Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Is the costume essential ?” Apollo slumps in front of his fridge to sort away his groceries in his one-bed-bath apartment. The plan, as far as Apollo had been aware, was to buy groceries, do some light practice for their act tomorrow, and make dinner. “It’s only practice, so shouldn’t I save it for the show?”

Trucy, peppy as ever, bounces up and down in excitement, saving most of her energy by not helping with the groceries. “Of course it is, Polly! Corsets and heels can be hard to move in, so you need to know if you can move in them!” She punctuates her point, puffing her cheeks and bringing her fists to rest on her waist.

And she wasn’t wrong, but it was still embarrassing.

The reminder of his costume makes his face pinch in annoyance. He has already exhausted every possible bribe to wear anything but that damned bunny suit. That includes helping out in the magic show, but even he knew he’d be doing that anyway.  

“Here, Polly. I’ll put away the groceries, and you go make yourself pretty, m’kay?” She winks, trotting over to the fridge and pulling Apollo’s sleeve. Quite literally pulling, throwing off Apollo’s balance. 

He catches himself on the old, well-loved stovetop. “Geez, Trucy! You can’t just yank at me like that.” 

“Hm…!” She tips her hat, very slightly sticking out her tongue. “That was just your first balance test.”  

They both know it was a lie, but not one big enough to warrant a response. 

Apollo studies his figure in his bedroom’s dusty full-body mirror. His hands gently stroke the burn scars that run up the left side of his body, indents made by stretch marks. The cheap foundation is caked on for the effect of clear skin. He’s gained weight since he started working at the WAA. It’s made his boobs bigger, his figure fuller and more curvy. A certain pride flutters in his chest despite the acidic dysphoria in his stomach. A little over five years ago, he could hardly afford to eat, surviving off of whatever scraps he could find. 

Suddenly, there was a ferocious knocking on his bedroom door. “Pooo oolllllyyyyy .” Trucy whines. “What’s taking so long?!”

“You try putting on a full-body corset by yourself.” He groans, opening the door and presenting his back for a hand with the tying.

Trucy obliges. “It’s actually called a strapless corset teddy. You should know this.” In her classic ‘mock Apollo’s court voice’ impression. This is surprisingly accurate, considering he's only had four trials, with Trucy only being fully present for three.

Apollo’s horns droop, and he pouts with his upper lip. “Right, because sleazy Playboy bunny attire lingo is common knowledge, my bad.” Apollo rolls his neck, settling into his revealing new garb.

“We're gonna start with the disappearing match trick, okay?” She bounces in place, already holding her box of matches.

“Wha-?!” He stumbles in his heels over to her. “I thought I took those away! I told you, no matches here.” 

She practically deflates. “Awww… Is this because of what happened to Mr. Gavin's guitar?”

“N- no .” He steps back, feeling flustered. The sudden mention of Klavier caught him off guard. “It's not about him. I just don't like fire, okay?”

Trucy knows when to back off. “Yeah, yeah. I won't ignite it, though. You wouldn’t get it on the first try, and what if I run out of matches before we even begin?” 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Apollo deadpanned.

Now's not the time. Trucy's into show business, not funny business! “Polly, I always open with the disappearing match trick! You need to know how to do it.”

“You start with card tricks, and no. If you want to play with matches, do it outside.”

“Such a great influence, Polly.” She puffs out her cheeks, fiddling with the matchbox.

Apollo rests on the back of the sofa. “I'm hungry, so let's hurry this up. I want to get 

supper started.”

Apollo had always been good at standard cooking safety, having cooked in places like the Wright Anything Agency on second-hand hotplates. Not to mention the valiant attempts at proper meals, he managed to whip up in cramped dorm rooms during his schooling years. So, needless to say, Apollo was ready to cook up a simple curry.

“I'm going to let the sauce simmer while I get changed, alright?”

“Okay!~” 

“Thanks.” Apollo gives a small dismissive wave.

Before he can even close the door to his room, Trucy calls out wearily. “Hey, uhm, Polly?”

“What is it Tru—” Unlike their dinner, Apollo freezes. The smell of smoke reaches his nose. This was it. He was doomed to follow in his father’s footsteps. Not becoming a talented musician with a wife and a baby, but dying in a small room, being swallowed by the warm glow of fire. All while wearing a Playboy bunny costume. 

This haze is cleared when the fire alarm begins to blare in his ears. “Trucy, get out!” Using a bright red fire extinguisher - close in hue to his courtroom suit - he puts out the fire. Apollo was good at following kitchen safety rules, after all. 

Trucy is quick to escape. As she enters the hallway, she phones the fire department.

Exiting into the hallway to check on Trucy, he gives her a half hug around the shoulder. “You alright?” to which she nods, leaning into the hug.

Though, that thought was soon erased when faced with the firefighters explaining the extent of the damage.

With the fire cleared and his magical assistant safe, he is forced to do the adult thing and consider what comes next. He lives alone, but his current home is a little… Burnt. He’ll likely have to couch surf until he can live there again, and as of right now, his connections are few and far between.

The Wright family was out of the question. Trucy's magic shows, and Mr. Wright's endless dad jokes were enough to kill him at the agency. Sure, they had the potential to be hospitable, but Trucy's practice runs of her rings of fire wasn’t a situation where he wanted to tempt fate.

Clay was also not an option, as he was still in school training to become an astronaut. Who knew that would be such a time-consuming profession?

To bunk with his beloved mentor would mean to get himself incarcerated, and that sounds like a lot of hassle. 

So, who does that leave? Klavier Gavin, of course. How would that be awkward at all? It’s not like the last time he had a proper conversation with Gavin was after his brother's second arrest, in which Apollo aided. Not to mention the trial before was the one that sealed the fate of the rockstar prosecutor’s close friend and bandmate.

I would rather sleep next to the fire than stay at his place , Apollo thought to himself. Some distant onlookers whisper and giggle. It draws Apollo’s attention away from the little magician. 

Fuck. I never got changed.

Shame drags him back into the second to last home he wants to be in to throw on a pair of gray sweats and a DnD graphic t-shirt. His goal is to get in and out as fast as possible, so he stuffs some underwear and work clothes into his briefcase and slides his wallet into the deep pockets. He already had his janky old phone stuffed in the bra of his strapless corset teddy or whatever Trucy called it. 

He’s greeted in the hallway by Ms. Fancy pants, smiling in an unbefitting way for the current situation. A smile that is nowhere near stranger to him. It's the same smile that convinced him to wear this humiliating bunny suit.

“I've got you pegged, Polly~” She giggles.

Another shock to his system, an indignant squawk leaving his mouth. “What?! Pegged? What are you talking about?!” His shoulders tensed ever so slightly.

Trucy hums, ignoring the ongoing interrogation. “You need a place to stay, yeah? It's not like you're gonna sleep in a house that looks— and kinda smells like Daddy's meatloaf.”

“I'm not staying at the agency.”

“Geez! I know you're not,” she didn't, “but where are you going to stay, hm?”

The two stared each other down, and the looks being exchanged did all the talking.

After five silent minutes passed, Apollo’s expression shifted to one of offense. “I am not asking Gavin to couch surf.” It was an easy conclusion for Trucy to come to. For all she knew, Apollo's social circle consisted of the agency and the Gavin brothers.

“Boooooo!” She cries. “Why not? Aren't you friends?”

“I…” How could he be my friend? After all I had taken? “... don't know. We haven't spoken much since Mr. Gavin's second trial.” His hands rest on the mirroring upper arm loosely.

Trucy's expression softens, her hands resting near her chest. “Oh, I didn't know. I'm sorry, Polly.”

A reassuring smile. A fake one, but he hates seeing that wet cat of a stare. “It's alright, Truce.” He gently pats the top of her hat. “Don't worry about it, ‘kay?”

She pulls him in for a quick hug. “I'm sorry for comparing your home to Daddy's meatloaf.”

Apollo laughs, making his chest shake under the tight confines of the corset. 

“I think you should call Prosecutor Gavin.” A light suggestion. 

He takes a minute to think before nodding. “... Alright.” His eyes wander over to the open door to his apartment. “Not many other options that I can afford. You should call your dad and let him know that you're going home early.” 

5:38 PM: [Prosecutor Gavin? I have a request for you.]

Apollo waits anxiously, sitting against the wall and listening in on Trucy's phone call to distract himself. Trucy has a car and is the one who drove them to and from the grocery store. Calling Wright was more of a precautionary measure because Apollo doesn't and doesn’t want to know what he does when Trucy is out of the house. A small ping on his phone draws his attention.

Prosecutor Gavin 5:39 PM: [sup herr forehead ⁉️💥]

Charming as ever, I see.

5:39 PM: [This might be a strange request, but I had a small fire at my apartment, and I need a place to crash while it's being repaired]

Prosecutor Gavin 5:39 PM: [JA ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️]

Prosecutor Gavin 5:40 PM: [i mean ja]

Prosecutor Gavin 5:40 PM: [need a rigde  ?⁉️💥💥💥💥⁉️⁉️🖕]

5:40 PM: [🖕???  I don't have to stay at yours. It's not an issue.]

Prosecutor Gavin 5:41 PM: [misclick soz]

5:42 PM: [K. I don't need a ride, I can bike. I just need your address.]

Prosecutor Gavin 5:43 PM: [💜⁉️‼️‼️💜💥💜💜‼️⁉️‼️💜💥‼️💜💥💜‼️⁉️💥💜‼️‼️ awseome]

Prosecutor Gavin 5:43 PM: [ Prosecutor dropped their pin]

5:44 PM: [Thank you. I'll be there in ten. Need me to pick anything up?]

Prosecutor Gavin 5:44 PM: [nein 😁😇💜💜‼️‼️]

5:45 PM: [K.]

What has gotten into him? Apollo turns to Trucy. She's already gone in and out of his apartment to collect her magic supplies. Thankfully, none of it gave in to the temptations of burning in the fire. “I'm gonna go now. Did you talk to Gavin?”

“I did. He agreed, so I'll be biking over.”

Trucy giggles like the schoolgirl she is. “I can drive youuu~”

“I'm not giving you his address.” He sticks his tongue out at her. “Nice try, though.” 

“Aw, boo.” She whines.

“You know the drill, ‘kay?”

Trucy bounces away. “Yep! I'll text you when I'm back. See ya, Polly!”

“Safe travels, Truce.” He sighs, resting his head in his palms. 

Well. Apollo’s financial situation was already bad enough. Who knows how long he'll be bunking? At least Gavin seemed on board.

Something on his head shifts, slightly tugging at his heavily gelled hair. Ah, right. The bunny ears are promptly removed and placed into his already stuffed briefcase. He equips his keys and helmet, and Apollo Justice is ready to start his journey as a drifter.

Luxury condominium, eh? Not sure what else I expected. Apollo is greeted by a young ginger woman in a valet uniform. “I only have a bike. I can just…” He scans the area. “put it on a bike rack somewhere…?” 

The valet girl giggles as Apollo turns. “The bike rack is just in the lobby, Miss.” 

A small glare before he drags his bike inside. He’s almost blinded, the bright lights from the crystal chandelier reflecting off the white marble floor right into his eyes. A receptionist beckons him over with a polite smile and a wave. “Are you visiting someone today?”

He still hasn’t gotten the chance to put his bike away. It’s wheeled with him to the desk. 

“Yeah. Visiting a friend of mine on…” A glance at his phone. “Floor fifteen.”

The woman leans into a small microphone. It buzzes. “Mr. Gavin, you have a visitor.” There’s a small muffled response that Apollo can’t quite catch. She nods at Apollo and points to the elevator down a long hallway. Guess my bike is coming with me.

Gosh, even the elevator smells fancy. It’s about dinner hour, so he gets the elevator to himself. Big elevator, too. The maintenance staff need a lot of space for their janitorial carts. Just as bright as the lobby, too. 

Fifteen floors later, a small jingle plays announcing his arrival. The door opens, and the first thing Apollo sees is a 5’11” red-rimmed blue-eyed blonde man leaning against the hallway wall with a sloppy smile. However, the first thing to jump out were Klavier’s thick purple glasses, resting at the tip of his nose. “Welcome, Herr Forehead, to my humble abode.” 

“ Humble is one word to use.” Apollo slugs into the hallway. Shoulders slumped in on himself. He feels out of place, a fish out of water. Thrown out of the frying pan, right into the fire. Oh, he should make fish and chips sometime. But to Gavin’s credit, it was nicely air-conditioned, even if it reeks of booze and freshly baked weed brownies. “Thanks again for letting me crash here. I’ll try not to get in your way, Prosecutor Gavin.”

Gavin chuckles. His shoulders bob ever so slightly. “ Nein , nein . It’s my pleasure. And while you stay, call me Klavier, bitte .” The words lazily escape him, not much care behind them.

