Chapter Text
When Clay arrived at the airport twenty minutes before he was supposed to meet with Apollo and Klavier, sweating profusely under the weight of his luggage, he realised two things: For one, he had not been to the airport for a long time (for good reason), and two, he had forgotten his wallet.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar red suit. He approached his childhood best friend (and newly-turned boyfriend), pulling his suitcase behind him, and wanted to greet him with his characteristic grin, when his feet stopped abruptly. Apollo's skin was the shade of dried sage and he wore on his face an expression that Clay could only describe as a frowl. He would have watched his boyfriend frown-growl at the passers-by for longer, but he had the pressing issue of his missing wallet on his mind, so he claimed the seat next to Apollo with a sigh and turned to him.
"Hey, Pollo. You good, man?"
Apollo directed his nasty attitude towards him.
"Still hate flying?"
A nod. "Yeah. I already took my medicine, so I'm just waiting for the ground to stop spinning. When will this be over?"
Clay laughed. "It's not a long flight. We'll be there before you know it. Hey, you haven't seen Klavy yet, have you? I, uh, kind of need his assistance."
Apollo shook his head and immediately looked like he regretted his choice. He probably regretted most choices that had led him here by the looks of the deep wrinkle between his eyebrows. He turned away from Clay to bury his nose in the funnies of The Airplane. Strange, Clay thought, that an airport magazine would have funnies. But then again, they probably served as a distraction to many.
His wallet! Damn it, where was Klavier?
He got up, thrusted the handle of his suitcase upon Apollo, who shot him a dirty look, and went outside to call the Rock Star Prosecutor, or: his other newly-found boyfriend. Really, a lot had happened in the months following his prolonged hospital stay. Had anyone told him a year or so ago that he would wake up from a coma after someone had attempted to murder him and that he would, as a result, gain not one, but two boyfriends, he would have laughed at them and hoped it to become true.
Klavier answered the call after a single ring.
"Hey there. Uhm, where are you?"
"Just getting out of the taxi- Sorry, Mausi, I'm on private business, no autographs today," Klavier was talking to someone else, evident by the fangirlish squealing blaring through the speakers of Clay's phone, "I'll be there in 5."
Clay sighed. This was going to be an adventure and a half.
Klavier had had the idea of inviting Clay and Apollo on a weekend trip to one of the beautiful islands off the coast of Japanifornia. Apollo had just solved a case, Clay had just finished his rehab and was supposed to (very slowly) start working again, and to top it all off, Valentine's Day was around the corner. It would be romantic! Klavier was somehow convinced that it was a great idea to shove Apollo, the ever-hard worker, and Clay, the barely-recovered, into swimsuits and sandals – something about the romance of long beach walks and eating fruit while watching the sunset, if Clay remembered his words correctly.
Clay immediately said yes. Who in their right mind would turn down such an offer? A fully paid-for trip without having to move a finger, great company included, it sounded like a dream!
Right now, it felt more like a nightmare. On top of his missing wallet, Clay heard ghoulish screeching to his right before he saw Klavier hurrying down the hallway leading up to where he was standing. As if carried away by the wind, a hand on his pulled him into a small nook to the side.
"Entschuldige bitte," Klavier whispered into his ear as he leaned over him, one hand on the wall behind Clay, the other resting on his shoulder. "They're usually so nice, but I think they're not taking the disbandment as well as I had hoped."
Clay could see the tabloids' headlines the next day: Rockstar Prosecutor Gavin: One Affair After The Other!
The media had not been kind to Klavier, not at all. Even now, after the Gavinners had disbanded, they liked to put out articles from time to time, ranging from racy headlines like Blunder In Court – Was Klavier Gavin's Career Choice A Mistake? to downright creepy deep dives into his private life. When they started dating, Apollo, Clay and Klavier agreed on keeping their relationship a secret for as long as possible. Trucy knew, had guessed they were together before they could even think about telling her. Phoenix knew as well, courtesy of one knowing gaze at Apollo. A few rumours circulated at work, but neither Klavier nor Apollo addressed the fact that Clay visited the courtroom almost every time either (or both) of them had some grandiose showdown or another.
Clay did not want to imagine what the magazines would fabricate about their relationship if paparazzi saw them hugging this close. As much as he disliked it, he gently pushed Klavier away so he could take a better look at him. Sunglasses were shoved messily into his blond hair, a pair of headphones curled around his neck. He looked beyond ready to spend a weekend tanning in the sun.
