezes. One could barely call it a sneeze, really: more noise came out of her from the groaning breath for air than the squeak that tensed her shoulders and stomach until she shrivelled up, as small as could be. It’s no wonder he had mistaken such a sound for Mikeko. But he raised his tired eyes to meet Klavier’s blinking back water with a softened concern, gently removing the blazer around sleepily unprotesting shoulders, tossing it to the bed behind him. It narrowly missed Mikeko as it fell. And his fingers fell next to the task of undoing the buttons of her dress shirt, a rosy tint of his own rising to his cheeks at the thin lace and bare skin beneath. On any other occasion, Klavier might have found that sweet, too. “How are you feeling?”
A beat skipped in the air as Klavier’s brow twitched ever so slightly, still rather unfamiliar with the question. “Aside from the sneezing, ähm… hot, stuffy, and my throat hurts, I suppose.” A grin flickered across her face as she leaned in over his head, “So, a bit like you, ja?”
“Very funny.” Pulling the dark button-up down around her shoulders until it, too, fell to the bedside, he met her eyes. “You don’t have a trial today, do you?” As she shook her head, he let out a sigh of relief. Nothing to reschedule at the very last second; then neither Klavier nor the office should have any reason to protest the order that followed. He reached to brush a stringy piece of hair back as it fell over her eyes. “Just lie down, I’ll call Prosecutor Edgeworth.”
“Mmm… danke… ” Her face scrunched up in another sneeze, and Apollo let out a laugh. She only pouted in turn, eyes shining with pleading intent. Or, at least partially with intent. “That’s rude, häse. I’m a dying man.”
“Sorry, Klav,” he smiled, tilting upwards to kiss her cheek before leaving the bedroom with a wave, “Now go rest in peace.”
As he made his way down the hall towards the kitchen, a quiet patter of footsteps fell into step beside him: Vongole emerged from some mystery room, of which there were very many in Klavier’s home, collar jingling happily on her way. He smiled and scratched her head as he went, white hairs coming away with his fingertips and floating in air. Klavier was very, extremely lucky she was not allergic to the biggest threat in the house— honestly, she would never work again otherwise. A soft grin crept up on his face as Vongole simply smiled that sloppy, open-mouthed smile. He cooed, but that wasn’t her fault, was it?
Taking a turn to the left, the pristine, polished kitchen appeared in sight, and Apollo set to work. Dancing around the L-shaped dark marble island, he grabbed the shining, fancy kettle with far too many modes and buttons and filled it with water in the sparkling sink. Perhaps it owed that sparkle to the fact that Apollo had never once seen Klavier use it to wash a single dish; that was what the gigantic dishwasher was for, obviously. His definite favorite of the rewards that came with a rich partner— aside from the partner, of course. Though the addendum came too late; he could already picture the woman in question pouting in his head. As his eyes wandered over to the machine with the rushing white noise of running water, Vongole circled around his legs excitedly, all the while.
“Okay, okay,” he laughed and reached for the nearest drawer. “Where did Klav put your food bowl this time?” That is, the weeks as they moved in together had become an incessant game of hide-and-seek; Mikeko’s relentless dives for Vongole’s food often forced the pair to stow the bowl away in any somewhat suitable container before dashing out the door. No drawer was safe, nor the cabinets; not even the microwave, the oven, or the fridge. Though it smelled of the food for hours after, and not in the way a fridge should. Probably not a repeated spot, he winced, and correctly found nothing out of the ordinary inside. On this particular occasion, Apollo craned his neck up to find the bowl balanced perfectly atop a hanging plant pot, its former occupant mercifully having been moved to the office the day before.
He clicked on all the abundant amount of buttons on the kettle until it sounded alight, and sighed. “I hate tall people.” With another groan, he kicked over the step stool from the corner between cabinets to the sink, and reached up to grasp the remains of poor Vongole’s breakfast.
Seeing as Mikeko still slept sweetly in bed with Klavier, Apollo safely turned his back once more to the cabinets and pulled out his phone. It wasn’t often, or perhaps ever, that he had to call the Chief Prosecutor himself: in fact, he only had the man’s personal number saved from the one time Mister Wright had stolen his phone to ask about dinner plans. His own was apparently dead and wouldn’t charge; or, at least, he couldn’t be bothered at the moment to find the charger that worked. Neither possibility was all that uncommon. There wasn’t much uncommon at the Wright Anything Agency.