It’s very clear to Apollo that Ga— Klavier is not sober. He didn’t even need the bracelet for this one. “Klavier,” the name feels like barbed wires on his gums, “are you sure that it’s okay? You don’t seem… sober enough to make these decisions.” Apollo cocks a brow up at Klavier. He’s able to get a closer look at his puffy pink eyes through his dirty lenses. Unable to decipher if it’s just from the substances, or something else along with it. 

“ Achtung . You’re too considerate, Herr Forehead. But alas, next morning regrets are something I’ve grown accustomed to.” Klavier waves his hand dismissively. A small bead of sweat rolls down his cheek as the eye contact grows more intense. “Let me show you around, ja ?” He finally averts his eyes. 

“Sounds good, yeah.” It’s when Klavier looks away that Apollo’s able to get a better look at him as a whole. He’s dressed in a purple silk pajama set, tailored to fit him loosely but still frames his toned shoulders and back. His hair is down and unbrushed. It looks like it hasn’t been washed in a few days. Apollo’s shoes are discarded at the front door with his bike before entering into the condo any further.

Klavier’s demeanor is relaxed, sauntering through the pristinely desolate house. The hardwood floors were dark and slippery and must be freshly polished. His fishnets slip along as they walk. The first room they see is a living room, the entire far wall is a window looking out onto a gated green space with a pool. The rest of Japanifornia spread across the horizon. 

A plush purple U-shaped sofa, large enough to fit at least fifteen people, sits facing the right side of the room to get a good view of the television. A coffee table covered corner-to-corner in empty alcohol bottles and takeout containers sits in the center of the sofa. In the middle of the living room, a fluffy white carpet spreads across the floor, protecting the hardwood from the feet. If he looked close enough, he could see short strands of blonde hair nested in. Looked a little short to be Klaviers, though. 

The wall with the TV is surrounded by shelves, similar to the ones in Apollo’s home. But instead of them being lined with old photos, Klavier has his trophies from when the Gavinners were still together. Something about it makes Apollo’s heart ache. All that Klavier had accomplished, and worked hard for, all summed up in some cheap-looking statue. There was likely a cash reward as well.

“We begin our tour with the living room.” Klavier’s arms raise to make a grand gesture towards the sofa. His eyes darted to the coffee table. “Don’t mind the mess.” A sleazy chuckle. It seeps its way in and out of Apollo’s ears. 

Apollo’s eyes scan the living room. It’s unlike anything he’s seen in person before. Only ever on those home renovation shows he watches reruns of. “It looks comfortable.” He smiles at Klavier.

“You wouldn’t believe it, Herr Forehead.” Klavier turns on the heels of his bare feet. They take a left into the kitchen. 

A white marble kitchen with black tile floors beckons Apollo over. Oh, to cook in a place like this... Apollo has only ever cooked in cramped dorms and apartments. But this… This was beyond Apollo’s daydreams. State-of-the-art appliances, walk-in pantry, double fridge?! Apollo’s eyes sparkle in excitement, not saying a word. Those sparkles are dulled when he is met with piles of garbage and dirty dishes. It’s not like Apollo can judge in any way. He had been worse. However, Apollo is given an idea as someone who cleans to relieve stress. Considering how stressed he already is. “Klavier?” His voice is small and nervous.

“Hm? Already overwhelmed by my pampered lifestyle?” Klavier giggles again, ever-so-slightly leaning into Apollo’s space without touching. 

“Sorry if this is overstepping at all,” he tilts his head away from the invasion of his bubble, “can I help clean at all?” His grip on his briefcase tightens.

Klavier blinks in disappointed confusion. “ Was ? That’s it?” His back straightens, tilting his head down to look at Apollo. “You want to clean my house?”

Apollo nods, his eyes looking between Klavier and the mess.

“ Nein ! Nein .” His hands wave frantically. “I couldn’t make you do that. The cleaners come on Wednesday.”

“But today is Saturday. And you wouldn’t be making me, I enjoy cleaning.” Apollo smiles reassuringly. It was only a partial lie. He doesn’t enjoy it per se, but it’s the only thing that satisfies his need to work now.  

Klavier weighs the options in his foggy head, eventually landing on a noncommittal shrug. 

A confident smirk creeps up Apollo’s cheeks. “Let’s continue the tour.”

“ Ja , sounds like a plan.” Klavier’s hands rest in the smooth pajama pockets.

There is a closed door with a “bathroom” sign on the outside. Apollo can only conclude that is, in fact, a bathroom. There was always the slim chance that Klavier was playing a practical joke, but it's not likely.

Apollo is led across the living room into another wider hallway. There is another set of closed doors at the very end, but to the right is a bedroom. “This is your room, Herr Forehead. You've even got your own bathroom.” Klavier smiles. 

The guest bedroom is what you'd expect of a man who has money to burn. The floor matched the hardwood in the living room. A king-sized bed fills most of the room, with a large purple comforter and fluffy pillows. All Gavinners branded. 

Apollo’s surprised that he hasn’t seen more Gavinners merch. But at the same time, he isn’t. Klavier was likely coming back from dissolving the band, and the semi-purge has yet to reach the guest bedroom.

Typical dressers that one would find in a four-star hotel line the wall to the right of the door. 

Walking to the left in the room brings them into the guest bath. Again, it looks like a typical hotel bathroom. It has a single sink, fancy soaps, a bathtub and a wall to wall large shower with frosted glass. It doesn’t look like one that would normally be designated to the guest quarters, but it’s not like Klavier made the floor plan. 

Klavier invites Apollo to place his things down and explore the room. “Is this up to your standards, Herr Gast ?”

While his guard is down, an amused and impressed chuckle escapes him, his chest shakes under the corset again. “ Yes , it’s very lovely. Thank you, Klavier.” His own soft voice catches him off guard. He blinks himself into the proper state of mind. “Ah, uhm.”

Klavier looks at him curiously, leaning into his space once more. Still refusing to touch.

“Have you had dinner yet…?”

“ Nein , I haven’t.” Klavier’s eyes drift up to the ceiling in thought. They’re still light pink in color. He had brought his face close enough to Apollo’s for him to study it. Apollo’s eyes scan Klavier’s. The bottom lashes were still wet.

Apollo peels away from Klavier’s overcast. “My dinner plans fell through.” He takes a minute to recover from the hot rush that came to his head. “Mind if I take a crack at your kitchen? I can make something quick.” 

Klavier can take a hint, he pulls back almost synchronized with Apollo. “I thought your cooking skills were the thing that blessed me with your visit.” 

“My janky old stove top is what landed me here, thank you .” He retorts, turning away. “What do you want?”

“I’m afraid I’m low on groceries. However, I have a lovely leftover shrimp pad thai in the fridge.” He follows close, hovering over Apollo. “Perhaps you could amaze me with your re-heating skills.” A soft, tired chuckle. 

Apollo could feel a shift in the air. It was hard to tell what it had shifted too, but he will do the sensible thing and wait until he lays awake in bed unable to fall asleep to self-reflect. “It’s on, Prosecutor. Prepare to be blown away with my extensive microwave knowledge.” He snickers. 

Not that Apollo could see, but a smile rests comfortably on Klavier’s flushed cheeks. 

Klavier places himself comfortably on the sofa, sitting the wrong way so he could watch Apollo work. He moved with such efficiency, nothing could distract him. Well, that was a lie. One thing could distract him. 

“ Hase ?” Klavier squawks amusedly. 

Apollo answers, turning to face Klavier. “Ye— I— What?” Why did he call me that?!

Klavier lives with a sleeper agent named Vongole, and her activation word brings her trotting over.

“Vongole!” Apollo smiles. He skips over to shower the golden retriever in affection. “Oh, hello baby~ I missed you-o-o-ouuu~” He coos between kisses on the forehead. 

“ Ach. Vongole, hinsetzen .” Vongole sits, still gracefully accepting Apollo’s attention. Klavier’s eyebrow twitches. “I didn’t know you were familiar with der Hund meines Bruders. ”

Apollo giggles into Vongole’s fur. “Of course I know Vongole! I used to walk her all the time for Mr. Gavin. I missed this goofball.” 

Before Klavier could get another word in, the microwave’s soft humming turns into an irritating beeping. Vongole follows in Apollo’s shadow, sniffing at the small bunny tail peeking from his sweats that caused Klavier’s comment in the first place. Klavier plays with his bangs, leaning over the back of the sofa right below the chest. “Must be time for dinner, ja ?”

“M-hmm!” Apollo plates equal portions before looking around for where to sit. 

The seat next to Klavier is perfectly open for Apollo, he pats the cushion to double down. “ Danke , Herr Hase. ” Vongole perks up again, wagging her tail. 

Apollo hands a bowl to Klavier. “Why are you calling me that…?” He takes a seat a few spots away from Klavier, to which he is meant with a slight frown. 

“I must be really high,” a quick mouthful of noodles, “because, correct me if I’m wrong, but you have a bunny tail poking out of your pants.”

“Aghngn—” Apollo nearly chokes on a piece of shrimp. “I— Wchah—” Still choking. Just chew your food, man.

Klavier takes a quick swig of a week old beer that sat on the table. “Take your time, Hase .”

Apollo hides the bottom half of his quickly reddening face behind his hand. “Haa… It’s part of a costume that I was wearing for a magic show.”

“A magic man, are you?” Klavier cocks a brow at Apollo. “So am I safe in saying you’re wearing some sort of bunny suit?”

“Yes.” He huffs, avoiding any and all eye contact. “I didn’t have time to change after the fire.” Vongole curls politely on Apollo’s feet. It seems like a habit she’s used to. “And please don’t call me ‘ Hase ’.” The last comment bore some weight on Apollo’s tense shoulders. 

Klavier scans him from head to toe. “ Ja , that can be arranged.” He yawns, scarfing down the rest of his dinner. “Vongole must really like you.” 

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Vongole used to sit at my feet while I was doing desk work.” Apollo smiles softly down at Vongole. He wasn’t quite done with his dinner. “If you’re tired, you can go to bed. I’ll clean up, alright?” His smile is directed up at Klavier as it grows softer. 

“I might have to take you up on that offer, Herr Forehead.” Klavier stretches with his hands above his head as he stands. His shirt lifting to reveal what used to be a six pack, it’s grown soft. It’s not not a bad view, though. Not that Apollo was looking. That’d be crazy. “ Gute Nacht , Apollo. I’ll see you in the morning, ja ?” Vongole follows Klavier to his room.

Apollo’s first name sounded heavenly in Klavier's sleepy voice. “Yeah. Sleep well.” He hums, finishing up his own portion.

Having worked as a part-time maid during college, cleaning a luxury apartment was something Apollo had done before. But it was nothing this… personal. This was his friend. And a friend that meant more to him that made sense. 

Despite the emotional barrier, the job itself was satisfying. Empty cans crushed, takeout containers tossed, and every surface wiped. He even combed through the carpet.

After a job well done, Apollo flops onto the bed provided in the guest room. He quickly strips in the bathroom to remove the corset he didn’t have the foresight to remove earlier. 

God. What a fucking day. The magic get-up is slung over the foot of the bed, and Apollo is slung onto the mattress. So much for self-reflection. Sleep tight, Apollo.

Chapter Text

Klavier’s morning starts as it has for the past couple weeks. Waking up alone to a slobbering dog in his fit-for-a-rockstar Texas King sized bed wanting to go walkies. 

Before anything, Klavier places his contacts into his eyes. God, how his eyes sting. They were still dry from yesterday's baking experiment. And they weren’t bad for a first attempt at triple double chocolate weed brownies. Way more potent than he had aimed for, but he needed to use the rest of it. 

Vongole knew how to open doors. It must be something Kristoph taught her. She let herself in and out of the bedrooms pretty freely. At most points, it’s Vongole walking Klavier, even though she never pulled on the leash. 

Klavier adorns on a velvety purple Gavinners branded tracksuit, in case he ran into paparazzi. He always has to dress for the masses, even if the masses only care about the version they see in the newspapers. “ Warten , Vongole, bitte. ” He says quickly applying concealer to his under eyes. 

The door to Klavier’s bedroom creaks open, to reveal the ajar guest room door. Was? I don’t remember going in there. “Von, why did you go to the guest room, hm?” His tone bordering on baby talk. “ Was ist das? ” Vongole, like the polite host she is, lets herself in and out of the guest room.

Normally, Klavier wouldn’t think twice about Vongole acting the way she does. She still didn’t feel like his dog, even after her being his legally. Klavier inherited her after Kristoph was arrested, so yeah, it’s Klavier’s dog. But he had no hand in training her. But this time, it was clear Vongole was on a mission.

As soon as the door to the guest room is opened, something catches Klavier’s eye. A strapless corset teddy?! Because of course Klavier knows the proper name. I haven’t owned one in years.  

