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Klavier woke with a start and knew immediately that he’d made a mistake. The lights were off and the room was dark, and when he lifted his head from the table, the book he’d been studying stuck to the side of his face, peeling away from his cheek unpleasantly.
He rubbed his cheek and squinted around the room. It had to be incredibly late – Klavier had only gone to the courthouse to check out a few of the bigger law tomes that the courthouse kept available to attorneys and judges in the little library in the back, but he’d clearly lost track of time.
Maybe Edgeworth had a point with his pointed asides and judgmental eyebrows about how late Klavier had been staying at work.
Klavier pushed back his chair and waved his hands above his head in the dark, trying to trigger the motion sensitive lights overhead.
It took a few moments of flailing in the dark, but eventually the lights gave a low rasping buzz and flickered on.
He squinted in the sudden brightness, reaching up and rubbing his temples. His hair had slipped from its style sometime during his impromptu book nap and with a huff, Klavier reached up and swept the whole mess into a haphazard bun at the back of his head.
His contacts were burning and he wished he’d thought to bring his glasses with him. It was going to be a long trip home with dry eyes until he could take them out again.
Here, alone in the still law library with only the buzzing of the fluorescent lights for company, Klavier let his shoulders slump.
Things had been… difficult.
It was one thing to devote himself to his law career – Klavier didn’t regret that for a single instant. He loved music, of course, but the law got under his skin and burned. If music was his safe retreat, his bubble, then the courtroom was the fire that got him up and back on his feet.
But Klavier still hadn’t penned a song in months. He’d pick up his guitar, fingers fluttering over familiar notes and chords, the soothing rhythms and motions taking the tension from his shoulders, but that was it. There was something stuck in his brain, something that made him hesitate to branch out, to throw himself into a new melody and see where it took him.
It was driving him completely crazy.
Klavier sighed and resisted the urge to rub at his itching eyes. He turned back to the table, shutting the massive book and hefting it back to the shelf he’d pulled it from. Then he grabbed his bag, swung it over his shoulder, and slipped out into the hallway.
A quick glance at his phone told him that it was far later than he’d thought – nearly midnight. Forget overtime, this was approaching trouble. Klavier wasn’t sure if he was even allowed to be in the courthouse like this, but then, it was hardly his fault that no one had checked the library before they locked up the building, was it?
Klavier walked down the dim corridor back towards the public areas. It was a little creepy, actually, being here when no one else was in the building. Shadows seemed to jump from the windows, arcing across the floor, swelling and shrinking as the streetlights outside flickered.
Klavier sped up his pace, just a bit.
He rounded the corner, just as he was pulling his phone out again to check the time, when he paused.
A door was open down the hall, a door that Klavier knew led to a little conference room of sorts where attorneys could spend a few quiet minutes collecting their thoughts or preparing notes. Light spilled into the hallway and as Klavier wondered who on earth could possibly be in the courthouse this late at night, he realized he could hear something.
Music?
He walked closer, peeking into the little room.
It was as familiar as always – a large table in the middle of the room, a few chairs, and a massive white board against the back wall. The markers never quite worked properly and the erasers were always missing, but it was still a comfortable space to get away and mull over a case. Klavier had used it a few times in the past.
Apollo Justice faced away from the door, studying the white board. Klavier took in the absolute tornado of chaos that his favorite defense attorney had created in the room – the papers and books scattered haphazardly on the tabletop and on a few of the chairs, the cramped handwriting spidering across the white board. Apollo had his shirtsleeves rolled up over his elbows and there was an expo marker behind one ear and two more jammed into pockets that Klavier could see.
Klavier’s eyes lingered only briefly on the blue marker in Apollo’s back pocket before he jerked his eyes away, his gaze landing on the phone sitting on a stack of books, its charging cable snaking beneath the table to plug into the outlet.
The phone was playing music, a song Klavier wasn’t sure he’d actually heard before, but that had a nice beat and a decent vocalist.
Then he realized with a jolt that it wasn’t the artist’s voice he was hearing – it was Apollo.
Apollo Justice was singing along with the music, only barely louder than the actual artist.
Klavier’s heart leaped into his throat.
“I was waking up to the sound of the raindrops while you were in the southeast sleeping at truck stops...”
Apollo’s voice was low, clearly untrained but nice. It reached directly into Klavier’s chest, squeezing the breath from his lungs, and he gripped the strap of his bag, listening as his heart tripped over itself, tumbling against his ribcage.
Apollo reached up and scribbled something completely illegible on the white board, pausing mid-word to tip his head and sing along with the next line, flinging out one hand like he was objecting in court and doing a little shuffling dance, his steps clumsy with the late hour.
Klavier should say something. He couldn’t just stand here and watch Apollo like this.
But Klavier didn’t think he’d ever seen Apollo look so relaxed. And he’d certainly never heard him so much as hum, let alone sing. In fact, if Apollo’s reaction to the Gavinner’s music was anything to go by, then Klavier would have bet the farm on Apollo’s distaste for music in general.