“Good afternoon,” a pleasant voice chimed almost instantly, with just as much formality in his tone as Apollo assumed he must have at work. The familiarity still ran a shiver down his spine as the other continued, “This is Miles Edgeworth. Who is this?”
And he didn’t even remember Apollo’s number… Groaning and burying his face into the kitchen island, he wondered if that was better or worse than remembering it as Mister Wright’s. His voice came muffled, still pressed to the cool marble surface, “It’s, umm, Apollo. I mean,” he straightened his spine and cleared his throat, “Apollo Justice, sir.”
“Ah, Mister Justice. Did Phoenix change his mind about dinner plans again?” And he bit back another groan: even the Chief Prosecutor only thinks of him as the Wright Anything Agency errand boy. Not that he would have much of an impression otherwise, he guessed… They’d only ever traded polite small talk about the day, really, as he occasionally stepped into the offices to drop off paperwork, or lunch, or whatever else Mister Wright managed to forget. Polite, that is, mostly on his end as Apollo struggled to string together a response without the words, “broken,” “backwards,” or “toilet.”
“No!” he huffed, a little louder and a little harsher than he meant it, “Or I don’t know. Probably? But I’m calling about Klavier.” The kettle began to bubble as he paused and retrieved the step stool once more. It creaked beneath his step, reaching up on the tips of his toes. “I think she has a cold or something, so she can’t come into work today.”
Concern quickly creeped into the pleasantries as Prosecutor Edgeworth hummed, taken aback. “Oh, how terrible. I suppose I’ll have to inform Detective Skye of her reassignment for the day. Hmm, and the paperwork will be late…” He was clearly trailing off into his own world, just as much as Mister Wright did whenever he ordered Apollo to run off on errands. Not that it mattered much, as Apollo busied himself with the cabinets. Pushing aside bags of expensive coffee beans and matcha powder, bottles of flowery honeys and various sweeteners— far too many than one person would ever need in a lifetime, in his opinion— he finally spied his target in the far back of the cabinet. One lone sealed bag of loose-leaf sencha tea; he grabbed it and fell back on his heels with another creak. And Prosecutor Edgeworth finally seemed to snap back into the conversation too, clearing his throat. “Well, there’s nothing to be done but to take care. Give her my best wishes for a speedy recovery, and thank you for letting me know.”
“Mhm, no problem. And, uhh, good luck with all that.”
Apollo didn’t even hear his response before the call clicked to an end, and he stared blankly at the bag of tea in his hands. Klavier had laughingly told him once that Kristoph bought her tea for the holidays, years ago. Of course, Klavier never drank tea, everyone knew that; it was for Kristoph himself when he visited on any rare occasion. And the brand sounded so strangely familiar, because he swore he had found some in the Wright Anything Agency kitchen too, growing a fine coat of dust behind the instant ramen. Because he swore that, on one quiet morning when he stumbled into the Gavin Law Offices, barely able to breathe between a fit of sneezes, Kristoph had sighed, and pulled out this bag and made tea for two.
It was funny, the memories one tends to keep. With the nod of a mind made up, he fumbled to the left drawer for a teaspoon.
ㅤ♡
Apollo shuffled carefully back down the hallway, each tiny step wary of the large dog practically hugging his legs: the weight of her alone could threaten to knock him over, as he held a steaming mug up high in either hand. Even from the other end, he could hear the groaning of what must assumedly have followed a seizure of sneezing. His shoulders fell with a sigh, an aching in his chest at the mere miserable thought; truthfully, this was probably the first time he had seen Klavier sick at all. Sometimes he had wondered if she was even capable of it. What kind of cold medicine did Klavier have? She had to have some, right? Liquid, or dissolvable? Hot water, or cold? Surely, there was some VapoRub stashed in some bathroom cabinet? Saline?