Before Klavier can give into the temptation of investigating this rogue garment, something else calls him. Maybe he was hallucinating, or maybe his condo truly was spotless. Klavier stands in the middle of the living room, searching for any semblance of a memory of what happened the day prior. Until something clicks. 

Did I accidentally hire the world's most polite prostitute? Klavier is frozen. Vongole is weaving in and out of the guest room and the guest bath. The violent hiss of the shower head claws its way into Klavier’s ears. She’s still here?!

In classic horror movie protagonist-with-a-dog fashion, Klavier and Vongole creep their way into the guest room. “ Hallo ?” He calls into the bathroom from the doorway.

“Hello?!” The shower is quickly shut off. The voice is hauntingly familiar. One that he has grown quite fond of. 

Before Klavier has the time to think of a reason as to why he let himself in while the guest was showering, un-gelled auburn hair and piercing brown eyes peek out from around the shower, big bushy brows wearing a deep furrow. “Klavier, I know this is your house and all, but do you normally walk in on people showering?” 

Mein Gott, did I have sex with Apollo? Klavier catches himself examining the figure behind the frosted glass. He quickly steps out, shutting the door harder than he should have behind him. “ Es tut mir Leid ! Go on! I'm going to uh… Walk Vongole!” It's official, I'm killing myself.  

He can hear something from Apollo, but he's unable to make it out. Curse the sound proof walls… 

Klavier wants to make this morning's walk last as long as possible. Or at least until the news vultures become too much. Apparently it's been rumored that Klavier Gavin , former lead singer of the Gavinners , hired a sex worker to his home. How they found that out before Klavier did is beyond him.

Ever since Daryan's arrest, the gossip mags have been hounding him. The traction is only picking up without rest. However, Vongole is thriving in the attention. 

The walk was not as long as he had hoped, as the embarrassment still weighed on his consciousness like an anchor to a ship, preventing him from moving forward. 

Apollo’s bike still parked at the front door is a pretty telltale sign that it is Apollo and that he hasn't been scared away yet. “ Herr Forehead?” Klavier calls out, slipping off his runners and Vongole’s harness. 

“I'm in the kitchen.” Apollo's voice sounds scratchy, drowned out by running water. “I'm decent this time, don't worry.” Klavier can just barely catch a quiet chuckle.

As expected, Apollo is standing over the sink that faces into the living room, scrubbing away at some pans that had never been used. “Ah, I'm sorry again about that, Herr Forehead.” Klavier stands across from him, cheeks growing warmer. “I thought—”

“That I was a sex worker? Yeah, so did the receptionist.” His words hold no malice. They didn't hold much of anything. “How are you feeling, by the way? You were pretty stoned last night.”

Oh mein Gott we had sex. I had my first time, with Apollo no less, and I don't even remember it? May the Gods strike me down here and now. “Fine, thank you. And uhm… How do I ask this…? Why are you here cleaning my home?” Klavier looks incredibly shy, just barely looking up at Apollo's face. His eyes are more focused on the dragon t-shirt the man is wearing. 

The running water stills, and Apollo visibly stiffens. Klavier can see the man's fist clench. “Ah… This is what I was worried about.” Klavier can feel an intense stare drill into him. “I had a fire at my apartment, so you agreed to let me crash here. I could tell you weren't sober and asked if you were sure that it was okay and you doubled down. But I c—”

“Oh!” Klavier perks up. “Ohh…” a relieved laugh that causes Apollo’s shoulders to sag. “Hahaha. I'm glad that that's all it was. Nein , you don't need to leave. I'm happy to have some good company.” 

Vongole paws at an empty bowl. “Aye, Vongole.” Apollo turns to her, speaking a foreign language. It’s not one that Klavier had ever heard before at least. “ I already fed you, baby. Stop hitting the bowl .”

Who knew how easy it was to make a rockstar so starstruck? “Wha— Herr Forehead! I didn’t know you were bi!”

Apollo blinks at him. “... Lingual, yes.” His attention is brought back to the dishes, placing them on a drying rack. “Though I’m hardly fluent.” 

“Ah, I see.” Klavier coyly toys with his unbrushed bangs. “What language is it? It’s unlike anything I have ever heard before.” 

His hands are dried on a neatly folded kitchen towel. “It’s Khura’inese.” Klavier can feel his face grow hotter as Apollo scans him.

Apollo scanning Klavier this intensely was not a new concept to him. This time, it feels new. A different kind of stare. Recalling now, there had been very few times where it was just him and Apollo. They were always in court, or had the magician girl or Detective Skye were there to mediate. But there’s something so personal about them being one-on-one. Alone in Klavier’s kitchen. Nothing to stop Klavier from enjoying the stare, but not in a ‘ Oh mein Gott, Herr Forehead! Hee-hee! We are court rivals!~ ’ way, but in a ‘I enjoy your attention and company' way.

Besides, it also gives Klavier the opportunity to study Apollo in a similar light. Noticing the things that are so easily looked over when there are more pressing matters. Noticing his freckles, or how the bottom left side of his face is more textured than the rest, how the way his eyes catch the light.

“Khura’inese, huh? Might I say, you make it sound quite gorgeous, Herr Forehead.” Klavier rests his elbows on the counter, smiling at Apollo.

Apollo firmly plants a hand on the counter, leaning forward and resting his other hand on his hip. “ Why, is it because you can not tell what I'm saying? Because if that's the case…” 

Klavier is slightly taken aback by him, switching between Khura’inese and English so seamlessly. “ Was ? I didn't get that first part, Herr Zu süß, um selbstgefällig zu sein .” His smile transforms into more of a smug smirk. 

“Ah.” His shoulders pay his ears a visit. “Nevermind. Those nicknames just keep getting longer, don't they?”

Why did he tense up like that? “Gotta keep things fresh, ja? Speaking of which, I'm going to have a quick shower.”

Apollo nods, walking around the counter to stand next to him. “Thank you again for letting me stay here. I'll try my best to stay out of your hair.”

“ Nein ! Not at all. I don't mind you being in my hair.” Klavier reaches for the top of Apollo's head. His hair is still damp from the shower. His hand ends up resting in mid-air, as Apollo moved his entire body to avoid the touch. “ Ach .”

Apollo creates a little more space between the two. “Please don't.”

“I— I wasn't even thinking. I'm sorry, Apollo.” Klavier straightens his back, facing Apollo once more. “It won't happen again.” ohmeingottI’msuchanidiotyoucan’tjustreachoutandtouchsomeone. He quickly shuffles away into his ensuite.

Klavier stares at the reflection in the mirror. The person looking back at him appears just as pathetic as he feels. 

Okay, Klavier. What the fuck happened? He slowly begins to strip for his extensive bathing routine. I got high, and now he's here. We had sex, and he's still here? Maybe we didn't have sex.

Music begins to play from a set of surround sound speakers that he had installed when he first bought the place. Music is a vital part of his morning routine, after all. The hot water from the shower head slowly trails through his hair and down his back. It looks like a sauna with the amount of steam coming off of his once cool skin. I need to stop thinking of him like this. That's probably not even his. And Apollo wouldn't have sex with someone while they're high. He's better than that. I wonder if he's had sex bef— no, I don't wonder that at all…! 

Normally, Klavier’s routine takes upwards of an hour, but to be a good host, he cuts it down to forty minutes. Not styling his hair is a worthwhile sacrifice. His attention is brought away from his makeup to a small notification on his phone.

Apollo 💜👁️🦲 9:53 AM: [You don't have eggs, so I'm running to the store. Do you need anything while I'm out?]

9:54 AM: [oh!]

9:54 AM: [entschuldigung i didn't realize i used all my eggs yesterday]

9:54 AM: [made brownies 😋]

9:55 AM: [domt eat the brownies btw they have pot]

Apollo 💜👁️🦲 9:55 AM: [I know, lol. You were high as a kite last night, so I put two and two together] 

Apollo 💜👁️🦲 9:55 AM: [Not a weed guy anyhow]

9:56 AM: [no?]

Apollo 💜👁️🦲 9:56 AM: [Nah, I prefer ketamine. 💪]

9:56 AM: [ill stock up for you lmao]

9:56 AM: [do you want a ride to the store?]

9:56 AM: [almost done getting ready]

Apollo 💜👁️🦲 9:57 AM: [If you don't mind, that'd be lovely. Thank you, Klavier.]

Apollo 💜👁️🦲 9:59 AM: [Are you still okay with me calling you “Klavier”? Last night, you asked me to, but you don’t seem to remember much of what happened.]

9:59 AM: [ja 😊 it sounds nice with your voice]

Apollo 💜👁️🦲 10:02 AM: [K]

Another attempt shot down?! Klavier quickly throws his hair into a ponytail and throws himself into a dark pair of skinny jeans and a large purple bomber jacket with a hood. I can't tell when my jokes became genuine attempts, but it's not his fault he can't. 

Klavier’s newfound hospitality with someone who he has famously had a friendly rivalry, on top of the rumors of him hiring sex workers, has had the paparazzi have been up his ass. So, he must take extra measures.

The two men sit in a small red sports car. Any fast food wrappers are quickly discarded into the backseat. “Ach. Don't mind the mess, Herr Forehead.” Heat rises in Klavier's face. “I'm normally much cleaner than this, especially with my cars.” Which is true. Much like guitars, cars are like lovers. They require love and attention.

“Hm? What?” Apollo’s large brown eyes look up at Klavier in wonder. “What do you mean? The car's lovely.” Oh.

Is he always this amazed by such mundane things? “Ah, danke .” Klavier tries to ignore the stare that's digging into him as he puts the car into drive. “Where would you like to go?” 

The shorter man looks down at his phone. “You know that pharmacy in the strip mall on Setting Street?”

“ Ja ?”

“It's in that strip mall. You don't need to come in, I know you're picking up some more attention online.” 

Klavier weighs his options for a moment. “ Can I come in?” 

“I mean, sure…?” He stares curiously at Klavier. “Are you sure? I'm not sure there'd be much for you in there.”

“ Ja ! It'd be nice to get out of my normal stops.” Klavier snaps at Apollo, transitioning into just plain pointing.

The two park in front of a store that looks like it was placed to avoid having a strangely wide alleyway. So instead of a wide alley, the city built a thin store. 

Apollo is practically chomping at the bit to get inside. “Ready to go?” He asks, hand on the door handle. A warm smile illuminating the rest of his face.

“Let's rock.”

“Loser.”

The inside is humble, with very few signs decorating the interior. A stereotypical bored teen sits at the front desk, scribbling on some receipt paper. Without looking up, the two are greeted. “Welcome to Tima's Toma—” The cashier looks at them. “ Oh, hey Apollo. Just the regular today ? Who's the blonde ?” He begins to get up from his seat.

Apollo waves. “ Regular and eggs, please. This is Klavier.” He gestures at a head-in-the-skies Klavier.

Klavier is surprised he's never been here before. Yes, it's cramped, but it's cozy. His name being spoken brings him back down to Earth. “Ah, hallo !” He strikes his signature rockstar smile.

“Aadi, where's Tima?” Apollo squats in front of the display at the cashier's desk. “Normally she's all ‘Awww Dragon of the Sun! Wher—”

And like clockwork, a plump Khura'inese woman comes storming out of the back room. “Awwww, Dragon of the Sun! Where have you been? ” Her hair is a bright red color that could only be replicated by discounted boxed dye. So this must be Tami. “Ayee, is that Klavier Gavin ?! ”

“Tami, please. Behave. He is my friend .” Apollo and the two shopkeepers exchange looks before Tami approaches the blonde.

Klavier is inspected closely. “ Sun Dragon, have you been starving the poor boy? You hungry?”

“Tami.” Apollo whines. 

“As a matter of fact,” He fiddles with his damp blonde bangs. “I am.”

“You look it. Here.” Tami shoves a peach from the checkout desk into his chest. “Eat, eat! Peach is Khura'in delicacy.”

Aadi giggles at the two, as Apollo watches in horror. Klavier doesn't seem to mind, though. “ Danke , Frau Tami!” He takes a small bite of the peach, nodding in approval.

“Your mother is insane. I hope you know that.” Apollo mumbles to the cashier. 

Aadi shrugs. “Hey, you're not a toothpick anymore so I'll give her that.”

“ Pohlkunan ! Don’t point it out! And don’t do it in a language he knows, ” Apollo flusters. Klavier’s eyes dart from the peach to his friend. Now that I think about it, a quick look up and down, Apollo has gained weight. When I met him, it looked like I could bend him in half. Bend? It looked like I could snap him in half. No, that's really no better. 

Tami drops a small crate onto the counter and calls Apollo over with a small wave of the hand. Apollo places a carton of eggs into the basket. “I’m making breakfast.”