"I'm sorry, Klav," Clay sighed. He confessed that he had left his wallet at home and that Klavier needed to drive him.
Since he did not want to leave his car at the airport, he had taken the train. It was easier, and his car was much safer at home than in this neighbourhood. Now he wished he had risked it because they would not make it in time with how unreliable the trains were.
Klavier nodded. "We can take my hog. Where's Herr Forehead? I'd like to leave my luggage with him."
Together, they crossed the extensive check-in hall, always on the lookout for fans but luckily not running into any. They deposited their belongings next to Apollo, who looked a little dazed but assured them that he was Apollo Justice and that he was fine, and rushed to the parking decks.
The road lay deserted before them when Klavier's motorcycle came to a halt with a low rumble. Clay loved the thing. Even though he agreed with Apollo's criticism that its colour was garish and an assault to one's eyes at best, he loved sitting behind Klavier, hugging him close, leaning into every turn with his weight. He loved the spike of adrenaline that shot through his spine when Klavier sped up, and adored the grumbling of the exhaust pipe whenever they had to stop for red lights.
They had to hurry, Clay reminded himself. No time for gushing! He walked through the familiar little garden that someone evidently put a lot of work into and jammed his fingers into the keypad of the front door. Klavier followed him a little distance away. Buzzing, the door unlocked and they took the elevator to the third floor. With a glance at his phone – man, they would end up being late! – Clay hurried down the hallway leading up to his apartment.
He pushed open his door, ready to leave no rock in his collection of lunar samples unturned, just to find his leather wallet sitting pretty right on top of the sideboard under his coat rack. It seemed to shoot him a mocking smile. Clay sighed in relief.
"I got it," he called to Klavier and turned around, just to find himself pulled into a tight hug.
"We didn't get to properly say hello," Klavier mumbled into his hair.
Clay chuckled and relaxed into the embrace. Drawing in the scent of Klavier's perfume, he pressed his nose into the other's skin, indulging for a moment in tranquility, before abruptly pulling away.
With a playfully stern voice and furrowed brows, he inspected Klavier. The fact that he had to look up a bit unfortunately added very little credibility to his farce. "We're already late. We should go."
Klavier shot himself a look in the mirror hanging on the wall next to them. Clay's eyes followed. His boyfriend's hair was bound in a low ponytail and pooled in his neck, and when Clay watched him a little closer, he realised that a tiny flower had found its place in the locks.
"Pretty."
Through the mirror, Klavier smiled at him. When Clay moved to leave the apartment, eager to get on the road again to hopefully catch their plane, he was held up by a hand on his arm.
"Eine Sekunde, Liebchen."
Turning around, Clay was met with a kiss pressed to his forehead. His smile grew when Klavier's lips trailed to his cheek and then down to the corner of his mouth. Impatient, he took hold of Klavier's chin and kissed him, one second stretching into an eternity, before he released the blond from his hold and scolded him with a flick of his fingers to his forehead.
"Let's go."
"I think I left something behind, too." Apollo, uncharacteristically desperate, clung to Clay as he heaved his luggage, his boyfriend's luggage as well as his boyfriend towards the check-in counter. "That's right, I left my hair gel. You know I can't go out without my hair gel."
Klavier laughed. "Herr Forehead, you're always so confident in court. I would never have guessed a plane would put you out of commission like this."
"It's not the plane that is my issue. As long as I don't have to be inside it."
Clay, a lot more accustomed to dealing with Apollo in this specific situation (he vividly remembered the first time they left the country on a school trip), motioned for Klavier to carry his camera equipment and slung an arm around Apollo. He would not be able to stand to listen to this for two hours.
"You know, Pollo, I got you something. It's supposed to help with flight anxiety. Just drink this, okay?"
Apollo eyed the little bottle dangled in front of his face suspiciously, then Clay. Clay nodded and smiled hopefully-reassuringly. Apollo opened the medicine and drank the entire bottle in one big gulp. His expression soured.
"It tastes strange."
"That means it's working," Clay lied. "You're Apollo Justice and you're fine!" Alright! He had basically just drugged his boyfriend! Sue him! Anyone would understand if they had to sit next to a whiny Apollo Justice in a flying box. Or any vehicle, really. Plus, it was just a stronger flight medicine, nothing to worry about!
Apollo tilted to the side, his eyes falling shut. Clay propped him up.
Okay, maybe a little bit to worry about.
"He will not be amused when he wakes up," Klavier remarked, returning from check-in with three boarding cards in hand. He deposited two of them in Clay's jacket pocket and helped him drag-carry their boyfriend towards a bench near their gate.