But instead, he shook out the rising sting of panic, focused only on the next foot in front of the other, not tripping over the foot of a sweet, excited Vongole who had no idea what she was begging for at all. He bent awkwardly to open the door with his elbow, man and animal alike spilling over back into the bedroom. His eyes fell on Klavier, having made herself clearly quite comfortable in bed in a matter of minutes. On her side in a sea of plush pillows, waves of blankets kicked up around her waist, but not much else. Arms splayed out as if to touch as little as possible in their burning heat, or maybe just to contort herself around Mikeko, curled up in a perfect circle between the two long, lean limbs. Vongole, too, climbed dutifully into bed at her feet. One closed eye peeked open as Apollo set the mugs down against the nightstand with a small clatter.
“Gott, please don’t be saltwater,” she murmured, not moving an inch.
“It’s not saltwater. For now.” Apollo sat at the bedside and rubbed his neck with a crooked smile. “I called Prosecutor Edgeworth; he said get well soon… among other things. And then I, umm, made you some tea from the cabinets. I know you don’t usually like it, but it should help your congestion, and immune system too. There’s honey in it!”
Klavier sighed a sleepy smile as she slowly propped herself up, reaching over Mikeko obediently for the offered cup. Her vacant look briefly flickered to the green-tinted waters, still swirling from the teaspoon Apollo clinked against the edge of his own drink, before dreamily gazing into hesitantly met brown eyes. “Thank you, but…” she reached across the sheets to cup his face, winking with the unshaken confidence of a star prosecutor even as another string of blond hair fell limply across her sparkling eyes. “Aren’t you the only honey I need?”
A flush as red as his vest filled his face as he abruptly stood up and made for the bathroom door. Nervous laughter spilled from his lips, shrugging away the comment with, “That’s the delirium talking, right? You must be sicker than I thought.”
A whine came from behind, “You’re being rude again, häse.” The last word was nearly cut short by several short bursts of inhales, finally released by the smallest squeak.
“I’m just trying to take care of you,” Apollo insisted as he crouched down to the bathroom sink cabinets, pretending not to see the crimson in his cheeks in the mirror, or feel the stupid grin twitching at the corner of his lips. Probably just onset symptoms of a cold, too. He should get a mask. “Where’s your cold medicine and VapoRub? Do you want a cold towel? Should I make soup?”
Weak laughter bubbled out from the bedroom. “Well, now you’re making me worried. Do you want my last will and testament, while you’re at it? It’s in the study, you know.”
Apollo stopped mid-rifle and leaned back, sticking his head into view through the open doorway. Thick eyebrows furrowed thicker creases into his forehead as he asked, “You actually have one?”
“Gott,” Klavier laughed, a brilliantly loud, bubbling burst of a thing only slightly disturbed by the rasp in her throat, growing to an interrupting cough. It was still the most beautiful sound in the world. “Of course. Kris sat me down the day I received my prosecutor’s badge nearly ten years ago. After all, disaster is rather expected in our line of work, ja? And when the Gavinners skyrocketed overnight…” she rolled over onto her stomach, placing the mug back onto the nightstand and letting her outstretched hand dangle over the sides. “Tja, he was right in ways he never could have dreamed.”
Turning back to the cabinets, Apollo felt the shiver of unease settle over his shoulders and into his stomach, swirling like the warped reflection of his downtrodden face against the ceramic tile below. When it was just the two of them, he could almost forget the life Klavier grew into, so different from his that it was unrecognizable. Incomprehensible. But horrifying, all the same, no matter how Klavier laughed and shrugged off the implication. And certain that she didn’t need him bringing the mood down, especially with circumstances fairly low to begin with, Apollo simply cleared his throat and grasped the VapoRub bottle, hidden behind what seemed like a rather exorbitant amount of skincare products. And hidden under that happened to be a single pack of orange-flavored cold medicine tablets. He supposed it was his lucky day, and pocketed the pack.
As Apollo perched himself on the bedside with the bottle in hand, already unscrewing the top, he murmured, “Can you pull your hair back? I don’t want this stuff to get in it.” The golden curls of Klavier’s hair had already begun to fall down as she rose, until just as much rested on her shoulders as was pinned up haphazardly. Anyone else would look like a disheveled mess, he thought with a shake of his head; anyone but Klavier Gavin. He placed the turquoise top on his thigh, crystal gel swirling around his fingertips and scenting the air, before he finally glanced up to find Klavier having not moved at all. In fact, she only tilted her head with a teasing smile.