“ Aye, as much as I love having you here, Sun Dragon, ” She pinches Apollo’s right cheek at the nickname. “I don’t want to keep you from your duties .”

Apollo takes it like a champ, his head flailing around as she yanks on him. “I’m not a maid , Tami.” Klavier watches in subtle adoration. He’s never seen him like this, not even with the little magician girl or her father. “My kitchen was on fire. I’m staying at Klavier’s house.” 

Do I chime in? Ja, I’ll chime in . “ Ja , and Herr Forehead has been an excellent guest.” Klavier leans on the counter, pulling out a gold debit card and a striking smile. “And for that, it’s on me.”  

She snorts. “ A real charmer, isn’t he ?” Tami and Apollo giggle to each other. “Sun Dragon paid.” 

His shoulders deflate. “Oh. Next time, ja ?” Good recovery. Sun Dragon…

Apollo kisses the back of Tami's hand. “ Thank you again, Tami. I will be back soon.” Her hand is brought to his left cheek, her thumb gently rubbing the texture that Klavier had noticed earlier that morning. He pulls away to face Klavier. “Ready to go?”

Get it together! “Ready as ever.” Klavier smiles at Aadi and Tami before turning to the door and exiting with Apollo.

“How do you like your eggs?” Apollo stands at the kitchen counter.

Klavier pouts at him. “ Herr Forehead, I appreciate what you're doing, but…”

Apollo cocks one of his big bushy brows at him. “... But?”

“I think it's a little too much—” Klavier can see the worried expression Apollo wears all too well. “I– I appreciate it, I do. I really do.” He chuckles, trying to find the right words. “But it feels like you are hosting me. Cooking, cleaning, it’s not something guests should be doing.” 

The way these two were acting, it was like they were holding an intervention for Apollo. “Oh.” And in the most pathetic abused foster dog way possible, Apollo places the eggs back into the carton. “Right, sorry. I– ah… It’s a stress thing, but I get it.” His rough hands trace the edge of the counter. 

Klavier walks around to kick him out of the kitchen. “I’ll make breakfast, ja ? You can sit with Vongole, and after breakfast we will do some boundary setting. How does that sound, Herr Forehead?” 

Apollo’s expression is hard to read, but he nods and complies nonetheless. 

A satisfied smile rests on his lips. “So, how do you like your eggs?”

Chapter Text

Homestyle eggs in a larger-than-life-and-the-entire-WAA house is nothing Apollo’s used to. He just eats his homestyle eggs in a regular home. Funnily enough, sharing a proper cooked meal makes this place more homey. There's almost something domestic about it, despite the fact it's with Klavier Gavin.

Enough about the eggs. “Boundaries, ja ?” The silence is broken like egg shells— Didn't we just agree no more egg talk? Whatever. The blonde man speaks up from his empty plate.

“Yeah.” Apollo’s only eaten half of his portion. “You should go first. It's your house.” It also gives me time to work on mine. I'm so smart.

Klavier purses his lips in thought. “Well, first of all, let me clean and cook.” Apollo nods. “I don't like feeling like a guest in my own home.” 

The leftover eggs on Apollo’s plate are pushed around by his fork. “Will you compromise on that?”

“Like?” Klavier raises an eyebrow as he stands to clean his plate. Offering a hand out to take Apollo’s.

What is he doing? Apollo takes his hand, standing with him. Judging by the flustered look on Klavier’s face, it wasn't that. “Sorry,” Apollo hands him the plate, sitting back down. “I thought— Nevermind. Uhm… Oh! Compromise.” His left pointer finger is brought to the crease between his eyebrows. “I don't want to feel like I'm freeloading, I want to contribute.”

“Ah, Herr Forehead. You pay me back in making it so I'm not totally alone here.” Klavier’s soft voice battles with the sound of the sink.

That was so corny. “First of all, gross. Second of all, I'm not contributing to squat by just sitting here. So, for a compromise , I cook, and you clean or vice versa.” 

Klavier makes an exaggerated damsel in distress motion at Apollo's remark. “You wound me.”

“Then stop making weird comments.”

“Ja, ja.” Klavier very slightly bites the inside of his lip. I don't think I was meant to see that. “And for the compromise, that is more than doable.”

Apollo smiles brightly. “ Yay~ ” He celebrates to himself. 

Klavier seats himself back down, one seat closer than last time. “May I ask why?”

“ Why what?”

“Why do you want to clean and cook so badly?” Klavier fiddles with the rings on his left hand.

How do I answer this in a way that doesn't make me have to spill my tragic backstory? “Acts of service for the people I care about. And cleaning is a stress response, I think.” Good.

Something shines in Klavier's eyes. “I see. Well, I can live with that.” That shine is soon blinked away. “I think that's it for my boundaries. Oh, uhm, please don't bring up those trials. They're still ah… fresh wounds for me.” Klavier is growing shyer by the second. 

Apollo looks at him with soft eyes, “I can do that. One hundred percent.” Gods, this stings. He crosses his legs, leaning forward and planting his hands in the middle of the criss-cross. “I guess it's my turn now…?”

“ Ja . If you're ready.” Klavier rubs under his nose with the sleeve of his bomber jacket.

He's crying? “Are you okay?” I've never seen him cry before.

Klavier waves his hand dismissively. “What is it you say? I'm doing fine?” He avoids eye contact and fiddles with the rings on his right hand. A small pinch at Apollo's wrist sends a small ache to his hand.

“Alright.” I won't push him. “My main boundary is touch. I don't like it.” This is so embarrassing. “Maybe eventually, but not right now.” The foundation above Apollo’s bangle is rubbed off as he picks at his skin. It's a bad habit of his.

A small throw blanket is brought to cover Klavier's legs. “I get that. My hands will be kept to myself.”

He smiles. “You can still do that leaning thing, I don't mind. Just no touching.” 

Klavier taps his temple. “Noted, Herr Forehead.”

“I appreciate it.” He shuffles on the couch, placing a hand between his back and the couch. Can my back give it a rest? “Mind if I lay down? My back is killing me.”

“Make yourself at home, Sonnendrache .” Klavier fetches a laptop decorated in various Gavinners stickers, a pair of headphones, and a treat for Vongole. “I need to respond to some work to do.”

“M'kay.” On a Sunday? I get that he's a busy guy, but I didn't take him for the weekend worker type. A pair of well-loved earbuds is pulled out of his sweats pocket and plugged into his phone. Apollo rests his head down on the sofa cushion, incidentally near where Klavier is sitting. He groans in pain as he adjusts.

“Bad back?” Klavier asks, without looking up from his laptop and grabbing a pair of wireless headphones.

Apollo sighs, shutting his eyes. “Unfortunately.”

“ Meine Großmutter had a bad back, I can show you some of the stretches she showed me as a kid.”

“Su—” Sixty-five pounds of golden retriever jump up onto Apollo’s stomach to enjoy a tasty treat. “— reennngghh Vongoooolle… ” Vongole licks Apollo’s left cheek. “Ah-ah, not there, baby.” A quick redirection. Vongole returns to her treat.

Klavier giggles behind his hand. “Looks comfortable.”

“ Yeah. ” A labored and breathy affirmation. Cute laugh. Apollo runs his hands through Vongole’s long blonde fur. Do they share the same shampoo?! He takes a quick sniff of Vongole’s Forehead while Klavier wasn't looking. Oh my God they have the same shampoo.

Apollo’s phone pings.

Trucy Wright 11:54 AM: [hiiii polly (*つ▽`)っ]

Trucy Wright 11:54 AM: [hows living w klavgav? (*´∀`)♪]

11:55 AM: [Fine.]

11:55 AM: [ A photo of Vongole laying down on Apollo’s stomach ]

Trucy Wright 11:55 AM: [DOGGIE!!!! :*(〃∇〃人)*:]

Trucy Wright 11:55 AM: [HI PUPPY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Ｏ(≧∇≦)Ｏ]

11:56 AM: [She says hi back]

Trucy Wright 11:56 AM: [omg......... im famus (~▽~＠)♪♪♪]

11:56 AM: [You sure are.]

11:56 AM: [I'll talk to you later, Truce. I'm doing my back ritual.]

Trucy Wright 11:57 AM: [okay!!!! bye polly (人´3｀*)～♪ kisses]

11:57 AM: [kisses (〃￣3￣〃)]

What a kid. Apollo puts on his nothing playlist. A nothing playlist, to Apollo, is instrumental saxophone jazz to fill empty sound. His arms rest as a pillow under his head as his eyes wonder. 

Even his ceiling is luxurious with fancy little light thingies.. Such a big place for one guy. A luxurious guy will probably live in a luxurious place, so it makes sense. I wonder if that's his natural hair color. Mr. Gavin dyed his. It looks nice when he verges away from the regular drill. “Your hair looks nice.” He mutters.

“Thank you,” Klavier replies, fingers still working away at the keyboard. “I didn't do my usual routine today. A relief that you don't mind it.”

Apollo smiles, examining him closely while he can. He’s not wearing his glasses. “Mmmn. Natural is a good look on you.” 

Klavier glances at Apollo. “Who are you and what have you done with mein Herr Forehead?” He chuckles, examining the horned attorney with confusion and ardor. His cheeks are blanketed with a warm glow that makes it hard for Apollo to ignore. 

His horns straighten up in shock. His Herr Forehead? What is he talking about? “Can I not complement my friend?”

The word ‘friend’ weighs heavily in the air. “ Nein , I’ll take whatever compliment I can from you. I’m just not used to it. It’s like you’ve been domesticated, Herr Forehead. This is nothing like the fiery little red attorney who I faced in court.” 

Apollo turns his back on Klavier, scooping Vongole into his arms. “Yeah, whatever.” His words are lost in the dog's fur. Does he ever stop joking around? It’s like every word out of his mouth is trying to flirt. Get a hobby, or a girlfriend. Boyfriend? He seems like a bisexual. 

“There’s the attitude I know and love.” Klavier’s attention is brought back to his laptop. 

A comfortable silence floats around them. Apollo fiddles around on his phone for different contractors. Is this something that would be infinitely easier on a computer? Yes. But, unfortunately, his laptop is at the office and his back hurts too much to go get it. 

“Hey, Klavier?” Apollo speaks up after around forty cozy minutes. 

Klavier stretches arms above his head. “Hgnn, ja ?”

woah . He sits up, dragging Vongole’s sleeping body with him, to face Klavier. “I've been emailing a contracting company. They said my kitchen will take about ten weeks to repair.” Aye… This is going to cost a fortune. “How much can I milk staying with you?”

“As long as you need, lieber Gast .” His laptop shuts, and he reaches over to give Vongole gentle pets on the head. Vongole slowly licks her lips with a yawn. 

A bushy brown brow is raised at the nickname. “Leeber ghast?” He smiles, knowing he fucked up the pronunciation. It wasn’t purposeful, he just didn’t try.

Klavier matches him with a playful smirk. “It means ‘dear guest.’ And your pronunciation is terrible.” He can’t help but giggle.  

“Dear guest.” He repeats. “I'm going to have to learn German if I'm going to stay with you. At least enough where I can butcher it.” Vongole hops off the couch, stretching to go lap on her automatic water bowl.

He stands, stretching in a similar way to his dog. “You're lucky I never toured through Khura’in. Otherwise, I'd have to return the favor.” 

“I’m still rusty myself, so I’d be highly impressed if you could learn it better than I could.” He has a happy trail. Interesting. There were times Apollo wished he could turn off his ability. Now is one of those times. 

“Is it your second language?” Klavier follows Vongole to the kitchen, digging through the fridge. He pulls out a small can of imported German beer. It’s one in the afternoon. Never took him for a day drinker. “Do you mind if I…?” He gestures at the can. 

Apollo leans over the back of the couch to watch him. “Day drinker?”

“Hungover, more like it. Hair of the dog, as they say.”

“Gotcha, go ahead.” His chin rests on his crossed arms. “And it’s my first language.”

“Khura’inese?” Klavier looks shocked.

Apollo’s gaze shifts anxiously. “Khura’inese. English is my second language, but I spent most of my adolescence speaking it.” Tread lightly, Justice.  

Klavier holds out on a response, he just sips on his beer. Why isn’t he saying anything?!

That once comfortable silence converts to one of unease. “I—

“German— Oh. Sorry, you—”

“—You go—”

“You can go first, Herr Apollo.”

“I didn’t have anything to say. You go.”

They both chuckle. “German is my second language.”

“I could tell.” Apollo gets up to join him in the kitchen. 

“ Ach . But it is a language I speak nonetheless. I grew up in Germany.” The drink in the can is swirled around as he props himself onto the counter. “From eight until about fifteen.”