Klavier sat next to Apollo and let his heavy head rest on his shoulder. Quietly, he hummed one of the Gavinners songs while inspecting his nails. Clay pulled out his phone to check the weather. Sunshine and clear skies. He hoped the forecast would stay that way so he could do some stargazing, maybe even persuade his boyfriends to come with. The only reason why he was lugging around his entire equipment was to take some photographs of the night sky, and it would be a shame if the weather ended up getting in the way.
Their flight was announced, and before Clay knew it, he sat in his seat by the window, Apollo in the middle, Klavier towards the aisle. Apollo was fast asleep, and Clay snapped a picture of his open mouth. They took off, received complimentary cookies, and landed without a hitch.
Clay hoped the rest of their vacation would go by just as well. They all deserved a little bit of time off their everyday lives after everything that happened over the course of the last year.
He had no idea what this weekend would have in store for the three of them.
From the airport, it was only a short taxi ride to the resort they would be staying at. White beaches greeted them with open arms to both sides, and the aquamarine of the ocean woke up even the slightly grumpy Apollo. Clay felt rejuvenated already. The glittering waves reflecting sunlight seemed to whisper to him, promised him that all he needed was to take a dive into them and everything would be just fine.
The road opened into a roundabout in front of a huge white mansion. To one side, a patio stretched towards where Clay guessed the garden would be, to the other, a few palm trees huddled together for a few spots of shade. He breathed in the slightly salty air and sighed.
"It was a good idea to come," Apollo said. The last bit of green vanished from his face. Clay leaned in to sneak a kiss from his lips. Apollo indulged him for a moment, reaching to hold Clay's hand in his.
"I hate to interrupt," Klavier interrupted them, sounding genuinely dismayed at having to break up his boyfriends' kiss, "but we should go in."
Each carrying their own stuff, they let themselves be greeted by a portier standing by the front door of the hotel. The door opened into a huge open foyer that was lined on three sides by glass walls and led up to a big reception counter, behind which were sitting two people. Klavier strode towards them and shot them a winning smile.
His smile was returned. "Welcome to Sunshine Resort. How may I help you?"
"Guten Tag." Klavier leaned onto the marble counter. Even wearing sunglasses and foregoing the Gavinners merch for undercover reasons, he was as charming as ever. "We have room reservations under the name Geiser."
While the receptionist was typing away on their keyboard, Apollo turned his head towards Klavier. "Geiser?"
Clay listened in as Klavier explained in a low voice, "Actually, Klavier Gavin is just a stage name. Gavin is my father's last name. Since I grew up with my mum, I naturally took her name, which is Geiser."
"And Mr. Gavin–?"
Klavier's expression grew cold. "He grew up with my father. Adored him and his practices. I almost followed in his footsteps–"
"Mr. Geiser?" The receptionist called, very obviously uncomfortable with the icy atmosphere that surrounded the three. "Thank you for your patience. Here is the key to your room. Will your associates stay with us as well?"
Clay could see the masking smile that Klavier, upon having been called, had quickly put on fall in real time. Suddenly he was reminded of what Apollo had told him a long time ago, when he had gone to the Gavinners concert that ended up being their last – something about Klavier and an underlying perfectionism, something about him holding others to high standards and himself to even higher ones. Klavier had planned their entire trip alone. He must have put a lot of work into it
"I specifically requested a suite. For my… associates and I to share."
"I am so sorry, but there must have been mix-up. We have booked a suite for you but unfortunately it has just one bedroom."
Clay, in any other situation, would have said: "That's cool! That's fine! We share a bed at home all the time, no worries!"
Instead, he looked at Apollo, who wore a stern, uncomfortable expression, and at Klavier, who tried to reign in his desperation. His stomach did a little flip at how dramatic they were. Seriously! It was just a sleeping arrangement!
"Are there any other rooms available?" Clay asked the receptionist. Not that he would want that, he wanted to be able to fall asleep listening to Apollo's snores and Klavier's hums!
A shake of their head came. "Unfortunately we are fully booked for this weekend. It's Valentine's Day, after all. We can only offer you another set of bedding."
Well, nothing to be done about that! Clay thanked them with a suppressed smile, received the key card to their suite, and pulled Apollo and Klavier towards the elevators. He would get his cuddles one way or another!
"I'm sorry, you two. I don't know how this could have happened. I am sure I booked us a three bedroom suite." Klavier could not lose the miffed look even as he pressed the button for the penthouse suite.