His fingers flexed against the strap of his bag.
He had to say something.
Just then, Apollo planted one foot, rotating on the ball of his foot, spinning the marker between his fingers, and spotted Klavier standing rooted in the doorway.
Apollo dropped the marker.
“Gavin!” he yelped, his voice bursting out of him at twice its previous volume and Klavier flinched. “What are you… h-how long have you been standing there?”
“Not long, I promise.” Klavier probably should do something – be more suave, more the Klavier Gavin he usually plastered on around other people, but it was so late and he was so tired. And this was Apollo. Surely he could relax just a bit. “I fell asleep in the library. I didn’t think anyone else would be here. It’s nearly midnight, Herr Forehead.”
Apollo’s face was turning an interesting shade of scarlet, the color creeping down his neck to vanish beneath his collar. Klavier followed it down with his eyes before snapping them back up to Apollo’s face.
“I… didn’t think anyone else was here either.”
There was a long pause.
“You have a nice voice,” Klavier said softly. Apollo groaned, pressing his fingers to his eyes and dropping into the nearest open chair, the only one that wasn’t covered in law books and case files.
“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” Apollo mumbled, dragging his hand down over his face and fixing his eyes on Klavier. Even the tips of his ears were red, Klavier noticed. He shifted his bag to his other shoulder.
“Nein. If you do not want me to bring it up, then it doesn’t leave this room.”
Apollo blinked in surprise and his fingers fluttered uncertainly to rest on that gaudy gold bangle he insisted on wearing.
“You’re not lying.”
Now it was Klavier’s turn to be surprised. “I may tease you from time to time, Herr Forehead, but contrary to what you may think, I am not cruel.” The words, meant to be light, came out tasting bitter.
Apollo frowned and stood up, walking around the table to stand in front of him. “I don’t think you’re cruel, Gavin. Are... you alright?”
“Just tired.”
Again, Apollo’s fingers brushed his bracelet. “Liar.”
Klavier frowned. It hadn’t been a lie – he was tired, that much was obvious – but what else did Apollo want to hear from him? He could hardly blurt out here and now some sort of sob story about the aching sadness that crept around his heart sometimes.
When he thought of his brother, his friends, the band. Or when Apollo tossed a tired smile his way after a long day of working on a case from over a shared meal at a late night diner and Klavier fixed a grin on his face even as he felt his heart stutter.
“Not a lie,” he said instead. “Just maybe not the whole truth.”
Apollo’s brow creased, his mouth turning down at the corners. Klavier looked around the room, mostly to distract himself from the concern painting itself into the lines on Apollo’s face.
He drew in a breath to ask Apollo if he was finished – Klavier wasn’t leaving the courthouse unless he was sure Apollo wasn’t planning on walking home – when the soft song still playing on Apollo’s phone ended and the next one began.
A familiar chord progression burst from the tiny speakers and Klavier’s face broke into a wide grin.
Apollo went pale.
“Don’t--!” he snapped but Klavier was laughing now, unable to help himself.
“My, my! And here I thought you hated the Gavinners.”
Apollo turned away and reached for his phone, clearly intending to either shut off the music or throw the phone against the wall, but Klavier reached forward and grabbed his wrist before he could take a step towards the table. He dropped his bag onto the floor behind him and tugged on Apollo, gently, to get him to step closer.
Apollo’s scowl could have melted ice. “Gavin. What are you doing?”
Klavier hummed, stepping smoothly to the side and raising Apollo’s hand up over his head, twisting his hand so Apollo was forced to shuffle in a clumsy rendition of a pirouette.
“Dance with me, Forehead.”
“To this? Are you crazy?”
Apollo let their clasped hands drop, but didn’t let go. He put his free hand on his hip. “Even you can’t dance to this song.”
Klavier shook his head. “Schatzi, I wrote this song. Of course I can dance to it.”
Apollo frowned. “You know I don’t speak German. What does that mean?”
Oops. Klavier bit down on the panic fluttering in the pit of his stomach and forced his face into a pleasant grin. “Nothing, Forehead. Just a nickname.”
Apollo raised one slow eyebrow, studying him, and his hand flexed in Klavier’s. Klavier looked down at their hands, their fingers hooked together loosely, stretching the gap between them. He hadn’t even realized they were still touching.
When he looked back up, Apollo wasn’t meeting his eyes, his gaze fixed instead somewhere around his collarbone.
“Your hair,” he said, a little awkwardly. “It’s up.”
Klavier’s mouth curled up at the ends. “Occasionally even I must bow to the common man’s world of bad hair days. Especially when I pass out in law texts and wake up in the courthouse in the middle of the night.”
A sheepish smile crossed Apollo’s face. “And yet you still manage to look good.” There was a beat, maybe two, before Apollo realized what exactly he’d said and panic flitted across his face. “Uh, I mean--”
Klavier held up his free hand. “Forget it, Apollo. I know what you meant. It is late, ja?”