A glass of orange juice is poured into a fancy glass that probably wasn’t intended for orange juice. “Oh, that’s neat.” Why is he telling me this? He hops up to sit on the island across from Klavier. “Were you born in America then?”

A quick sip of his beer.”Ja. Though I don't remember most of that time.”

Yeah, why is he telling me all this? It feels way too personal. “Why are you telling me this…?” His tone is soft.

Again, Klavier fiddles with the rings on his right hand, looking away sheepishly. “I… don't know.” He chuckles.

Damnit, Klavier! Why are you lying?! Apollo’s eyes bug subconsciously, watching every little movement to be made.

“ Ach , Herr Forehead… Must you look at me like that?” He winces, bringing the near empty can to his lips. Wait… He’s red? “You’re giving me that eye you get in court, and not the one I enjoy.”

So there’s one he likes? Not the point, not the point. He blinks himself back to Earth. “A—ahh. I’m sorry.” He sips his drink. “It’s not something I can control, as much as I wish I could.”

A defeated sigh escapes Klavier’s lips into his beer. “I must be a poor liar.” 

“You don’t make it hard for me to notice. But you wouldn’t lie without a reason.” Apollo swings his feet absently. I just need to figure out what that reason is. A finger is pushed to the crease of his eyebrows.

“It’s because I trust you, Herr Apollo.” The last of the imported beer slides down his throat. “I hold a great amount of trust in you, and I consider you to be my friend.” Klavier keeps strong eye contact with Apollo, a glint in his eye. 

The alloy band relaxes, returning to its natural position. Oh. He’s serious. Like, serious serious. “Oh.” 

“... Oh ?” His shoulders creep in anxiety. “Is that it?”

“N–no, I just kinda…” Apollo’s eyes dart. Why do I feel so much… warmer? Nobody is ever this honest with me. “I— Thank you. Thank you for sharing that part of you with me, Klavier. It’s very uhm… sweet.”

The two very pointedly avoid eye contact.

“R–right.” Klavier’s bangs cover his face. I can’t read him. “I apologize if that was rash.” 

Apollo tilts his head. “It wasn’t. Uhm…” Why am I telling him this? “I was born in America, too. I lived in Khura’in from infancy until the age of nine.” Eeeuuuugghhnmnnnnnnnfuck… God, this is so aw—- why is he looking at me like that?

Small beads of tears run down the man's cheeks. “ Danke .” He wipes his face off with his sleeve. “Sorry, I don't mean to cry. But thank you. Thank you, Apollo.”

WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING RIGHT NOW? Apollo hops off the counter, placing down his juice and holding out his arms. “Do… Do you want a hug?” He sounds hesitant.

Klavier waves his hands near his face. “ Nein ,” he sniffles, “you don't like touch.”

“I’m offering.” Fuck, now I’m crying. I need to stop being such a crybaby.

Without another second, long blonde hair falls over Apollo’s shoulders. Klavier’s arms hover above. Apollo’s arms wrap comfortably around his waist, his hands trace circular motions on the taller man’s back.

“You’re allowed to hug me ba—” And he most certainly does. His toned arms wrap tightly around the brunette. Klavier’s breath shudders at the touch. Oh.

Oh. Hey, this isn’t that bad. Apollo’s eyes shut as he leans into the hug. This is kind of… nice, actually. His hand caresses up and down Klavier’s back, a gentle and comforting hum coming from Apollo. “Hey, hey . I’m here, Klavier. It’s okay.” Apollo’s crying subsides, for now.

“ Ich bin so einsam. Danke, Apollo. Egal — hic — was du denkst, du bedeutest mir so viel .” The weight that once weighed so heavy on Klavier’s mind is lifted.

I don't know what he's saying… but this is probably safest. For him, at least. “ M-hmm. ” He’s so cold. Tears and snot drips onto Apollo’s neck and shoulder. I feel like this should bother me. It should, but it doesn’t. The dark cotton oh his back is clenched into the darker man's fists. “ I’m here, I’m here. ” He whispers as close to Klavier’s ear as he can get. Apollo’s voice has never been so soft. 

Incoherent German sobs are croaked and lost in the bittersweet warmth of their embrace. “ F—fuck .” Klavier sputters, frantically wiping at his nose. “I’ve made a mess of your shirt. Forgive me.” He stumbles forward. Apollo is pushed against the counter as Klavier reaches over him for a paper towel.

What is— what. What. What? What?! No, no. No, this isn’t— Apollo’s breath heavies. No– No! His arms work as a wedge between him and Klavier. “I don’t mind the hug, but please get off of me.” Get off, get off, get off, get off.  

“ Was ?” Klavier pulls back to meet Apollo’s eyes. “Oh, Entschuldigen Sie .” His head is turned away, bangs curtaining over to hide his tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes. “ Mein Gott… I’m sorry. ”  

Both of their chests rise and fall, shallow breathing filling in the sound around them. “Klavier…? Are you okay?” Apollo regains his footing. His shoulder is damp.

The blonde looks like a wreck. “I don’t know how to say this, Apollo.” His voice is hoarse. “ Du bist ein lieber Freund für mich. Und ich fürchte, du bist mein einziger Freund. ”

So he says it in German? Apollo returns the favor the only way he can, “ I don’t know what you said, ” he responds in Khura’inese, “ but that hug was nice. ” His arms are extended out, offering for another hug. 

“Ah…” Klavier looks conflicted. “Are you sure?” 

Apollo nods. “I wouldn’t offer otherwise. Just don’t push me onto the counter.” His expression is firm, contrasting the loose body language. 

Another hesitant glance is shot at him, but Klavier is eventually drawn in. “I’m sorry.” His head rests comfortably in the nook of Apollo’s neck.

“What for?” Circular motions are drawn again. It seemed to have worked last time. 

Klavier sighs heavily. “I’m a mess. All you’ve been doing since you got here is clean up after me.” 

How many times do I need to tell him I don’t mind? “Klavier, I promise you that I don’t care how messy you are. You’re my friend.” Apollo doesn’t even realize it, but his hold on Klavier has gotten tighter, more craving. “ I promise, ” he whispers shakily.

This hug is much calmer, much less crying. Well, much is a bit much. The hug feels warmer than the first one. Without heels, Klavier stands at 5’11”, but Apollo still feels so small compared to him. The way Klavier could so easily envelop him in his arms made him feel… Safe? Secure? Other applicable synonyms? Apollo can’t even remember the last time he’s had a proper hug. He’s never even wanted a hug. He wanted to be left alone. S o why is Klavier any different? Is this what proper friendship feels like? Maybe it’s not so bad.

Apollo’s nose settles on the rockstar’s shoulder, mouth falling above his collarbone. He can feel Klavier’s warm breath bounce off of his skin, he can feel their chests rising and falling, he can feel the way their clothes fold under the slightest touch. It’s not one that he wants to let go of. But all good things must come to an end.

Vongole begins to paw at Apollo’s leg. “Aye, Vongole.” He lifts his head to look down at the dog. “What’s wrong, baby? Hm?”

Klavier pulls away faster than expected, quickly shuffling away to his room. “I’llberightbackHerrForeheadsorryIjustneedasecond. Bye—-” The door slams.

“He’s a weird one, isn’t he?~ Yes he is! Yes he is~” Apollo dotes on the precious puppy. She licks at Apollo’s face, “Hey, hey. You’re going to wipe off my makeup.” He reaches to pat off the slobber, only to find where the fuck is my makeup?! Oh fuck. Fuck. My makeup came off on his shirt. He saw me without it! I’m so fucked. Vongole paws at him before trotting up to the front door. Is that why he walked away so fast…? 

Apollo follows her, quickly preparing them both for walkies.

The walk was quick. Vongole was always well behaved on walks. She even knew how to show off her good side for the photos. Apollo didn’t. The whole walk he had his t-shirt pulled over the bottom half of his face in the least cool way possible. 

Yet Klavier looks cool as ever, affably sprawled out on the couch. He’s much more relaxed than when he skittered off. “Did you get my call, Herr guter Umarmer ?” His eyes poke over the back of the couch at Apollo. 

“Oh, uhm,” he blinks a few times before checking his phone. “No, my phone was on silent. Sorry,” Apollo props himself on the back of the couch, looking down at Klavier. “Was it urgent?”

“Deathly.” Klavier deadpans.

Apollo’s jaw drops, “ WHA—?! ” he hoots. “What happened?!”

The blonde giggles. “I was really craving some pizza, and I didn’t know what toppings to get.” His head rests in the palm of his hand, looking up at Apollo with a shit-eating grin.

“ Hey .” A fluffy throw pillow is aimed and fired at Klavier’s, admittedly pretty, face with precision. “Don’t scare me like that.”

He volleys the pillow right back at him, making a pmfph sound on impact. “ Es tut mir Leid , Herr Süß . How do you take your piz—”

Klavier can’t even finish his question before he is socked with the pillow. In retaliation, he duel-wields with even bigger pillows that look like they had been taken from Klavier’s bed. “Body pillows?!” Apollo tries his best to dodge. “No fair!”

“All’s fair in love and war, Herr Forehead!”

“ Lo—-? ” Five pounds of memory foam is chucked at his chest. Ohhhhhhh right in the binder. A confident smirk slinks onto Apollo’s face. “War it is.”

Klavier takes the high ground, standing on the sofa. “And we will save the love for after!” A heavy swing at Apollo.

He manages to grab onto the pillow from him. “Save the distraction tactics!” Apollo charges, swinging rapidly at the elevated prosecutor. 

Apollo is quickly disarmed. A shadow casts over him as Klavier leans. “Interesting approach, running and swinging blindly. War is over, shall we save the rest for after dinner?”

“The rest?!”

Chapter Text

Apollo sits in the bed too big for one person to occupy. He trembles, whispering silent begs on his life to the glasses-wearing, shadowed figure looming at his feet. His pleas all fell on deaf ears. He can't breathe properly, he hyperventilates to compensate for the tightness in his chest. Damned binder . 

The glasses on the figure catch the hallway light from the newly opened door, shining into Apollo’s eyes. Vongole must have slipped in and out during his paralysis. It’s the only distinguishable feature, at least from what he can see. Apollo’s eyesight is poor without his glasses, even worse in the dark.

It dredges near, beckoning Apollo. It's not in a language he can understand, yet the words still ring in his ears. Deafening silence falls whenever it stops speaking to him.

He can't move.

He's stuck.

Two cold hands slowly latch themselves onto his legs, holding him down. 

Stop it.

Please.

Please leave me alone.

I want to move on.

You killed them, not me.

Apollo’s mouth sits agape, waiting until his body has the strength to match the will to shout. But he can't.  

Tears create a steady stream down his face and onto the silky pillow cases. 

You can’t hurt me. It felt as though Apollo was staring the devil in the face. “ Please ,” he musters. “ Let me go .”

Barbed wire lines his throat, a new layer added with each word spoken. “ Help… ” But a little pain never hurt anybody. “ Someone, help me… Please. ” 

For seconds that stretched on like minutes and minutes that stretched on like hours, he sat. Vongole had been routinely walking in and out, but she didn't know what was happening. Vongole wouldn't know how to help him. 

Apollo couldn't be saved.

Apollo.

Apollo.

Apollo .

“ Apollo. ” What? “ Can you hear me? ”

Yes.

“ You need to wake up, Apollo .” A warm hand is placed on his shoulder. It's much kinder than the figure's harsh grasp. “ Please. ”

I can't.

There isn't a single more rude awakening than a dog pawing at you at the early hour of four in the morning. “Vongole, bitte , it's too early for this.” He mumbles through the morning grogginess. 

Vongole doesn't give up though. Her big cold nose boots Klavier until he rolls out of bed. “ Was ist das ? Do you need to pee?” A silk purple robe is thrown on to cover the lack of a shirt. He is slow to exit his room and enter the hall. 

The dog's urgency stands out to him. What’s even more interesting is her ducking in and out of the guest bedroom. Thankfully, Klavier was aware he had a guest. But Vongole normally left Apollo alone. At least he hoped so. “ Lass das Baby in Ruhe , Von–...” 

It's a little early for Apollo to be doing his vocal warm-ups. And they're a lot quieter than normal…? “ Someone, help me… Please. ” 

Klavier stands in the doorway. Is he calling for me? “ Herr Forehead?” He croons. “Is everything alright in there?”

To some, they might consider what Klavier is doing to be entering the room. But to Klavier, he is simply poking his head in. However, both of his feet are planted inside the guest room. Do with that what you will. 

A hand is brought to cover Klavier's eyes before he can “poke his head in” any further. “Apollo?”

He doesn't get a response. All he is granted is quite sobs, sniffles, and chattering teeth. 

Well, now what? He hasn't told me to leave yet. Klavier takes another step closer, eyes still covered. He's the type to tell me off when I overstep.