“You know, I can put Vicks on myself.”
“Yeah. Yeah! Obviously,” Apollo said sheepishly, a crooked grin creeping up his face with another burning sensation. Everything inside him was ready to completely explode; how could he be so presumptuous as to do something pointlessly intimate like trying to rub ointment all over her chest? Was there a stage where something like that becomes okay to do automatically, and where did it fall before or after moving in together? The idea of taking care of Klavier down to every detail had felt so natural that he hadn’t even considered the possibilities. It’s not like she was completely incapacitated! Rubbing his ointment-free fingers through his hair, he thrust it towards Klavier with a laugh. “Here you go!
But Klavier only pushed the offering back, laughing herself. “If you folded so quickly in court, we’d both be out of a job. No, no, häse, go on.” She leaned in once more, slender fingers drawing back each stray lock to expose the soft skin beneath it, held by nothing but a strapless black bra. “A lawyer ought to commit to his instincts, ja?” Apollo’s eyes trailed slowly downwards from hers, then flitted away. The burning never left his face, and Klavier’s smile never left hers, albeit now as more of a cocky grin than anything else. With how much she clearly still delighted in teasing him as much as possible, perhaps he could be convinced that there wasn’t anything wrong with her at all. Wouldn’t be too unreasonable to add “actor” to the long-running list of hyphenates she was juggling at all times.
A small huff escaped his lips as he reached forward and began to spread the rub below Klavier’s collarbone, slowly inching up to the sides of her neck. She held perfectly still as his fingers moved in circular motions, massaging into the skin; he could feel the gentle breath rise and fall under his touch. Blush faded from his freckled cheeks with a sigh. “Let me get your back too, okay?” And she turned without another word as he reached back into the bottle for more. Watching the air come and go through her shoulders and spine, he finally focused enough to hear the soft wheezing that lay beneath it. Until it was interrupted by another fit of sneezes, that is. He frowned. “Is it hard to breathe?”
With a sniff, Klavier pulled the elastic from her hair, letting it all cascade over one shoulder as she looked back over the other with another smile. Gathering the locks once more as she twisted the tie around her fingers, she shrugged, “Does it matter? I’m quite used to you leaving me breathless.”
“You get cheesier by the minute.” Thoroughly unimpressed, he poked a chastising finger to her shoulder blade, which flinched with breathy laughter in response. But rubbing the last of the shimmering ointment in streaks down the spine, he found himself laughing softly, too. He murmured, “And I thought I’d heard every single one of your pick-up lines used to death… Keep it up and you’re gonna make me sick.” And Klavier scoffed: strained enough to nearly be mistaken for a biting cough, or perhaps it was, though followed with an unbothered bout of laughter. Her slender fingers simply continued to lace themselves through her hair.
“I can’t help it, häse; you’re so cute when you get worked up.”
Apollo shook his head, but said nothing more. Though, he certainly could point out that it was far cuter when she obviously relished in working him up: unable to keep a smile off her face, eyes shining with delight. No, it was best to keep that one to himself… That look of hers was just for him. And as he massaged in the last of the Vicks from his hands, leaving nothing but a faint sheen against bronze skin in the light, something once more caught his attention in the empty spaces. Klavier stared off distantly: eyes glazed over as they peered into nothing in particular, smile frozen across her face in a strange sort of way. And even with the hair tie looped around her painted nails, they only trailed, again and again, through the golden threads tossed over her drooping shoulder. He watched her comb through nonexistent knots, hands climbing one over the other as they fell.
“Is everything okay?”
“Ha? Why do you ask?” Then she glanced over her shoulder to meet his eyes, and her face fell. “Don’t do that,” she insisted suddenly. Eves narrowed as a frown snaked across her lips, turning in her seated position to face him further. Her head shook, as did her voice, distaste underlined with a tremble of fear. “That peruse thing, whatever you call it— Don’t look at me like that.”
It wasn’t unusual for either of them to bring courtroom tactics home; it was something so inseparable from either of them alone, let alone together, but this… Apollo’s perception was the one exception. He knew why; it made her skin crawl, to be scrutinized like a common culprit on the courtroom floor. To be treated in the same way he had once treated her brother.