"It's fine," Apollo assured him. "Clay and I are used to sleeping on little room anyway."
They both vividly remembered the nights spent sleeping on Clay's balcony, when they dragged his mattress outside to stargaze and stay up all night just to fall asleep around midnight, Clay knew. They used to wake up cuddling each other for warmth, eyelids heavy and stomachs empty. He treasured the memories of his father preparing breakfast for them once or twice, when he had had a good day, and afterwards letting them help in his garden where he was growing tomatoes.
Apollo must have recalled the same memories. A tiny smile stretched his lips. He looked younger like this, Clay noticed, almost reminiscent of when they first met all those years ago. When they had become friends in the span of one late evening spent crying and yelling. Driving away the fuzzy feeling in his stomach with a shake of his head, Clay grinned.
"It's true. And you won't get rid of us this easily either, Klavy," he said with a downright dirty smile and put one arm around the prosecutor's waist. "You knew what you were getting into when you invited us."
Apollo gave an affirming nod.
The suite was more immense than Clay could have dreamt of in every aspect imaginable. Glass windows granted a stunning view over the ocean in every room, the living room with adjacent kitchen was extensive and cozy, and the bedroom promised them deep sleep and pleasant dreams. A sliding door gave access to a balcony, which wrapped around the building and accommodated a seating area and a fireplace.
"This is amazing," Apollo called from outside where he inspected the balcony.
Klavier, having toured the suite in a few steps and now unpacking his suitcase, huffed. "I still can't believe they mixed us up!"
Clay claimed a seat on one of the couches and stretched his arms and legs like a starfish. The cool leather did wonders for his skin where his shirt rode up and lay bare his back and stomach. He cared little for temperatures as long as the skies were clear, but today was warmer than usual.
Shuffling a little closer to where Klavier was searching through his stuff, Clay strained his muscles to ever-so-lightly tap his boyfriend's knee with his toes. "Thank you for planning this. Okay, we'll have to move a lil closer together, but so what? It's just one weekend. Do you dislike us that much?"
Klavier ignored the teasing tone and shook his head. "I booked one with a private pool."
Laughter rumbled through Clay's chest so profoundly that even Apollo came back inside. Klavier was pouting so much because he wanted a pool! What was he, a child? Breathlessly, Clay ran his fingers through his hair. They had the ocean to themselves, and here Mr Rock Star Prosecutor was, pouting over a pool.
"What are you laughing about?" Apollo bent his head over Clay's.
Clay told him, and Apollo joined him in his laughing fit. Klavier sighed in defeat and fought a smile. Only his boyfriends could laugh at him and not face the wrath of his prosecutor alter ego. Still, when they would not stop, he swiftly changed the topic.
"It's early, but should we have dinner? There are a few restaurants that we should try out."
"I'd like to take a shower beforehand," Clay said. He had sneaked a peek at the rain shower in the bathroom earlier and knew it would not leave his mind until he had tried it out.
"I'm pretty hungry," Apollo hesitated. That was right, he had not eaten yet, courtesy of his little absence on the plane earlier.
And so, Apollo and Klavier left to have dinner (not without making him promise that he would hurry and join them soon) while Clay made use of every single one of the amenities the hotel bathroom offered. They had gone all out, even including a bubble bath in the box of shampoo and conditioner, and he would definitely have to take a bath later on.
With his boyfriends, naturally.
As he sat on the couch wrapped in pristine white robes, drying his hair while checking his phone for any news (nothing of interest except a sensational article on a supposed UFO sighting), he heard a knock on the door. Hoping it would not be hotel staff given his state of undress, he opened the door slightly, just to be surprised by an exasperated Klavier.
"Kannst du es glauben? They closed down the restaurant!"
Klavier ran his fingers through his hair, frizzing it horribly, and entered the suite with big steps. Apollo followed him and sat on a bar stool behind the kitchen counter. "It seems there are concerns about whether hygiene protocols have been followed, and until they're sure, they have suspended service."
"We offered our help, but neither of us specialises in these kinds of cases. And so far, no one has died from food poisoning." Klavier wore the unspoken Unfortunately written all over his face.
"You look like you had fun," he then remarked and watched as Clay bit into one of the complimentary pears that presented themselved on the couch table. His smile rivalling the sun's radiation, Clay nodded.
"You should try out the shower later."