“ Help, please… ” A buzz in Klavier's ear pulls the hand away from his eyes.

To nobody's surprise, Apollo was there in bed. His eyes were puffy and red from the crying, his cheeks and forehead bore a bright pink tone. “ Mein Gott! Apollo ! Geht es dir gut, Liebling ?” Klavier drops to his knees at the side of the guest bed. “ Apollo ?”

Something grabs onto Klavier’s hand. Quite warm, too. It's Apollo. Are his hands always this warm? They were like this during our hug, too. The blonde doesn't pull away. “ Apollo? Can you hear me ?” 

Sadness fills Klavier as Apollo looks up at him with weary eyes. He mouths something to him, but Klavier can’t make it out. Is he sleeping? “ You need to wake up, Apollo. ” Doesn’t he get hallucinations? Klavier gently reaches out his free hand to rub the defense attorney’s shoulder. “ Please. ” Frau Trucy told me so.

I don’t know what to do. What do I do?! Scheiße! The rockstar’s grip on Apollo’s hand tightens. “ Ap— Apollo. Please, wake up.” I can’t even help him after he helped me. “Apollo…” 

“ K… ” Apollo squeaks. Despite how dark it is, Klavier can see how hard Apollo is trying.

He's got quite the grip on me. “ Hey, hey, hey . I hear you. It's okay.” 

The air around them slowly begins to circulate around the room, entering and exiting their lungs with ease. It felt lighter.

“I’m here, Apollo.” Klavier's eyes shut, and stars form behind his lids.

Something wraps around Klavier. It's warm and firm. A hold that felt like if he were to let go, it would mean falling.

Klavier would be falling regardless. 

He holds on until he's given any sign to let go. Something so fragile, it makes him want to hold on tighter. The same way Apollo had held him. 

“ Klav, ” Apollo coughs into his shoulder. “ Whe—-where am I? ” The question bounces off Klavier’s skin.

“You’re in my guest bedroom.” Klavier had never had to calm someone down like this. He’s only ever been on the receiving end. “You’ve been staying at my home for a week or so now.”

A beat.

“ Am I safe?”

Klavier shifts, locking his eyes onto Apollo’s. “You are safe. I will keep you safe, Apollo. Like friends do, ja ?” He chuckles, just barely keeping any tears from falling. “It’s just the two of us and Vongole here, okay?” It’s just the two of them. It always was. “Do you want to pet Vongole?” 

She was always good at calming Klavier down just by being there. 

Apollo declines with a small shake of the head before resting his head on Klavier’s shoulder.

Oh. Ha— Hrm. This doesn’t feel as awkward as I had thought. Why does it come so naturally? “That’s okay.” Klavier recalls the way Apollo had comforted him. Circular motions are traced onto Apollo’s back, the same way circles had been traced on his. 

“ I— I need…” Apollo clears his throat, pulling away from the hug. “I need to get going now.”

Klavier doesn’t look or feel offended. His hands pull the front of his robe closed. “ Was ? Go where?” 

The shorter man yawns as he drags himself out of bed. A small squeak resulting from the yawn. “To work, duh .” He’s got a sort of misguided confidence to his snide remark. And this confidence is guiding him to his laptop in the living room. He brought it home last night after work since he had some taxes to file, and other adult responsibilities. 

Klavier follows, giggling gently. “ Herr Forehead, I admire your drive, but the morning is still young. It’s only about four-thirty.” 

“Yeah but…” another, bigger, yawn, “I gotta… get… to work…” His words melt into the couch cushions. He’s snoring before he could even open his laptop.

Niedlich. The throw blanket is, well, thrown onto Apollo. Thrown nicely, obviously. Apollo quickly snuggles into it. Oh mein God. I can’t go on. Vongole is invited up onto Klavier’s lap. The perfect distraction.  Poor guy.

Beams of light stream in from the large window, just barely reaching Klavier’s eye. It’s enough for him to blink himself back into the living realm. 

Vongole is still nicely sat across his lap, and Apollo is still tightly curled under the blanket.  A quick rush of agony flows through him. Was he okay? Sorry Vongole, but Klavier had an attorney to check on.

“ Herr Apollo?” Klavier squats next to the sofa, peeking to see the sleeping house guest. “It’s—”

“WHAT TIME IS IT?!” There are those chords of steel. Apollo darts up, his head shooting around for a clock. 

He’s so. He’s everything. “It’s…” A quick peek at his phone. Two missed calls? Why are Frau Magician and Frau Detective trying to call me? “Nine-thirty.” That’s why. “We sle—”

“Shit!” Stop cutting me off, verdammt! Apollo practically jumps over Klavier, sprinting to the guest room. “Shit, shit, shit!”

Shit, indeed. A coin is mentally flipped in his head to decide who's call to return first. Frau Trucy is probably a safer option. And so, Frau Trucy it is.

[Dialing: Trucy 🪄]

Riiing. Riiing. Rii–

[Hi, Mr. Klavier!] Trucy picks up the phone, peppy as ever.

Klavier clears his throat. It's a little early for his rockstar act, but it must be done. “ Hallo , Fraulein Magician. I apologize for missing your call.”

[No, it's okay! I figured you and Polly were pretty busy , hee-hee~] The wink is almost audible.

Oh my god? “ Nein , we had only slept in. Though your view on my lifestyle is quite flattering.” It’s a good thing this isn’t a video call, otherwise Trucy would see that Klavier’s face nearly matches Apollo’s suit.

[Aww, boo. What a lame reason to be late to work!] 

“You expect too much of us, Fraulein , as Herr Forehead and I don’t have that kind of relationship.” Klavier tries to pass off his awkward chuckle as one of confidence. To save face, and totally not to hide anything or repress any feelings he may or may not have. No siree..! “—Anyway, why had you called in the first place?”

[Yeah, yeah~ Ema had called earlier asking where you guys were, and I didn’t know, so I called you!]

So Fraulein Detective is looking for me. Great. “ Danke for taking the bullet for me. I’ll have Herr Forehead back to you in no time, Ja ?” 

[Okie dokie! Bye Mr. Klavier!]

“ Auf Wiedersehen, Frau Magician." The phone call ends with a small boop . Geez. That kid is a good balance for Apollo .

“Klavier?!” The attorney shouts out from his room. “Have you seen my suit?!”

“ Ja .” He starts, standing up from his spot on the floor. “It's in the laundry room, I'll get it.”

Apollo peeks out of the doorway. Deja vu. “I'll get it.” He skitters out of his room with the towel wrapped around his chest and to the laundry room like a little bug. 

"Alright, Forehead." Klaiver hums, turning away after noticing the towel. He immediately narrows it down to two options.

1. Apollo is gay. And, I mean, I would hope so. Or else that flirting would all be for naught.

2. Apollo has boobs. This is unlikely because he's already been here for like a week, and he clearly didn't have boobs. And he didn't have any last night. So unless he was bin—

Oh my God Herr Forehead has been binding since he got here. 

Klavier has already worked so hard to gain his trust. This fact is mentally filed away until Apollo brings it up first. 

A bright red blob appears in his peripheral vision. Apollo speed walks out of the doorway, adjusting his tie. 

“Want a ride?” Klavier stretches his arms above his head. It always made his back and shoulders feel nice.

An eyebrow is cocked at him from Apollo. “You're not even wearing a shirt. I'll bike, thanks.” A small clamp from his bike helmet is clipped under his chin. His hair hangs out from under the front. It doesn't look like he had time to style it.

Oh right . Something to note is that Klavier has gynecomastia. He's never had to hide it in the past, since he lives alone. And outside of his home, his condition can be used for profit. Because for some reason, men with big boobs make big money.

His robe is once again pulled to cover himself. “I could throw on a shirt real quick.” He says, already making his way to his room.

“Are you not going to work today?” Apollo removed his helmet, admitting defeat to the offer of a ride.

A cotton purple tank top now sits where his robe used to, still in the same pajama pants. “ Ja. I'll be going in at noon.” I don't know how you're going to work after last night. “Are you okay to go in? Last night was a little—”

“—It was a little nothing, Klavier.” He snaps. Oh. “Please, forget about what happened. It doesn’t matter”

If Klavier didn’t know any better, he’d push on it. “Are you sure?” He didn’t know any better. 

“One hundred percent.” Apollo’s slowly inching towards the front door. His briefcase is still sitting at the front door from yesterday's arrival from work. In the rush of getting ready for work, his laptop was also safely tucked inside. “I’m an adult, and I’ll come to you when I’m ready.” 

Was? I never said he wasn’t. “I— Alright, I–I understand.” Best not fight him on this one. “I apologize.” 

Apollo… What happened to you?

“Appreciated.” Apollo nods, and the two make their way to the car.

Fuck. I thought I stopped having those. Apollo plops down at his desk in the ever so cluttered Wright Anything Agency. 

“So, Polly~” Trucy skips over, resting her palms on the one surface in the entire office not completely covered in junk. “First he’s making you late to work, now he’s dropping you off?” A knowing smirk is shot at him.

“ He didn’t make me late for work. I made me late for work.” His horns droop between his eyes. “And he offered to drop me off, so stop trying to imply stuff that isn’t happening.” This girl… Grrh…

Her smirk grows into a shit eating grin. “Imply what Polly?~ I don’t know what you’re talking about!” She takes her hat off and holds it up to the bottom of her chin.

Apollo turns his attention to his paperwork. “Don’t give me puppy-dog eyes. You’re almost sixteen, and had sex ed in school. I know that you know exactly what you’re implying.” Teenagers are the worst. He scratches at the dry skin from the scars up his arm. I need to go to the pharmacy and pick up some cream.

“Oh, but Polly! I would never talk about sex. I am a celebrity! I can’t even curse!” Her eyelashes bob up and down, despite Apollo not giving the act the time of day.

Finally, he looks up. Unamused as ever. “Last week you leaned into me, said “fuck,” and then said nobody would believe me if I told them anything.” This is normal for Trucy. She’s got a public image to uphold

Trucy giggles. “And did they?” 

“... I didn't tell anyone.” Well, I told Mr. Wright about it, but he doesn't count.  

“Boo.” Trucy sticks out her tongue. “What are you working on? Daddy didn't assign a case to you.” She hovers over his shoulder.

“Well,” Apollo grumbles, “in case you forgot, I'm homeless right now.” 

The magician pouts, giving Apollo some more space. “Geez, Polly. You're grumpier than normal… Did something happen?”

A beat.

“... Yes. ”

“Well, what happened?” Her smugness is wiped away, turning into concern.

Apollo being in a bit of a sour mood first thing in the morning is nothing out of the ordinary. Any other day, he'd be just as prickly with a healthy mix of playful snark. But like Apollo, Trucy had a keen eye, too. 

“I'm afraid that's none of your business, Trucy.” His back straightens, making a small cracking noise.

Trucy places a gentle hand on his shoulder in hopes of comforting him. “... It's about your visit today, isn't it?”

The hand is soon removed as Apollo stands from his chair. “No. Trucy. Leave it. I'm serious.” He glances back at her from over his shoulder, eyes red and wet. “ Please do not push me on this.”

Her brows furrow. “Oh…” The hat is slipped back onto her head before she brings her fists to her chest. “... I'm sorry.”

“It's okay, Truce.” He turns back to face her. “This is just a… difficult thing for me, so I don't want to talk about it.” 

A single tear drop drips onto his shirt before he can grab a tissue. Trucy offers him the box. “I get it… Do you want a hug?”

He nods, spreading out his arms. This girl… They make a small pmfph sound as Trucy plops herself into Apollo’s arms, hugging a bit tighter than normal.

“Not too tight. I need to use the bathroom.” He chuckles. Apollo isn’t tall enough to rest his chin on her head. Actually, Trucy’s almost tall enough to rest her chin on his head. 

Trucy is held on much tighter than Apollo is. He’s somewhat… hesitant. He needs the hug, he really does. It feels different. Not bad, per se. Just not right. Maybe I should have taken the day off. 

Apollo is the first to pull away. “Thanks, Trucy. I’m sorry for getting mad at you. It’s been a rough morning.”

She crosses her arms. “It’s okay, Polly. I get it. Now go to the bathroom before things get messy.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles, making his exit to the washroom. 

Shit. Once he has taken his rightful place on the porcelain throne, he pulls out his phone. I shouldn’t have taken that ride. I need my bike .

10:21 AM: [Hey, Klavier?]

I should probably change hi—

Prosecutor Gavin 10:21 AM: [ja? whats up 🤔]

10:22 AM: [Are you still at your place?]

What do I change it to? Just his name?

Klavier 10:23 AM: [ja, just about to jump in the shower]

Klavier 10:23 AM: [care to join me? 😉🔥💜]

10:24 AM: [No, thanks.]

It’s kinda boring, just his name.