Apollo pressed his lips together, studying him again as the Gavinners song faded away. Something softer replaced it, with steady guitar and a clear female voice.
“You called me Apollo.”
“I must be more tired than I thought.”
Something felt different, suddenly – a strange combination, Klavier thought, of having Apollo so close and the late hour. A mixture of the soft music, the feeling of Apollo’s hand in his, and the creeping fingers of exhaustion pressing against his temples. He felt like he was floating, despite the heaviness in his arms and legs.
“Well?” Apollo asked, breaking Klavier out of his thoughts.
“Well, what?”
Apollo bit the inside of his cheek, staring fixedly at a spot just over Klavier’s shoulder. “I thought you wanted to dance.”
It took a moment for the words to process. Apollo gazed at him steadily, despite the color still flushed on his cheeks, and Klavier swallowed.
“Of course,” he said. He moved to step in close when Apollo suddenly yanked his hand out of Klavier’s and stepped back.
“Wait!”
He turned to the table and spent a few moments jabbing at his phone with a pointer finger. The soft song that had been playing cut off abruptly, but the silence pressed in for only a few breathless seconds before a different song started up.
It was the same song, Klavier realized, that Apollo had been singing along with when he’d first walked in.
Apollo turned back to face him, hesitant now. He looked almost awkward, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck.
“Uh. I mean, I guess I don’t know if this is a good song to-- to dance to, I don’t really dance. Much. Or at all, but I like this song and, uh...”
Klavier couldn’t help it. He stepped forward, taking Apollo’s hand. “Do you know how to dance?”
The look Apollo shot him was scathing in its intensity and Klavier grinned helplessly down at the ridiculous, loud, passionate defense attorney who had so effortlessly stolen his heart.
“It’s easy.” Klavier tugged Apollo close, stepping easily and leading him in a pattern of simple steps. Left, right, a quick step backwards, repeat. An easy enough pattern that Apollo picked up quickly, until they were moving without thinking, the music curling around them and keeping the exhaustion at bay.
Klavier hummed the chorus under his breath, resolving to look up the song as soon as he got home. Apollo stumbled on a step and they spent a moment readjusting themselves. Slowly the steps got shorter and further apart until, by the time the song was winding itself down, they were just swaying on the spot, slow and sleepy.
“Gavin?”
“Ja?”
“That word… that thing you called me. Earlier.”
“Mm?”
Apollo was quiet for a moment, staring straight ahead at Klavier’s chest. “It’s… something romantic, isn’t it?”
Klavier hesitated.
Apollo looked up then, stopping their gentle sway. They were so close now that Klavier could feel Apollo breathing, could smell the clean shampoo and the sharper musk that lingered after spending hours in a small room buried in texts and paperwork.
Two choices, Klavier. Lies or truth?
Klavier swallowed. Apollo had the same look on his face he wore in court when he knew for absolute certainty what the witness was about to say. Something calm, confident, and absolutely penetrating.
“Ja,” he finally breathed, and it was like feeling the sun on his face after a long day inside. Relief slumped his shoulders, making him dizzy. It was out. There was nothing else for it at this point. “Yes, I mean.”
Apollo studied him. His hand tightened around Klavier’s almost to the point of being painful.
“You… like me?”
Klavier forced a smile. “I would think that’s fairly obvious by this point, Herr Forehead.”
Apollo’s brow wrinkled. “Apollo.”
“Pardon?”
Apollo reached up and brushed a stray piece of hair out of Klavier’s face. Klavier stopped breathing. “I liked… whatever that other word was. Better. Or Apollo. And I’d like to not be thinking about my own forehead when I’m about to kiss you for the first time.”
Klavier stared at him, but barely had time to wonder if he’d actually heard those words leave Apollo Justice’s mouth when Apollo reached up with both hands, disentangling their fingers, and cupped Klavier’s face. Determination was etched across Apollo’s face, that same determination that had first drawn Klavier’s eye and made him realize that this defense attorney was someone to watch.
Apollo tugged gently, insistently, and Klavier was helpless to resist, helpless against the sweeping emotion bubbling up into his throat and locking his breath in place, and when Apollo went up on his toes, tipping his face up Klavier was helpless to do anything but dip his own face down to meet him.
Later, when asked, Klavier wouldn’t be able to remember anything about the actual mechanics of the kiss. It would be the fumbled dancing and Apollo, rumpled around the edges from spending hours buried in paperwork, singing along to soft music alone in the middle of the night that he remembered. He wouldn’t be able to remember who’d put who’s hands where, or who had actually moved away first before laughing, breathless and amazed, leaning in for another kiss. But he would remember how Apollo had looked at him and the heat that flared in his chest at the curl of Apollo’s smile.
And later, much later, it would be that feeling Klavier remembered as he coaxed his guitar to life for an audience for the first time since… well, for the first time in a long time.
But that would all come later. For the moment, Klavier pulled Apollo close, pressing his nose into his hair and closing his eyes, letting the tension drain and feeling, despite everything, like he was finally right where he needed to be.