"We should find something to eat first," Apollo held out a pamphlet from a nearby restaurant for his boyfriends to inspect. On the pictures, seafood shook hands (claws?) with neatly arranged cooked vegetables and creamy soups on white porcellain. Very chic, very luxurious, and very much out of Clay's usual price range, which was, admittedly, not very large. But today, it wasn't his turn to pay, he was here to be spoilt! R-o-t-t-e-n!
They agreed on trying their luck. Clay quickly got dressed (swapping out his usual work visor for a pair of aviator sunglasses – he had to get into the beach spirit somehow!) and, this time together, they made their way to the restaurant.
The interior of the beachside hut was tiny and decorated sparsely in the name of luxury; to make up for it, worn-looking wooden tables and chairs had been placed in the sand. A waitress showed them to a free table and lit a candle before taking their orders.
The prospect of food that would not poison any of them lifted all of their spirits greatly. Klavier leaned back in his chair. With his sunglasses still stuck in his hair and his white linen shirt barely buttoned up, he seemed like he belonged to the scenery like the palm trees and the shells below their feet. Apollo looked similarly relaxed, the characteristic wrinkle between his eyebrows gone, breathed into the salty air. A laugh bubbled up in Clay, so forceful he could not suppress it.
Two sets of eyes turned to him. Apollo made an enquiring noise.
"I thought I was done for. I thought my life was over, and now I sit here with my boyfriends and drink margaritas and start working again on Monday." He laughed again, a laugh split right down the middle: one half incredulous, the other ecstatic to the point of nausea. "I can't believe it. I love you two."
Apollo exhaled audibly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't want to ruin the mood."
"You didn't." Apollo took his hand, outright clasped it. Suddenly, his eyebrows were drawn together the way they often were – the way they, Clay thought, belonged: together – his demeanour so serious. "You couldn't." Quietly, he added, "I love you, too."
Over the course of the past months, Apollo and Clay had shared many conversations, more than ever. Some of them heated, some of them quiet, all of them the same in their sentiment: that they loved each other. Back then, when he first woke up in the hospital (it felt like ages ago, now that Clay thought about it), disoriented and scared, Apollo had held his hand the same way he did now, making the same face as he did now. He had embraced Clay, crushing him under his weight, blanketing him with his own jacket that smelled more of Apollo than himself. Every step along the way of his recovery was spent reporting to his best friend, each evening they called while he was in rehab. The day Clay moved back home, Apollo had overcome his dislike for vehicles and had driven him home in his own car that he had taken care of meticulously in the time Clay could not.
All of this had undoubtedly been a confession of love.
And what followed, well, was an actual confession of love. Whispered words in the dark, following particularly rough days, when Clay could only repeat I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm Clay Terran and I'm fine over and over again so as not to lose himself. And not a day later…
Clay felt another hand on his. Through the watery veil over his eyes, he saw Klavier smile at him. Not a day after Clay had confessed his love (and life-long crush) to his best friend, Klavier had heard the same words from him. Words full of gratuity, full of remembrance of years spent following Klavier's every move and listening to him sing, and of months spent with him by Clay's side, playing the guitar for him or supporting him on nightly walks to watch the stars above. Words that, to anyone else, would have come too early, to quickly, but that made sense to the two who had grown to be inseparable.
The same words he would receive over and over if only he asked to hear them again.
"I love you, too, mein Stern."
They dined – feasted, really – and took a long walk at the beach back to the hotel. Far away, beyond the horizon, the sun slowly dipped below the water, and the stars in the sky began their nightly spectacle. Clay was too full from eating good, expensive food and too tired from feeling big emotions to name more than one or two constellations, instead opting to draw Apollo and Klavier in by their arms and placing his focus on taking one step after the other. Having spent months bound to a hospital bed, his body was not back in the same shape as before the incident, no matter how hard he worked on it. He would be able to pull off his usual training regime again eventually, but for now, he was forced to slowly build muscle over time.
"We should go swimming tomorrow," Klavier suggested. He had put his hair into a neat bun in his neck for practicality's sake, but now it freed itself from the hair band and gently danced in the wind. "I bet you can see Herr Forehead's antennae when he dives."
"Wouldn't have pegged you for a big swimmer," Apollo retorted. "I thought you'd just want to tan and flirt with skin cancer."
"Ach, you know I'm only this tan because I spend so much time with you, mein Sonnenschein."
The bickering continued until they reached their hotel room and had to stop to brush their teeth. Later that night, Clay lay in the fluffy bed, Klavier behind him, one arm around his waist, and Apollo in front of him, chest pressed to his own, and smiled. If life could stay this way forever, he thought, he would need nothing else.