“Hey,” he forced down a swallow, lacing his fingers with hers as if to gently remind that his wrist remained bare, free of any bracelet that should strengthen his senses in such a way. “Hey, it’s okay. I promise I’m not, okay? I’m just… are you sure a cold is all that’s bothering you?” As much as he tried not to notice, his eyes flitted to her hands as they danced through her hair, toying with any stray lock they could catch in their grasp. That distant look growing in her eyes as she cracked jokes and tossed out flirtations with every breath, insisting upon the act of normalcy. Or maybe she really was delirious. Not enough evidence to tell. But the longer he looked at her, the less he could resist reaching out to cup her cheek in his palm: the smallest reassurance he could offer, feeling the singed heat of her cheeks against his skin.
Her dark eyes softened into sadness and cast aside, leaning into Apollo’s embrace with a shaken sigh. “You’ve always seen through me, häse… but I must seem so awful to you.”
“You know I could never think that.”
And she closed her eyes as she drew in a breath, with a small series of sniffles, “Nein… that’s the trouble, isn’t it? It’s been so long since anyone has worried over me the way you do. Gott, especially not on tour.” Hot laughter blew at the edge of his palm as she continued, “So many moving pieces, like a fugue, each layered delicately over the other to create the perfect melody… Every moment on stage made it all the while, really, but everyone was counting on us at every moment in between; there was just so much you had to push through to make it happen. Your physical, mental, emotional health… just melts away. It was almost freeing, sozusagen.”
Klavier’s eyes opened just as Apollo meant to object— to insist that that wasn’t right. That it shouldn’t matter either way, really; her life was not a tour, just the day-to-day of a courtroom lawyer in her own home, surrounded by people that would all care for her the same. But she pulled away from his grasp, even as she squeezed his hand the slightest bit tighter, “At least, until it was all over, and we went home. I’ll never forget the look on Kris’s face the first time he picked me up from the studio. Believe me, häse, no one would.”
A shiver ran down his spine as he tried to imagine it. Though, the dirtiest look he had ever received during his time at the Gavin Law Offices was probably the first time Kristoph caught him practicing his Chords of Steel workout from the rooftop. Or he thought it was; mercifully, his employer appeared so small from down below that only the calm, careful warning of his voice as he asked what on Earth Apollo thought he was doing carried far enough up the building to fear. No, the full extent of Kristoph’s expressions could surely only be unlocked by someone as intimate, and incredibly irritating, as his little sister. And possibly Mister Wright, while he was at it. Definitely Mister Wright.
Klavier smiled, as Apollo came to realize his face had contorted into a grimace in all his thoughts, trying to picture Kristoph’s own. He rubbed his head with a bashful grin as she continued, “He barely even glanced at me before insisting that I stay with him for the week. And I remember laughing, thinking he was trying to say that he missed me, in his own way, you know? But I guess he was just seeing the crash waiting to happen.” It was impossible, now, to know which of them was grasping onto the other tighter as her eyes fell to the floor. Hoarseness crept into her voice, a low and shameful whisper. But he wouldn’t stop her now; whatever it was, however hesitantly, was something she needed to say. He simply needed to listen.
“The next morning, I couldn’t… I couldn’t speak, or eat, or do anything but lay in bed and cry, and I couldn’t even say what I was crying for. I was just so… tired, I think.” She took a deep breath. “Kris stayed with me for the whole week. He brought me food and medicine whenever I wanted it, but usually when I didn’t. He did everything: washed my hair, took my calls, and told me stories from work until I laughed. And it just made me so happy, and he looked so happy that I was happy. He was always so worried about me, you know? You worry about me the same way that he did, and I guess I was just thinking…” she trailed off, flush in her cheeks as she swallowed down whatever thought remained. “I don’t make any sense, do I?”
“Klav,” Apollo murmured, letting the tired vocal cords rumble in his throat through the air, washing over the pair like the gently crashing wave of the incoming tide. Her eyes brimmed with bubbles of sea foam, threatening to burst down her cheeks until he pulled her inwards suddenly, feeling the pounding of two heartbeats as one. “Klav,” he repeated, firmer now, as his arms pressed tighter around hers, “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Häse—”
With a chuckle, he squeezed her tighter, nestling his head in the crook of her shoulder and neck. He could feel the arch of her spine, hitching breath: a shiver coursing through her body as the spiky tufts of hair tickled her bare skin. A spark of sadness lit in his chest as he insisted, a trick he had learned from a loved one now gone too, “I know what you’re scared of; believe me, I feel that way too. So I hope you’ll trust me when I promise: I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m literally not letting go of you until you admit that.” He gave another warning squeeze, and another laugh through all the sorrow.