10:24 AM: [I need my bike.]

10:24 AM: [I have some errands to run and it’s too far to walk.]

Klavier (Temporary Home) 10:26 AM: [want me to drop pit off?]

Klavier (Temporary Home) 10:26 AM: [i could also drive u 😄]

Apollo snickers at his new contact name for Klavier. He doesn’t even find it that funny, but with the morning he’s had, he’ll take whatever little joys he can get.

10:26 AM: [It’s an errand I’d rather not have guests at. Just drop off my bike please.] 

10:26 AM: [Helmet too, please. I left it hanging on the handle.]

Klavier (Temporary Home) 10:27 AM: [wouldnt want u hurting ur pretty little head]

10:27 AM: [Thanks. Let me know when you get here.]

10:27 AM: [Keep those weird little jokes to a minimum, please. I’m not having a good day as you might guess.]

Klavier (Temporary Home) 10:30 AM: [yeah, i’m sorry.]

Klavier (Temporary Home) 10:31 AM: [ill be over after my shower]

10:31 AM: [Thank you.]

Klavier (Temporary Home) 10:31 AM: [👍💜]

His bathroom duties are soon wrapped up after the voice of a certain not-a-pianist pianist enters the office with a loud greeting. 

Great. At least he won’t know I wasn’t on time. Wait— Why was Trucy here before him?! Watch your kid, man!

“Apollo? Where are you, Polly? Pspspspsp.” He calls, seemingly from right outside the bathroom door. 

Apollo grumbles as he leaves the washroom to face his boss. “Good morning, Mr. Wright. You don’t need to lure me out like a cat.” 

A small blue gift back is shoved in his face. “Happy birthday, Apollo.” Phoenix smirks.

“My birthday is in July,” Apollo swats the bag out of his face, “it’s almost the end of October.” Seriously, what is this guy's deal?

Phoenix gives a hearty chuckle. “I’m just kidding, Apollo.” The bag is nudged in his face again. “Take it.”

“The joke wasn't funny. It just makes it sound like you don't know when my birthday is.” Phoenix is given a look of disapproval before he takes the bag. 

Inside is a small box wrapped in tissue paper. Inside the tissue paper is a deck of cards in a rather decorated box. It looks like a normal box, since most standard playing cards have swirly designs. However, this box seems to be music themed. 

“... Thanks?” Apollo knows that his boss has a certain… cryptic approach, when it comes to being genuine. It just takes some more time to figure out why he does what he does. “Why are you giving these to me?” 

The blue ex-attorney’s shoulders rise and fall. “I know how much you like solitaire.” A quick smirk. “And the music theme is a nice little touch, I think.” 

Like is an understatement. Even love would be an understatement. Some people have gambling addictions, some people have alcohol addictions. Apollo has a solitaire addiction. Okay, maybe addiction is an overstatement, but he has a strong hyperfixation on it. “... Right .”

“That’s the name! Don’t wear it out.” Phoenix winks and walks away to his own, very cluttered , work desk before Apollo can rebut. 

What the crap . Apollo thumbs the corners of the box. It’s not dented or creased. Brand new. I'll still take them. They're nice cards, I just don't know. Is it because of my visit today? Why give it to me now and not after? Why get me a gift at all? The box may be nice, but the cards are even nicer. He places the box gently by his briefcase.

Apollo sits back at his desk, hopefully uninterrupted now that Trucy has a distraction. Wright is playing some sort of game on his computer. Apollo doesn't know much about it since he stopped eavesdropping after a flower started talking. 

“What time is your meeting at, Pollo?” Phoenix chimes in over some serene chip-tune video game music. 

Apollo leans back in his chair, omitting a small creek. “It's in an hour and a half.”

Trucy perches on the back of the sofa, no longer caring for the game. “Wait, really? And you're still here? Isn't the prison a bit away from here?”

“Well that's the issue. I need Klavier to drop off my bike.” The back of a pen is brought to his lips. “And it shouldn't take me too long if I peddle fast enough.” 

“Won't you be all sweaty by the time you get there?” Phoenix turns his head up in thought. 

Apollo turns back to his paperwork. “Yeah, but I'm not too concerned about it. I'm going to be sweating anyway.”

The Wright's exchange a look to each other. Trucy had a way of communicating without talking, and even though they aren't blood related, Phoenix seems to share this power of hers. 

“Y'sure you don't want company? I'm not busy today.” Phoenix offers, spinning his chair back and forth. 

Apollo’s jaw clenches. “ Yes , I'm sure, Mr. Wright. And even if I did want someone to come with me, I don't know if his ex would be the best  option.” 

Why does everybody feel like questioning me today?

Coffee time! Phoenix saunters over to the automatic coffee machine that looks older than Trucy to make himself a cup of joe. “Fair enough. Well, you have the office's number if you need it. Want a cup?”

A small ping from Apollo’s pocket can be heard by everyone. “No, thank you.”

Klavier (Temporary Home) 10:51 AM: [sorry for the wait. omw now 💜]

“Is that your chariot?” Trucy giggles, her heels knocking off the back of the sofa.

A quick glance is shot at Trucy before cleans up his desk. The box of cards are pocketed. “It's Klavier, yes. I'm going to wait outside for him then start biking.” 

“Hey, Apollo?” 

A glance is shot at the older Wright. 

“Be careful, okay?”

He always does this. The sudden stern look is always a shock. “Alright.” 

“He can't hurt you. You're safe.” His words are spoken into the mug of freshly brewed discount coffee.

“I know, Mr. Wright.” Apollo huffs, already making his way to the door. “I've spoken to prisoners before, and I know how to talk to him .”

“... Alright. I believe you.” 

Hgnh… A pinch in his wrist sends an ache up his arm. “ Thanks. ” Apollo turns his back on the man to face the front door. “I'll see you guys tomorrow.” 

“Knock ‘em dead, Polly!” Trucy cheers, pumping a fist in the air. 

His brows furrow. “I’m not killing anyone, Trucy.” And the door is shut.

Everything is so irritating today. Can people just get off my case? He descends down the stairs to wait for his bike. And Klavier too. Seriously. I just need to be left alone.

“ Herr Forehead!” A voice calls from down the road. “Your ride’s here.” His charming smile shines ever so brightly. A smile so bright that not even Apollo’s bad mood can defeat it.

“Thank you, Gavin.” He sighs, meeting Klavier to claim what’s his.

Klavier’s hand is confidently placed on his hip. He’s all dressed up in his regular court attire, his hair pulled up into a high pony-tail. … Pretty. “Still passing on the ride?”

His eyes dart away. “Erm, yes. Thank you, though. I might be back at your place before you, so what should I do in the event they don’t let me in?” He glances back up at Klavier.

“You should be able to wait in the lobby, ja ?” Klavier toys with his bangs in thought. 

He nods. It’s not the answer he wanted, but it’ll have to work. “Alright. Thanks again.” 

Apollo straddles his bike, helmet already on. He’s speedy like that. Klavier kept a close eye on him, for some reason.

“Safe travels, Herr Forehead. Call me if you need me.” 

Apollo pedals off without another word.

Chapter Text

“Come in, Mr. Justice.” The same guard who led Apollo last time he visited his mentor guides him into the small concrete room. “The inmate is ready for you.”

Kristoph Gavin sits on the other side of a thick glass pane. “ Tch. No need to be so distant, Officer Turnepaige. I believe we’ve known each other long enough.” His arms are crossed with perfect posture. 

He is not given a response, just his mentee. “Hello, Mr. Gavin.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. I shouldn’t be—

“Justice.” Kristoph's gentle voice pulls him out of his developing spiral. “It's too soon to be getting into your own head like that.”

“R–right.” He clears his throat. “I'm sorry.” 

It's strange. Physically, he's at the maximum security prison visiting the man who taught him all he knows, the man he incarcerated twice now. But mentally, he's back at his apartment. Rotting away in his bed after losing his job. 

The worst two months of his life.

4th of May, 2026

Four days had passed since he last visited his now ex mentor, Kristoph Gavin. His next visit was planned to be three days from now. Regardless of if Apollo wants to admit it or not, he missed Kristoph. It was the first family-adjacent relationship he had since Dhurke and Nahyuta back in Khura’in. Kristoph was always looking out for him, teaching him, taking care of him. So, being the one that aided in his incarceration was eating away at Apollo. It got to him more and more by the second. 

His home was small. His furniture is whatever the old owners left behind. The walls were an off-white, stained from the years of wear and tear, with nothing but a single shelf above the TV. On it, sits two picture frames. One frame was of him and his childhood best friend, Clay Terran, and the photo he had taken when he first started working under Gavin. Some boxes were shoved away, with newspapers in place of his usual comic books. 

It’s kind of lonely. Apollo stands alone in the middle of the living room. Not moving, not speaking, hardly breathing. He stares at the photo of Kristoph and him. They looked so… happy.  His expression is empty, and his eyes are heavy from his lack of sleep over the past week. How could he sleep? He didn’t deserve it. He doesn’t even deserve a warm meal with a roof over his head. No. Not while his mentor was sitting alone, rotting away in prison. He was taught better than to betray those who cared for you. He’s no better than Dhurke. The man who supposedly cared but ended up abandoning in America. Apollo Justice was doomed to be alone. No matter where he went. He was too loud and insensitive. He was too honest and a little hot-headed. At least that’s what his files at the foster home said.

5th of May, 2026

The fifth day. It looked like a small grizzly bear had taken refuge in his apartment. Loose clumps of brown hair are scattered around. Apollo had a habit of picking at his hair and skin under pressure. He has since he was nine. It’s something he has wished to drop, but it’s stuck around no matter how hard he tries. 

Apollo made headlines. “Rookie Attorney Incarcerates Mentor on First Trial!” , “Defense Attorney Kristoph Gavin Arrested by Rookie Mentee.” , “Coolest Defense in the West rests. In Prison!” Cheesy titles. None of which feature Apollo’s name. The titles ring through his head as he lays motionless on his sofa. ‘Rookie Defense Attorney’. ‘Defense Attorney’. I’m a defense attorney. It’s what I wanted. It’s what I’ve worked so hard to achieve. None of that mattered. Defense attorney or not, Apollo was alone. No family, no job, no mentor.  

7th of May, 2026

The day had come for him to visit his mentor. Well, maybe a mentor isn’t the appropriate word to use. Not anymore, at least. Regardless, it’s time to face the music.

… Or not. A pain unlike he had felt in the past few days has struck him. His chords of steel have been rendered useless. That’s right. A fate worse than death, truly. A stress induced cold. It started in his throat and nose. Slowly, it creeped to the rest of his head and down to his shoulders. He was weak. It’s to be expected. 

For every second that passes, the doom sets in that Apollo couldn’t go to the prison. He couldn’t possibly let his mentor see him in such a pathetic state. A bed made for one is where he spends the following days.

21st of May, 2026.

Apollo could count the number of times he has left the house on one hand. It was a combination of his illness - that he wasn’t taking any measures to make better - and the pounds of guilt and resentment he carried.

Time moves on even if Apollo doesn't. By the time he had memorized every detail of his popcorn ceiling, his fever had mostly run its course. Another thing that has left his system is a stable source of income.

 He had been jobless since that trial and rapidly running out of what little money he had saved. Gavin showed him how to set up a savings fund, so he was feeding out of that.

Maybe I should get back into maid services. Apollo thought as he swept his hair off the floor. No, I can’t risk another accident like that .

The following weeks were spent recovering and posting resumes under job listings. 

Nothing. Fuck. 

In his sickly state, he had done nothing but remember every little detail of that fateful trial. However, he failed to recall what happened afterward while meeting with his client, Phoenix Wright. 

I couldn't.. I've already betrayed him enough as it is. Besides, I already swore I would never go back there!

15th of June, 2026

Apollo was running low on food and money. He survived on canned goods and tortilla chips, just like the good old days (law school.)

He had still heard nothing back from the job listings. He had to do something, but it had been a couple weeks since he posted his resume, and nothing had come back. He only had one person reach out, and it was the man he had punched square in the jaw.

Okay. All I need to do is ca—

[Wright Talent Agency is calling]

… What? Apollo hesitantly picks up the phone. “Apo—”

An unfamiliar voice cuts him off, “Help! We're in big trouble here at the office! Big!”

“What?!” He squeaks, shooting up a little too fast. “I’ll be on the way.”

“Hello? Earth to Hase ?” Kristoph grows more and more irritated. “Apollo, please come back to me. We only have so much time together.” Was he irritated? He looked more worried now.

Apollo blinks, his gaze landing on the blonde across from him. “Right, sorry.” He clears his throat once more. “I'm quite tired, I slept rather poorly last night.”

“Hmm.” His expression grows weary. “I'm sorry to hear that. Is everything alright?” 

“I–I’m fine! I’m fine, yes. Thank you, Mr. Gavin.” He smiled sheepishly, his shoulders slowly creeping up to his ears. 

Kristoph watches like a hungry fox, patiently awaiting its breakfast. It felt like lasers were being shot through him. “I see, well, it would help if you didn’t have a certain blonde pooch waking you up.”

“Wha—?” Apollo’s eyes shoot down to scan his clothes. Damnit, Vongole! “Aw, nuts.” He sighs. “ Wait. ”

He frowns. “So what is it? Did my brother give up custody of my Süße Muschelsuppe so soon?” Kristoph glares through his cracked glasses.

“N–no. Gavin is taking good care of Vongole. Promise.” He's probably taking better care of the dog than he is himself. “I'm just couch surfing. There was… a f-fire—... in my apartment, so Gavin was kind enough to let me stay with him.”

No response is given. Why is he so hard to read?! A glint in the glass prevents any eye contact. His lips are straight and emotionless, his shoulders are as tense as ever.

Mr. Gavin always had residual stress, and it showed. In his body language. How he sat, how he walked, how he stood. It was one of the first things Apollo noticed when he began working for him. 

Apollo sputters. “Nobody was hurt! And we—”

“That’s enough.” His mentor sighs. “You’re an adult, you don’t need to explain your living situation to me. Whatever it is, it’s likely better than mine.” He stifles a laugh. 

“Oh,” he chuckles awkwardly, “right. I won’t be staying at his place much longer.” 

A gentle hand is held up, hovering near the bottom of the glass separating them. “ Hase. Please. I do not wish to hear about your affairs with my brother.” His cheek twitches in exasperation. 

His hands scratch at the dry skin on his arm, picking at the developing scabs. “Sorry. We aren’t doing anything together, though. We're just friends.”

“Justice! Please, do not waste your breath. I do not care about what he may or may not be doing.” He slowly shakes his head with a smirk. “So enough with it.”

His wrist hasn't pinched once. “Yes, my bad.” Don't cry, Justice. Now is not the time. “Well, uhm, it's good to see you again, Mr. Gavin.”

Gavin looks surprised. “... Is it now? I'll be honest, I'm shocked you came to see me at all.” He huffs. 

“Well, I came to see you the last time you were in here? Why wouldn't I see you this time?” Apollo tilts his head curiously. “You're my m–mentor, after all.” His delivery on that last line was shaky, as if he was holding back breaking out into tears.

“Not many want to visit an evil person, such as myself.” A small smirk cracks his hard expression. “You were always a unique one, Hase. ” Pride radiating from the affectionate nickname.  

His eyes fog with tears which he quickly wipes away with the back of his right hand. “ M'sorry, ” he croaks, “ I just came to say goodbye. ” 

Kristoph's expression tightens. “I have much to thank you for, Justice.” He shoots a sharp look at the guard. Turnepaige hands Apollo a small packet of tissues.

“Thank me ?” He sniffles, wiping off his face. Unknowingly, he wipes away at the cheap foundation that had been caked onto his left cheek that covered a burn scar. It was not new, and had been healed for years.

He can feel the eyes on it before he can feel the makeup off.

“Yes,” his mentor chuckles, “thank you . You were, and still are, special to me.” 

No reaction from the bracelet.

“I'm going to miss you. By this being your goodbye, I can assume that this will be your final visit.”

Apollo nods, his hand covering his cheek with the tissue.

“Unfortunate, but understandable. We both must move on… I've learned my lesson when it comes to hanging on too long. ” Kristoph's gaze falls down to his own lap. 

“Mnn.” He sits, not looking at anything. I don’t want to be here. I just want to go home. I hate it here.

A long space of time where the two sit in silence. They can’t move, or muster a word. Apollo’s trying to process the fact he lost another person close to him. Someone who meant the world to him, for a second time . 

Kristoph is the first to break the silence. “Is the—”

Apollo stands. “Goodbye, Mr. Gavin. Thank you for all that you have taught me.” His delivery is quick and wobbly, audibly trying to suppress his chords of steel. Mr. Gavin doesn’t like them. “Uhm, bye—” He quickly leaves the cramped room. 

Kristoph isn’t able to get a word in. The last Apollo can see of him is an expression he has never seen worn by his mentor. Kristoph was crying . It wasn’t a lot, but two tears gently streamed down his cheeks. Oh fuck. Oh fuck .

Now alone outside of the unwelcoming brick building. His legs give out on him, he finds support on the wall behind him. His briefcase falls on the ground beside him. Blinded by the barricade of tears quickly forming in his eyes. “ I’m fine. I’m fine. ” He repeats, in hopes that it would change the facts that he is not fine. 

People walk past him, sparing looks of pity and repulsion. He had nowhere to hide.  But above all else, I can’t bike like this , Apollo is a safe biker. Apollo had lectured the Wright's about proper road safety enough that if he were to go back on would make him look like the world's biggest hypocrite.

There's a slight feeling of drowning. His chest feels like it's caving in on himself as his lungs fill with water. Get it out . He coughs and coughs, hoping it'd clear everything. 

Right now, Apollo is the only person. He feels like he did at nine years old. Sitting alone in the corner of his room at the foster home. None of the kids even bothered to say hello .

Apollo stares through his tears at the palms of his hands. What do I do…? He sniffles, at an attempt to regain coherence. Focus, Justice! Focus! You have a job to do!

He stands slowly so he doesn't pass out. I need a way home . His tears are wiped away into his shoulder. I still can't bike… It's almost one.

12:45 PM: [bey klacier?]

His spelling's a little off, but it gets the point across.

Klavier (Temporary Home) 12:46 PM: [ja?]

Klavier (Temporary Home) 12:46 PM: [you're starting to text like me, are you alright? 😟]

12:46 PM: [I'm oka]

12:47 PM: [can you pick me hp?]

Klavier (Temporary Home) 12:47 PM: [natürlich]

Klavier (Temporary Home) 12:47 PM: [where r u?]

Drip. Drip drip. Small raindrops fall around him.

Klavier (Temporary Home) 12:50 PM: [Apollo?]

I’m cold. His hair slowly soaks in the fresh rainfall. His shoulders shake in the cold.

[Klavier is calling.]

What? He stares at the screen, the vibrations from his phone tingling through his hands.

Click. “ H–hello? ” 

[Apollo! Apollo, where are you lieber ?] He sounds rushed. The quiet hum of his car's engine seeps into the microphone over the pitter patters of rain on the roof. 

His teeth chatter. “ I’m outside the prison. ”

[I’m on my way, okay? Do you want me to stay on the line? I can.] 

“... Y–yeah, sure. ” He clears his throat away from the mic. “ Sorry. Are y–you far? ”

[ Nein , no. The prosecutor's office is quite close, don’t worry.] 

The rain becomes more urgent. His briefcase is held tight to his binded chest. “ Okay… I’m sorry if —” his throat is cleared again, “— I get your car wet. I’ll clean your car when the weather clears.”

Klavier sighs with a shaky chuckle. [Only if you let me help, ja ?]

“I–if you insist.” He giggles.

[You must be getting pretty cold. I’ll turn on the heated seats for you, make sure you’re nice and cozy.] 

Why is he being so kind to me? “Thank you.” 

[I think I see you. Have you been — hold on.] Klavier hangs up the phone.

Only a few moments pass where Apollo stands in silence before Klavier’s fancy little sports car pulls up to the curb. The window is rolled down, “your chariot has arrived,” Klavier announces with a wink and his ever-so-charming smile. He’s kind enough to step out of the car to open the door and get the soaked attorney out of the rain. 

Apollo shakes some of the water off of him before stepping into the car. His eyes are glued to the floor. “I’m sorry for all this,” he mutters.

“Please,” Klavier starts, sitting back in the driver's seat, “spare it, Schatz . I do it because I care, not because I feel obligated.” His tone is carried lightly as he puts the cars back into drive. He sniffles. “You were visiting someone, ja ?” 

They both knew what “someone” meant, even if neither of them said it outright. The only other time Klavier had seen Apollo in such a state was after the second arrest of his brother. 

He nods. “Yes… It was my final visit today.” His voice is hoarse, and generally unpleasant to listen to. Despite that, Klavier’s attention is equally divided on the road and Apollo. This side of Klavier will never fail to surprise him. 

The side that wasn’t some flashy rockstar. The side that felt human. For the week that Apollo has lived with him, the more he has been able to see this side of him. He quite likes it… More than the act he puts on in public.

He always wondered about the act. It clearly never worked on him, and it’s for a reason. Stuff like celebrity status doesn’t really matter when you are loosely related to royalty. I should reach out to Nahyuta.

Klavier breaks the brief silence. “You’re stronger than I, Apollo .” He sighs. “I haven’t visited him proper… We already had a rough relationship, to put it lightly. Even before his arrest.” 

… I don’t get it. He continues to spill his guts to me, unsolicited. I don’t know what to say. “I’m sorry about that.” He looks out the window with nothing to add.

They soak in the lulling pittering of the rain before the sound of Apollo’s chattering teeth disturbs it. 

“I’m rather cold,” he smirks over at Apollo, “mind if I turn up the heat?” 

Does he know that I know that he knows? “No, go ahead.” He just barely contains his smile as he snuggles into the heated leather seat. It doesn’t matter. 

Vongole slobbers all over the tried tears and snot from Apollo’s face. It’s his own fault for flopping next to her on the couch. “ Aye , Vongole, gentle .” He murmurs to the dog in his native tongue. Klavier was stretching, but at the sound of Apollo’s voice he balked and began to lean behind the couch. 

Apollo noticed this little quirk of his. It happened the last time Apollo spoke to the dog in Khura’inese. Surely this doesn’t mean anything, though. 

“Are you going back to work?” The shorter man sits up to look at his roommate. “I thought you were just walking me in.” Vongole continues licking him, causing some irritation. “ Please, baby. That’s enough. ” The dog seems to understand him best in Khura’inese.

“Mn-mm.” Klavier awkwardly ducks further behind the couch. “I have t–today off. There is a uh… wasps nest. In my office.” He chuckles, playing with his right rings. 

Ow. “If you want to spend time with me, just say so.” It’s time. Apollo finally gets to give Klavier a taste of his own medicine. “Or do I make you nervous, blonde boy ?” Retribution is mine!  

… Where’d Klavier go? “... Klavier?” Apollo blinks and climbs over to the edge of the couch where he would find the prosecutor slowly crawling away into the laundry room. “What are you doing, man?”

“ Laundry .” His voice is dry. 

Another lie. “Good luck with that.” He cuddles back up with the dog.

Since his first few cases, Apollo’s “perceive” ability has become rather famous within small law geek circles. Something many fail to consider is the fact he can’t turn it off. As long as he’s wearing his bracelet, he sees most things. Including the things he wished not to notice. Like, arousal. 

Apollo lays on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. There’s no nice way to put this, but Klavier gets a boner when I talk to the dog in Khura’inese and it’s really hard to ignore at this point.  

A small lick from the golden retriever pulls Apollo out of his musings. “Hey, Von. Looks like you’ll have to learn my English.” 

She didn’t understand. 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” He huffs, rubbing the top of her head. “You’ll live. He won’t .” The dog is showered in kisses. Apollo always loved animals. 

Klavier silently enters the living room, sitting on the sofa away from the two. His cheeks are bright red, but he looks more relaxed. “Sorry about that,” he chuckles, “you know how it is.”

I’m going to fuck with him so hard. "I've actually never had a boner in my life." Apollo tries his best to subdue his smile, but it translates more into a confident smirk.

He's given a moment of concerned silence, mainly because Klavier isn’t sure how to respond to such a sudden yet topical confession. "I think you should see a doctor about that."

“Yeah, I've been tryin—”

Klavier jolts up. “–How— I wasn't talking about… those ! I—I was talking about laundry.”  He toys with his bangs, flustered. “I didn’t know you thought of me in that light, Herr Forehead.”

Damnit! “You don’t give me many options!” Apollo’s forehead creases. “You very clearly had one!”

“Perhaps it was clear to you, Herr Peeper.” 

“I can’t turn it off!” Apollo points at Klavier as if they were in court.

Klavier mirrors him. “Well neither can I! Not as if you would know.” He smirks.

“ Wooww… Real classy, making fun of the fact I can’t get hard.” Apollo rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe this discrimination… in your own home…” A dramatic sigh as he stands up.

“I know .” A throw pillow is held tightly to his chest like a teenage girl about to share secrets at a sleepover.

Vongole trots away to paw at her metal food dish. What an irritating sound. 

“Maybe one day they’ll invent vagina boners.” Apollo mutters as he walks away to deal with the future musician of a dog. “This is how I’m coming out as trans to you, by the way.” 

“What?”