“Ach— okay…” Klavier let out a small laugh of her own, hands grasping where they were pinned to the sides in a half-hearted attempt to bat him away. A smile laced the concession of defeat as she hummed, “Point taken. Tja, you really do leave me breathless.”
And with that, he fulfilled his promise. Though, the trick was really meant to culminate in lifting one’s unwilling partner in the air for a spin; not exactly suitable for one sitting down. With a smug, toothy grin, he dusted his hands from a job well done in cheering up: “The defense rests his case.” Klavier shook her head, though her wide eyes melted into crinkled corners, a soft, adoring smile on her lips. And Apollo glanced at her with eyes to match before he slowly stood from the bedside, planting a kiss on her tilted forehead. “Oh, but the defense does have to get you some water for your cold medicine. Lie back down, okay?” His fingers trailed to brush through her hair as he promised, “I’ll be with you in a sec.”
“Mmm, alright… The defense should use that tactic more often…”
Rubbing his neck with a grin, his mind wandered to the image of a certain red defense attorney suddenly bounding across the courtroom to constrict the opposing counsel in his arms. He barely heard the end of their relationship from the Wright Anything Agency as it was… “Not if I want to keep my reputation, I shouldn’t,” he shook his head, and trailed away once more down the hall. Vongole’s head perked up the slightest bit in the corner of his eye, but as Klavier nestled back into the covers with a small sneeze, she stayed right by her side. As did Mikeko, for that matter.
Apollo would make this trip quick, now. He rifled through the cabinets once more for a glass, and poured just the smallest amount of water from the fridge dispenser. Enough to dissolve, dropping the tablet in and watching it fizzle into nothing. He figured that if Klavier were anything like himself, she would probably loathe the taste and prefer to drink down as little as possible. That was an easy chance to take; she was, after all, by far, the pickiest eater in the house. And as he made his way back down the hall, a sigh of relief washed over him as it all came to a quiet hush. No horrible bouts of sneezes, or coughs, or wheezing to be heard.
As the door creaked open and Apollo approached with a new glass in hand, Klavier turned and sat up once more. She hummed as slender fingers took the drink from his, knocking it back quickly. Then closed her eyes and stuck out her tongue with the same speed, choking incredulous laughter out of Apollo. “You’re poisoning me, häse,” she whined, and set the glass aside. “Come here.”
So he obliged, leaning his head down as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him deep into a kiss. The bitter aftertaste still traced her lips, and he laughed some more. “Point taken.”
“Ja, that’s what I thought.”
He smiled, and crossed to join Klavier on the other bedside. Just as he lifted the sheets, Mikeko stood and stretched, large tufts of fur standing in spikes over his arched back. Apollo scratched behind his ear for a brief moment, before the pet trotted to the corner and curled up once more; Apollo followed his lead. Sinking back beneath the covers, their warmth soaked through his skin and lured him to the promise of a sleep once interrupted. A sleep now safe, secure, and loved, as Klavier’s arms wrapped around him, drawing him in close with her head pressed to his chest. Chin settled atop hers, he let out a sigh, and closed his eyes.
“Mmm, no, you’re too hot,” a hand pushed him away suddenly, and his eyes flew open to find Klavier fussing with the sheets again, pulling and twisting them into a strange knot from her chest to her waist, legs and arms free and all sprawled out. He watched with a smile as she gave the thing a satisfied pat, and offered his hand without a word as she reached for it again, clasping her two hands together between his. A tangible touch behind a promise: to stay with her always, holding her together right where she needs him to be.
Klavier’s eyes closed as she drifted off. On her side, his eyes traced the edge of her shoulder as it rose and fell, soft sighs escaping through slightly parted lips. “I love you,” he said, and didn’t care if she could hear it, for the world could hear it, and that was enough. “I always will.”